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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/1168-0.txt b/1168-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..520b89c --- /dev/null +++ b/1168-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7379 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1168 *** + +THE POOL IN THE DESERT + +By Sara Jeanette Duncan + + + +Contents + + 1. A Mother in India. + + 2. An Impossible Ideal. + + 3. The Hesitation of Miss Anderson. + + 4. The Pool in the Desert. + + + + +1. A Mother in India + + + +Chapter 1.I + +There were times when we had to go without puddings to pay John’s +uniform bills, and always I did the facings myself with a cloth-ball to +save getting new ones. I would have polished his sword, too, if I had +been allowed; I adored his sword. And once, I remember, we painted and +varnished our own dog-cart, and very smart it looked, to save fifty +rupees. We had nothing but our pay--John had his company when we were +married, but what is that?--and life was made up of small knowing +economies, much more amusing in recollection than in practise. We were +sodden poor, and that is a fact, poor and conscientious, which was +worse. A big fat spider of a money-lender came one day into the veranda +and tempted us--we lived in a hut, but it had a veranda--and John +threatened to report him to the police. Poor when everybody else had +enough to live in the open-handed Indian fashion, that was what made it +so hard; we were alone in our sordid little ways. When the expectation +of Cecily came to us we made out to be delighted, knowing that the whole +station pitied us, and when Cecily came herself, with a swamping burst +of expense, we kept up the pretense splendidly. She was peevish, poor +little thing, and she threatened convulsions from the beginning, but we +both knew that it was abnormal not to love her a great deal, more than +life, immediately and increasingly; and we applied ourselves honestly to +do it, with the thermometer at a hundred and two, and the nurse leaving +at the end of a fortnight because she discovered that I had only six +of everything for the table. To find out a husband’s virtues, you must +marry a poor man. The regiment was under-officered as usual, and John +had to take parade at daylight quite three times a week; but he walked +up and down the veranda with Cecily constantly till two in the morning, +when a little coolness came. I usually lay awake the rest of the +night in fear that a scorpion would drop from the ceiling on her. +Nevertheless, we were of excellent mind towards Cecily; we were in such +terror, not so much of failing in our duty towards her as towards the +ideal standard of mankind. We were very anxious indeed not to come +short. To be found too small for one’s place in nature would have been +odious. We would talk about her for an hour at a time, even when John’s +charger was threatening glanders and I could see his mind perpetually +wandering to the stable. I would say to John that she had brought a new +element into our lives--she had indeed!--and John would reply, ‘I know +what you mean,’ and go on to prophesy that she would ‘bind us together.’ +We didn’t need binding together; we were more to each other, there in +the desolation of that arid frontier outpost, than most husbands and +wives; but it seemed a proper and hopeful thing to believe, so we +believed it. Of course, the real experience would have come, we weren’t +monsters; but fate curtailed the opportunity. She was just five +weeks old when the doctor told us that we must either pack her home +immediately or lose her, and the very next day John went down with +enteric. So Cecily was sent to England with a sergeant’s wife who had +lost her twins, and I settled down under the direction of a native +doctor, to fight for my husband’s life, without ice or proper food, or +sickroom comforts of any sort. Ah! Fort Samila, with the sun glaring up +from the sand!--however, it is a long time ago now. I trusted the baby +willingly to Mrs. Berry and to Providence, and did not fret; my capacity +for worry, I suppose, was completely absorbed. Mrs. Berry’s letter, +describing the child’s improvement on the voyage and safe arrival came, +I remember, the day on which John was allowed his first solid mouthful; +it had been a long siege. ‘Poor little wretch!’ he said when I read it +aloud; and after that Cecily became an episode. + +She had gone to my husband’s people; it was the best arrangement. We +were lucky that it was possible; so many children had to be sent to +strangers and hirelings. Since an unfortunate infant must be brought +into the world and set adrift, the haven of its grandmother and its Aunt +Emma and its Aunt Alice certainly seemed providential. I had absolutely +no cause for anxiety, as I often told people, wondering that I did +not feel a little all the same. Nothing, I knew, could exceed the +conscientious devotion of all three Farnham ladies to the child. She +would appear upon their somewhat barren horizon as a new and interesting +duty, and the small additional income she also represented would be +almost nominal compensation for the care she would receive. They were +excellent persons of the kind that talk about matins and vespers, and +attend both. They helped little charities and gave little teas, +and wrote little notes, and made deprecating allowance for the +eccentricities of their titled or moneyed acquaintances. They were the +subdued, smiling, unimaginatively dressed women on a small definite +income that you meet at every rectory garden-party in the country, a +little snobbish, a little priggish, wholly conventional, but apart from +these weaknesses, sound and simple and dignified, managing their two +small servants with a display of the most exact traditions, and keeping +a somewhat vague and belated but constant eye upon the doings of their +country as chronicled in a bi-weekly paper. They were all immensely +interested in royalty, and would read paragraphs aloud to each other +about how the Princess Beatrice or the Princess Maud had opened a fancy +bazaar, looking remarkably well in plain grey poplin trimmed with Irish +lace--an industry which, as is well known, the Royal Family has set its +heart on rehabilitating. Upon which Mrs. Farnham’s comment invariably +would be, ‘How thoughtful of them, dear!’ and Alice would usually say, +‘Well, if I were a princess, I should like something nicer than plain +grey poplin.’ Alice, being the youngest, was not always expected to +think before she spoke. Alice painted in water-colours, but Emma was +supposed to have the most common sense. + +They took turns in writing to us with the greatest regularity about +Cecily; only once, I think, did they miss the weekly mail, and that was +when she threatened diphtheria and they thought we had better be kept +in ignorance. The kind and affectionate terms of these letters never +altered except with the facts they described--teething, creeping, +measles, cheeks growing round and rosy, all were conveyed in the same +smooth, pat, and proper phrases, so absolutely empty of any glimpse +of the child’s personality that after the first few months it was like +reading about a somewhat uninteresting infant in a book. I was sure +Cecily was not uninteresting, but her chroniclers were. We used to wade +through the long, thin sheets and saw how much more satisfactory it +would be when Cecily could write to us herself. Meanwhile we noted her +weekly progress with much the feeling one would have about a far-away +little bit of property that was giving no trouble and coming on +exceedingly well. We would take possession of Cecily at our convenience; +till then, it was gratifying to hear of our unearned increment in dear +little dimples and sweet little curls. + +She was nearly four when I saw her again. We were home on three months’ +leave; John had just got his first brevet for doing something which he +does not allow me to talk about in the Black Mountain country; and we +were fearfully pleased with ourselves. I remember that excitement lasted +well up to Port Said. As far as the Canal, Cecily was only one of the +pleasures and interests we were going home to: John’s majority was +the thing that really gave savour to life. But the first faint line of +Europe brought my child to my horizon; and all the rest of the way she +kept her place, holding out her little arms to me, beckoning me on. Her +four motherless years brought compunction to my heart and tears to my +eyes; she should have all the compensation that could be. I suddenly +realized how ready I was--how ready!--to have her back. I rebelled +fiercely against John’s decision that we must not take her with us on +our return to the frontier; privately, I resolved to dispute it, and, if +necessary, I saw myself abducting the child--my own child. My days and +nights as the ship crept on were full of a long ache to possess her; the +defrauded tenderness of the last four years rose up in me and sometimes +caught at my throat. I could think and talk and dream of nothing else. +John indulged me as much as was reasonable, and only once betrayed by a +yawn that the subject was not for him endlessly absorbing. Then I cried +and he apologized. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘it isn’t exactly the same +thing. I’m not her mother.’ At which I dried my tears and expanded, +proud and pacified. I was her mother! + +Then the rainy little station and Alice, all-embracing in a damp +waterproof, and the drive in the fly, and John’s mother at the gate and +a necessary pause while I kissed John’s mother. Dear thing, she wanted +to hold our hands and look into our faces and tell us how little we had +changed for all our hardships; and on the way to the house she actually +stopped to point out some alterations in the flower-borders. At last the +drawing-room door and the smiling housemaid turning the handle and the +unforgettable picture of a little girl, a little girl unlike anything we +had imagined, starting bravely to trot across the room with the little +speech that had been taught her. Half-way she came; I suppose our +regards were too fixed, too absorbed, for there she stopped with a +wail of terror at the strange faces, and ran straight back to the +outstretched arms of her Aunt Emma. The most natural thing in the +world, no doubt. I walked over to a chair opposite with my hand-bag and +umbrella and sat down--a spectator, aloof and silent. Aunt Emma fondled +and quieted the child, apologizing for her to me, coaxing her to look +up, but the little figure still shook with sobs, hiding its face in +the bosom that it knew. I smiled politely, like any other stranger, +at Emma’s deprecations, and sat impassive, looking at my alleged baby +breaking her heart at the sight of her mother. It is not amusing even +now to remember the anger that I felt. I did not touch her or speak to +her; I simply sat observing my alien possession, in the frock I had +not made and the sash I had not chosen, being coaxed and kissed and +protected and petted by its Aunt Emma. Presently I asked to be taken to +my room, and there I locked myself in for two atrocious hours. Just once +my heart beat high, when a tiny knock came and a timid, docile little +voice said that tea was ready. But I heard the rustle of a skirt, and +guessed the directing angel in Aunt Emma, and responded, ‘Thank you, +dear, run away and say that I am coming,’ with a pleasant visitor’s +inflection which I was able to sustain for the rest of afternoon. + +‘She goes to bed at seven,’ said Emma. + +‘Oh, does she?’ said I. ‘A very good hour, I should think.’ + +‘She sleeps in my room,’ said Mrs. Farnham. + +‘We give her mutton broth very often, but seldom stock soup,’ said Aunt +Emma. ‘Mamma thinks it is too stimulating.’ + +‘Indeed?’ said I, to all of it. + +They took me up to see her in her crib, and pointed out, as she lay +asleep, that though she had ‘a general look’ of me, her features were +distinctively Farnham. + +‘Won’t you kiss her?’ asked Alice. ‘You haven’t kissed her yet, and she +is used to so much affection.’ + +‘I don’t think I could take such an advantage of her,’ I said. + +They looked at each other, and Mrs. Farnham said that I was plainly worn +out. I mustn’t sit up to prayers. + +If I had been given anything like reasonable time I might have made +a fight for it, but four weeks--it took a month each way in those +days--was too absurdly little; I could do nothing. But I would not +stay at mamma’s. It was more than I would ask of myself, that daily +disappointment under the mask of gratified discovery, for long. + +I spent an approving, unnatural week, in my farcical character, bridling +my resentment and hiding my mortification with pretty phrases; and then +I went up to town and drowned my sorrows in the summer sales. I took +John with me. I may have been Cecily’s mother in theory, but I was +John’s wife in fact. + +We went back to the frontier, and the regiment saw a lot of service. +That meant medals and fun for my husband, but economy and anxiety for +me, though I managed to be allowed as close to the firing line as any +woman. + +Once the Colonel’s wife and I, sitting in Fort Samila, actually heard +the rifles of a punitive expedition cracking on the other side of +the river--that was a bad moment. My man came in after fifteen hours’ +fighting, and went sound asleep, sitting before his food with his knife +and fork in his hands. But service makes heavy demands besides those +on your wife’s nerves. We had saved two thousand rupees, I remember, +against another run home, and it all went like powder, in the Mirzai +expedition; and the run home diminished to a month in a boarding-house +in the hills. + +Meanwhile, however, we had begun to correspond with our daughter, in +large round words of one syllable, behind which, of course, was +plain the patient guiding hand of Aunt Emma. One could hear Aunt Emma +suggesting what would be nice to say, trying to instil a little pale +affection for the far-off papa and mamma. There was so little Cecily and +so much Emma--of course, it could not be otherwise--that I used to take, +I fear, but a perfunctory joy in these letters. When we went home again +I stipulated absolutely that she was to write to us without any sort of +supervision--the child was ten. + +‘But the spelling!’ cried Aunt Emma, with lifted eyebrows. + +‘Her letters aren’t exercises,’ I was obliged to retort; ‘she will do +the best she can.’ + +We found her a docile little girl, with nice manners, a thoroughly +unobjectionable child. I saw quite clearly that I could not have brought +her up so well; indeed, there were moments when I fancied that Cecily, +contrasting me with her aunts, wondered a little what my bringing up +could have been like. With this reserve of criticism on Cecily’s part, +however, we got on very tolerably, largely because I found it impossible +to assume any responsibility towards her, and in moments of doubt or +discipline referred her to her aunts. We spent a pleasant summer with +a little girl in the house whose interest in us was amusing, and whose +outings it was gratifying to arrange; but when we went back, I had no +desire to take her with us. I thought her very much better where she +was. + +Then came the period which is filled, in a subordinate degree, with +Cecily’s letters. I do not wish to claim more than I ought; they were +not my only or even my principal interest in life. It was a long +period; it lasted till she was twenty-one. John had had promotion in the +meantime, and there was rather more money, but he had earned his second +brevet with a bullet through one lung, and the doctors ordered our leave +to be spent in South Africa. We had photographs, we knew she had +grown tall and athletic and comely, and the letters were always very +creditable. I had the unusual and qualified privilege of watching my +daughter’s development from ten to twenty-one, at a distance of +four thousand miles, by means of the written word. I wrote myself as +provocatively as possible; I sought for every string, but the vibration +that came back across the seas to me was always other than the one I +looked for, and sometimes there was none. Nevertheless, Mrs. Farnham +wrote me that Cecily very much valued my communications. Once when I had +described an unusual excursion in a native state, I learned that she +had read my letter aloud to the sewing circle. After that I abandoned +description, and confined myself to such intimate personal details as no +sewing circle could find amusing. The child’s own letters were simply +a mirror of the ideas of the Farnham ladies; that must have been so, +it was not altogether my jaundiced eye. Alice and Emma and grandmamma +paraded the pages in turn. I very early gave up hope of discoveries +in my daughter, though as much of the original as I could detect was +satisfactorily simple and sturdy. I found little things to criticize, +of course, tendencies to correct; and by return post I criticized and +corrected, but the distance and the deliberation seemed to touch my +maxims with a kind of arid frivolity, and sometimes I tore them up. One +quick, warm-blooded scolding would have been worth a sheaf of them. My +studied little phrases could only inoculate her with a dislike for me +without protecting her from anything under the sun. + +However, I found she didn’t dislike me, when John and I went home at +last to bring her out. She received me with just a hint of kindness, +perhaps, but on the whole very well. + + + +Chapter 1.II + +John was recalled, of course, before the end of our furlough, which +knocked various things on the head; but that is the sort of thing one +learned to take with philosophy in any lengthened term of Her Majesty’s +service. Besides, there is usually sugar for the pill; and in this case +it was a Staff command bigger than anything we expected for at least +five years to come. The excitement of it when it was explained to her +gave Cecily a charming colour. She took a good deal of interest in the +General, her papa; I think she had an idea that his distinction would +alleviate the situation in India, however it might present itself. She +accepted that prospective situation calmly; it had been placed before +her all her life. There would always be a time when she should go and +live with papa and mamma in India, and so long as she was of an age to +receive the idea with rebel tears she was assured that papa and mamma +would give her a pony. The pony was no longer added to the prospect; it +was absorbed no doubt in the general list of attractions calculated +to reconcile a young lady to a parental roof with which she had no +practical acquaintance. At all events, when I feared the embarrassment +and dismay of a pathetic parting with darling grandmamma and the +aunties, and the sweet cat and the dear vicar and all the other objects +of affection, I found an agreeable unexpected philosophy. + +I may add that while I anticipated such broken-hearted farewells I +was quite prepared to take them easily. Time, I imagined, had brought +philosophy to me also, equally agreeable and equally unexpected. + +It was a Bombay ship, full of returning Anglo-Indians. I looked up and +down the long saloon tables with a sense of relief and of solace; I +was again among my own people. They belonged to Bengal and to Burma, to +Madras and to the Punjab, but they were all my people. I could pick out +a score that I knew in fact, and there were none that in imagination I +didn’t know. The look of wider seas and skies, the casual experienced +glance, the touch of irony and of tolerance, how well I knew it and how +well I liked it! Dear old England, sitting in our wake, seemed to hold +by comparison a great many soft, unsophisticated people, immensely +occupied about very particular trifles. How difficult it had been, all +the summer, to be interested! These of my long acquaintance belonged to +my country’s Executive, acute, alert, with the marks of travail on them. +Gladly I went in and out of the women’s cabins and listened to the argot +of the men; my own ruling, administering, soldiering little lot. + +Cecily looked at them askance. To her the atmosphere was alien, and I +perceived that gently and privately she registered objections. She +cast a disapproving eye upon the wife of a Conservator of Forests, who +scanned with interest a distant funnel and laid a small wager that it +belonged to the Messageries Maritimes. She looked with a straightened +lip at the crisply stepping women who walked the deck in short and +rather shabby skirts with their hands in their jacket-pockets +talking transfers and promotions; and having got up at six to make +a water-colour sketch of the sunrise, she came to me in profound +indignation to say that she had met a man in his pyjamas; no doubt; poor +wretch, on his way to be shaved. I was unable to convince her he was not +expected to visit the barber in all his clothes. + +At the end of the third day she told me that she wished these people +wouldn’t talk to her; she didn’t like them. I had turned in the hour we +left the Channel and had not left my berth since, so possibly I was not +in the most amiable mood to receive a douche of cold water. ‘I must try +to remember, dear,’ I said, ‘that you have been brought up altogether in +the society of pussies and vicars and elderly ladies, and of course you +miss them. But you must have a little patience. I shall be up tomorrow, +if this beastly sea continues to go down; and then we will try to find +somebody suitable to introduce to you.’ + +‘Thank you, mamma,’ said my daughter, without a ray of suspicion. Then +she added consideringly, ‘Aunt Emma and Aunt Alice do seem quite elderly +ladies beside you, and yet you are older than either of them aren’t you? +I wonder how that is.’ + +It was so innocent, so admirable, that I laughed at my own expense; +while Cecily, doing her hair, considered me gravely. ‘I wish you would +tell me why you laugh, mamma,’ quoth she; ‘you laugh so often.’ + +We had not to wait after all for my good offices of the next morning. +Cecily came down at ten o’clock that night quite happy and excited; she +had been talking to a bishop, such a dear bishop. The bishop had been +showing her his collection of photographs, and she had promised to play +the harmonium for him at the eleven-o’clock service in the morning. +‘Bless me!’ said I, ‘is it Sunday?’ It seemed she had got on very well +indeed with the bishop, who knew the married sister, at Tunbridge, +of her very greatest friend. Cecily herself did not know the married +sister, but that didn’t matter--it was a link. The bishop was charming. +‘Well, my love,’ said I--I was teaching myself to use these forms of +address for fear she would feel an unkind lack of them, but it was +difficult--‘I am glad that somebody from my part of the world has +impressed you favourably at last. I wish we had more bishops.’ + +‘Oh, but my bishop doesn’t belong to your part of the world,’ responded +my daughter sleepily. ‘He is travelling for his health.’ + +It was the most unexpected and delightful thing to be packed into one’s +chair next morning by Dacres Tottenham. As I emerged from the music +saloon after breakfast--Cecily had stayed below to look over her hymns +and consider with her bishop the possibility of an anthem--Dacres’s face +was the first I saw; it simply illuminated, for me, that portion of the +deck. I noticed with pleasure the quick toss of the cigar overboard as +he recognized and bore down upon me. We were immense friends; John liked +him too. He was one of those people who make a tremendous difference; +in all our three hundred passengers there could be no one like him, +certainly no one whom I could be more glad to see. We plunged at once +into immediate personal affairs, we would get at the heart of them +later. He gave his vivid word to everything he had seen and done; +we laughed and exclaimed and were silent in a concert of admirable +understanding. We were still unravelling, still demanding and explaining +when the ship’s bell began to ring for church, and almost simultaneously +Cecily advanced towards us. She had a proper Sunday hat on, with flowers +under the brim, and a church-going frock; she wore gloves and clasped a +prayer-book. Most of the women who filed past to the summons of the bell +were going down as they were, in cotton blouses and serge skirts, in +tweed caps or anything, as to a kind of family prayers. I knew exactly +how they would lean against the pillars of the saloon during the psalms. +This young lady would be little less than a rebuke to them. I surveyed +her approach; she positively walked as if it were Sunday. + +‘My dear,’ I said, ‘how endimanchee you look! The bishop will be very +pleased with you. This gentleman is Mr. Tottenham, who administers +Her Majesty’s pleasure in parts of India about Allahabad. My daughter, +Dacres.’ She was certainly looking very fresh, and her calm grey eyes +had the repose in them that has never known itself to be disturbed about +anything. I wondered whether she bowed so distantly also because it was +Sunday, and then I remembered that Dacres was a young man, and that +the Farnham ladies had probably taught her that it was right to be very +distant with young men. + +‘It is almost eleven, mamma.’ + +‘Yes, dear. I see you are going to church.’ + +‘Are you not coming, mamma?’ + +I was well wrapped up in an extremely comfortable corner. I had ‘La +Duchesse Bleue’ uncut in my lap, and an agreeable person to talk to. I +fear that in any case I should not been inclined to attend the service, +but there was something in my daughter’s intonation that made me +distinctly hostile to the idea. I am putting things down as they were, +extenuating nothing. + +‘I think not, dear.’ + +‘I’ve turned up two such nice seats.’ + +‘Stay, Miss Farnham, and keep us in countenance,’ said Dacres, with +his charming smile. The smile displaced a look of discreet and amused +observation. Dacres had an eye always for a situation, and this one was +even newer to him than to me. + +‘No, no. She must run away and not bully her mamma,’ I said. ‘When she +comes back we will see how much she remembers of the sermon;’ and as +the flat tinkle from the companion began to show signs of diminishing, +Cecily, with one grieved glance, hastened down. + +‘You amazing lady!’ said Dacres. ‘A daughter--and such a tall daughter! +I somehow never--’ + +‘You knew we had one?’ + +‘There was theory of that kind, I remember, about ten years ago. Since +then--excuse me--I don’t think you’ve mentioned her.’ + +‘You talk as if she were a skeleton in the closet!’ + +‘You DIDN’T talk--as if she were.’ + +‘I think she was, in a way, poor child. But the resurrection day hasn’t +confounded me as I deserved. She’s a very good girl.’ + +‘If you had asked me to pick out your daughter--’ + +‘She would have been the last you would indicate! Quite so,’ I said. +‘She is like her father’s people. I can’t help that.’ + +‘I shouldn’t think you would if you could,’ Dacres remarked absently; +but the sea air, perhaps, enabled me to digest his thoughtlessness with +a smile. + +‘No,’ I said, ‘I am just as well pleased. I think a resemblance to me +would confuse me, often.’ + +There was a trace of scrutiny in Dacres’s glance. ‘Don’t you find +yourself in sympathy with her?’ he asked. + +‘My dear boy, I have seen her just twice in twenty-one years! You see, +I’ve always stuck to John.’ + +‘But between mother and daughter--I may be old-fashioned, but I had an +idea that there was an instinct that might be depended on.’ + +‘I am depending on it,’ I said, and let my eyes follow the little blue +waves that chased past the hand-rail. ‘We are making very good speed, +aren’t we? Thirty-five knots since last night at ten. Are you in the +sweep?’ + +‘I never bet on the way out--can’t afford it. Am I old-fashioned?’ he +insisted. + +‘Probably. Men are very slow in changing their philosophy about women. I +fancy their idea of the maternal relation is firmest fixed of all.’ + +‘We see it a beatitude!’ he cried. + +‘I know,’ I said wearily, ‘and you never modify the view.’ + +Dacres contemplated the portion of the deck that lay between us. His +eyes were discreetly lowered, but I saw embarrassment and speculation +and a hint of criticism in them. + +‘Tell me more about it,’ said he. + +‘Oh, for heaven’s sake don’t be sympathetic!’ I exclaimed. ‘Lend me a +little philosophy instead. There is nothing to tell. There she is and +there I am, in the most intimate relation in the world, constituted +when she is twenty-one and I am forty.’ Dacres started slightly at the +ominous word; so little do men realize that the women they like can ever +pass out of the constated years of attraction. ‘I find the young +lady very tolerable, very creditable, very nice. I find the relation +atrocious. There you have it. I would like to break the relation into +pieces,’ I went on recklessly, ‘and throw it into the sea. Such things +should be tempered to one. I should feel it much less if she occupied +another cabin, and would consent to call me Elizabeth or Jane. It is not +as if I had been her mother always. One grows fastidious at forty--new +intimacies are only possible then on a basis of temperament--’ + +I paused; it seemed to me that I was making excuses, and I had not the +least desire in the world to do that. + +‘How awfully rough on the girl!’ said Dacres Tottenham. + +‘That consideration has also occurred to me,’ I said candidly, ‘though I +have perhaps been even more struck by its converse.’ + +‘You had no earthly business to be her mother,’ said my friend, with +irritation. + +I shrugged my shoulders--what would you have done?--and opened ‘La +Duchesse Bleue’. + + + +Chapter 1.III + +Mrs. Morgan, wife of a judge of the High Court of Bombay, and I sat +amidships on the cool side in the Suez Canal. She was outlining ‘Soiled +Linen’ in chain-stitch on a green canvas bag; I was admiring the +Egyptian sands. ‘How charming,’ said I, ‘is this solitary desert in the +endless oasis we are compelled to cross!’ + +‘Oasis in the desert, you mean,’ said Mrs. Morgan; ‘I haven’t noticed +any, but I happened to look up this morning as I was putting on my +stockings, and I saw through my port-hole the most lovely mirage.’ + +I had been at school with Mrs. Morgan more than twenty years agone, but +she had come to the special enjoyment of the dignities of life while I +still liked doing things. Mrs. Morgan was the kind of person to make +one realize how distressing a medium is middle age. Contemplating her +precipitous lap, to which conventional attitudes were certainly more +becoming, I crossed my own knees with energy, and once more resolved to +be young until I was old. + +‘How perfectly delightful for you to be taking Cecily out!’ said Mrs. +Morgan placidly. + +‘Isn’t it?’ I responded, watching the gliding sands. + +‘But she was born in sixty-nine--that makes her twenty-one. Quite time, +I should say.’ + +‘Oh, we couldn’t put it off any longer. I mean--her father has such a +horror of early debuts. He simply would not hear of her coming before.’ + +‘Doesn’t want her to marry in India, I dare say--the only one,’ purred +Mrs. Morgan. + +‘Oh, I don’t know. It isn’t such a bad place. I was brought out there to +marry, and I married. I’ve found it very satisfactory.’ + +‘You always did say exactly what you thought, Helena,’ said Mrs. Morgan +excusingly. + +‘I haven’t much patience with people who bring their daughters out to +give them the chance they never would have in England, and then go about +devoutly hoping they won’t marry in India,’ I said. ‘I shall be very +pleased if Cecily does as well as your girls have done.’ + +‘Mary in the Indian Civil and Jessie in the Imperial Service Troops,’ +sighed Mrs. Morgan complacently. ‘And both, my dear, within a year. It +WAS a blow.’ + +‘Oh, it must have been!’ I said civilly. + +There was no use in bandying words with Emily Morgan. + +‘There is nothing in the world like the satisfaction and pleasure one +takes in one’s daughters,’ Mrs. Morgan went on limpidly. ‘And one can be +in such CLOSE sympathy with one’s girls. I have never regretted having +no sons.’ + +‘Dear me, yes. To watch oneself growing up again--call back the lovely +April of one’s prime, etcetera--to read every thought and anticipate +every wish--there is no more golden privilege in life, dear Emily. +Such a direct and natural avenue for affection, such a wide field for +interest!’ + +I paused, lost in the volume of my admirable sentiments. + +‘How beautifully you talk, Helena! I wish I had the gift.’ + +‘It doesn’t mean very much,’ I said truthfully. + +‘Oh, I think it’s everything! And how companionable a girl is! I quite +envy you, this season, having Cecily constantly with you and taking her +about everywhere. Something quite new for you, isn’t it?’ + +‘Absolutely,’ said I; ‘I am looking forward to it immensely. But it +is likely she will make her own friends, don’t you think?’ I added +anxiously. + +‘Hardly the first season. My girls didn’t. I was practically their only +intimate for months. Don’t be afraid; you won’t be obliged to go shares +in Cecily with anybody for a good long while,’ added Mrs. Morgan kindly. +‘I know just how you feel about THAT.’ + +The muddy water of the Ditch chafed up from under us against its banks +with a smell that enabled me to hide the emotions Mrs. Morgan evoked +behind my handkerchief. The pale desert was pictorial with the drifting, +deepening purple shadows of clouds, and in the midst a blue glimmer of +the Bitter Lakes, with a white sail on them. A little frantic Arab boy +ran alongside keeping pace with the ship. Except for the smell, it was +like a dream, we moved so quietly; on, gently on and on between the +ridgy clay banks and the rows of piles. Peace was on the ship; you could +hear what the Fourth in his white ducks said to the quartermaster in +his blue denims; you could count the strokes of the electric bell in the +wheel-house; peace was on the ship as she pushed on, an ever-venturing, +double-funneled impertinence, through the sands of the ages. My eyes +wandered along a plank-line in the deck till they were arrested by a +petticoat I knew, when they returned of their own accord. I seemed to be +always seeing that petticoat. + +‘I think,’ resumed Mrs. Morgan, whose glance had wandered in the same +direction, ‘that Cecily is a very fine type of our English girls. +With those dark grey eyes, a LITTLE prominent possibly, and that good +colour--it’s rather high now perhaps, but she will lose quite enough +of it in India--and those regular features, she would make a splendid +Britannia. Do you know, I fancy she must have a great deal of character. +Has she?’ + +‘Any amount. And all of it good,’ I responded, with private dejection. + +‘No faults at all?’ chaffed Mrs. Morgan. + +I shook my head. ‘Nothing,’ I said sadly, ‘that I can put my finger on. +But I hope to discover a few later. The sun may bring them out.’ + +‘Like freckles. Well, you are a lucky woman. Mine had plenty, I assure +you. Untidiness was no name for Jessie, and Mary--I’m SORRY to say that +Mary sometimes fibbed.’ + +‘How lovable of her! Cecily’s neatness is a painful example to me, and I +don’t believe she would tell a fib to save my life.’ + +‘Tell me,’ said Mrs. Morgan, as the lunch-bell rang and she gathered her +occupation into her work-basket, ‘who is that talking to her?’ + +‘Oh, an old friend,’ I replied easily; ‘Dacres Tottenham, a dear fellow, +and most benevolent. He is trying on my behalf to reconcile her to the +life she’ll have to lead in India.’ + +‘She won’t need much reconciling, if she’s like most girls,’ observed +Mrs. Morgan, ‘but he seems to be trying very hard.’ + +That was quite the way I took it--on my behalf--for several days. When +people have understood you very adequately for ten years you do not +expect them to boggle at any problem you may present at the end of the +decade. I thought Dacres was moved by a fine sense of compassion. I +thought that with his admirable perception he had put a finger on the +little comedy of fruitfulness in my life that laughed so bitterly at +the tragedy of the barren woman, and was attempting, by delicate +manipulation, to make it easier. I really thought so. Then I observed +that myself had preposterously deceived me, that it wasn’t like that at +all. When Mr. Tottenham joined us, Cecily and me, I saw that he listened +more than he talked, with an ear specially cocked to register any small +irony which might appear in my remarks to my daughter. Naturally he +registered more than there were, to make up perhaps for dear Cecily’s +obviously not registering any. I could see, too, that he was suspicious +of any flavour of kindness; finally, to avoid the strictures of his +upper lip, which really, dear fellow, began to bore me, I talked +exclusively about the distant sails and the Red Sea littoral. When he +no longer joined us as we sat or walked together, I perceived that his +hostility was fixed and his parti pris. He was brimful of compassion, +but it was all for Cecily, none for the situation or for me. (She would +have marvelled, placidly, why he pitied her. I am glad I can say that.) +The primitive man in him rose up as Pope of nature and excommunicated +me as a creature recusant to her functions. Then deliberately Dacres +undertook an office of consolation; and I fell to wondering, while +Mrs. Morgan spoke her convictions plainly out, how far an impulse of +reparation for a misfortune with which he had nothing to do might carry +a man. + +I began to watch the affair with an interest which even to me seemed +queer. It was not detached, but it was semi-detached, and, of course, +on the side for which I seem, in this history, to be perpetually +apologizing. With certain limitations it didn’t matter an atom whom +Cecily married. So that he was sound and decent, with reasonable +prospects, her simple requirements and ours for her would be quite met. +There was the ghost of a consolation in that; one needn’t be anxious or +exacting. + +I could predict with a certain amount of confidence that in her first +season she would probably receive three or four proposals, any one of +which she might accept with as much propriety and satisfaction as any +other one. For Cecily it was so simple; prearranged by nature like her +digestion, one could not see any logical basis for difficulties. A nice +upstanding sapper, a dashing Bengal Lancer--oh, I could think of half +a dozen types that would answer excellently. She was the kind of young +person, and that was the summing up of it, to marry a type and be +typically happy. I hoped and expected that she would. But Dacres! + +Dacres should exercise the greatest possible discretion. He was not +a person who could throw the dice indifferently with fate. He could +respond to so much, and he would inevitably, sooner or later, demand so +much response! He was governed by a preposterously exacting temperament, +and he wore his nerves outside. And what vision he had! How he explored +the world he lived in and drew out of it all there was, all there was! +I could see him in the years to come ranging alone the fields that were +sweet and the horizons that lifted for him, and ever returning to pace +the common dusty mortal road by the side of a purblind wife. On general +principles, as a case to point at, it would be a conspicuous pity. Nor +would it lack the aspect of a particular, a personal misfortune. Dacres +was occupied in quite the natural normal degree with his charming self; +he would pass his misery on, and who would deserve to escape it less +than his mother-in-law? + +I listened to Emily Morgan, who gleaned in the ship more information +about Dacres Tottenham’s people, pay, and prospects than I had ever +acquired, and I kept an eye upon the pair which was, I flattered myself, +quite maternal. I watched them without acute anxiety, deploring the +threatening destiny, but hardly nearer to it than one is in the stalls +to the stage. My moments of real concern for Dacres were mingled more +with anger than with sorrow--it seemed inexcusable that he, with his +infallible divining-rod for temperament, should be on the point of +making such an ass of himself. Though I talk of the stage there was +nothing at all dramatic to reward my attention, mine and Emily Morgan’s. +To my imagination, excited by its idea of what Dacres Tottenham’s +courtship ought to be, the attentions he paid to Cecily were most +humdrum. He threw rings into buckets with her--she was good at that--and +quoits upon the ‘bull’ board; he found her chair after the decks were +swabbed in the morning and established her in it; he paced the deck with +her at convenient times and seasons. They were humdrum, but they were +constant and cumulative. Cecily took them with an even breath that +perfectly matched. There was hardly anything, on her part, to note--a +little discreet observation of his comings and goings, eyes scarcely +lifted from her book, and later just a hint of proprietorship, as the +evening she came up to me on deck, our first night in the Indian +Ocean. I was lying in my long chair looking at the thick, low stars and +thinking it was a long time since I had seen John. + +‘Dearest mamma, out here and nothing over your shoulders! You ARE +imprudent. Where is your wrap? Mr. Tottenham, will you please fetch +mamma’s wrap for her?’ + +‘If mamma so instructs me,’ he said audaciously. + +‘Do as Cecily tells you,’ I laughed, and he went and did it, while I by +the light of a quartermaster’s lantern distinctly saw my daughter blush. + +Another time, when Cecily came down to undress, she bent over me as I +lay in the lower berth with unusual solicitude. I had been dozing, and I +jumped. + +‘What is it, child?’ I said. ‘Is the ship on fire?’ + +‘No, mamma, the ship is not on fire. There is nothing wrong. I’m so +sorry I startled you. But Mr. Tottenham has been telling me all about +what you did for the soldiers the time plague broke out in the lines at +Mian-Mir. I think it was splendid, mamma, and so does he.’ + +‘Oh, Lord!’ I groaned. ‘Good night.’ + + + +Chapter 1.IV. + +It remained in my mind, that little thing that Dacres had taken the +trouble to tell my daughter; I thought about it a good deal. It seemed +to me the most serious and convincing circumstances that had yet offered +itself to my consideration. Dacres was no longer content to bring solace +and support to the more appealing figure of the situation; he must set +to work, bless him! to improve the situation itself. He must try to +induce Miss Farnham, by telling her everything he could remember to +my credit, to think as well of her mother as possible, in spite of the +strange and secret blows which that mother might be supposed to sit +up at night to deliver to her. Cecily thought very well of me already; +indeed, with private reservations as to my manners and--no, NOT my +morals, I believe I exceeded her expectations of what a perfectly new +and untrained mother would be likely to prove. It was my theory that she +found me all she could understand me to be. The maternal virtues of the +outside were certainly mine; I put them on with care every morning and +wore them with patience all day. Dacres, I assured myself, must have +allowed his preconception to lead him absurdly by the nose not to see +that the girl was satisfied, that my impatience, my impotence, did +not at all make her miserable. Evidently, however, he had created +our relations differently; evidently he had set himself to their +amelioration. There was portent in it; things seemed to be closing in. I +bit off a quarter of an inch of wooden pen-handle in considering whether +or not I should mention it in my letter to John, and decided that it +would be better just perhaps to drop a hint. Though I could not expect +John to receive it with any sort of perturbation. Men are different; he +would probably think Tottenham well enough able to look after himself. + +I had embarked on my letter, there at the end of a corner-table of the +saloon, when I saw Dacres saunter through. He wore a very conscious +and elaborately purposeless air; and it jumped with my mood that he had +nothing less than the crisis of his life in his pocket, and was looking +for me. As he advanced towards me between the long tables doubt left me +and alarm assailed me. ‘I’m glad to find you in a quiet corner,’ said +he, seating himself, and confirmed my worst anticipations. + +‘I’m writing to John,’ I said, and again applied myself to my +pen-handle. It is a trick Cecily has since done her best in vain to cure +me of. + +‘I am going to interrupt you,’ he said. ‘I have not had an opportunity +of talking to you for some time.’ + +‘I like that!’ I exclaimed derisively. + +‘And I want to tell you that I am very much charmed with Cecily.’ + +‘Well,’ I said, ‘I am not going to gratify you by saying anything +against her.’ + +‘You don’t deserve her, you know.’ + +‘I won’t dispute that. But, if you don’t mind--I’m not sure that I’ll +stand being abused, dear boy.’ + +‘I quite see it isn’t any use. Though one spoke with the tongues of men +and of angels--’ + +‘And had not charity,’ I continued for him. ‘Precisely. I won’t go on, +but your quotation is very apt.’ + +‘I so bow down before her simplicity. It makes a wide and beautiful +margin for the rest of her character. She is a girl Ruskin would have +loved.’ + +‘I wonder,’ said I. ‘He did seem fond of the simple type, didn’t he?’ + +‘Her mind is so clear, so transparent. The motive spring of everything +she says and does is so direct. Don’t you find you can most completely +depend upon her?’ + +‘Oh yes,’ I said; ‘certainly. I nearly always know what she is going +to say before she says it, and under given circumstances I can tell +precisely what she will do.’ + +‘I fancy her sense of duty is very beautifully developed.’ + +‘It is,’ I said. ‘There is hardly a day when I do not come in contact +with it.’ + +‘Well, that is surely a good thing. And I find that calm poise of hers +very restful.’ + +‘I would not have believed that so many virtues could reside in one +young lady,’ I said, taking refuge in flippancy, ‘and to think that she +should be my daughter!’ + +‘As I believe you know, that seems to me rather a cruel stroke of +destiny, Mrs. Farnham.’ + +‘Oh yes, I know! You have a constructive imagination, Dacres. You +don’t seem to see that the girl is protected by her limitations, like a +tortoise. She lives within them quite secure and happy and content. How +determined you are to be sorry for her!’ + +Mr. Tottenham looked at the end of this lively exchange as though he +sought for a polite way of conveying to me that I rather was the limited +person. He looked as if he wished he could say things. The first of them +would be, I saw, that he had quite a different conception of Cecily, +that it was illuminated by many trifles, nuances of feeling and +expression, which he had noticed in his talks with her whenever they had +skirted the subject of her adoption by her mother. He knew her, he was +longing to say, better than I did; when it would have been natural to +reply that one could not hope to compete in such a direction with an +intelligent young man, and we should at once have been upon delicate and +difficult ground. So it was as well perhaps that he kept silence until +he said, as he had come prepared to say, ‘Well, I want to put that +beyond a doubt--her happiness--if I’m good enough. I want her, please, +and I only hope that she will be half as willing to come as you are +likely to be to let her go.’ + +It was a shock when it came, plump, like that; and I was horrified to +feel how completely every other consideration was lost for the instant +in the immense relief that it prefigured. To be my whole complete self +again, without the feeling that a fraction of me was masquerading about +in Cecily! To be freed at once, or almost, from an exacting condition +and an impossible ideal! ‘Oh!’ I exclaimed, and my eyes positively +filled. ‘You ARE good, Dacres, but I couldn’t let you do that.’ + +His undisguised stare brought me back to a sense of the proportion of +things. I saw that in the combination of influences that had brought Mr. +Tottenham to the point of proposing to marry my daughter consideration +for me, if it had a place, would be fantastic. Inwardly I laughed at the +egotism of raw nerves that had conjured it up, even for an instant, as +a reason for gratitude. The situation was not so peculiar, not so +interesting, as that. But I answered his stare with a smile; what I had +said might very well stand. + +‘Do you imagine,’ he said, seeing that I did not mean to amplify it, +‘that I want to marry her out of any sort of GOODness?’ + +‘Benevolence is your weakness, Dacres.’ + +‘I see. You think one’s motive is to withdraw her from a relation +which ought to be the most natural in the world, but which is, in her +particular and painful case, the most equivocal.’ + +‘Well, come,’ I remonstrated. ‘You have dropped one or two things, you +know, in the heat of your indignation, not badly calculated to give one +that idea. The eloquent statement you have just made, for instance--it +carries all the patness of old conviction. How often have you rehearsed +it?’ + +I am a fairly long-suffering person, but I began to feel a little +annoyed with my would-be son-in-law. If the relation were achieved it +would give him no prescriptive right to bully me; and we were still in +very early anticipation of that. + +‘Ah!’ he said disarmingly. ‘Don’t let us quarrel. I’m sorry you think +that; because it isn’t likely to bring your favour to my project, and +I want you friendly and helpful. Oh, confound it!’ he exclaimed, with +sudden temper. ‘You ought to be. I don’t understand this aloofness. +I half suspect it’s pose. You undervalue Cecily--well, you have no +business to undervalue me. You know me better than anybody in the world. +Now are you going to help me to marry your daughter?’ + +‘I don’t think so,’ I said slowly, after a moment’s silence, which he +sat through like a mutinous schoolboy. ‘I might tell you that I don’t +care a button whom you marry, but that would not be true. I do care more +or less. As you say, I know you pretty well. I’d a little rather you +didn’t make a mess of it; and if you must I should distinctly prefer +not to have the spectacle under my nose for the rest of my life. I can’t +hinder you, but I won’t help you.’ + +‘And what possesses you to imagine that in marrying Cecily I should make +a mess of it? Shouldn’t your first consideration be whether SHE would?’ + +‘Perhaps it should, but, you see, it isn’t. Cecily would be happy with +anybody who made her comfortable. You would ask a good deal more than +that, you know.’ + +Dacres, at this, took me up promptly. Life, he said, the heart of life, +had particularly little to say to temperament. By the heart of life I +suppose he meant married love. He explained that its roots asked other +sustenance, and that it throve best of all on simple elemental goodness. +So long as a man sought in women mere casual companionship, perhaps +the most exquisite thing to be experienced was the stimulus of some +spiritual feminine counterpart; but when he desired of one woman that +she should be always and intimately with him, the background of his +life, the mother of his children, he was better advised to avoid +nerves and sensibilities, and try for the repose of the common--the +uncommon--domestic virtues. Ah, he said, they were sweet, like lavender. +(Already, I told him, he smelled the housekeeper’s linen-chest.) But +I did not interrupt him much; I couldn’t, he was too absorbed. To +temperamental pairing, he declared, the century owed its breed of +decadents. I asked him if he had ever really recognized one; and he +retorted that if he hadn’t he didn’t wish to make a beginning in his +own family. In a quarter of an hour he repudiated the theories of a +lifetime, a gratifying triumph for simple elemental goodness. Having +denied the value of the subtler pretensions to charm in woman as you +marry her, he went artlessly on to endow Cecily with as many of them as +could possibly be desirable. He actually persuaded himself to say that +it was lovely to see the reflections of life in her tranquil spirit; +and when I looked at him incredulously he grew angry, and hinted that +Cecily’s sensitiveness to reflections and other things might be a trifle +beyond her mother’s ken. ‘She responds instantly, intimately, to the +beautiful everywhere,’ he declared. + +‘Aren’t the opportunities of life on board ship rather limited to +demonstrate that?’ I inquired. ‘I know--you mean sunsets. Cecily is very +fond of sunsets. She is always asking me to come and look at them.’ + +‘I was thinking of last night’s sunset,’ he confessed. ‘We looked at it +together.’ + +‘What did she say?’ I asked idly. + +‘Nothing very much. That’s just the point. Another girl would have raved +and gushed.’ + +‘Oh, well, Cecily never does that,’ I responded. ‘Nevertheless she is +a very ordinary human instrument. I hope I shall have no temptation ten +years hence to remind you that I warned you of her quality.’ + +‘I wish, not in the least for my own profit, for I am well convinced +already, but simply to win your cordiality and your approval--never did +an unexceptional wooer receive such niggard encouragement!--I wish there +were some sort of test for her quality. I would be proud to stand by it, +and you would be convinced. I can’t find words to describe my objection +to your state of mind.’ + +The thing seemed to me to be a foregone conclusion. I saw it +accomplished, with all its possibilities of disastrous commonplace. I +saw all that I have here taken the trouble to foreshadow. So far as +I was concerned, Dacres’s burden would add itself to my philosophies, +voila tout. I should always be a little uncomfortable about it, because +it had been taken from my back; but it would not be a matter for the +wringing of hands. And yet--the hatefulness of the mistake! Dacres’s +bold talk of a test made no suggestion. Should my invention be more +fertile? I thought of something. + +‘You have said nothing to her yet?’ I asked. + +‘Nothing. I don’t think she suspects for a moment. She treats me as if +no such fell design were possible. I’m none too confident, you know,’ he +added, with longer face. + +‘We go straight to Agra. Could you come to Agra?’ + +‘Ideal!’ he cried. ‘The memory of Mumtaz! The garden of the Taj! I’ve +always wanted to love under the same moon as Shah Jehan. How thoughtful +of you!’ + +‘You must spend a few days with us in Agra,’ I continued. ‘And as you +say, it is the very place to shrine your happiness, if it comes to pass +there.’ + +‘Well, I am glad to have extracted a word of kindness from you at last,’ +said Dacres, as the stewards came to lay the table. ‘But I wish,’ he +added regretfully, ‘you could have thought of a test.’ + + + +Chapter 1.V. + +Four days later we were in Agra. A time there was when the name would +have been the key of dreams to me; now it stood for John’s headquarters. +I was rejoiced to think I would look again upon the Taj; and the +prospect of living with it was a real enchantment; but I pondered most +the kind of house that would be provided for the General Commanding the +District, how many the dining-room would seat, and whether it would +have a roof of thatch or of corrugated iron--I prayed against corrugated +iron. I confess these my preoccupations. I was forty, and at forty the +practical considerations of life hold their own even against domes of +marble, world-renowned, and set about with gardens where the bulbul +sings to the rose. I smiled across the years at the raptures of my first +vision of the place at twenty-one, just Cecily’s age. Would I now sit +under Arjamand’s cypresses till two o’clock in the morning to see the +wonder of her tomb at a particular angle of the moon? Would I climb one +of her tall white ministering minarets to see anything whatever? I very +greatly feared that I would not. Alas for the aging of sentiment, of +interest! Keep your touch with life and your seat in the saddle as +long as you will, the world is no new toy at forty. But Cecily was +twenty-one, Cecily who sat stolidly finishing her lunch while Dacres +Tottenham talked about Akbar and his philosophy. ‘The sort of man,’ he +said, ‘that Carlyle might have smoked a pipe with.’ + +‘But surely,’ said Cecily reflectively, ‘tobacco was not discovered in +England then. Akbar came to the throne in 1526.’ + +‘Nor Carlyle either for that matter,’ I hastened to observe. +‘Nevertheless, I think Mr. Tottenham’s proposition must stand.’ + +‘Thanks, Mrs. Farnham,’ said Dacres. ‘But imagine Miss Farnham’s +remembering Akbar’s date! I’m sure you didn’t!’ + +‘Let us hope she doesn’t know too much about him,’ I cried gaily, ‘or +there will be nothing to tell!’ + +‘Oh, really and truly very little!’ said Cecily, ‘but as soon as we +heard papa would be stationed here Aunt Emma made me read up about those +old Moguls and people. I think I remember the dynasty. Baber, wasn’t he +the first? And then Humayon, and after him Akbar, and then Jehangir, and +then Shah Jehan. But I’ve forgotten every date but Akbar’s.’ + +She smiled her smile of brilliant health and even spirits as she made +the damaging admission, and she was so good to look at, sitting there +simple and wholesome and fresh, peeling her banana with her well-shaped +fingers, that we swallowed the dynasty as it were whole, and smiled back +upon her. John, I may say, was extremely pleased with Cecily; he +said she was a very satisfactory human accomplishment. One would +have thought, positively, the way he plumed himself over his handsome +daughter, that he alone was responsible for her. But John, having +received his family, straightway set off with his Staff on a tour of +inspection, and thereby takes himself out of this history. I sometimes +think that if he had stayed--but there has never been the lightest +recrimination between us about it, and I am not going to hint one now. + +‘Did you read,’ asked Dacres, ‘what he and the Court poet wrote over the +entrance gate to the big mosque at Fattehpur-Sikri? It’s rather nice. +“The world is a looking-glass, wherein the image has come and is +gone--take as thine own nothing more than what thou lookest upon.”’ + +My daughter’s thoughtful gaze was, of course, fixed upon the speaker, +and in his own glance I saw a sudden ray of consciousness; but Cecily +transferred her eyes to the opposite wall, deeply considering, and while +Dacres and I smiled across the table, I saw that she had perceived no +reason for blushing. It was a singularly narrow escape. + +‘No,’ she said, ‘I didn’t; what a curious proverb for an emperor to +make! He couldn’t possibly have been able to see all his possessions at +once.’ + +‘If you have finished,’ Dacres addressed her, ‘do let me show you what +your plain and immediate duty is to the garden. The garden waits for +you--all the roses expectant--’ + +‘Why, there isn’t one!’ cried Cecily, pinning on her hat. It was +pleasing, and just a trifle pathetic, the way he hurried her out of the +scope of any little dart; he would not have her even within range of +amused observation. Would he continue, I wondered vaguely, as, with my +elbows on the table, I tore into strips the lemon-leaf that floated in +my finger-bowl--would he continue, through life, to shelter her from his +other clever friends as now he attempted to shelter her from her mother? +In that case he would have to domicile her, poor dear, behind the +curtain, like the native ladies--a good price to pay for a protection +of which, bless her heart! she would be all unaware. I had quite stopped +bemoaning the affair; perhaps the comments of my husband, who treated +it with broad approval and satisfaction, did something to soothe my +sensibilities. At all events, I had gradually come to occupy a high +fatalistic ground towards the pair. If it was written upon their +foreheads that they should marry, the inscription was none of mine; +and, of course, it was true, as John had indignantly stated, that +Dacres might do very much worse. One’s interest in Dacres Tottenham’s +problematical future had in no way diminished; but the young man was so +positive, so full of intention, so disinclined to discussion--he had +not reopened the subject since that morning in the saloon of the +Caledonia--that one’s feeling about it rather took the attenuated form +of a shrug. I am afraid, too, that the pleasurable excitement of such +an impending event had a little supervened; even at forty there is no +disallowing the natural interests of one’s sex. As I sat there pulling +my lemon-leaf to pieces, I should not have been surprised or in the +least put about if the two had returned radiant from the lawn to demand +my blessing. As to the test of quality that I had obligingly invented +for Dacres on the spur of the moment without his knowledge or +connivance, it had some time ago faded into what he apprehended it to +be--a mere idyllic opportunity, a charming background, a frame for his +project, of prettier sentiment than the funnels and the hand-rails of a +ship. + +Mr. Tottenham had ten days to spend with us. He knew the place well; +it belonged to the province to whose service he was dedicated, and he +claimed with impressive authority the privilege of showing it to Cecily +by degrees--the Hall of Audience today, the Jessamine Tower tomorrow, +the tomb of Akbar another, and the Deserted City yet another day. We +arranged the expeditions in conference, Dacres insisting only upon the +order of them, which I saw was to be cumulative, with the Taj at the +very end, on the night precisely of the full of the moon, with a better +chance of roses. I had no special views, but Cecily contributed some; +that we should do the Hall of Audience in the morning, so as not to +interfere with the club tennis in the afternoon, that we should bicycle +to Akbar’s tomb and take a cold luncheon--if we were sure there would +be no snakes--to the Deserted City, to all of which Dacres gave loyal +assent. I endorsed everything; I was the encouraging chorus, only +stipulating that my number should be swelled from day to day by the +addition of such persons as I should approve. Cecily, for instance, +wanted to invite the Bakewells because we had come out in the same ship +with them; but I could not endure the Bakewells, and it seemed to me +that our having made the voyage with them was the best possible reason +for declining to lay eyes on them for the rest of our natural lives. +‘Mamma has such strong prejudices,’ Cecily remarked, as she reluctantly +gave up the idea; and I waited to see whether the graceless Tottenham +would unmurmuringly take down the Bakewells. How strong must be the +sentiment that turns a man into a boa-constrictor without a pang of +transmigration! But no, this time he was faithful to the principles of +his pre-Cecilian existence. ‘They are rather Boojums,’ he declared. +‘You would think so, too, if you knew them better. It is that kind of +excellent person that makes the real burden of India.’ I could have +patted him on the back. + +Thanks to the rest of the chorus, which proved abundantly available, +I was no immediate witness to Cecily’s introduction to the glorious +fragments which sustain in Agra the memory of the moguls. I may as well +say that I arranged with care that if anybody must be standing by when +Dacres disclosed them, it should not be I. If Cecily had squinted, +I should have been sorry, but I would have found in it no personal +humiliation. There were other imperfections of vision, however, for +which I felt responsible and ashamed; and with Dacres, though the +situation, Heaven knows, was none of my seeking, I had a little the +feeling of a dealer who offers a defective bibelot to a connoisseur. My +charming daughter--I was fifty times congratulated upon her appearance +and her manners--had many excellent qualities and capacities which she +never inherited from me; but she could see no more than the bulk, no +further than the perspective; she could register exactly as much as a +camera. + +This was a curious thing, perhaps, to displease my maternal vanity, but +it did; I had really rather she squinted; and when there was anything to +look at I kept out of the way. I can not tell precisely, therefore, what +the incidents were that contributed to make Mr. Tottenham, on our return +from these expeditions, so thoughtful, with a thoughtfulness which +increased, towards the end of them, to a positive gravity. This would +disappear during dinner under the influence of food and drink. He +would talk nightly with new enthusiasm and fresh hope--or did I imagine +it?--of the loveliness he had arranged to reveal on the following day. +If again my imagination did not lead me astray, I fancied this occurred +later and later in the course of the meal as the week went on; as if +his state required more stimulus as time progressed. One evening, when +I expected it to flag altogether, I had a whim to order champagne and +observe the effect; but I am glad to say that I reproved myself, and +refrained. + +Cecily, meanwhile, was conducting herself in a manner which left nothing +to be desired. If, as I sometimes thought, she took Dacres very much for +granted, she took him calmly for granted; she seemed a prey to none of +those fluttering uncertainties, those suspended judgments and elaborate +indifferences which translate themselves so plainly in a young lady +receiving addresses. She turned herself out very freshly and very well; +she was always ready for everything, and I am sure that no glance of +Dacres Tottenham’s found aught but direct and decorous response. His +society on these occasions gave her solid pleasure; so did the drive and +the lunch; the satisfactions were apparently upon the same plane. She +was aware of the plum, if I may be permitted a brusque but irresistible +simile; and with her mouth open, her eyes modestly closed, and her head +in a convenient position, she waited, placidly, until it should fall in. +The Farnham ladies would have been delighted with the result of their +labours in the sweet reason and eminent propriety of this attitude. +Thinking of my idiotic sufferings when John began to fix himself upon my +horizon, I pondered profoundly the power of nature in differentiation. + +One evening, the last, I think, but one, I had occasion to go to my +daughter’s room, and found her writing in her commonplace-book. She had +a commonplace-book, as well as a Where Is It? an engagement-book, an +account-book, a diary, a Daily Sunshine, and others with purposes too +various to remember. ‘Dearest mamma,’ she said, as I was departing, +‘there is only one “p” in “opulence”, isn’t there?’ + +‘Yes,’ I replied, with my hand on the door-handle, and added curiously, +for it was an odd word in Cecily’s mouth, ‘Why?’ + +She hardly hesitated. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘I am just writing down one or two +things Mr. Tottenham said about Agra before I forget them. They seemed +so true.’ + +‘He has a descriptive touch,’ I remarked. + +‘I think he describes beautifully. Would you like to hear what he said +today?’ + +‘I would,’ I replied, sincerely. + +‘“Agra,”’ read this astonishing young lady, ‘“is India’s one pure idyll. +Elsewhere she offers other things, foolish opulence, tawdry pageant, +treachery of eunuchs and jealousies of harems, thefts of kings’ jewels +and barbaric retributions; but they are all actual, visualized, or +part of a past that shows to the backward glance hardly more relief +and vitality than a Persian painting”--I should like to see a Persian +painting--“but here the immortal tombs and pleasure-houses rise out of +colour delicate and subtle; the vision holds across three hundred years; +the print of the court is still in the dust of the city.”’ + +‘Did you really let him go on like that?’ I exclaimed. ‘It has the +license of a lecture!’ + +‘I encouraged him to. Of course he didn’t say it straight off. He said +it naturally; he stopped now and then to cough. I didn’t understand it +all; but I think I have remembered every word.’ + +‘You have a remarkable memory. I’m glad he stopped to cough. Is there +any more?’ + +‘One little bit. “Here the moguls wrought their passions into marble, +and held them up with great refrains from their religion, and set them +about with gardens; and here they stand in the twilight of the glory of +those kings and the noonday splendour of their own.”’ + +‘How clever of you!’ I exclaimed. ‘How wonderfully clever of you to +remember!’ + +‘I had to ask him to repeat one or two sentences. He didn’t like that. +But this is nothing. I used to learn pages letter-perfect for Aunt Emma. +She was very particular. I think it is worth preserving, don’t you?’ + +‘Dear Cecily,’ I responded, ‘you have a frugal mind.’ + +There was nothing else to respond. I could not tell her just how +practical I thought her, or how pathetic her little book. + + + +Chapter 1.VI. + +We drove together, after dinner, to the Taj. The moonlight lay in an +empty splendour over the broad sandy road, with the acacias pricking up +on each side of it and the gardens of the station bungalows stretching +back into clusters of crisp shadows. It was an exquisite February night, +very still. Nothing seemed abroad but two or three pariah dogs, upon +vague and errant business, and the Executive Engineer going swiftly home +from the club on his bicycle. Even the little shops of the bazaar were +dark and empty; only here and there a light showed barred behind +the carved balconies of the upper rooms, and there was hardly any +tom-tomming. The last long slope of the road showed us the river curving +to the left, through a silent white waste that stretched indefinitely +into the moonlight on one side, and was crowned by Akbar’s fort on the +other. His long high line of turrets and battlements still guarded a +hint of their evening rose, and dim and exquisite above them hovered +the three dome-bubbles of the Pearl Mosque. It was a night of perfect +illusion, and the illusion was mysterious, delicate, and faint. I sat +silent as we rolled along, twenty years nearer to the original joy of +things when John and I drove through the same old dream. + +Dacres, too, seemed preoccupied; only Cecily was, as they say, herself. +Cecily was really more than herself, she exhibited an unusual flow of +spirits. She talked continually, she pointed out this and that, she +asked who lived here and who lived there. At regular intervals of +about four minutes she demanded if it wasn’t simply too lovely. She +sat straight up with her vigorous profile and her smart hat; and the +silhouette of her personality sharply refused to mingle with the dust +of any dynasty. She was a contrast, a protest; positively she was +an indignity. ‘Do lean back, dear child,’ I exclaimed at last. ‘You +interfere with the landscape.’ + +She leaned back, but she went on interfering with it in terms of +sincerest enthusiasm. + +When we stopped at the great archway of entrance I begged to be left in +the carriage. What else could one do, when the golden moment had come, +but sit in the carriage and measure it? They climbed the broad stone +steps together and passed under the lofty gravures into the garden, and +I waited. I waited and remembered. I am not, as perhaps by this time is +evident, a person of overwhelming sentiment, but I think the smile upon +my lips was gentle. So plainly I could see, beyond the massive +archway and across a score of years, all that they saw at that +moment--Arjamand’s garden, and the long straight tank of marble cleaving +it full of sleeping water and the shadows of the marshaling cypresses; +her wide dark garden of roses and of pomegranates, and at the end the +Vision, marvellous, aerial, the soul of something--is it beauty? is it +sorrow?--that great white pride of love in mourning such as only here +in all the round of our little world lifts itself to the stars, the +unpaintable, indescribable Taj Mahal. A gentle breath stole out with a +scent of jessamine and such a memory! I closed my eyes and felt the warm +luxury of a tear. + +Thinking of the two in the garden, my mood was very kind, very +conniving. How foolish after all were my cherry-stone theories of taste +and temperament before that uncalculating thing which sways a world and +builds a Taj Mahal! Was it probable that Arjamand and her Emperor had +loved fastidiously, and yet how they had loved! I wandered away into +consideration of the blind forces which move the world, in which comely +young persons like my daughter Cecily had such a place; I speculated +vaguely upon the value of the subtler gifts of sympathy and insight +which seemed indeed, at that enveloping moment, to be mere flowers +strewn upon the tide of deeper emotions. The garden sent me a fragrance +of roses; the moon sailed higher and picked out the little kiosks set +along the wall. It was a charming, charming thing to wait, there at the +portal of the silvered, scented garden, for an idyll to come forth. + +When they reappeared, Dacres and my daughter, they came with casual +steps and cheerful voices. They might have been a couple of tourists. +The moonlight fell full upon them on the platform under the arch. +It showed Dacres measuring with his stick the length of the Sanskrit +letters which declared the stately texts, and Cecily’s expression of +polite, perfunctory interest. They looked up at the height above them; +they looked back at the vision behind. Then they sauntered towards +the carriage, he offering a formal hand to help her down the uncertain +steps, she gracefully accepting it. + +‘You--you have not been long,’ said I. ‘I hope you didn’t hurry on my +account.’ + +‘Miss Farnham found the marble a little cold under foot,’ replied +Dacres, putting Miss Farnham in. + +‘You see,’ explained Cecily, ‘I stupidly forgot to change into thicker +soles. I have only my slippers. But, mamma, how lovely it is! Do let us +come again in the daytime. I am dying to make a sketch of it.’ + +Mr. Tottenham was to leave us on the following day. In the morning, +after ‘little breakfast,’ as we say in India, he sought me in the room I +had set aside to be particularly my own. + +Again I was writing to John, but this time I waited for precisely his +interruption. I had got no further than ‘My dearest husband,’ and my +pen-handle was a fringe. + +‘Another fine day,’ I said, as if the old, old Indian joke could give +him ease, poor man! + +‘Yes,’ said he, ‘we are having lovely weather.’ + +He had forgotten that it was a joke. Then he lapsed into silence while I +renewed my attentions to my pen. + +‘I say,’ he said at last, with so strained a look about his mouth that +it was almost a contortion, ‘I haven’t done it, you know.’ + +‘No,’ I responded, cheerfully, ‘and you’re not going to. Is that it? +Well!’ + +‘Frankly--’ said he. + +‘Dear me, yes! Anything else between you and me would be grotesque,’ I +interrupted, ‘after all these years.’ + +‘I don’t think it would be a success,’ he said, looking at me resolutely +with his clear blue eyes, in which still lay, alas! the possibility of +many delusions. + +‘No,’ I said, ‘I never did, you know. But the prospect had begun to +impose upon me.’ + +‘To say how right you were would seem, under the circumstances, the most +hateful form of flattery.’ + +‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I think I can dispense with your verbal endorsement.’ +I felt a little bitter. It was, of course, better that the connoisseur +should have discovered the flaw before concluding the transaction; but +although I had pointed it out myself I was not entirely pleased to have +the article returned. + +‘I am infinitely ashamed that it should have taken me all these +days--day after day and each contributory--to discover what you saw so +easily and so completely.’ + +‘You forget that I am her mother,’ I could not resist the temptation of +saying. + +‘Oh, for God’s sake don’t jeer! Please be absolutely direct, and tell +me if you have reason to believe that to the extent of a thought, of a +breath--to any extent at all--she cares.’ + +He was, I could see, very deeply moved; he had not arrived at this point +without trouble and disorder not lightly to be put on or off. Yet I did +not hurry to his relief, I was still possessed by a vague feeling of +offense. I reflected that any mother would be, and I quite plumed myself +upon my annoyance. It was so satisfactory, when one had a daughter, to +know the sensations of even any mother. Nor was it soothing to remember +that the young man’s whole attitude towards Cecily had been based upon +criticism of me, even though he sat before me whipped with his own +lash. His temerity had been stupid and obstinate; I could not regret his +punishment. + +I kept him waiting long enough to think all this, and then I replied, ‘I +have not the least means of knowing.’ + +I can not say what he expected, but he squared his shoulders as if he +had received a blow and might receive another. Then he looked at me +with a flash of the old indignation. ‘You are not near enough to her for +that!’ he exclaimed. + +‘I am not near enough to her for that.’ + +Silence fell between us. A crow perched upon an opened venetian and +cawed lustily. For years afterward I never heard a crow caw without a +sense of vain, distressing experiment. Dacres got up and began to walk +about the room. I very soon put a stop to that. ‘I can’t talk to a +pendulum,’ I said, but I could not persuade him to sit down again. + +‘Candidly,’ he said at length, ‘do you think she would have me?’ + +‘I regret to say that I think she would. But you would not dream of +asking her.’ + +‘Why not? She is a dear girl,’ he responded inconsequently. + +‘You could not possibly stand it.’ + +Then Mr. Tottenham delivered himself of this remarkable phrase: ‘I could +stand it,’ he said, ‘as well as you can.’ + +There was far from being any joy in the irony with which I regarded him +and under which I saw him gather up his resolution to go; nevertheless +I did nothing to make it easy for him. I refrained from imparting +my private conviction that Cecily would accept the first presentable +substitute that appeared, although it was strong. I made no reference to +my daughter’s large fund of philosophy and small balance of sentiment. I +did not even--though this was reprehensible--confess the test, the test +of quality in these ten days with the marble archives of the Moguls, +which I had almost wantonly suggested, which he had so unconsciously +accepted, so disastrously applied. I gave him quite fifteen minutes of +his bad quarter of an hour, and when it was over I wrote truthfully but +furiously to John.... + +That was ten years ago. We have since attained the shades of retirement, +and our daughter is still with us when she is not with Aunt Emma and +Aunt Alice--grandmamma has passed away. Mr. Tottenham’s dumb departure +that day in February--it was the year John got his C.B.--was followed, +I am thankful to say, by none of the symptoms of unrequited affection on +Cecily’s part. Not for ten minutes, so far as I was aware, was she the +maid forlorn. I think her self-respect was of too robust a character, +thanks to the Misses Farnham. Still less, of course, had she any +reproaches to serve upon her mother, although for a long time I thought +I detected--or was it my guilty conscience?--a spark of shrewdness in +the glance she bent upon me when the talk was of Mr. Tottenham and +the probabilities of his return to Agra. So well did she sustain her +experience, or so little did she feel it, that I believe the impression +went abroad that Dacres had been sent disconsolate away. One astonishing +conversation I had with her some six months later, which turned upon +the point of a particularly desirable offer. She told me something then, +without any sort of embarrassment, but quite lucidly and directly, that +edified me much to hear. She said that while she was quite sure that Mr. +Tottenham thought of her only as a friend--she had never had the least +reason for any other impression--he had done her a service for which she +could not thank him enough--in showing her what a husband might be. He +had given her a standard; it might be high, but it was unalterable. +She didn’t know whether she could describe it, but Mr. Tottenham was +different from the kind of man you seemed to meet in India. He had his +own ways of looking at things, and he talked so well. He had given her +an ideal, and she intended to profit by it. To know that men like Mr. +Tottenham existed, and to marry any other kind would be an act of folly +which she did not intend to commit. No, Major the Hon. Hugh Taverel did +not come near it--very far short, indeed! He had talked to her during +the whole of dinner the night before about jackal-hunting with a bobbery +pack--not at all an elevated mind. Yes, he might be a very good +fellow, but as a companion for life she was sure he would not be at all +suitable. She would wait. + +And she has waited. I never thought she would, but she has. From time +to time men have wished to take her from us, but the standard has been +inexorable, and none of them have reached it. When Dacres married the +charming American whom he caught like a butterfly upon her Eastern tour, +Cecily sent them as a wedding present an alabaster model of the Taj, and +I let her do it--the gift was so exquisitely appropriate. I suppose +he never looks at it without being reminded that he didn’t marry Miss +Farnham, and I hope that he remembers that he owes it to Miss Farnham’s +mother. So much I think I might claim; it is really very little +considering what it stands for. Cecily is permanently with us--I believe +she considers herself an intimate. I am very reasonable about lending +her to her aunts, but she takes no sort of advantage of my liberality; +she says she knows her duty is at home. She is growing into a firm and +solid English maiden lady, with a good colour and great decision of +character. That she always had. + +I point out to John, when she takes our crumpets away from us, that she +gets it from him. I could never take away anybody’s crumpets, merely +because they were indigestible, least of all my own parents’. She +has acquired a distinct affection for us, by some means best known +to herself; but I should have no objection to that if she would not +rearrange my bonnet-strings. That is a fond liberty to which I take +exception; but it is one thing to take exception and another to express +it. + +Our daughter is with us, permanently with us. She declares that she +intends to be the prop of our declining years; she makes the statement +often, and always as if it were humorous. Nevertheless I sometimes +notice a spirit of inquiry, a note of investigation in her encounters +with the opposite sex that suggests an expectation not yet extinct +that another and perhaps a more appreciative Dacres Tottenham may flash +across her field of vision--alas, how improbable! Myself I can not +imagine why she should wish it; I have grown in my old age into a +perfect horror of cultivated young men; but if such a person should by +a miracle at any time appear, I think it is extremely improbable that I +will interfere on his behalf. + + + + +2. An Impossible Ideal. + + + +Chapter 2.I. + +To understand how we prized him, Dora Harris and I, it is necessary to +know Simla. I suppose people think of that place, if they ever do think +of it, as an agreeable retreat in the wilds of the Himalayas where +deodars and scandals grow, and where the Viceroy if he likes may take +off his decorations and go about in flannels. I know how useless it +would be to try to give a more faithful impression, and I will hold back +from the attempt as far as I can. Besides, my little story is itself +an explanation of Simla. Ingersoll Armour might have appeared almost +anywhere else without making social history. He came and bloomed among +us in the wilderness, and such and such things happened. It sounds too +rude a generalization to say that Simla is a wilderness; I hasten to +add that it is a waste as highly cultivated as you like, producing many +things more admirable than Ingersoll Armour. Still he bloomed there +conspicuously alone. Perhaps there would have been nothing to tell if we +had not tried to gather him. That was wrong; Nature in Simla expects you +to be content with cocked hats. + +There are artists almost everywhere and people who paint even in the +Himalayas, though Miss Harris and I in our superior way went yearly to +the Simla Fine Arts Exhibition chiefly to amuse ourselves by scoffing. +It was easy to say clever things about the poor little exhibits; and one +was grateful to the show on this account, for nothing is more depressing +east of Suez than the absence of provocation to say clever things. There +one afternoon in May as we marched about enjoying ourselves, we came +upon Ingersoll Armour, not in the flesh, but in half a dozen studies +hanging in the least conspicuous corner and quite the worst light in the +room. + +‘Eh, what?’ said I, and Dora exclaimed: + +‘I SAY!’ + +‘Sent out from home,’ I said, ever the oracle. + +‘Not at all,’ replied Dora. ‘Look, they are Indian subjects. SIMLA +subjects,’ she went on, with excitement. + +I turned up the catalogue. ‘Ninety-seven, “Kasumti Bazaar”; +ninety-eight, “Clouds on the Chor”; ninety-nine, “The House of a +Friend”--Lord, what apricot blossoms! Yes, they’re all Simla.’ + +‘For goodness’ sake,’ said Dora, ‘who painted them? You’ve got the +catalogue!’ + +‘“I. Armour,”’ I read. + +‘“I. Armour,”’ she repeated, and we looked at each other, saying in +plain silence that to the small world of Simla I. Armour was unknown. + +‘Not on Government House list, I venture to believe,’ said Dora. That +in itself may show to what depths we sink. Yet it was a trenchant and a +reasonable speculation. + +‘It may be a newcomer,’ I suggested, but she shook her head. ‘All +newcomers call upon us,’ she said. ‘There in the middle of the Mall we +escape none of them. He isn’t a calling person.’ + +‘Why do you say “he”? You are very confident with your pronouns. There’s +a delicacy of feeling--’ + +‘Which exactly does not suggest a women. We are undermined by delicacy +of feeling; we’re not strong enough to express it with brushes. A man +can make it a quality, a decorative characteristic, and so we see it. +With a woman it’s everything--all over the place--and of no effect. Oh, +I assure you, I. Armour is a man.’ + +‘Who shall stand against you! Let him be a man. He has taste.’ + +‘Taste!’ exclaimed Miss Harris, violently, and from the corners of her +mouth I gathered that I had said one of those things which she would +store up and produce to prove that I was not, for all my pretensions, a +person of the truest feeling. ‘He sees things.’ + +‘There’s an intensity,’ I ventured. + +‘That’s better. Yes, an intensity. A perfect passion of colour. Look at +that.’ She indicated a patch of hillsides perhaps six inches by four, in +which the light seemed to come and go as it does in a sapphire. + +We stood and gazed. It was a tremendous thing; only half a dozen studies +with feeling and knowledge in them, but there in that remote fastness +thrice barred against the arts a tremendous thing, a banquet for our +famished eyes. What they would have said to us in London is a different +matter, and how good they really were I do not find the courage to +pronounce, but they had merit enough to prick our sense of beauty +delightfully where we found them--oh, they were good! + +‘Heaven send it isn’t a Tommy,’ said Dora, with a falling countenance. +‘There is something absolutely inaccessible about a Tommy.’ + +‘How could it be?’ I asked. + +‘Oh, there are some inspired ones. But it isn’t--that’s French +technique. It’s an Englishman or an American who has worked in Paris. +What in the name of fortune is he doing here?’ + +‘Oh,’ I said, ‘we have had them, you know. Val Prinsep came out at the +time of the Prince of Wales’s visit.’ + +‘Do you remember that?’ + +‘It’s a matter of history,’ I said, evasively, ‘and Edwin Weeks +travelled through India not so many years ago. I saw his studio in Paris +afterward. Between his own canvases and Ahmedabad balconies and Delhi +embroideries and Burmese Buddhas and other things he seemed to have +carried off the whole place.’ + +‘But they don’t come up here ever. They come in the cold weather, and +as they can get plenty of snow and ice at home, they stay down in the +plains with the palm-trees.’ + +‘Precisely; they do,’ I said. + +‘And besides,’ Dora went on, with increasing excitement, ‘this isn’t +a master. You see, he doesn’t send a single picture--only these tiny +things. And there’s a certain tentativeness’--Miss Harris, her parasol +handle pressed against her lips, looked at me with an eagerness that was +a pleasure to look at in itself. + +‘A certain weakness, almost a lack of confidence, in the drawing,’ I +said. + +‘What does that signify?’ + +‘Why, immaturity, of course--not enough discipline.’ + +‘He’s a student. Not that it amounts to a defect, you know’--she was as +jealous already as if she possessed the things--‘only a sign to read +by. I should be grateful for more signs. Why should a student come to +Simla?’ + +‘To teach, perhaps,’ I suggested. Naturally one sought only among +reasons of utility. + +‘It’s the Kensington person who teaches. When they have worked in the +ateliers and learned as much as this they never do. They paint fans and +menu cards, and starve, but they don’t teach.’ + +Sir William Lamb, Member of Council for the Department of Finance, +was borne by the stream to our sides. The simile will hardly stand +conscientious examination, for the stream was a thin one and did no more +than trickle past, while Sir William weighed fifteen stone, and was +so eminent that it could never inconvenience him at its deepest. Dora +detached her gaze from the pictures and turned her back upon them; I +saw the measure of precaution. It was unavailing, however. ‘What have +we here?’ said Sir William. Dora removed her person from his line of +vision, and he saw what we had there. + +‘The work of a friend of yours?’ Sir William was spoken of as +a ‘cautious’ man. He had risen to his present distinction on +stepping-stones of mistakes he conspicuously had not made. + +‘No,’ said Dora, ‘we were wondering who the artist could be.’ + +Sir William looked at the studies, and had a happy thought. ‘If you ask +me, I should say a child of ten,’ he said. He was also known as a man of +humour. + +‘Miss Harris had just remarked a certain immaturity,’ I ventured. + +‘Oh, well,’ said Sir William, ‘this isn’t the Royal Academy, is it? I +always say it’s very good of people to send their things here at all. +And some of them are not half bad--I should call this year’s average +very high indeed.’ + +‘Are you pleased with the picture that has taken your prize, Sir +William?’ asked Dora. + +‘I have bought it.’ Sir William’s chest underwent before our eyes an +expansion of conscious virtue. Living is so expensive in Simla; the +purchase of a merely decorative object takes almost the proportion of an +act of religion, even by a Member of Council drawing four hundred pounds +a month. + +‘First-rate it is, first-rate. Have you seen it? “Our Camp in Tirah.” + Natives cooking in the foreground, fellows standing about smoking, and +a whole pile of tinned stores dumped down in one corner, exactly as they +would be, don’t you know! Oh, I think the Committee made a very good +choice indeed, a very good choice.’ + +Sir William moved on, and Dora was free to send me an expressive glance. +‘Isn’t that just LIKE this place?’ she demanded. ‘Let me see, the +Viceroy’s medal, the Society’s silver medal, five prizes from Members +of Council. Highly Commended’s as thick as blackberries, and these +perfectly fresh, original, admirable things completely ignored. What an +absurd, impossible corner of the earth it is!’ + +‘You look very cross, you two,’ said Mrs. Sinclair, trailing past. ‘Come +and see the crazy china exhibit, all made of little bits, you know. They +say the photograph frames are simply lovely.’ + +Mrs. Sinclair’s invitation was not sincere. Miss Harris was able to +answer it with a laugh and a wave. We remained beside the serious fact +of exhibits 97-103. + +‘Who are the judges this year?’ I asked, not that I did not know +precisely who they were likely to be. There is a custom in these +matters, and I had been part of Simla for eleven years. + +Dora took the catalogue from my hand and turned its pages over. + +‘Mr. Cathcart, of course; the Private Secretary to the Viceroy would be +on the Committee almost ex officio, wouldn’t he? Impossible to conceive +a Private Secretary to the Viceroy whose opinion would not be valuable +upon any head. The member for Public Works--I suppose he can build +bridges, or could once, therefore he can draw, or could once; besides, +look at his precedence and his pay! General Haycock--isn’t he head of +the Ordnance Department? I can’t think of any other reason for putting +him on. Oh yes--he’s a K.C.B., and he is inventing a way of taking +coloured photographs. Mr. Tilley, the old gentleman that teaches +elementary drawing to the little girls in the diocesan school, that’s +all right. And Mr. Jay, of course, because Mr. Jay’s water-colours +are the mainstay of the exhibition, and he must be given a chance of +expressing his opinion of them.’ She handed me back the catalogue. ‘I +have never been really angry with them before,’ she said. + +‘Are you really angry now?’ I asked. + +‘Furious,’ Dora replied, and indeed her face expressed indignation. Its +lines were quite tense, and a spark shone oddly in the middle of the +eyes. One could not credit her with beauty, but as her lady friends were +fond of saying, there was something ‘more’ in her face. I saw a good +deal more at this moment, and it gave me pleasure, as all her feelings +did when they came out like that. I hasten to add that she was not +unpleasing; her features had a symmetry and a mobility, and her eyes +could take any transient charm they chose to endow themselves with; +though there were moments when she compared very badly with the +other young ladies of Simla with their high spirits and their pretty +complexions, very badly indeed. Those were occasions when the gay +monotony of the place pressed, I imagine, a little heavily upon her, and +the dullness she felt translated itself in her expression. But she was +by no means unpleasing. + +‘I must go and see Lady Pilkey’s picture,’ I said. + +‘What is the use?’ said Dora. ‘It’s a landscape in oils--a view of the +Himalayas, near Narkanda. There are the snows in the background, very +thin and visionary through a gap in the trees, and two hills, one hill +on each side. Dark green trees, pine-trees, with a dead one in the +left foreground covered with a brilliant red creeper. Right foreground +occupied by a mountain path and a solitary native figure with its back +turned. Society’s silver medal.’ + +‘When did you see it?’ I asked. + +‘I haven’t seen it--this year. But I saw the one she sent last, and the +one the year before that. You can trust my memory, really.’ + +‘No,’ I said, ‘I can’t. I’m dining there tonight. I must have an +original impression.’ + +‘Congratulate her on the warm blaze of colour in the foreground. It’s +perfectly safe,’ urged Miss Harris, but I felt compelled to go myself to +see lady Pilkey’s landscape. When I returned I found her still sitting +in grave absorption before the studies that had taken us so by surprise. +Her face was full of a soft new light; I had never before seen the +spring touched in her that could flood it like that. + +‘You were very nearly right,’ I announced; ‘but the blaze of colour was +in the middle distance, and there was a torrent in the foreground that +quite put it out. And the picture does take the Society’s silver medal.’ + +‘I can not decide,’ she replied without looking at me, ‘between the +Kattiawar fair thing and those hills in the rain. I can only have +one--father won’t hear of more than one.’ + +‘You can have two,’ I said bluntly, so deeply interested I was in the +effect the things had on her. ‘And I will have a third for myself. I +can’t withstand those apricot-trees.’ + +I thought there was moisture in the eyes she turned upon me, an unusual +thing--a most unusual thing--in Dora Harris; but she winked it back, if +it was there, too quickly for any certainty. + +‘You are a dear,’ she said. Once or twice before she had called me +a dear. It reminded me, as nothing else ever did, that I was a +contemporary of her father’s. It is a feeble confession, but I have +known myself refrain from doing occasional agreeable things apprehending +that she might call me a dear. + + + +Chapter 2.II. + +Dora had been out three seasons when these things happened. I remember +sharing Edward Harris’s anxiety in no slight degree as to how the +situation would resolve itself when she came, the situation consisting +so considerably in his eyes of the second Mrs. Harris, who had +complicated it further with three little red-cheeked boys, all of the +age to be led about the station on very small ponies, and not under any +circumstances to be allowed in the drawing-room when one went to tea +with their mother. No one, except perhaps poor Ted himself, was more +interested than I to observe how the situation did resolve itself, in +the decision of Mrs. Harris that the boys, the two eldest at least, must +positively begin the race for the competitive examinations of the future +without further delay, and that she must as positively be domiciled in +England ‘to be near’ them, at all events until they had well made the +start. I should have been glad to see them ride their ponies up and down +the Mall a bit longer, poor little chaps; they were still very cherubic +to be invited to take a view of competitive examinations, however +distant; but Mrs. Harris’s conviction was not to be overcome. So they +went home to begin, and she went with them, leaving Dora in possession +of her father, her father’s house, his pay, his precedence, and all +that was his. Not that I would suggest any friction; I am convinced that +there was nothing like that--at least, nothing that met the eye, or the +ear. Dora adored the three little boys and was extremely kind to their +mother. She regarded this lady, I have reason to believe, with +the greatest indulgence, and behaved towards her with the greatest +consideration; I mean she had unerring intuitions as to just when, +on afternoons when Mrs. Harris was at home from dusk till dinner, she +should be dying for a walk. One could imagine her looking with her grey +eyes at dear mamma’s horizon and deciding that papa was certainly not +enough to fill it by himself, deciding at the same time that he was +never likely to be ousted there, only accompanied, in a less important +and entirely innocent degree. It may be surprising that any one should +fly from so broad-minded a step-daughter; but the happy family party +lasted a bare three months. I think Mrs. Harris had a perception--she +was the kind of woman who arrived obscurely at very correct +conclusions--that she was contributing to her step-daughter’s amusement +in a manner which her most benevolent intentions had not contemplated, +and she was not by any means the little person to go on doing that +indefinitely, perhaps increasingly. Besides, it was in the natural order +of things that Dora should marry, and Mrs. Harris doubtless foresaw a +comfortable return for herself in the course of a year or two, when the +usual promising junior in ‘the Department’ should gild his own +prospects and promote the general well-being by acquiring its head for a +father-in-law. Things always worked out if you gave them time. How much +time you ought to give them was doubtless by now a pretty constant +query with the little lady in her foggy exile; for two years had already +passed and Dora had found no connection with any young man of the +Department more permanent than those prescribed at dinners and at +dances. It is doubtful, indeed, if she had had the opportunity. There +was no absolute means of knowing; but if offers were made they never +transpired, and Mrs. Harris, far away in England, nourished a certainty +that they never were made. Speaking with her intimate knowledge of the +sex she declared that Dora frightened the men, that her cleverness was +of a kind to paralyze any sentiment of the sort that might be expected. +It depended upon Mrs. Harris’s humour whether this was Dora’s misfortune +or her crime. She, Dora, never frightened me, and by the time her +cleverness dawned upon me, my sentiment about her had become too robust +to be paralyzed. On the contrary, the agreeable stimulus it gave me +was one of the things I counted most valuable in my life out there. It +hardly mattered, however, that I should confess this; I was not a young +man in Harris’s department. I had a department of my own; and Dora, +though she frisked with me gloriously and bullied continually, must ever +have been aware of the formidable fact that I joined the Service two +years before Edward Harris did. The daughter of three generations of +bureaucrats was not likely to forget that at one time her father had +been junior to me in the same office, though in the course of time and +the march of opportunity he had his own show now, and we nodded to +each other on the Mall with an equal sense of the divine right of +secretaries. It may seem irrelevant, but I feel compelled to explain +here that I had remained a bachelor while Harris had married twice, and +that I had kept up my cricket, while Harris had let his figure take all +the soft curves of middle age. Nevertheless the fact remained. Sometimes +I fancied it gave a certain piquancy to my relations with his daughter, +but I could never believe that the laugh was on my side. + +If we met at dinner-parties, it would be sometimes Edward Harris and +sometimes myself who would take the dullest and stoutest woman down. If +she fell to him, the next in precedence was bestowed upon me, and there +might not be a pin to choose between them for phlegm and inflation. It +is a preposterous mistake to suppose that the married ladies of Simla +are in the majority brilliant and fascinating creatures, who say things +in French for greater convenience, and lead a man on. After fifteen +years I am ready to swear that I have been led on to nothing more +compromising than a subscription to the Young Women’s Christian +Association, though no one could have been more docile or more +intelligent. During one viceroyalty of happy memory half a dozen +clever and amusing men and women came together in Simla--it was a mere +fortuitous occurrence, aided by a joyous ruler who hated being bored +as none before or ever since have hated it--and the place has lived +socially upon the reputation of that meteoric term ever since. Whereas +the domestic virtues are no more deeply rooted anywhere than under the +deodars; nor could any one, I hasten to add, chronicle the fact with +more profound satisfaction than myself. A dinner-party, however, is not +a favourable setting for the domestic virtues; it does them so little +justice that one could sometimes almost wish them left at home, and I +was talking of Simla dinner-parties, where I have encountered so many. +How often have I been consulted as to the best school for boys in +England, or instructed as to how much I should let my man charge me for +shoe-blacking, or advised as to the most effectual way of preventing the +butler from stealing my cheroots, while Dora Harris, remote as a star, +talked to a cavalry subaltern about wind-galls and splints! At these +moments I felt my seniority bitterly; to give Dora to a cavalry +subaltern was such plain waste. + +It was an infinite pleasure to know any one as well as I seemed to know +Dora Harris. She, I believe, held no one else upon the same terms of +intimacy, though she found women, of course, with whom she fluttered and +embraced; and while there were, naturally, men with whom I exchanged the +time o’day in terms more or less cordial, I am certain that I kept all +my closest thoughts for her. It is necessary again to know Simla to +understand how our friendship was gilded by the consideration that it +was on both sides perfectly spontaneous. Social life in the poor little +place is almost a pure farce with the number of its dictated, prompted +intimacies, not controlled by general laws of expediency as at home, but +each on its own basis of hope and expectancy, broadly and ludicrously +obvious as a case by itself. There is a conspiracy of stupidity about +it, for we are all in the same hat, every one of us; there is none so +exalted that he does not urgently want a post that somebody else can +give him. So we continue to exchange our depreciated smiles, and only +privately admit that the person who most desires to be agreeable to us +is the person whom we regard with the greatest suspicion. As between +Dora Harris and myself there could be, naturally, no ax to grind. We +amused ourselves by looking on penetratingly but tolerantly at the +grinding of other people’s. + +That was a very principal bond between us, that uncompromising clearness +with which we looked at the place we lived in, and on the testimony of +which we were so certain that we didn’t like it. The women were nearly +all so much in heaven in Simla, the men so well satisfied to be there +too, at the top of the tree, that our dissatisfaction gave us to +one another the merit of originality, almost proved in one another a +superior mind. It was not that either of us would have preferred to +grill out our days in the plains; we always had a saving clause for the +climate, the altitude, the scenery; it was Simla intrinsic, Simla as its +other conditions made it, with which we found such liberal fault. Again +I should have to explain Simla, at the length of an essay at least, to +justify our condemnation. This difficulty confronts me everywhere. +I must ask you instead to imagine a small colony of superior--very +superior--officials, of British origin and traditions, set on the top of +a hill, years and miles away from literature, music, pictures, politics, +existing like a harem on the gossip of the Viceroy’s intentions, and +depending for amusement on tennis and bumble-puppy, and then consider, +you yourself, whether you are the sort of person to be unquestionably +happy there. If you see no reason to the contrary, pray do not go on. +There were times when Dora declared that she couldn’t breathe for want +of an atmosphere, and times when I looked round and groaned at the +cheerful congratulatory aridity in every man’s eye--men who had done +things at Oxford in my own year, and come out like me to be mummified +into a last state like this. Thank Heaven, there was never any cheerful +congratulation in my eye; one could always put there, when the thought +inspired it, a saving spark of rank ingratitude instead. + +It was as if we had the most desirable things--roses, cool airs, far +snowy ranges--to build what we like with, and we built Simla--altitude, +7,000, population 2,500, headquarters of the Government of India during +the summer months. An ark it was, of course; an ark of refuge from the +horrible heat that surged below, and I wondered as I climbed the steeps +of Summer Hill in search of I. Armour’s inaccessible address, whether he +was to be the dove bearing beautiful testimony of a world coming nearer. +I rejected the simile, however, as over-sanguine; we had been too long +abandoned on our Ararat. + + + +Chapter 2.III. + +A dog of no sort of caste stood in the veranda and barked at me +offensively. I picked up a stone, and he vanished like the dog of a +dream into the house. It was such a small house that it wasn’t on the +municipal map at all: it looked as if someone had built it for amusement +with anything that was lying about. Nevertheless, it had a name, it +was called Amy Villa, freshly painted in white letters on a shiny +black board, and nailed against the nearest tree in the orthodox Simla +fashion. It looked as if the owner of the place had named it as a +duty towards his tenant, the board was so new, and in that case the +reflection presented itself that the tenant might have cooperated to +call it something else. It was disconcerting somehow to find that our +dove had perched, even temporarily, in Amy Villa. Nor was it soothing +to discover that the small white object stuck in the corner of the board +was Mr. Ingersoll Armour’s card. + +In Simla we do not stick our cards about in that way at the mercy of the +wind and the weather; we paint our names neatly under the names of our +houses with ‘I.C.S.’ for Indian Civil Service, or ‘P.W.D.’ for Public +Works Department, or whatever designation we are entitled to immediately +after, so that there can be no mistake. This strikes newcomers sometimes +as a little professional, especially when a hand accompanies, pointing; +but it is the only possible way where there are no streets and no +numbers, but where houses are dropped about a hilltop as if they had +fallen from a pepper-pot. In sticking his card out like that Mr. Armour +seemed to imagine himself au quatrieme or au cinquieme somewhere on +the south side of the Seine; it betrayed rather a ridiculous lack of +conformity. He was high enough up, however, to give any illusion; I had +to stop to find the wind to announce myself. There was nobody else to do +it if I except the dog. + +I walked into the veranda and shouted. Then I saw that one end of it was +partly glazed off, and inside sat a young man in his shirt-sleeves with +his back to the door. + +In reply he called out, ‘That you, Rosario?’ and I stood silent, taken +somewhat aback. + +There was only one Rosario in Simla, and he was a subordinate in my own +office. Again the hateful need to explain. Between subordinate clerks +and officials in Simla there is a greater gulf fixed than was ever +imagined in parable. Besides, Rosario had a plain strain of what we +call ‘the country’ in him, a plain strain, that is, of the colour of the +country. It was certainly the first time in my official career that I +had been mistaken for Rosario. + +Armour turned round and saw me--that I was a stranger. + +He got up at once. ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘I thought it was Rosario. + +‘It isn’t,’ I replied, ‘my name is Philips. May I ask whether you were +expecting Mr. Rosario? I can come again, you know.’ + +‘Oh, it doesn’t matter. Sit down. He may drop in or he may not--I rather +thought he would today. It’s a pull up, isn’t it, from the Mall? Have a +whisky and soda.’ + +I stood on the threshold spellbound. It was just the smell that bound +me, the good old smell of oil paints and turpentine and mediums and +varnish and new canvas that you never by any chance put your nose into +in any part of Asia. It carried me back twenty years to old haunts, +old friends, old joys, ideals, theories. Ah, to be young and have a +temperament! For I had one then--that instant in Armour’s veranda proved +it to me forever. + +‘No thanks,’ I said. ‘If you don’t mind I’ll just have the smell.’ + +The young fellow knew at once that I liked the smell. ‘Well, have a +chair, anyhow,’ he said, and took one himself and sat down opposite me, +letting his lean brown hands fall between his knees. + +‘Do you mind,’ I said, ‘if for a minute I sit still and look round?’ + +He understood again. + +‘I haven’t brought much,’ he said, ‘I left pretty near everything in +Paris.’ + +‘You have brought a world.’ Then after a moment, ‘Did you do that?’ I +asked, nodding towards a canvas tacked against the wall. It was the head +of a half-veiled Arab woman turned away. + +The picture was in the turning away, and the shadow the head-covering +made over the cheek and lips. + +‘Lord, no! That’s Dagnan Bouveret. I used to take my things to him, +and one day he gave me that. You have an eye,’ he added, but without +patronage. ‘It’s the best thing I’ve got.’ + +I felt the warmth of an old thrill. + +‘Once upon a time,’ I said, ‘I was allowed to have an eye.’ The wine, +untasted all those years, went to my head. ‘That’s a vigorous bit +above,’ I continued. + +‘Oh, well! It isn’t really up to much, you know. It’s Rosario’s. He +photographs mostly, but he has a notion of colour.’ + +‘Really?’ said I, thinking with regard to my eye that the sun of that +atrocious country had put it out. ‘I expect I’ve lost it,’ I said aloud. + +‘Your eye? Oh, you’ll easily get a fresh one. Do you go home for the +exhibitions?’ + +‘I did once,’ I confessed. ‘My first leave. A kind of paralysis +overtakes one here. Last time I went for the grouse.’ + +He glanced at me with his light clear eyes as if for the first time he +encountered a difficulty. + +‘It’s a magnificent country for painting,’ he said. + +‘But not for pictures,’ I rejoined. He paid no attention, staring at the +ground and twisting one end of his moustache. + +‘The sun on those old marble tombs--broad sun and sand--’ + +‘You mean somewhere about Delhi.’ + +‘I couldn’t get anywhere near it.’ He was not at that moment anywhere +near me. ‘But I have thought out a trick or two--I mean to have another +go when it cools off again down there.’ He returned with a smile, and +I saw how delicate his face was. The smile turned down with a little +gentle mockery in its lines. I had seen that particular smile only on +the faces of one or two beautiful women. It had a borrowed air upon a +man, like a tiara or an earring. + +‘There’s plenty to paint,’ he said, looking at me with an air of +friendly speculation. + +‘Indeed, yes. And it has never been done. We are sure it has never been +done.’ + +‘“We”--you mean people generally?’ + +‘Not at all. I mean Miss Harris, Miss Harris and myself.’ + +‘Your daughter?’ + +‘My name is Philips,’ I reminded him pleasantly, remembering that the +intelligence of clever people is often limited to a single art. ‘Miss +Harris is the daughter of Mr. Edward Harris, Secretary of the Government +of India in the Legislative Department. She is fond of pictures. We have +a good many tastes in common. We have always suspected that India had +never been painted, and when we saw your things at the Town Hall we knew +it.’ + +His queer eyes dilated, and he blushed. + +‘Oh,’ he said, ‘it’s only one interpretation. It all depends on what a +fellow sees. No fellow can see everything.’ + +‘Till you came,’ I insisted, ‘nobody had seen anything.’ + +He shook his head, but I could read in his face that this was not news +to him. + +‘That is mainly what I came up to tell you,’ I continued, ‘to beg that +you will go on and on. To hope that you will stay a long time and do a +great deal. It is such an extraordinary chance that any one should turn +up who can say what the country really means.’ + +He stuck his hands in his pockets with a restive movement. ‘Oh, don’t +make me feel responsible,’ he said, ‘I hate that;’ and then suddenly he +remembered his manners. ‘But it’s certainly nice of you to think so,’ he +added. + +There was something a little unusual in his inflection which led me to +ask at this point whether he was an American, and to discover that he +came from somewhere in Wisconsin, not directly, but by way of a few +years in London and Paris. This accounted in a way for the effect of +freedom in any fortune about him for which I already liked him, and +perhaps partly for the look of unembarrassed inquiry and experiment +which sat so lightly in his unlined face. He came, one realized, out of +the fermentation of new conditions; he never could have been the product +of our limits and systems and classes in England. His surroundings, his +‘things,’ as he called them, were as old as the sense of beauty, but +he seemed simply to have put them where he could see them, there was no +pose in their arrangement. They were all good, and his delight in them +was plain; but he was evidently in no sense a connoisseur beyond that of +natural instinct. Some of those he had picked up in India I could tell +him about, but I had no impression that he would remember what I said. +There was one Bokhara tapestry I examined with a good deal of interest. + +‘Yes,’ he said, ‘they told me I shouldn’t get anything as good as that +out here, so I brought it,’ but I had to explain to him why it was +anomalous that this should be so. + +‘It came a good many miles over desert from somewhere,’ he remarked, as +I made a note of inquiry as to the present direction of trade in woven +goods from Persia, ‘I had to pound it for a week to get the dust out.’ + +We spent an hour looking over work he had done down in the plains, and +then I took my leave. It did not occur to me at the moment to ask +Armour to come to the club or to offer to do anything for him; all the +hospitality, all that was worth offering seemed so much more at his +disposition than at mine. I only asked if I might come again, mentioning +somewhat shyly that I must have the opportunity of adding, at my +leisure, to those of his pictures that were already mine by transaction +with the secretary of the Art Exhibition. I left him so astonished that +this had happened, so plainly pleased, that I was certain he had never +sold anything before in his life. This impression gave me the uplifted +joy of a discoverer to add to the satisfactions I had already drawn from +the afternoon; and I almost bounded down the hill to the Mall. I left +the pi dog barking in the veranda, and I met Mr. Rosario coming up, +but in my unusual elation I hardly paused to consider either of them +further. + +The mare and her groom were waiting on the Mall, and it was only when +I got on her back that the consciousness visited me of something +forgotten. It was my mission--to propose to take Armour, if he were +‘possible,’ to call upon the Harrises. Oh, well, he was possible enough; +I supposed he possessed a coat, though he hadn’t been wearing it; and +I could arrange it by letter. Meanwhile, as was only fair, I turned the +mare in the direction of the drawing-room where I had reason to believe +that Miss Dora Harris was quenching her impatience in tea. + + + +Chapter 2.IV. + +The very next morning I met Armour on my way to the office. He was +ambling along on the leanest and most ill-groomed of bazaar ponies, +and he wore a bowler. In Simla sun hats are admissible, straw hats are +presentable, and soft felt hats are superior, but you must not wear a +bowler. I might almost say that if one’s glance falls upon a bowler, one +hardly looks further; the expectation of finding an acquaintance under +it is so vain. In this instance, I did look further, fortunately, though +in doing so I was compelled to notice that the bowler was not lifted +in answer to my salutation. Of no importance in itself, of course, +but betraying in Armour a certain lack of observation. I felt the +Departmental Head crumble in me, however, as I recognized him, and I +pulled the mare up in a manner which she plainly resented. It was my +opportunity to do cautiously and delicately what I had omitted the +afternoon before; but my recollection is that I was very clumsy. + +I said something about the dust, and he said something about the glare, +and then I could think of nothing better than to ask him if he wouldn’t +like to meet a few Simla people. + +‘Oh, I know lots of people, thanks,’ he said. ‘It’s kind of you to think +of it, all the same, but I’ve got any amount of friends here.’ + +I thought of Mr. Rosario, and stood, or sat confounded. + +The mare fidgeted; I knocked a beast of a fly off her, and so gained +time. + +‘This is my second season up here, you know.’ + +‘Your second season!’ I exclaimed. ‘Where on earth have you been +hiding?’ + +‘Well, I didn’t exhibit last year, you see. I’d heard it was a kind of +a toy show, so I thought I wouldn’t. I think now that was foolish. But I +got to know quite a number of families.’ + +‘But I am sure there are numbers that you haven’t met,’ I urged,’ or I +should have heard of it.’ + +He glanced at me with a slight flush. ‘If you mean society people,’ +he said, ‘I don’t care about that kind of thing, Mr. Philips. I’m not +adapted to it, and I don’t want to be. If any one offered to introduce +me to the Viceroy, I would ask to be excused.’ + +‘Oh, the Viceroy,’ I responded, disrespectfully, ‘is neither here nor +there. But there are some people, friends of my own, who would like very +much to meet you.’ + +‘By the name of Harris?’ he asked. I was too amazed to do anything but +nod. By the name of Harris! The Secretary of the Government of India in +the Legislative Department! The expression, not used as an invocation, +was inexcusable. + +‘I remember you mentioned them yesterday.’ + +‘Yes,’ I said, ‘there’s a father and daughter. Miss Harris is very +artistic.’ + +His face clouded, as well it might, at the word. ‘Does she paint?’ he +asked, so apprehensively that I could not forbear a smile at Dora’s +expense. I could assure him that she did not paint, that she had not +painted, at all events, for years, and presently I found myself in +the ridiculous position of using argument to bring a young man to the +Harrises. In the end I prevailed, I know, out of sheer good nature on +Armour’s part; he was as innocent as a baby of any sense of opportunity. + +We arranged it for the following Friday, but as luck would have it, His +Excellency sent for me at the very hour; we met the messenger. I felt +myself unlucky, but there was nothing for it but that Armour should go +alone, which he did, with neither diffidence nor alacrity, but as if it +were all in the day’s work, and he had no reason to be disobliging. + +The files were very heavy during the succeeding fortnight, and the +Viceroy quite importunate in his demand for my valuable suggestions. +I was worked off my legs, and two or three times was obliged to deny +myself in replying to notes from Dora suggesting Sunday breakfast or +afternoon tea. Finally, I shook myself free; it was the day she wrote: + +‘You must come--I can’t keep it to myself any longer.’ + +I half thought Armour would be there, but he wasn’t; that is, he was +absent corporeally, but the spirit and expression of him littered +every convenient part. Some few things lay about that I had seen in +the studio, to call it so, but most of the little wooden panels looked +fresh, almost wet, and the air held strongly the fragrance of Armour’s +north veranda. In one corner there used to be a Madonna on a carved +easel; the Madonna stood on the floor, and the easel with working pegs +in it held an unfinished canvas. Dora sat in the midst with a distinct +flush--she was inclined to be sallow--and made me welcome in terms +touched with extravagance. She did not rush, however, upon the matter +that was dyeing her cheeks, and I showed myself as little impetuous. She +poured out the tea, and we sat there inhaling, as it were, the aroma of +the thing, while keeping it consciously in the background. + +I imagine there was no moment in the time I describe when we enjoyed +Ingersoll Armour so much as at this one, when he lay in his nimbus half +known and wholly suppressed, between us. There were later instances, +perhaps, of deeper satisfaction, but they were more or less perplexed, +and not unobscured by anxiety. That afternoon it was all to know and to +be experienced, with just a delicious foretaste. + +I said something presently about Lady Pilkey’s picnic on the morrow, to +which we had both been bidden. + +‘Shall I call for you?’ I asked. ‘You will ride, of course.’ + +‘Thanks, but I’ve cried off--I’m going sketching.’ Her eyes plainly +added, ‘with Ingersoll Armour,’ but she as obviously shrank from the +roughness of pitching him in that unconsidered way before us. For some +reason I refrained from taking the cue. I would not lug him in either. + +‘That is a new accomplishment,’ was as much as I felt I could say with +dignity, and she responded: + +‘Yes, isn’t it?’ + +I felt some slight indignation on Lady Pilkey’s account. ‘Do you really +think you ought to do things like that at the eleventh hour?’ I asked, +but Dora smiled at a glance, the hypocrisy out of my face. + +‘What does anything matter?’ she demanded. + +I knew perfectly well the standard by which nothing mattered, and there +was no use, of course, in going on pretending that I did not. + +‘I assured him that you didn’t paint,’ I said, accusingly. + +‘Oh, I had to--otherwise what was there to go upon? He would have been +found only to be lost again. You did not contemplate that?’ Miss Harris +inquired sweetly. + +‘I should have thought it was the surest way of losing him.’ + +‘I can’t think why you should be so rude. He observes progress already.’ + +‘With a view to claiming and holding him, would it be of any use,’ I +asked, ‘for me to start in oils?’ + +Miss Harris eyed me calmly. + +‘I don’t know,’ she said, ‘but it doesn’t seem the same thing somehow. I +think you had better leave it to me.’ + +‘Indeed, I won’t,’ I said; ‘there is too much in it,’ and we smiled +across the gulf of our friendly understanding. + +I crossed to the mantelpiece and picked up one of the little wet panels. +There was that in it which explained my friend’s exultation much more +plainly than words. + +‘That is what I am to show him tomorrow,’ she exclaimed; ‘I think I have +done as he told me. I think it’s pretty right.’ + +Whether it was pretty right or pretty wrong, she had taken in an +extraordinary way an essence out of him. It wasn’t of course good, +but his feeling was reflected in it, at once so brilliantly and so +profoundly that it was startling to see. + +‘Do you think he’ll be pleased?’ she asked, anxiously. + +‘I think he’ll be astounded,’ I said, reserving the rest, and she cried +in her pleasure, ‘Oh, you dear man!’ + +‘I see you have taken possession of him,’ I went on. + +‘Ah, body and soul,’ Dora rejoined, and it must have been something like +that. I could imagine how she did it; with what wiles of simplicity and +candid good-fellowship she had drawn him to forgetfulness and response, +and how presently his enthusiasm leaped up to answer hers and they had +been caught altogether out of the plane of common relations, and he had +gone away on that disgraceful bazaar pony with a ratified arrangement +to return next day which had been almost taken for granted from the +beginning. + +I confess, though I had helped to bring it about, the situation didn’t +altogether please me. I did not dream of foolish dangers, but it seemed +to take a little too much for granted; I found myself inwardly demanding +whether, after all, a vivid capacity to make colour conscious was a +sufficient basis on which to bring to Edward Harris’s house a young man +about whom we knew nothing whatever else. An instant’s regard showed +the scruple fraudulent, it fled before the rush of pleasure with which +I gazed at the tokens he had left behind him. I fell back on my wonder, +which was great, that Dora should have possessed the technique necessary +to take him at a point where he could give her so much that was +valuable. + +‘Oh, well,’ she said when I uttered it, ‘you know I made the experiment! +I found out in South Kensington--you can learn that much there--that I +never would be able to paint well enough to make it worth while. So I +dropped it and took a more general line towards life. But I find it very +easy to imagine myself dedicated to that particular one again.’ + +‘You never told me,’ I said. Why had I been shut out of that experience? + +‘I tell you now,’ Dora replied, absently, ‘when I am able to offer +you the fact with illustrations.’ She laughed and dropped a still +illuminated face in the palm of her hand. ‘He has wonderfully revived +me,’ she declared. ‘I could throw, honestly, the whole of Simla +overboard for this.’ + +‘Don’t,’ I urged, feeling, suddenly, an integral part of Simla. + +‘Oh, no--what end would be served? But I don’t care who knows,’ she went +on with a rush, ‘that in all life this is what I like best, and people +like Mr. Armour are the people I value most. Heavens, how few of them +there are! And wherever they go how the air clears up round them! It +makes me quite ill to think of the life we lead here--the poverty of it, +the preposterous dullness of it....’ + +‘For goodness’ sake,’ I said, obscurely irritated, ‘don’t quote the +bishop. The life holds whatever we put into it.’ + +‘For other people it does, and for us it holds what other people put +into it,’ she retorted. ‘I don’t know whether you think it’s adequately +filled with gold lace and truffles.’ + +‘Why should I defend it?’ I asked, not knowing indeed why. ‘But it has +perhaps a dignity, you know. Ah, you are too fresh from your baptism,’ +I continued, as she shook her head and went to the piano. The quality, +whatever it was, that the last fortnight had generated in her, leaped +from her fingers; she played with triumph, elation, intention. The notes +seemed an outlet for the sense of beauty and for power to make it. I had +never heard her play like that before. + +It occurred to me to ask when she had done, how far, after a fortnight, +she could throw light on Armour’s aims and history, where he had come +from, and the great query with which we first received him, what he +could be doing in Simla. I gathered that she had learned practically +nothing, and had hardly concerned herself to learn anything. What +difference did it make? she asked me. Why should we inquire? Why tack +a theory of origin to a phenomenon of joy? Let us say the wind brought +him, and build him a temple. She was very whimsical up to the furthest +stretch of what could possibly be considered tea-time. When I went +away I saw her go again and sit down at the piano. In the veranda I +remembered something, stopped, and went back. I had to go back. ‘You did +not tell me,’ I said, ‘when he was coming again.’ + +‘Oh, tomorrow--tomorrow, of course,’ Dora paused to reply. + +I resented, as I made my way to the Club, the weight of official duties +that made it so impossible for me to keep at all closely in touch with +this young man. + + + +Chapter 2.V. + +The art of the photographer usually arouses in me all that is splenetic, +and I had not submitted myself to him for years before Dora made such a +preposterous point of it--years in which, as I sadly explained to her, +I might have submitted to the ordeal with much more ‘pleasing’ results. +She had often insisted before, but I could never see that she made out +a particularly good case for the operation until one afternoon when +she showed me the bold counterfeit presentment of an Assistant +Adjutant-General or some such person, much flattered as to features +but singularly faithful in its reproduction of the straps and buttons +attached. To my post also there belongs a uniform and a cocked hat +sufficiently dramatic, but persons who serve the State primarily with +the intelligence are supposed to have a mind above buttons; and when +I decided that my photograph should compete with the Assistant +Adjutant-General’s, I gave him every sartorial advantage. I gathered +that the offer, cabinet size, of this gentleman had been a spontaneous +one; that certainly could not be said of mine. Most unwillingly I turned +one morning into Kauffer’s; and I can not now imagine why I did it, +for emulation of the Assistant Adjutant-General was really not motive +enough, unless it was with an instinct prepared to stumble upon matter +germane in an absurd degree to this little history. + +I had the honour to be subjected to the searching analysis of Mr. +Kauffer himself. It was he who placed the chair and arranged the screw, +he who fixed the angle of my chin and gently disposed my fingers on my +knee. He gave me, I remember, a recent portrait of the Viceroy to fix +my eye upon, doubtless with the purpose of inspiring my countenance +with the devotion which would sit suitably upon one of His Excellency’s +slaves, and when it was all over he conducted me into another apartment +in order that I might see the very latest viceregal group--a domestic +one, including the Staff. The walls of the room contained what is +usually there, the enlarged photograph, the coloured photograph, the +amateur theatrical group, the group of His Excellency’s Executive +Council, the native dignitary with a diamond-tipped aigrette in the +front of his turban. The copy in oils of some old Italian landscape, +very black and yellow, also held its invariable place, and above it, +very near the ceiling, a line of canvases which, had I not been led past +them to inspect our ruler and his family, who sat transfixed on an easel +in a resplendent frame, would probably have escaped my attention. I did +proper homage to the easel, and then turned to those pictures. It was +plain enough who had painted them. Armour’s broad brush stood out all +over them. They were mostly Indian sporting subjects, the incident +a trifle elliptical, the drawing unequal, but the verve and feeling +unmistakeable, and colour to send a quiver of glorious acquiescence +through you like a pang. What astonished me was the number of them; +there must have been at least a dozen, all the same size and shape, all +hanging in a line of dazzling repetition. Here then was the explanation +of Armour’s seeming curious lack of output, and plain denial of the +supposition that he spent the whole of his time in doing the little +wooden ‘pochade’ things whose sweetness and delicacy had so feasted our +eyes elsewhere. It was part, no doubt, of his absolutely uncommercial +nature--we had experienced together passages of the keenest +embarrassment over my purchase of some of his studies--that he had not +mentioned these more serious things exposed at Kauffer’s; one had the +feeling of coming unexpectedly on treasure left upon the wayside and +forgotten. + +‘Hullo!’ I said, at a standstill, ‘I see you’ve got some of Mr. Armour’s +work there.’ + +Mr. Kauffer, with his hands behind him, made the sound which has its +counterpart in a shrug. ‘Yass,’ he said, ‘I haf some of Mr. Armour’s +work there. This one, that one, all those remaining pictures--they are +all the work of Mr. Armour.’ + +‘I didn’t know that any of his things were to be seen outside his +studio,’ I observed. + +‘So? They are to be seen here. There is no objection.’ + +‘Why should there be any objection?’ I demanded, slightly nettled. +‘People must see them before they buy them.’ + +‘Buy them!’ Kauffer’s tone was distinctly exasperated. ‘Who will buy +these pictures? Nobody. They are all, every one of them to REfuse.’ + +‘If you know Mr. Armour well enough,’ I said, ‘you should advise him +to exhibit some of his local studies and sketches here. They might sell +better.’ + +My words seemed unfortunately chosen. Mr. Kauffer turned an honest angry +red. + +‘Do I not know Mr. Armour well enough--und better!’ he exclaimed. ‘What +this man wass doing when I in Paris find him oudt? Shtarving, mein +Gott! I see his work. I see he paint a very goot horse, very goot animal +subject. I bring him oudt on contract, five hundred rupees the monnth to +paint for me, for my firm. Sir, it is now nine monnth. I am yoost four +tousand five hundred rupees out of my pocket by this gentleman!’ + +To enable me to cope with this astonishing tale I asked Mr. Kauffer for +a chair, which he obligingly gave me, and begged that he also would be +seated. The files at my office were my business, and this was not, but +no matter of Imperial concern seemed at the moment half so urgently +to require probing. ‘Surely,’ I said, ‘that is an unusual piece of +enterprise for a photographic firm to employ an artist to paint on a +salary. I don’t know even a regular dealer who does it.’ + +Mr. Kauffer at once and frankly explained. It was unusual and entirely +out of the regular line of business. It was, in fact, one of the +exceptional forms of enterprise inspired in this country by the native +prince. We who had to treat with the native prince solely on lofty +political lines were hardly likely to remember how largely he bulked +in the humbler relations of trade; but there was more than one Calcutta +establishment, Mr. Kauffer declared, that would be obliged to put up its +shutters without this inconstant and difficult, but liberal customer. +I waited with impatience. I could not for the life of me see Armour’s +connection with the native prince, who is seldom a patron of the arts +for their own sakes. + +‘Surely,’ I said, ‘you could not depend on the Indian nobility to buy +landscapes. They never do. I know of only one distinguished exception, +and he lives a thousand miles from here, in Bengal.’ + +‘No, not landscape,’ returned Mr. Kauffer; ‘but that Indian nobleman +will buy his portrait. We send our own man--photographic artist--to his +State, and he photograph the Chief and his arab, the Chief and his Prime +Minister, the Chief in his durbar, palace, gardens, stables--everything. +Presently the Chief goes on a big shoot. He says he will not have a +plain photograph--besides, it is difficult. He will have a painting, and +he will pay.’ + +‘Ah,’ I said, ‘I begin to see.’ + +‘You see? Then I send this Armour. Look!’ Mr. Kauffer continued with +rising excitement, baited apparently by the unfortunate canvas to which +he pointed, ‘when Armour go to make that I say you go paint ze Maharajah +of Gridigurh spearing ze wild pig. You see what he make?’ + +‘Well,’ I said, ‘it is a wonderfully spirited, dashing thing, and the +treatment of all that cane-brake and jungle grass is superb.’ + +‘Ze treatment--pardon me, sir, I overboil--do you know which is ze +Maharajah?’ + +‘I can’t say I do.’ + +‘Neider does he. Ze Maharajah refuse zat picture; he is a good fellow, +too. He says it is a portrait of ze pig.’ + +‘But it is so good,’ I protested, ‘of the pig.’ + +‘But that does not interest the Maharajah, you onderstand, no. You see +this one? Nawab of Kandore on his State elephant.’ + +No doubt about it,’ I said. ‘I know the Nawab well, the young scoundrel. +How dignified he looks!’ + +There was a note of real sorrow in Kauffer’s voice. ‘Dignified? Oh, yes; +dignified, but, you observe, also black. The Nawab will not be painted +black. At once it is on my hands.’ + +‘But he is black,’ I remonstrated. ‘He’s the darkest native I’ve ever +seen among the nobility.’ + +‘No matter for that. He will not be black. When I photograph that +Nawab--any nawab--I do not him black make. But ziss ass of Armour--ach!’ + +It was a fascinating subject, and I could have pursued it all along the +line of poor Armour’s rejected canvases, but the need to get away from +Kauffer with his equal claim upon my sympathy was too great. To have +cracked my solemn mask by a single smile would have been to break down +irrepressibly, and never since I set foot in India had I felt a parallel +desire to laugh and to weep. There was a pang in it which I recognize +as impossible to convey, arising from the point of contact, almost +unimaginable yet so clear before me, of the uncompromising ideals of +the atelier and the naive demands of the Oriental, with an unhappy +photographer caught between and wriggling. The situation was really +monstrous, the fatuous rejection of all that fine scheming and exquisite +manipulation, and it did not grow less so as Mr. Kauffer continued to +unfold it. Armour had not, apparently, proceeded to the scene of his +labours without instructions. In the pig-sticking delineation he had +been specially told that the Maharajah and the pig were to be in the +middle, with the rest nowhere and nothing between. Other injunctions +were as clear, and as clearly disregarded. Armour, like the Maharajahs, +had simply ‘REfuse’ to abandon his premeditated conceptions of how the +thing should be done. And here was the result, for the laughter of the +gods and anybody else that might see. I asked Kauffer unguardedly if no +sort of pressure could be brought to bear upon these chaps to make them +pay up. His face beaming with hope and intelligence, he suggested that +I should approach the Foreign Office in his behalf; but this I could not +quite see my way to. The coercion of native rulers, I explained, was a +difficult and a dangerous art, and to insist, for example, that one +of them should recognize his own complexion might be to run up a +disproportionate little bill of our own. I did, however, compound +something with Kauffer; I hope it wasn’t a felony. ‘Look here,’ I said +to Kauffer, ‘this isn’t official, you know, in any way, but how would +it do to write that scamp Kandore a formal letter regretting that the +portrait does not suit him, and asking his permission to dispose of it +to me? Of course it is yours to do as you like with already, but that is +no reason why you shouldn’t ask. I should like it, but the Porcha tiger +beat will do as well.’ + +Kauffer nearly fell upon my neck. + +‘That Kandore will buy it to put in one bonfire first,’ he assured me, +and I sincerely hoped for his sake that it would be the case. + +‘Of course it’s understood,’ I bethought me to say, ‘that I get it, if I +do get it, at Mr. Armour’s price. I’m not a Maharajah, you know, and it +isn’t a portrait of me.’ + +‘Of course!’ said Kauffer, ‘but I sink I sell you that Porcha; it is ze +best of ze two.’ + + + +Chapter 2.VI. + +I ventured for a few days to keep the light which chance had shed for +me upon Armour’s affairs to myself. The whole thing considered in +connection with his rare and delicate talent, seemed too derogatory and +disastrous to impart without the sense of doing him some kind of injury +in the mere statement. But there came a point when I could no longer +listen to Dora Harris’s theories to account for him, wild idealizations +as most of them were of any man’s circumstances and intentions. ‘Why +don’t you ask him point-blank?’ I said, and she replied, frowning +slightly, ‘Oh, I couldn’t do that. It would destroy something--I don’t +know what, but something valuable--between us.’ This struck me as +an exaggeration, considering how far, by that time, they must have +progressed towards intimacy, and my mouth was opened. She heard me +without the exclamations I expected, her head bent over the pencil she +was sharpening, and her silence continued after I had finished. The +touch of comedy I gave the whole thing--surely I was justified in +that!--fell flat, and I extracted from her muteness a sense of rebuke; +one would think I had been taking advantage of the poor devil. + +At last, having broken the lead of her pencil three times, she turned a +calm, considering eye upon me. + + +‘You have known this for a fortnight?’ she asked. ‘That doesn’t seem +somehow quite fair.’ + +‘To whom?’ I asked, and her answer startled me. + +‘To either of us,’ she said. + +How she advised herself to that effect is more than I can imagine, but +the print of her words is indelible, that is what she said. + +‘Oh, confound it!’ I exclaimed. ‘I couldn’t help finding out, you know.’ + +‘But you could help keeping it to yourself in that--in that base way,’ +she replied, and almost--the evening light was beginning to glimmer +uncertainly through the deodars--I could swear I saw the flash of a tear +on her eyelid. + +‘I beg your pardon,’ she went on a moment later, ‘but I do hate having +to pity him. It’s intolerable--that.’ + +I picked up a dainty edition of Aucassin and Nicolette with the +intention of getting upon ground less emotional, and observed on the +flyleaf ‘D.H. from I.A. In memory of the Hill of Stars.’ I looked +appreciatively at the binding, and as soon as possible put it down. + +‘He was not bound to tell me,’ Dora asserted presently, in reply to my +statement that the mare had somehow picked up a nail in the stable, and +was laid up. + +‘You have been very good to him,’ I said. ‘I think he was.’ + +‘His reticence was due,’ she continued, as if defying contradiction, ‘to +a simple dislike to bore one with his personal affairs.’ + +‘Was it?’ I assented. My tone acknowledged with all humility that she +was likely to know, and I did not deserve her doubtful glance. + +‘He could not certainly,’ she went on, with firmer decision, ‘have been +in the least ashamed of his connection with Kauffer.’ + +‘He comes from a country where social distinctions are less sharp than +they are in this idiotic place,’ I observed. + +‘Oh, if you think it is from any lack of recognition! His sensitiveness +is beyond reason. He has met two or three men in the Military Department +here--he was aware of the nicest shade of their patronage. But he does +not care. To him life is more than a clerkship. He sees all round people +like that. They are only figures in the landscape.’ + +‘Then,’ I said, ‘he is not at all concerned that nobody in this Capua +of ours knows him, or cares anything about him, or has bought a scrap of +his work, except our two selves.’ + +‘That’s a different matter. I have tried to rouse in him the feeling +that it would be as well to be appreciated, even in Simla, and I think +I’ve succeeded. He said, after those two men had gone away on Sunday, +that he thought a certain reputation in the place where he lived would +help anybody in his work.’ + +‘On Sunday? Do you mean between twelve and two?’ + +‘Yes, he came and made a formal call. There was no reason why he +shouldn’t.’ + +‘Now that I think of it,’ I rejoined, ‘he shot a card on me too, at the +Club. I was a little surprised. We didn’t seem somehow to be on those +terms. One doesn’t readily associate him with any conventionality.’ + +‘There’s no reason why he shouldn’t,’ said Dora again, and with this +vague comment we spoke of something else, both of us, I think, a little +disquieted and dissatisfied that he had. + +‘I think,’ Dora said as I went away, ‘that you had better go up to the +studio and tell him what you have told me. Perhaps it doesn’t matter +much, but I can’t bear the thought of his not knowing.’ + +‘Come to Kauffer’s in the morning and see the pictures,’ I urged; but +she turned away, ‘Oh, not with you.’ + +I found my way almost at once to Amy Villa, not only because I had been +told to go there. I wanted, myself, certain satisfactions. Armour was +alone and smoking, but I had come prepared against the contingency of +one of his cigars. They were the cigars of the man who doesn’t know what +he eats. With sociable promptness I lighted one of my own. The little +enclosed veranda testified to a wave of fresh activity. The north light +streamed in upon two or three fresh canvases, the place seemed full of +enthusiasm, and you could see its source, at present quiescent under the +influence of tobacco, in Armour’s face. + +‘You have taken a new line,’ I said, pointing to a file of camels, still +half obscured by the dust of the day, coming along a mountain road +under a dim moon. They might have been walking through time and through +history. It was a queer, simple thing, with a world of early Aryanism in +it. + +‘Does that say anything? I’m glad. It was to me articulate, but I didn’t +know. Oh, things have been going well with me lately. Those two studies +over there simply did themselves. That camp scene on the left is almost +a picture. I think I’ll put a little more work on it and give it a +chance in Paris. I got in once, you know. Champ de Mars. With some +horses.’ + +‘Did you, indeed?’ I said. ‘Capital.’ I asked him if he didn’t +atrociously miss the life of the Quarter, and he surprised me by saying +that he never had lived it. He had been en pension instead with a dear +old professor of chemistry and his family at Puteaux, and used to go in +and out. A smile came into his eyes at the remembrance, and he told +me one after the other idyllic little stories of the old professor and +madame. Madame and the omelet--madame and the melon--M. Vibois and the +maire; I sat charmed. So long as we remained in France his humour was +like this, delicate and expansive, but an accidental allusion led us +across the Channel when he changed. He had no little stories of the +time he spent in England. Instead he let himself go in generalizations, +aimed, for they had a distinct animus, at English institutions and +character, particularly as these appear in English society. I could +not believe, from the little I had seen of him, that his experience of +English society of any degree had been intimate; what he said had the +flavour of Radical Sunday papers. The only original element was the +feeling behind, which was plainly part of him; speculation instantly +clamoured as to how far this was purely temperamental and how far the +result of painful contact. He himself, he said, though later of +the Western States, had been born under the British flag of British +parents--though his mother was an Irishwoman she came from loyal +Ulster--and he repeated the statement as if it in some way justified his +attitude towards his fellow countrymen and excused his truculence in the +ear of a servant of the empire which he had the humour to abuse. I heard +him, I confess, with impatience, it was all so shabby and shallow, but +I heard him out, and I was rewarded; he came for an illustration in +the end to Simla. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘at what they call their “Government +House list”; and look at Strobo, Signor Strobo. Isn’t Strobo a man of +intelligence, isn’t he a man of benevolence? He gave ten thousand rupees +last week to the famine fund. Is Strobo on Government House list? Is he +ever invited to dine with the Viceroy? No, because Strobo keeps a hotel! +Look at Rosario--where does Rosario come in? Nowhere, because Rosario is +a clerk, and a subordinate. Yet Rosario is a man of wide reading and a +very accomplished fellow!’ + +It became more or less necessary to argue then, and the commonplaces +with which I opposed him called forth a wealth of detail bearing most +picturesquely upon his stay among us. I began to think he had never +hated English rigidity and English snobbery until he came to Simla, +and that he and Strobo and Rosario had mingled their experiences in one +bitter cup. I gathered this by inference only, he was curiously watchful +and reticent as to anything that had happened to him personally; indeed, +he was careful to aver preferences for the society of ‘sincere’ +people like Strobo and Rosario, that seemed to declare him more than +indifferent to circles in which he would not meet them. In the end our +argument left me ridiculously irritated--it was simply distressing to +see the platform from which he obtained so wide and exquisite a view of +the world upheld by such flimsy pillars--and my nerves were not soothed +by his proposal to walk with me to the Club. I could hardly refuse it, +however, and he came along in excellent spirits, having effected the +demolition of British social ideals, root and branch. His mongrel dog +accompanied, keeping offensively near our heels. It was not even an +honest pi, but a dog of tawdry pretensions with a banner-like tail +dishonestly got from a spaniel. On one occasion I very nearly kicked the +dog. + + + +Chapter 2.VII. + +‘The fact is,’ I said to Dora as we rode down to the gymkhana, ‘his +personality takes possession of one. I constantly go to that little hut +of his with intentions, benevolent or otherwise, which I never carry +out.’ + +‘You mean,’ she answered, ‘that you completely forgot to reveal to him +your hateful knowledge about Kauffer.’ + +‘On the contrary, I didn’t forget it for a moment. But the conversation +took a turn that made it quite impossible to mention.’ + +‘I can understand,’ Miss Harris replied softly, ‘how that might be. And +it doesn’t in the least matter,’ she went on triumphantly, ‘because I’ve +told him myself.’ + +My nerves must have been a trifle strung up at the time, for this struck +me as a matter for offense. ‘You thought I would trample upon him,’ I +exclaimed. + +‘No, no really. I disliked his not knowing it was known--rien de plus,’ +she said lightly. + +‘What did he say?’ + +‘Oh, not much. What should he say?’ + +‘He might have expressed a decent regret on poor Kauffer’s account,’ I +growled. Dora did not reply, and a glance showed her frowning. + +‘I believe he apologized!’ I cried, pushing, as it were, my advantage. + +‘He explained.’ + +‘Oh!’ + +‘Of course he hasn’t relished the position, and of course he didn’t +realize it before he came. Shall we trot?’ + +I was compelled to negative the idea of trotting, since we were +descending quite the steepest pitch of the road down to Annandale. We +went on at a walk, and it occurred to me, as my contemplative gaze +fell on my own pig-skins, that we were, even for Simla, an uncommonly +well-turned-out pair. I had helped to pick Dora’s hack, and I allowed +myself to reflect that he did my judgment credit. She sat him perfectly +in her wrath--she was plainly angry--not a hair out of place. Why is it +that a lady out of temper with her escort always walks away from him? Is +her horse sympathetic? Ronald, at all events, was leading by a couple of +yards, when suddenly he shied, bounding well across the road. + +The mare, whose manners I can always answer for, simply stopped and +looked haughtily about for explanations. A path dropped into the road +from the hillside; something came scrambling and stumbling down. + +‘Oh!’ cried Dora, as it emerged and was Armour on his much enduring +white pony, ‘how you frightened us!’ + +‘Why don’t you stick to the road, man?’ I exclaimed. ‘It isn’t usual to +put ponies up and down these coolie tracks!’ + +He took no notice of this rather broad hint that I was annoyed, but +fixed his eager, light, luminous eyes upon Dora. + +‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and added, ‘I did not expect to see you today!’ + +‘Not till tomorrow,’ she returned. ‘You remember that we are sketching +tomorrow?’ + +He looked at her and smiled slightly; and then I remember noticing that +his full, arched upper lip seldom quite met its counterpart over his +teeth. This gave an unpremeditated casual effect to everything he found +to say, and made him look a dreamer at his busiest. His smile was at the +folly of her reminder. + +‘I’ve just been looking for something that you would like,’ he said, +‘but it isn’t much good hunting about alone. I see five times as much +when we go together.’ + +He and his pony barred the way; he had an air of leisure and of +felicity; one would think we had met at an afternoon party. + +‘We are on our way,’ I explained, ‘to the gymkhana. Miss Harris is in +one of the events. You did enter for the needle-threading race, didn’t +you, with Lord Arthur? I think we must get on.’ + +A slow, dull red mounted to Armour’s face and seemed to put out that +curious light in his eyes. + +‘Is it far?’ he asked, glancing down over the tree-tops. ‘I’ve never +been there.’ + +‘Why,’ cried Dora, suddenly, ‘you’ve been down!’ + +‘So you have,’ I confirmed her. ‘Your beast is damaged too.’ + +‘Oh, it was only a stumble,’ Armour replied; ‘I stuck on all right.’ + +‘Well,’ I said, ‘you had better get off now, as you didn’t then, +and look at your animal’s near fore. The swelling’s as big as a bun +already.’ + +Again he made me no answer, but looked intently and questioningly at +Dora. + +‘Get off, Mr. Armour,’ she said, sharply, ‘and lead your horse home. It +is not fit to be ridden. Goodbye.’ + +I have no doubt he did it, but neither of us were inclined to look back +to see. We pushed on under the deodars, and I was indulgent to a trot. +At the end of it Dora remarked that Mr. Armour naturally could not be +expected to know anything about riding, it was very plucky of him to get +on a horse at all, among these precipices; and I of course agreed. + +Lord Arthur was waiting when we arrived, on his chestnut polo pony, but +Dora immediately scratched for the brilliant event in which they were +paired. Ronald, she said, was simply cooked with the heat. Ronald had +come every yard of the way on his toes and was fit for anything, but +Lord Arthur did not insist. There were young ladies in Simla, I am glad +to say, who appealed more vividly to his imagination than Dora Harris +did, and one of them speedily replaced her, a fresh-coloured young +Amazon who was staying at the Chief’s. She wandered about restlessly +over the dry turf for a few minutes, and then went and sat down in a +corner of the little wooden Grand Stand and sent me for a cup of tea. + +‘Won’t you come to the tent?’ I asked a little ruefully, eyeing the +distance and the possible collisions between, but she shook her head. + +‘I simply couldn’t bear it,’ she said, and I went feeling somehow +chastened myself by the cloud that was upon her spirit. + +I found her on my return regarding the scene with a more than usually +critical eye, and a more than usually turned down lip. Yet it was +exactly the scene it always was, and always, probably, will be. I sat +down beside her and regarded it also, but more charitably than usual. +Perhaps it was rather trivial, just a lot of pretty dresses and excited +young men in white riding-breeches doing foolish things on ponies in +the shortest possible time, with one little crowd about the Club’s +refreshment tent and another about the Staff’s, while the hills sat +round in an indifferent circle; but it appealed to me with a kind of +family feeling that afternoon, and inspired me with tolerance, even +benevolence. + +‘After all,’ I said, ‘it’s mainly youth and high spirits--two good +things. And one knows them all.’ + +‘And who are they to know?’ complained Dora. + +‘Just decent young Englishmen and Englishwomen, out here on their +country’s business,’ I replied cheerfully; ‘with the marks of Oxford and +Cambridge and Sandhurst and Woolwich on the men. Well-set-up youngsters, +who know what to do and how to do it. Oh, I like the breed!’ + +‘I wonder,’ said she, in a tone of preposterous melancholy, ‘if +eventually I have to marry one of them.’ + +‘Not necessarily,’ I said. She looked at me with interest, as if I had +contributed importantly to the matter in hand, and resumed tapping her +boot with her riding-crop. We talked of indifferent things and had long +lapses. At the close of one effort Dora threw herself back with a deep, +tumultuous sigh. ‘The poverty of this little wretched resort ties up +one’s tongue!’ she cried. ‘It is the bottom of the cup; here one gets +the very dregs of Simla’s commonplace. Let us climb out of it.’ + +I thought for a moment that Ronald had been too much for her nerves +coming down, and offered to change saddles, but she would not. We took +it out of the horses all along the first upward slopes, and as we pulled +in to breathe them she turned to me paler than ever. + +‘I feel better now,’ she said. + +For myself I had got rid of Armour for the afternoon. I think my +irritation with him about his pony rose and delivered me from the +too insistent thought of him. With Dora it was otherwise; she had +dismissed him; but he had never left her for a moment the whole long +afternoon. + +She flung a searching look at me. With a reckless turn of her head, she +said, ‘Why didn’t we take him with us?’ + +‘Did we want him?’ I asked. + +‘I think I always want him.’ + +‘Ah!’ said I, and would have pondered this statement at some length in +silence, but that she plainly did not wish me to do so. + +‘We might perfectly well have sent his pony home with one of our own +servants--he would have been delighted to walk down.’ + +‘He wasn’t in proper kit,’ I remonstrated. + +‘Oh, I wish you would speak to him about that. Make him get some +tennis-flannels and riding-things.’ + +‘Do you propose to get him asked to places?’ I inquired. + +She gave me a charmingly unguarded smile. ‘I propose to induce you to +do so. I have done what I could. He has dined with us several times, and +met a few people who would, I thought, be kind to him.’ + +‘Oh, well,’ I said, ‘I have had him at the Club too, with old Lamb and +Colonel Hamilton. He made us all miserable with his shyness. Don’t ask +me to do it again, please.’ + +‘I’ve sent him to call on certain people,’ Dora continued, ‘and I’ve +shown his pictures to everybody, and praised him and talked about him, +but I can’t go on doing that indefinitely, can I?’ + +‘No,’ I said; ‘people might misunderstand.’ + +‘I don’t think they would MISunderstand,’ replied this astonishing girl, +without flinching. She even sought my eyes to show me that hers were +clear and full of purpose. + +‘Good God!’ I said to myself, but the words that fell from me were, ‘He +is outside all that life.’ + +‘What is the use of living a life that he is outside of?’ + +‘Oh, if you put it that way,’ I said, and set my teeth, ‘I will do what +I can.’ + +She held out her hand with an affectionate gesture, and I was +reluctantly compelled to press it. + +The horses broke into a trot, and we talked no more of Armour, or of +anything, until Ted Harris joined us on the Mall. + +I have rendered this conversation with Dora in detail because subsequent +events depend so closely upon it. Some may not agree that it was basis +enough for the action I thought well to take; I can only say that it was +all I was ever able to obtain. Dora was always particularly civil and +grateful about my efforts, but she gave me only one more glimpse, and +that enigmatic, of any special reason why they should be made. Perhaps +this was more than compensated for by the abounding views I had of the +situation as it lay with Ingersoll Armour, but of that, other persons, +approaching the subject without prejudice, will doubtless judge better +than I. + + + +Chapter 2.VIII. + +It was better not to inquire, so I never knew to what extent Kauffer +worked upon the vanity of ancient houses the sinful dodge I suggested to +him; but I heard before long that the line of Armour’s rejected efforts +had been considerably diminished. Armour told me himself that Kauffer’s +attitude had become almost conciliatory, that Kauffer had even hinted +at the acceptance of, and adhesion to, certain principles which he would +lay down as the basis of another year’s contract. In talking to me about +it, Armour dwelt on these absurd stipulations only as the reason why any +idea of renewal was impossible. It was his proud theory with me that to +work for a photographer was just as dignified as to produce under any +other conditions, provided you did not stoop to ideals which for lack +of a better word might be called photographic. How he represented it to +Dora, or permitted Dora to represent it to him, I am not so certain--I +imagine there may have been admissions and qualifications. Be that as +it may, however, the fact was imperative that only three months of the +hated bond remained, and that some working substitute for the hated bond +would have to be discovered at their expiration. Simla, in short, must +be made to buy Armour’s pictures, to appreciate them, if the days of +miracle were not entirely past, but to buy them any way. On one or two +occasions I had already made Simla buy things. I had cleared out young +Ludlow’s stables for him in a week--he had a string of ten--when he +played polo in a straw hat and had to go home with sunstroke; and I once +auctioned off all the property costumes of the Amateur Dramatic Society +at astonishing prices. Pictures presented difficulties which I have +hinted at in an earlier chapter, but I did not despair. I began by +hauling old Lamb, puffing and blowing like a grampus, up to Amy Villa, +filling him up all the way with denunciations of Simla’s philistinism +and suggestions that he alone redeemed it. + +It is a thing I am ashamed to think of, and it deserved its reward. + +Lamb criticized and patronized every blessed thing he saw, advised +Armour to beware of mannerisms and to be a little less liberal with his +colour, and heard absolutely unmoved of the horses Armour had got into +the Salon. ‘I understand,’ he said, with a benevolent wink, ‘that about +four thousand pictures are hung every year at the Salon, and I don’t +know how many thousand are rejected. Let Mr. Armour get a picture +accepted by the Academy. Then he will have something to talk about.’ + +Neither did Sir William Lamb buy anything at all. + +The experiment with Lady Pilkey was even more distressing. She gushed +with fair appropriateness and great liberality, and finally fixed upon +one scene to make her own. She winningly asked the price of it. She +had never known anybody who did not understand prices. Poor Armour, the +colour of a live coal, named one hundred rupees. + +‘One hundred rupees! Oh, my dear boy, I can never afford that! You must, +you must really give it to me for seventy-five. It will break my heart +if I can’t have it for seventy-five.’ + +‘Give me the pleasure,’ said Armour, ‘of making you a present of it. You +have been so kind about everything, and it’s so seldom one meets +anybody who really cares. So let me send it to you.’ It was honest +embarrassment; he did not mean to be impertinent. + +And she did. + +Blum, of the Geological Department--Herr Blum in his own country--came +up and honestly rejoiced, and at end of an interminable pipe did +purchase a little Breton bit that I hated to see go--it was one of +the things that gave the place its air; but Blum had a large family +undergoing education at Heidelberg, and exclaimed, to Armour’s keenest +anguish, that on this account he could not more do. + +Altogether, during the months of August and September, persons resident +in Simla drawing their income from Her Majesty, bought from the +eccentric young artist from nowhere, living on Summer Hill, canvases and +little wooden panels to the extent of two hundred and fifty rupees. Lady +Pilkey had asked him to lunch--she might well! and he had appeared at +three garden-parties and a picnic. It was not enough. + +It was not enough, and yet it was, in a manner, too much. Pitiful as +it was in substance, it had an extraordinary personal effect. Armour +suddenly began to turn himself out well--his apparel was of smarter cut +than mine, and his neckties in better taste. Little elegances appeared +in the studio--he offered you Scotch in a Venetian decanter and +Melachrinos from a chased silver box. The farouche element faded out of +his speech; his ideas remained as fresh and as simple as ever, but he +gave them a form, bless me! that might have been used at the Club. He +worked as hard as ever, but more variously; he tried his hand at several +new things. He said he was feeling about for something that would really +make his reputation. + +In spite of all this his little measure of success made him more +contemptuous than before of its scene and its elements. He declared that +he had a poorer idea than ever of society now that he saw the pattern +from the smart side. That his convictions on this head survived one of +the best Simla tailors shows that they must always have been strong. I +think he believed that he was doing all that he did do to make himself +socially possible with the purpose of pleasing Dora Harris. I would +not now venture to say how far Dora inspired and controlled him in +this direction, and how far the impulse was his own. The measure of +appreciation that began to seek his pictures, poor and small though it +was, gave him, on the other hand, the most unalloyed delight. He talked +of the advice of Sir William Lamb as if it were anything but that of a +pompous old ass, and he made a feast with champagne for Blum that must +have cost him quite as much as Blum paid for the Breton sketch. He +confirmed my guess that he had never in his life until he came to Simla +sold anything, so that even these small transactions were great things +to him, and the earnest of a future upon which he covered his eyes not +to gaze too raptly. He mentioned to me that Kauffer had been asked +for his address--who could it possibly be?--and looked so damped by my +humourous suggestion that it was a friend of Kauffer’s in some other +line who wanted a bill paid, that I felt I had been guilty of brutality. +And all the while the quality of his wonderful output never changed or +abated. Pure and firm and prismatic it remained. I found him one day at +the very end of October, with shining eyes and fingers blue with cold, +putting the last of the afternoon light on the snows into one of the +most dramatic hill pictures I ever knew him to do. He seemed intoxicated +with his skill, and hummed the ‘Marseillaise,’ I remember, all the way +to Amy Villa whither I accompanied him. + +It was the last day of Kauffer’s contract; and besides, all the world, +secretaries, establishments, hill captains, grass widows, shops, and +sundries, was trundling down the hill. I came to ask my young friend +what he meant to do. + +‘Do?’ he cried. ‘Why, eat, drink, and be merry! Kauffer has paid up, and +his yoke is at the bottom of the sea. Come back and dine with me!’ + +The hour we spent together in his little inner room before dinner was +served stands out among my strangest, loveliest memories of Armour. He +was divinely caught up, and absurd as it is to write, he seemed to carry +me with him. We drank each a glass of vermouth before dinner sitting +over a scented fire of deodar branches, while outside the little window +in front of me the lifted lines of the great empty Himalayan landscape +faded and fell into a blur. I remembered the solitary scarlet dahlia +that stood between us and the vast cold hills and held its colour when +all was grey but that. The hill world waited for the winter; down a +far valley we could hear a barking deer. Armour talked slowly, often +hesitating for a word, of the joy there was in beauty and the divinity +in the man who saw it with his own eyes. I have read notable pages that +brought conviction pale beside that which stole about the room from what +he said. The comment may seem fantastic, but it is a comment--I caressed +the dog. The servant clattered in with the plates, and at a shout +outside Armour left me. He came in radiant with Signor Strobo, also +radiant and carrying a violin, for hotel-keeping was not the Signor’s +only accomplishment. I knew Strobo well; many a special dish had he +ordered for my little parties; and we met at Armour’s fireside like the +genial old acquaintances we were. Another voice without and presently +I was nodding to Rosario and vaguely wondering why he looked +uncomfortable. + +‘I’m sorry,’ said Armour, as we sat down, ‘I’ve got nothing but beer. +If I had known you were all coming, no vintage that crawls up the hill +would have been good enough for me.’ He threw the bond of his wonderful +smile round us as we swallowed his stuff, and our hearts were lightened. +‘You fellows,’ he went on nodding at the other two, ‘might happen any +day, but my friend John Philips comes to me across aerial spaces; he is +a star I’ve trapped--you don’t do that often. Pilsener, John Philips, or +Black?’ He was helping his only servant by pouring out the beer himself, +and as I declared for Black he slapped me affectionately on the back and +said my choice was good. + +The last person who had slapped me on the back was Lord Dufferin, and +I smiled softly and privately at the remembrance, and what a difference +there was. I had resented Dufferin’s slap. + +We had spiced hump and jungle-fowl and a Normandy cheese, everybody will +understand that; but how shall I make plain with what exultation and +simplicity we ate and drank, how the four candid selves of us sat around +the table in a cloud of tobacco and cheered each other on, Armour always +far in front turning handsprings as he went. Scraps come back to me, but +the whole queer night has receded and taken its place among those dreams +that insist at times upon having been realities. Rosario told us stories +Kipling might have coveted of the under life of Port Said. Strobo talked +with glorious gusto of his uncle the brigand. They were liberated men; +we were all liberated men. ‘Let the direction go,’ cried Armour, ‘and +give the senses flight, taking the image as it comes, beating the air +with happy pinions.’ He must have been talking of his work, but I can +not now remember. And what made Strobo say, of life and art, ‘I have +waited for ten years and five thousand pounds--now my old violin says, +“Go, handle the ladle! Go, add up the account!”’ And did we really +discuss the chances of ultimate salvation for souls in the Secretariat? +I know I lifted my glass once and cried, ‘I, a slave, drink to freedom!’ +and Rosario clinked with me. And Strobo played wailing Hungarian airs +with sudden little shakes of hopeless laughter in them. I can not +even now hear Naches without being filled with the recollection of how +certain bare branches in me that night blossomed. + +I walked alone down the hill and along the three miles to the Club, and +at every step the tide sank in me till it cast me on my threshold at +three in the morning, just the middle-aged shell of a Secretary to the +Government of India that I was when I set forth. Next day when my head +clerk brought me the files we avoided one another’s glances; and it was +quite three weeks before I could bring myself to address him with the +dignity and distance prescribed for his station as ‘Mr.’ Rosario. + + + +Chapter 2.IX. + +I went of course to Calcutta for the four winter months. Harris and I +were together at the Club. It was the year, I remember, of the great +shindy as to whether foreign consuls should continue to be made +honourary members, in view of the sentiments some of them were freely +reflecting from Europe upon the subject of a war in South Africa which +was none of theirs. Certainly, feeling as they did, it would have been +better if they had swaggered less about a club that stood for British +Government; but I did not vote to withdraw the invitation. We can not, +after all, take notice of every idle word that drops from Latin or +Teutonic tongues; it isn’t our way; but it was a liverish cold weather +on various accounts, and the public temper was short. I heard from Dora +oftener, Harris declared, than he did. She was spending the winter +with friends in Agra, and Armour, of course, was there too, living at +Laurie’s Hotel, and painting, Dora assured me, with immense energy. +It was just the place for Armour, a sumptuous dynasty wrecked in white +marble and buried in desert sands for three hundred years; and I was +glad to hear that he was making the most of it. It was quite by the way, +but I had lent him the money to go there--somebody had to lend it to +him--and when he asked me to decide whether he should take his passage +for Marseilles or use it for this other purpose I could hardly hesitate, +believing in him, as I did, to urge him to paint a little more of India +before he went. I frankly despaired of his ever being able to pay his +way in Simla without Kauffer, but that was no reason why he should not +make a few more notes for further use at home, where I sometimes saw +for him, when his desultory and experimental days were over and some +definiteness and order had come into his work, a Bond Street exhibition. + +I have not said all this time what I thought of Ingersoll Armour and +Dora Harris together, because their connection seemed too vague and +fantastic and impossible to hold for an instant before a steady gaze. I +have no wish to justify myself when I write that I preferred to keep my +eyes averted, enjoying perhaps just such a measure of vision as would +enter at a corner of them. This may or may not have been immoral under +the circumstances--the event did not prove it so--but for urgent private +reasons I could not be the person to destroy the idyll, if indeed its +destruction were possible, that flourished there in the corner of +my eye. Besides, had not I myself planted and watered it? But it was +foolish to expect other people, people who are forever on the lookout +for trousseaux and wedding-bells, and who considered these two as mere +man and maid, and had no sight of them as engaging young spirits in +happy conjunction--it was foolish to expect such people to show equal +consideration. Christmas was barely over before the lady with whom Miss +Harris was staying found it her duty to communicate to Edward Harris the +fact that dear Dora’s charming friendship--she was sure it was nothing +more--with the young artist--Mrs. Poulton believed Mr. Harris would +understand who was meant--was exciting a good deal of comment in the +station, and WOULD dear Mr. Harris please write to Dora himself, as Mrs. +Poulton was beginning to feel so responsible? + +I saw the letter; Harris showed it to me when he sat down to breakfast +with the long face of a man in a domestic difficulty, and we settled +together whom we should ask to put his daughter up in Calcutta. It +should be the wife of a man in his own department of course; it is to +one’s Deputy Secretary that one looks for succour at times like this; +and naturally one never looks in vain. Mrs. Symons would be delighted. +I conjured up Dora’s rage on receipt of the telegram. She loathed the +Symonses. + +She came, but not at the jerk of a wire; she arrived a week later, with +a face of great propriety and a smile of great unconcern. Harris, having +got her effectually out of harm’s way, shirked further insistence, and +I have reason to believe that Armour was never even mentioned between +them. + +Dora applied herself to the gaieties of the season with the zest of +a debutante; she seemed really refreshed, revitalized. She had never +looked better, happier. I met her again for the first time at one of +the Thursday dances at Government House. In the glance she gave me I was +glad to detect no suspicion of collusion. She plainly could not dream +that Edward Harris in his nefarious exercise of parental authority had +acted upon any hint from me. It was rather sweet. + +Out in the veranda, away from the blare of the Viceroy’s band, she told +me very delicately and with the most charming ellipses how Armour had +been filling her life in Agra, how it had all been, for these two, a +dream and a vision. There is a place below the bridge there, where the +cattle come down from the waste pastures across the yellow sands to +drink and stand in the low water of the Jumna, to stand and switch their +tails while their herdsmen on the bank coax them back with ‘Ari!’ ‘Ari!’ +‘Ari!’ long and high, faint and musical; and the minarets of Akbar’s +fort rise beyond against the throbbing sky and the sun fills it all. +This place I shall never see more distinctly than I saw it that night on +the veranda at Government House, Calcutta, with the conviction, like a +margin for the picture, that its foreground had been very often occupied +by the woman I profoundly worshiped and Ingersoll Armour. She told me +that he had sent me a sketch of it, and I very much wished he hadn’t. +One felt that the gift would carry a trifle of irony. + +‘He has told me,’ she said once brusquely, ‘how good you have been to +him.’ + +‘Is he coming to Simla again?’ I asked. + +‘Oh yes! And please take it from me that this time he will conquer the +place. He has undertaken to do it.’ + +‘At your request?’ + +‘At my persuasion--at my long entreaty. They must recognize him--they +must be taught. I have set my heart on it.’ + +‘Does he himself very much care?’ I asked remembering the night of the +thirty-first of October. + +‘Yes, he does care. He despises it, of course, but in a way he cares. +I’ve been trying to make him care more. A human being isn’t an orchid; +he must draw something from the soil he grows in.’ + +‘If he were stable,’ I mused; ‘if he had a fixed ambition somewhere in +the firmament. But his purpose is a will-o’-the-wisp.’ + +‘I think he has an ambition,’ said Miss Harris, into the dark. + +‘Ah! Then we must continue,’ I said--‘continue to push from behind.’ + +Dora did not reply. She is a person of energy and determination, and +might have been expected to offer to cooperate gladly. But she didn’t. + +‘He is painting a large picture for next season’s exhibition,’ she +informed me. ‘I was not allowed to see it or to know anything about it, +but he declares it will bring Simla down.’ + +‘I hope not,’ I said, piously. + +‘Oh, I hope so. I have told him,’ Dora continued, slowly, ‘that a great +deal depends on it.’ + +‘Here is Mrs. Symons,’ I was able to return, ‘and I am afraid she is +looking for you.’ + +March came, and the city lay white under its own dust. The electric fans +began to purr in the Club, and Lent brought the flagging season to a +full stop. I had to go that year on tour through the famine district +with the Member, and we escaped, gasping, from the Plains about the +middle of April. Simla was crimson with rhododendron blossoms, and +seemed a spur of Arcady. There had been the usual number of flittings +from one house to another, and among them I heard with satisfaction +that Armour no longer occupied Amy Villa. I would not for the world have +blurred my recollections of that last evening--I could not have gone +there again. + +‘He is staying with Sir William Lamb,’ said Dora, handing me my cup of +tea. ‘And I am quite jealous. Sir William, only Sir William, has been +allowed to see the exhibition picture.’ + +‘What does that portend?’ I said, thoughtfully. + +‘I don’t know. Sir William was here yesterday simply swelling with his +impression of it. He says it’s the finest thing that has been done in +India. I told you he would conquer them.’ + +‘You did,’ and without thinking I added, ‘I hope you won’t be sorry that +you asked him to.’ It must have been an inspiration. + +Armour, those weeks before the exhibition, seemed invisible. Dora +reported him torn with the incapacity of the bazaar frame-maker to +follow a design, and otherwise excessively occupied, and there was no +lack of demands upon my own time. Besides, my ardour to be of assistance +to the young man found a slight damper in the fact that he was staying +with Sir William Lamb. What competence had I to be of use to the guest +of Sir William Lamb? + +‘I do not for a moment think he will be there,’ said Dora, on the day +of the private view as we went along the Mall towards the Town Hall +together. ‘He will not run with an open mouth to his success. He will +take it from us later.’ + +But he was there. We entered precisely at the dramatic moment of his +presentation by Sir William Lamb to the Viceroy. He stood embarrassed +and smiling in a little circle of compliments and congratulation. Behind +him and a little to the left hung his picture, large and predominant, +and in the corner of the frame was stuck the red ticket that signified +the Viceroy’s gold medal. We saw that, I think, before we saw anything +else. Then with as little haste as was decent, considering His +Excellency’s proximity, we walked within range of the picture. + +I am not particularly pleased, even now, to have the task of describing +the thing. Its subject was an old Mahomedan priest with a green turban +and a white beard exhorting a rabble of followers. I heard myself saying +to Dora that it was very well painted indeed, very conscientiously +painted, and that is certainly what struck me. The expression of the +fire-eater’s face was extremely characteristic; his arm was flung +out with a gesture that perfectly matched. The group of listeners was +carefully composed and most ‘naturally’; that is the only word that +would come to me. + +I glanced almost timidly at Dora. She was regarding it with a deep +vertical line between her handsome brows. + +‘What--on earth--has he done with himself?’ she demanded, but before I +could reply Armour was by our side. + +‘Well?’ he said, looking at Dora. + +‘It--it’s very nice,’ she stammered, ‘but I miss YOU.’ + +‘She only means, you know,’ I rushed in, ‘that you’ve put in everything +that was never there before. Accuracy of detail, you know, and so forth. +‘Pon my word, there’s some drawing in that!’ + +‘No,’ said Dora, calmly, ‘what I complain of is that he has left out +everything that was there before. But he has won the gold medal, and I +congratulate him.’ + +‘Well,’ I said, uneasily, ‘don’t congratulate me. I didn’t do it. +Positively I am not to blame.’ + +‘His Excellency says that it reminds him of an incident in one of Mrs. +Steel’s novels,’ said Armour, just turning his head to ascertain His +Excellency’s whereabouts. + +‘Dear me, so it does,’ I exclaimed, eagerly, ‘one couldn’t name the +chapter--it’s the general feeling.’ I went on to discourse of the +general feeling. Words came generously, questions with point, comments +with intelligence. I swamped the situation and so carried it off. + +‘The Viceroy has bought the thing,’ Armour went on, looking at Dora, +‘and has commissioned me to paint another. The only restriction he makes +is--’ + +‘That it shall be of the same size?’ asked Dora. + +‘That it must deal with some phase of native life.’ + +Miss Harris walked to a point behind us, and stood there with her eyes +fixed upon the picture. I glanced at her once; her gaze was steady, but +perfectly blank. Then she joined us again, and struck into the stream of +my volubility. + +‘I am delighted,’ she said, pleasantly, to Armour. ‘You have done +exactly what I wanted you to do. You have won the Viceroy’s medal, and +all the reputation there is to win in this place. Come and dine +tonight, and we will rejoice together. But wasn’t it--for you--a little +difficult?’ + +He looked at her as if she had offered him a cup, and then dashed it +from his lips; but the occasion was not one, of course, for crying out. + +‘Oh no,’ he said, putting on an excellent face. ‘But it took a hideous +time.’ + + + +Chapter 2.X. + +Within a fortnight I was surprised and a little irritated to receive +from Armour the amount of my loan in full. It was not in accordance +with my preconceived idea of him that he should return it at all. I had +arranged in my own mind that he should be governed by the most honest +impulses and the most approved intentions up to the point of departure, +but that he should never find it quite convenient to pay, and that in +order to effect his final shipment to other shores I should be compelled +to lend him some more money. In the far future, when he should be famous +and I an obscure pauper on pension, my generous imagination permitted me +to see the loan repaid; but not till then. These are perhaps stereotyped +and conventional lines to conceive him on, but I hardly think that +anybody who has followed my little account to this point will think them +unjustifiable. I looked at his cheque with disgust. That a man turns out +better than you expected is no reason why you such not be annoyed that +your conception of him is shattered. You may be gratified on general +grounds, but distinctly put out on personal ones, especially when your +conception pointed to his inevitable removal. That was the way I felt. + +The cheque stood for so much more than its money value. It stood for a +possible, nay, a probable capacity in Armour to take his place in the +stable body of society, to recognize and make demands, to become a +taxpayer, a churchgoer, a householder, a husband. As I gazed, the +signature changed from that of a gnome with luminous eyes who inhabited +an inaccessible crag among the rhododendrons to that of a prosperous +artist-bourgeois with a silk hat for Sundays. I have in some small +degree the psychological knack, I saw the possibilities of the situation +with immense clearness; and I cursed the cheque. + +Coincidence is odious, tells on the nerves. I never felt it more so than +a week later, when I read in the ‘Pioneer’ the announcement of the death +of my old friend Fry, Superintendent of the School of Art in Calcutta. +The paragraph in which the journal dismissed poor Fry to his reward was +not unkind, but it distinctly implied that the removal of Fry should +include the removal of his ideas and methods, and the substitution of +something rather more up to date. It remarked that the Bengali student +had been pinned down long enough to drawing plaster casts, and declared +that something should be done to awake within him the creative idea. I +remember the phrase, it seemed so directly to suggest that the person to +awake it should be Ingersoll Armour. + +I turned the matter over in my mind; indeed, for the best part of an +hour my brain revolved with little else. The billet was an excellent +one, with very decent pay and charming quarters. It carried a pension, +it was the completest sort of provision. There was a long vacation, with +opportunities for original effort, and I had heard Fry call the work +interesting. Fry was the kind of man to be interested in anything that +gave him a living, but there was no reason why a more captious spirit, +in view of the great advantages, should not accommodate itself to the +routine that might present itself. The post was in the gift of the +Government of Bengal, but that was no reason why the Government of +Bengal should not be grateful in the difficulty of making a choice for a +hint from us. The difficulty was really great. They would have to +write home and advertise in the ‘Athenaeum’--for some reason +Indian Governments always advertise educational appointments in +the ‘Athenaeum’; it is a habit which dates from the days of John +Company--and that would mean delay. And then the result might be a +disappointment. Might Armour not also be a disappointment? That I really +could not say. A new man is always a speculation, and departments, like +individuals, have got to take their luck. + +The Viceroy was so delighted--everybody was so delighted--with the medal +picture that the merest breath blown among them would secure Armour’s +nomination. Should I blow that breath? These happy thoughts must always +occur to somebody. This one had occurred to me. Ten to one it +would occur to nobody else, and last of all to Armour himself. The +advertisement might already be on its way home to the ‘Athenaeum’. + +It would make everything possible. It would throw a very different +complexion over the idyll. It would turn that interlacing wreath of +laurels and of poppies into the strongest bond in the world. + +I would simply have nothing to do with it. + +But there was no harm I asking Armour to dine with me; I sent the note +off by messenger after breakfast and told the steward to put a magnum +of Pommery to cool at seven precisely. I had some idea, I suppose, of +drinking with Armour to his eternal discomfiture. Then I went to the +office with a mind cleared of responsibility and comfortably pervaded +with the glow of good intentions. + +The moment I saw the young man, punctual and immediate and a little +uncomfortable about the cuffs, I regretted not having asked one or two +more fellows. It might have spoiled the occasion, but it would have +saved the situation. That single glance of my accustomed eye--alas! +that it was so well accustomed--revealed him anxious and screwed up, +as nervous as a cat, but determined, revealed--how well I knew the +signs!--that he had something confidential and important and highly +personal to communicate, a matter in which I could, if I only would, be +of the greatest possible assistance. From these appearances twenty years +had taught me to fly to any burrow, but your dinner-table offers no +retreat; you are hoist, so to speak, on your own carving-fork. There are +men, of course, and even women, who have scruples about taking advantage +of so intimate and unguarded an opportunity, but Armour, I rapidly +decided, was not one of these. His sophistication was progressing, but +it had not reached that point. He wanted something--I flew instantly to +the mad conclusion that he wanted Dora. I did not pause to inquire why +he should ask her of me. It had seemed for a long time eminently proper +that anybody who wanted Dora should ask her of me. The application was +impossible, but applications nearly always were impossible. Nobody knew +that better than the Secretary to the Government of India in the Home +Department. + +I squared my shoulders and we got through the soup. It was necessary to +apologize for the fish. ‘I suppose one must remember,’ I said, ‘that it +has to climb six thousand feet,’ when suddenly he burst out. + +‘Sir William Lamb tells me,’ he said, and stopped to swallow some wine, +‘that there is something very good going in Calcutta and that I should +ask you to help me to get it. May I?’ + +So the miserable idea--the happy thought--had occurred to somebody else. + +‘Is there?’ I said, with interest and attention. + +‘It’s something in the School of Art. A man named Fry has died.’ + +‘Ah!’ I said, ‘a man named Fry. He, I think was Director of that +institution.’ I looked at Armour in the considering, measuring way with +which we suggest to candidates for posts that their fitness to fill them +is not to be absolutely taken for granted. ‘Fry was a man of fifty-six,’ +I said. + +‘I am thirty.’ He certainly did not look it, but years often fall +lightly upon a temperament. + +‘It’s a vile climate.’ + +‘I know. Is it too vile, do you think,’ he said anxiously, ‘to ask a +lady to share?’ + +‘Lots of ladies do share it,’ I replied, with amazing calmness; ‘but I +must decline absolutely to enter into that.’ + +My frown was so forbidding that he couldn’t and didn’t dare to go on. +He looked dashed and disappointed; he was really a fool of an applicant, +quite ready to retire from the siege on the first intimation that the +gates were not to be thrown open at his approach. + +‘Do you think you would like teaching?’ I asked. + +‘I can teach. Miss--my only pupil here has made capital progress.’ + +‘I am afraid you must not measure the Bengali art student by the +standard of Miss Harris,’ I replied coldly. He WAS a fool. We talked of +other things. I led him on to betray his ludicrous lack of knowledge +of the world in various directions. At other times it had irritated +me, that night it gave me purest pleasure. I agreed with him about +everything. + +As he selected his smoke to go home with I said, ‘Send your application +in to the Director of Public Instruction, Bengal--Lamb will tell you +how--and I’ll see what I can do.’ + +They were only too thankful to get him. As a student it seemed he had +been diligent both in London and Paris; he possessed diplomas or +some such things bearing names which were bound to have weight with a +Department of Public Instruction anywhere. I felt particularly thankful +for this, for I was committed to him if he had not a rag to show. + +The matter was settled in three weeks, during which Armour became +more and more the fashion in Simla. He was given every opportunity of +experiment in the society of which he was about to become a permanent +item. He dined out four or five times a week, and learned exactly what +to talk about. He surprised me one day with a piece of news of my own +department, which was a liberty of a very serious kind, but I forgave +him upon finding that it was not true. He rode Lamb’s weight-carriers, +to cross which his short legs were barely adequate, and apart from +this disadvantage he did not ride them badly. Only one thing marred the +completeness of the transformation--he didn’t dismiss the dog. The dog, +fundamentally, was still and ever his companion. It was a suspicious +circumstance if we had known; but we saw in it only a kind heart, and +ignored it. + +I saw little of Dora Harris at this time. Making no doubt that she was +enjoying her triumph as she deserved, I took the liberty of +supposing that she would hardly wish to share so intimate a source of +satisfaction. I met them both several times at people’s houses--certain +things had apparently been taken for granted--but I was only one of +the little circle that wondered how soon it might venture upon open +congratulations. The rest of us knew as much, it seemed, as Edward +Harris did. Lady Pilkey asked him point-blank, and he said what his +daughter found to like in the fellow the Lord only knew, and he was glad +to say that at present he had no announcement to make. Lady Pilkey +told me she thought it very romantic--like marrying a newspaper +correspondent--but I pointed to a lifelong task, with a pension +attached, of teaching fat young Bengalis to draw, and asked her if she +saw extravagant romance in that. + +They wrote up from Calcutta that they would like to have a look at +Armour before making the final recommendation, and he left us, I +remember, by the mail tonga of the third of June. He dropped into my +office to say goodbye, but I was busy with the Member and could see +nobody, so he left a card with ‘P.P.C.’ on it. I kept the card +by accident, and I keep it still by design, for the sake of that +inscription. + +Strobo had given up his hotel in Simla to start one in Calcutta. It +never occurred to me that Armour might go to Strobo’s; but it was, of +course, the natural thing for him to do, especially as Strobo happened +to be in Calcutta himself at the time. He went and stayed with Strobo, +and every day he and the Signor, clad in bath-towels, lay in closed +rooms under punkahs and had iced drinks in the long tumblers of the +East, and smoked and talked away the burden of the hours. + +Strobo was in Calcutta to meet a friend, an Austrian, who was shortly +leaving India in the Messagerie Maritimes steamer Dupleix after +agreeable wanderings disguised as a fakir in Tibet; and to this friend +was attached, in what capacity I never thought well to inquire, a lady +who was a Pole, and played and sang as well as Strobo fiddled. I believe +they dined together every night, this precious quartet, and exchanged +in various tongues their impressions of India under British control. +‘A houri in stays,’ the lady who was a Pole described it. I believe she +herself was a houri without them. And at midnight, when the south wind +was cool and strong from the river, Strobo and Armour would walk up +Chowringhee Road and look at the red brick School of Art from the +outside in the light of the street lamps, as a preliminary to our +friend’s final acceptance of the task of superintending it from within. + +We in Simla, of course, knew nothing of all this at the time; the +details leaked out later when Strobo came up again. I began to feel some +joyful anxiety when in a letter dated a week after Armour’s arrival in +Calcutta, the Director of Public Instruction wrote to inquire whether he +had yet left Simla; but the sweet blow did not fall with any precision +or certainty until the newspaper arrived containing his name immediately +under that of Herr Vanrig and Mme. Dansky in the list of passengers who +had sailed per S.S. Dupleix on the fifteenth of June for Colombo. There +it was, ‘I. Armour,’ as significant as ever to two persons intimately +concerned with it, but no longer a wrapping of mystery, rather a +radiating centre of light. Its power of illumination was such that it +tried my eyes. I closed them to recall the outlines of the School of +Art--it had been built in a fit of economy--and the headings of the last +Director’s report, which I had kindly sent after Armour to Calcutta. +Perhaps that had been the last straw. + +The real meaning of the task of implanting Western ideals in the Eastern +mind rose before me when I thought of Armour’s doing it--how they would +dwindle in the process, and how he must go on handling them and looking +at them withered and shrunken for twenty-odd years. I understood--there +was enough left in me to understand--Armour’s terrified escape. I was +happy in the thought of him, sailing down the Bay. The possibilities +of marriage, social position, assured income, support in old age, the +strands in the bond that held him, the bond that holds us all, had been +untwisting, untwisting, from the third of June to the fifteenth. The +strand that stood for Dora doubtless was the last to break, but it did +not detract from my beatitude to know that even this consideration, +before the Dupleix and liberty, failed to hold. + +I kept out of Miss Harris’s way so studiously for the next week or two +that she was kind enough in the end to feel compelled to send for me. I +went with misgivings--I expected, as may be imagined, to be very deeply +distressed. She met me with a storm of gay reproaches. I had never seen +her in better health or spirits. My surprise must have been more evident +than I supposed or intended, for before I went away she told me the +whole story. By that time she had heard from Ceylon, a delicious letter +with a pen-and-ink sketch at the top. I have it still; it infallibly +brought the man back to me. But it was all over; she assured me +with shining eyes that it was. The reason of her plainly boundless +thankfulness that Armour had run away from the School of Art did not +come to the surface until I was just going. Then I gathered that if he +had taken the post she would have felt compelled, compelled by all she +had done for him, to share its honours with him; and this, ever since +at her bidding he had begun to gather such things up, was precisely what +she had lost all inclination to do. + +We were married the following October. We had a big, gorgeous official +wedding, which we both enjoyed enormously. I took furlough, and we went +home, but we found London very expensive and the country very slow; and +with my K.C.S.I. came the offer of the Membership, so we went back to +Simla for three perfectly unnecessary years, which we now look back upon +with pleasure and regret. I fear that we, no more than Ingersoll Armour, +were quite whole-hearted Bohemians; but I don’t know that we really ever +pretended to be. + + + + +3. The Hesitation of Miss Anderson. + + +Chapter 3.I. + +When it became known that Madeline Anderson had finally decided to go +abroad for two years, her little circle in New York naturally talked +a good deal, in review, about her curious reason for never having gone +before. So much that happened afterward, so much that I am going to +tell, depends upon this reason for not going before, that I also must +talk about it and explain it; I could never bring it out just as we went +along. It would have been a curious reason in connection with anybody, +but doubly so as explaining the behaviour of Miss Anderson, whose +profile gave you the impression that she was anything but the +shuttlecock of her emotions. Shortly, her reason was a convict, Number +1596, who, up to February in that year, had been working, or rather +waiting, out his sentence in the State penitentiary. So long as he +worked or waited, Madeline remained in New York, but when in February +death gave him his quittance, she took her freedom too, with wide +intentions and many coupons. + +Earlier in his career Number 1596 had been known in New York society +as Mr. Frederick Prendergast, and for a little while he was disapproved +there on the score of having engaged himself to a Miss Anderson, +Madeline Anderson, whom nobody knew anything about. There was her +own little circle, as I have said, and it lacked neither dignity nor +refinement, but I doubt whether any member of it was valeted from +London, or could imply, in conversation, a personal acquaintance with +Yvette Guilbert. There is no need, however, to insist that there are +many persons of comfortable income and much cultivation in New York, +who would not be met by strangers having what are called the ‘best’ +introductions there. The best so often fails to include the better. It +may be accepted that Madeline Anderson and her people were of these, and +that she wondered sometimes during the brief days of her engagement what +it would be like to belong to the brilliant little world about her +that had its visiting list in London, Paris, or St. Petersburg, and was +immensely entertained by the gaucheries of the great ones of the earth. + +Then came, with the most unexceptionable introductions, Miss Violet +Forde, from a Sloane Square address, London. She came leaning on the arm +of a brother, the only relative she had in the world, and so brilliant +was the form of these young people that it occurred to nobody to imagine +that it had the most precarious pecuniary foundation, must have faded +and shrivelled indeed, after another year or two of anything but +hospitality as generous as that of New York. Well-nourished and +undimmed, however, it concealed for them admirably the fact that it +was the hospitality they were after, and not the bracing climate or the +desire to see the fascinating Americans of London and Paris at home. +New York found them agreeable specimens of high-spirited young English +people, and played with them indefinitely. Miss Forde, when she sat +imperturbably on a cushion in the middle of the floor after dinner +and sang to a guitar the songs of Albert Chevalier, was an anomaly in +English decorum that was as pleasing to observe as it was amusing to +criticize. + +The Americans she met delighted in drawing her out--it was a pastime +that took the lead at dinner-parties, to an extent which her hostess +often thought preposterous--and she responded with naivete and vigour, +perfectly aware that she was scoring all along the line. Upon many +charming people she made the impression that she was a type of the most +finished class of what they called ‘English society girls,’ that she +represented the best they could do over there in this direction. As +a matter of fact she might have sat to any of those ‘black and white’ +artists, who draw townish young women of London, saying cynical things +to young men in the weekly papers. That was her type, and if you look +for her picture there, you will see that her face was very accurately +oval, with eyes that knew their value, and other features that didn’t +very much matter, except in so far as they expressed a very full +conception of the satisfactions of this life, and a wide philosophy as +to methods of obtaining them. + +Frederick Prendergast was unacquainted with the popular pictures I +have mentioned, having a very reasonable preference for the illustrated +papers of his own country; otherwise--there is no telling--he might +have observed the resemblance and escaped the State prison, whither he +assuredly never would have gone had he married Madeline Anderson--as +he fully intended to do when Miss Forde came over. He was worth at that +time a great deal of money, besides being more personable than any one +would have believed who knew him as ‘1596.’ His fiancee was never too +obtrusively in evidence, and if Miss Forde thought of Miss Anderson with +any scruple, it was probably to reflect that if she could not take care +of these things she did not deserve to have them. This at all events was +how her attitude expressed itself practically; and the upshot was that +Miss Anderson lost them. There came a day when Frederick Prendergast, +in much discomfort of mind, took to Violet the news that Madeline had +brought their engagement to an end. She, Violet, gave him some tea, and +they talked frankly of the absurd misconception of the relations between +them upon which his dismissal was founded; and Prendergast went away +much comforted and wholly disposed to respect Miss Anderson’s startling +wishes. She, with what both the others thought excellent taste, +persuaded her mother and sister to move to Brooklyn; and so far as the +thoroughfares and social theatres of New York were concerned, the city +over the river might have been a nunnery which had closed its gates upon +her. It was only in imagination that she heard Frederick Prendergast’s +wedding-bells when, two months later, he was united to Miss Forde in +Grace Church, and that after the fact, their melody being brought to her +inner sense next day by the marriage notice in the ‘Tribune’. + +It would be painful, in view of what we know of Frederick Prendergast, +to dwell upon what Madeline Anderson undeniably felt. Besides her +emotions were not destructively acute, they only lasted longer than +any one could have either expected or approved. She suffered for him as +well; she saw as plainly as he did the first sordid consequences of his +mistake the afternoon he came to solicit her friendship, having lost +other claims; and it was then perhaps, that her responsibility in +allowing Violet Forde to spoil his life for him began to suggest itself +to her. Up to that time she had thought of the matter differently, as +she would have said, selfishly. He was not permitted to come again; but +he went away lightened, inasmuch as he had added his burden to hers. + +When a year later the national credit involved that of Prendergast’s +firm, Madeline read financial articles in the newspapers with heavy +concern, surprising her family with views on ‘sound money’; and when, +shortly afterward, his partners brought that unhappy young man before +the criminal courts for an irregular use of the firm’s signature, which +further involved it beyond hope of extrication, there was no moment of +the day which did not find her, in spirit, beside him there. + +The case dragged on through appeal, and the decision of the lower courts +was not reversed. The day this became known the fact also transpired +that poor Prendergast would never live to complete his ten years’ term +of imprisonment. He went to prison with hardly more than one lung, and +in the most favourable physical condition to get rid of the other. Mrs. +Prendergast wept a little over the installation, and assured Frederick +that it was perfectly absurd; they were certain to get him out again; +people always got people out again in America. She took him grapes and +flowers once a week for about a month, and then she sailed for Europe. +She put it about that her stay was to be as brief as was consistent with +the transaction of certain necessary business in London; but she never +came back, and Madeline Anderson had taken her place, in so far as +the grapes and flowers were concerned, for many months, when the +announcement of his wife’s death reached Prendergast in an English +paper published in Paris. About a year after that it began to be thought +singular how he picked up in health, and Madeline’s mother and sister +occasionally romanced about the possibility of his recovering and +marrying her after all--they had an enormous opinion of the artistic +virtue of forgiveness--but it was not a contingency ever seriously +contemplated by Miss Anderson herself. Her affection, pricked on by +remorse, had long satisfied itself with the duties of her ministry. If +she would not leave him until he died, it was because there was no one +but herself to brighten the long day in the prison hospital for him, +because she had thrown him into the arms of the woman who had deserted +him, because he represented in her fancy her life’s only budding towards +the sun. Her patience lasted through six years, which was four years +longer than any doctor had given Frederick Prendergast to live; but when +one last morning she found an empty bed, and learned that Number 1596 +had been discharged in his coffin, she rose from the shock with the +sense of a task fully performed and a well-developed desire to see what +else there might be in the world. + +She announced her intention of travelling for a year or two with a maid, +and her family expressed the usual acquiescence. It would help her, they +said, to ‘shake it off’; but they said that to one another. They were +not aware--and it would have spoiled an ideal for them if they had +been--that she had shaken it off, quite completely, into Prendergast’s +grave. + +This was the curious reason why Miss Anderson’s travels were so long +postponed. + + + +Chapter 3.II. + +It was Madeline’s fancy to enjoy the contrast between West and East +in all its sharpness, so she and Brookes embarked at San Francisco for +Yokohama. Their wanderings in Japan were ideal, in spite of Brookes’s +ungrateful statement that she could have done with fewer eggs and more +bacon; and Madeline prolonged the appeal of the country to her sense +of humour and fantasy, putting off her departure for India from week to +week. She went at last in March; and found herself down with fever at +Benares in the middle of one particularly hot April, two months after +the last of her fellow travellers had sailed from Bombay, haunted on her +baking pillow by pictorial views of the burning ghat and the vultures. +The station doctor, using appalling language to her punkah-coolie, +ordered her to the hills; and thus it was that she went to Simla, where +she had no intention of going, and where this story really begins. + +Brookes has always declared that Providence in sending Miss Anderson to +Simla had it in mind to prevent a tragedy; but as to that there is +room for a difference of opinion: besides I can not be anticipated by +Brookes. + +‘It’s the oddest place imaginable, and in many ways the most +delightful,’ Madeline wrote to her sister Adele, ‘this microcosm of +Indian official society withdrawn from all the world, and playing at +being a municipality on three Himalayan mountaintops. You can’t imagine +its individuality, its airy, unsubstantial, superior poise. How can I +explain to you elderly gentlemen, whose faces express daily electric +communications with the Secretary of State, playing tennis violently +every single afternoon in striped flannels--writing letters of +admonition to the Amir all day long, and in the evening, with the +assistance of yellow wigs and make-up sticks from the Calcutta +hair-dresser, imagining that they produce things, poor dears, only a +LITTLE less well done than is done at the Lyceum? Nothing is beyond +them. I assure you they are contemplating at the moment ‘The Second Mrs. +Tanqueray’. The effect of remoteness from the world, I suppose, and +the enormous mutual appreciation of people who have watched each other +climb. For to arrive officially at Simla they have had to climb in more +ways than one...It is all so hilarious, so high-spirited, so young +and yet, my word! what a cult of official dignity underlying! I saw a +staff-officer in full uniform, red and white feathers and all, going +to the birthday dinner at the Viceroy’s the other evening in a +perambulator--rickshaw, you know, such as they have in Japan. That is +typical of the place. All the honours and dignities--and a perambulator +to put them in--or a ridiculous little white-washed house made of mud +and tin, and calling itself Warwick Castle, Blenheim, Abbotsford! They +haven’t a very good hold, these Simla residences, and sometimes they +slip fifty yards or so down the mountain-side, but the chimneys (bad pun +coming) are never any more out of drawing than they were before. + +‘Yet--never forget--the queer little place has a nobility, drawn I +suppose from high standards of conduct in essentials. + +‘...This matter of precedence is a bore for an outsider. I am very tired +of being taken in to dinner by subalterns, because I have no “official +position.” Something of the kind was offered me, by the way, the other +day, by a little gunner with red eyelids, in the Ordnance Department, +named McDermott--Captain McDermott. He took my declining very +cheerfully, said he knew Americans didn’t like Englishmen, who hadn’t +been taught to pronounce their “g’s,” but hoped I would change my mind +before the rains, when he was goin’ down. Of course I sha’n’t. The red +eyelids alone...I am living in a boarding-house precisely under the +deodars, and have “tiffin” with Mrs. Hauksbee every day when neither +of us are having it anywhere else. And I’ve been told the original of +“General Bangs,” “that most immoral man.” You remember, don’t you, the +heliograph incident--I needn’t quote it. It really happened! and the +General still lives, none the worse--perhaps rather greater. Quite half +the people seem materializations of Kipling, and it’s very interesting; +but one mustn’t say so if one wants to be popular. Talking of +materializations, I saw the original of Crawford’s Mr. Isaacs, too, the +other day. He used to be a diamond agent among the native princes when +Crawford knew him. When I saw him he was auctioning off his collection +of curios and things. These types of novelists look wonderfully little +impaired; I suppose it’s the dry air. + +‘P.S.--Brookes is also quite happy. She was much struck, on arriving, by +an apparent anomaly in nature. “Have you noticed, ma’am,” said she, “how +at this height all the birds are crows and monkeys?”’ + +Miss Anderson described Simla exhaustively in her letters to New +York. She touched upon almost every feature, from Mrs. Mickie and Mrs. +Gammidge, whose husbands were perspiring in the Plains, and nobody +telling them anything, to the much larger number of ladies interested in +the work of the Young Women’s Christian Association; from the ‘type’ of +the Military Secretary to the Viceroy to that of Ali Buksh, who sold raw +turquoises in a little carved shop in the bazaar. I should like to quote +more of her letters, but if I did I should find nothing about Colonel +Horace Innes, who represented--she often acknowledged to herself--her +only serious interest. Miss Anderson took the world at its own +light valuation as it came; but she had a scale of recognitions and +acceptances, which she kept apart for the very few, and Innes had +claimed a place in it the first time they met. It seems a trifle +ungrateful that she should have left him out, since it was he who gave +her a standard by which to measure the frivolity of Simla. He went to +gymkhanas--if he knew she was going--but he towered almost pictorially +above them; and when he talked to Madeline his shoulders expressed a +resentment of possible interruptions that isolated him still further. +I would not suggest that he was superior by conviction; he was only +intent, whereas most of the other people were extremely diffused, +and discriminating, while the intimacies of the rest were practically +coextensive with Government House list. Neither, for his part, would he +admit that the tone of Simla was as wholly flippant as I have implied. +They often talked about it; he recognized it as a feature likely to +compel the attention of people from other parts of the world; and +one afternoon he asked her, with some directness, if she could see no +tragedies underneath. + +‘Tragedies of the heart?’ she asked. ‘Oh, I can not take them seriously. +The emotion is so ephemeral! A woman came to tea with me three days +ago, and made me her confessor. It was unexpected; if it hadn’t been, I +wouldn’t have asked her to tea. She was so unhappy that she forgot about +the rouge, and it all came off on her handkerchief when she cried. The +man likes somebody else better this season. Well, I gave her nougat and +cheap cynicisms, and she allowed herself to be comforted! Why, the loves +of kitchen-maids are more dignified.’ + +They were riding on the broad four-mile road, blasted out of the rock, +that winds round Jakko. The deodars stood thick above them, with the +sunlight filtering through; a thousand feet below lay the little +square fields, yellow and green, of the King of Koti. The purple-brown +Himalayas shouldered the eye out to the horizon, and there the Snows +lifted themselves, hardly more palpable than the drifted clouds, except +for a gleam of ice in their whiteness. A low stone wall ran along the +verge of the precipice, and, looking down, they saw tangled patches +of the white wild rose of the Himalayas, waving and drooping over the +abyss. + +‘I am afraid,’ said Innes, ‘you are not even upon the fringe of the +situation.’ + +‘It’s the situation as I see it.’ + +‘Then--excuse me--you do not see deep enough. That poor lady suffered, +I suppose, to the extent of her capacity. You would not have have +increased it.’ + +‘I don’t know, I should have preferred not to measure it.’ + +‘Besides, that was not quite the sort of thing I had in mind. I was +thinking more of the--separations.’ + +‘Ah!’ said Madeline. + +‘It’s not fair to ask women to live much in India. Sometimes it’s the +children, sometimes it’s ill health, sometimes it’s natural antipathy to +the place; there’s always a reason to take them away.’ + +‘Yes,’ said Madeline, turning a glance of scrutiny on him. His face was +impassive; he was watching mechanically for a chance to slay a teasing +green spider-fly. + +‘That is the beginning of the tragedy I was thinking of. Time does the +rest, time and the aridity of separations. How many men and women +can hold themselves together with letters? I don’t mean aging or any +physical change. I don’t mean change at all.’ + +‘No,’ said Madeline, and this time, though her curiosity was greater, +she did not look at him. + +‘No. The mind could accustom itself to expect that, and so forestall +the blow, if it really would be a blow, which I doubt. For myself, I’m +pretty sure that nothing of that kind could have much effect upon one’s +feeling, if it were the real thing.’ He spoke practically to himself, as +if he had reasoned this out many times. + +‘Oh, no!’ said Madeline. + +‘But separation can do a worse thing than that. It can REINTRODUCE +people, having deprived them of their mutual illusion under which they +married. If they lived together the illusion would go, I suppose, but +custom and comfort would step in to prevent a jar. There never would be +that awful revelation of indifference.’ + +He stopped sharply, and the hope went through Madeline’s mind that her +face expressed no personal concern for him. There was a small red stain +in the brown of his cheek as he looked at her to find out, and he added, +‘I’ve known--in Bombay--one or two bad cases of that. But, of course, it +is the wife who suffers most. Shall we canter on?’ + +‘In a minute,’ said Madeline, and he drew his rein again. + +She could not let this be the last word; he must not imagine that she +had seen, through the simple crystal of his convictions, the personal +situation that gave them to him. + +‘Of course,’ she said, thoughtfully, ‘you know the Anglo-Indian world +and I don’t. You must have observed this that you speak of it; it sounds +only too probable. And I confess it makes my little impression very +vulgar and superficial.’ She turned her head and a candid smile to him. +‘All the same, I fancy that the people who are capable of suffering much +that way are the exceptions. And--I don’t care--I believe there is more +cheap sentiment in this place than the other kind. What do you think I +heard a woman say the other day at a tiffin-party? “No man has touched +my heart since I’ve been married,” she proclaimed, “except my husband!” + AT A TIFFIN-party!’ + +She heard the relief in Innes’s laugh and was satisfied. + +‘How does it happen,’ he said, ‘that women nowadays are critical of the +world so young?’ + +‘I shall be thirty in September, and we no longer look at society +through a tambour-frame,’ she said, hardily. + +‘And I shall be forty-three next month, but hitherto I have known it to +produce nothing like you,’ he returned, and if there was ambiguity in +his phrase there was none in his face. + +Miss Anderson made with her head her little smiling gesture--Simla +called it very American--which expressed that all chivalrous speech was +to be taken for granted and meant nothing whatever; and as they turned +into the Ladies’ Mile gave her horse his head, and herself a chance +for meditation. She thought of the matter again that evening before +her little fire of snapping deodar twigs, thought of it intently. +She remembered it all with perfect distinctness; she might have been +listening to a telephonic reproduction. + +It was the almost intimate glimpse Innes had given her of himself, and +it brought her an excitement which she did not think of analyzing. She +wrung from every sentence its last possibility of unconscious meaning, +and she found when she had finished that it was eleven o’clock. + +Then she went to bed, preferring not to call Brookes, with the somewhat +foolish feeling of being unable to account for her evening. Her last +reflection before she slept shaped itself in her mind in definite words. + +‘There are no children,’ it ran, ‘and her health has always been good, +he says. She must have left him after that first six months in Lucknow, +because of a natural antipathy to the country--and when she condescended +to come out again for a winter he met the different lady he thinks +about. With little hard lines around the mouth and common conventional +habits of thought, full of subservience to his official superiors, and +perfectly uninterested in him except as the source of supplies. But I +don’t know why I should WANT her to be so disagreeable. + +As a matter of fact, Mrs. Innes, travelling at the moment with the +mails from London to Bombay, was hastening to present to Miss Anderson +features astonishingly different. + + + +Chapter 3.III. + +The lady guests at Peliti’s--Mrs. Jack Owen and the rest--were giving +a tea in the hotel pavilion. They had the band, the wife of the +Commander-in-Chief, the governess from Viceregal Lodge and one +little Viceregal girl, three A.D.C.’s, one member of council, and the +Archdeacon. These were the main features, moving among a hundred or so +of people more miscellaneous, who, like the ladies at Peliti’s, had come +up out of the seething Plains to the Paradise of the summer capital. The +Pavilion overhung the Mall; looking down one could see the coming +and going of leisurely Government peons in scarlet and gold, Cashmiri +vendors of great bales of embroideries and skins, big-turbaned Pahari +horse-dealers, chaffering in groups, and here and there a mounted +Secretary-sahib trotting to the Club. Beyond, the hills dipped blue +and bluer to the plains, and against them hung a single waving yellow +laburnum, a note of imagination. Madeline Anderson was looking at +it when Mrs. Mickie and Mrs. Gammidge came up with an affectionate +observation upon the cut of her skirt, after which Mrs. Mickie harked +back to what they had been talking about before. + +‘She’s straight enough now, I suppose,’ this lady said. + +‘She goes down. But she gives people a good deal of latitude for +speculation.’ + +‘Who is this?’ asked Madeline. ‘I ask for information, to keep out of +her way. I find I am developing the most shocking curiosity. I must be +in a position to check it.’ + +The ladies exchanged hardly perceptible glances. Then Mrs. Gammidge +said, ‘Mrs. Innes,’ and looked as if, for the moment, at any rate, she +would withhold further judgment. + +‘But you mustn’t avoid the poor lady,’ put in Mrs. Mickie, ‘simply +because of her past. It wouldn’t be fair. Besides--’ + +‘Her past?’ Madeline made one little effort to look indifferent, and +then let the question leap up in her. + +‘My dear,’ said Mrs. Gammidge, with brief impatience, ‘he married her in +Cairo, and she was--dancing there. Case of chivalry, I believe, though +there are different versions. Awful row in the regiment--he had to take +a year’s leave. Then he succeeded to the command, and the Twenty-third +were ordered out here. She came with him to Lucknow--and made slaves +of every one of them. They’ll swear to you now that she was staying +at Shepheard’s with an invalid mother when he met her. And now she’s +accepted like everybody else; and that’s all there is about it.’ + +‘There’s nothing in that,’ said Madeline, determinedly, ‘to prove that +she wasn’t--respectable.’ + +‘N--no. Of course not,’ and again the eye of Mrs. Gammidge met that of +Mrs. Mickie. + +‘Though, you see love,’ added the latter lady, ‘it would have been +nicer for his people--they’ve never spoken to him since--if she had been +making her living otherwise in Cairo.’ + +‘As a barmaid, for instance,’ said Madeline, sarcastically. + +‘As a barmaid, for instance,’ repeated Mrs. Gammidge, calmly. + +‘But Simla isn’t related to him--Simla doesn’t care!’ Mrs. Mickie +exclaimed. ‘Everybody will be as polite as possible when she turns +up. You’ll see. You knew, didn’t you, that she was coming out in the +Caledonia?’ + +‘No,’ said Madeline. She looked carefully where she was going to put her +coffee-cup, and then she glanced out again at the laburnum hanging over +the plains. ‘I--I am glad to hear it. These separations you take so +lightly out here are miserable, tragic.’ + +The other ladies did not exchange glances this time. Miss Anderson’s +change of tone was too marked for comment which she might have detected. + +‘Colonel Innes got the telegram this morning. She wired from Brindisi,’ +Mrs. Gammidge said. + +‘Does he seem pleased?’ asked Mrs. Mickie, demurely. + +‘He said he was afraid she would find it very hot coming up here from +Bombay. And, of course, he is worried about a house. When a man has been +living for months at the Club--’ + +‘Of course, poor fellow! I do love that dear old Colonel Innes, though I +can’t say I know him a bit. He won’t take the trouble to be nice to me, +but I am perfectly certain he must be the dearest old thing inside +of him. Worth any dozen of these little bow-wows that run round after +rickshaws,’ said Mrs. Mickie, with candour. + +‘I think he’s a ridiculous old glacier,’ Mrs. Gammidge remarked, and +Mrs. Mickie looked at Madeline and said, ‘Slap her!’ + +‘What for?’ asked Miss Anderson, with composure. ‘I dare say he +is--occasionally. It isn’t a bad thing to be, I should think, in Indian +temperatures.’ + +‘I guess you got it that time, dear lady,’ said Mrs. Mickie to Mrs. +Gammidge, as Madeline slipped toward the door. + +‘Meant to be cross, did she? How silly of her! If she gives her little +heart away like that often, people will begin to make remarks.’ + +‘The worst of that girl is,’ Mrs. Mickie continued, ‘that you never can +depend upon her. For days together she’ll be just as giddy and jolly as +anybody and then suddenly she’ll give you a nasty superior bit of +ice down the back of your neck like that. I’ve got her coming to tea +tomorrow afternoon,’ Mrs. Mickie added, with sudden gloom, ‘and little +Lord Billy and all that set are coming. They’ll throw buns at each +other--I know they will. What, in heaven’s name, made me ask her?’ + +‘Oh, she’ll have recovered by then. You must make allowance for the +shock we gave her, poor dear. Consider how you would feel if Lady +Worsley suddenly appeared upon the scene, and demanded devotion from Sir +Frank.’ + +‘She wouldn’t get it,’ Mrs. Mickie dimpled candidly. ‘Frank always loses +his heart and his conscience at the same time. But you don’t suppose +there’s anything serious in this affair? Pure pretty platonics, I should +call it.’ + +Mrs. Gammidge lifted her eyebrows. ‘I dare say that is what they imagine +it. Well, they’re never in the same room for two minutes without being +aware of it, and their absorption when they get in a corner--I saw her +keep the Viceroy waiting, the other night after dinner, while Colonel +Innes finished a sentence. And then she was annoyed at the interruption. +Here’s Kitty Vesey, lookin’ SUCH a dog! Hello, Kitty! where did you get +that hat, where did you get that tile? But that wasn’t the colour of +your hair last week, Kitty!’ + +‘Don’t feel any kind of a dog’--Mrs. Vesey’s pout, though becoming, was +genuine. ‘I’m in a perfectly furious rage, my dears, and I’m coming home +to cry, just as soon as I’ve had an ice. What do you think--they won’t +let me have Val for Captain Wynne’s part in ‘The Outcast Pearl’--they +say he’s been tried before, and he’s a stick. Did you ever hear of such +brutes? They want me to act with Major Dalton, and he’s MUCH too old for +the part.’ + +‘Kitten,’ said Mrs. Mickie, with conviction, ‘Valentine Drake on the +stage would be fatal to your affection for him.’ + +‘I don’t care, I won’t act with anybody else--I’ll throw up the part. +Haven’t I got to make love to the man? How am I to play up to such an +unkissable-looking animal as Major Dalton? I shall CERTAINLY throw up +the part.’ + +‘Don’t do anything rash, Kitty. If you do, they’ll probably offer it to +me, and I warn you I won’t give it back to you.’ + +‘Oh, refuse it, like a dear! I am dying to put them in a hole. It’s +jealousy, that’s what it is. Goodbye, Mrs. Jack, I’ve had a lovely time. +Val and I have been explaining our affection to the Archdeacon, and he +says it’s perfectly innocent. We’re going to get him to put it on paper +to produce when Jimmy sues for a divorce, aren’t we, Val?’ + +‘You’re not going?’ said Mrs. Jack Owen. + +‘Oh, yes, I must. But I’ve enjoyed myself awfully, and so has everybody +I’ve been talking to. I say, Mickie, dear--about tomorrow afternoon--I +suppose I may bring Val?’ + +‘Oh, dear, yes,’ Mrs. Mickie replied. ‘But you must let me hold his +hand.’ + +‘I don’t know which of you is the most ridiculous,’ Mrs. Owen remarked; +‘I shall write to both your husbands this very night,’ but as the group +shifted and left her alone with Mrs. Gammidge, she said she didn’t know +whether Mrs. Vesey would be quite so chirpy three weeks hence. ‘When +Mrs. Innes comes out,’ she added in explanation. ‘Oh, yes, Valentine +Drake is quite her property. My own idea is that Kitty won’t be in it.’ + +Where the road past Peliti’s dips to the Mall Madeline met Horace Innes. +When she appeared in her rickshaw he dismounted, and gave the reins to +his syce. She saw in his eyes the look of a person who has been all +day lapsing into meditation and rousing himself from it. ‘You are very +late,’ she said as he came up. + +‘Oh, I’m not going; at least, you are just coming away, aren’t you? I +think it is too late. I’ll turn back with you.’ + +‘Do,’ she said, and looked at his capable, sensitive hand as he laid +it on the side of her little carriage. Miss Anderson had not the +accomplishment of palm-reading, but she took general manual impressions. +She had observed Colonel Innes’s hand before, but it had never offered +itself so intimately to her inspection. That, perhaps, was why the +conviction seemed new to her, as she thought ‘He is admirable--and it is +all there.’ + +When they got to the level Mall he kept his hold, which was a perfectly +natural and proper thing for him to do, walking alongside; but she still +looked at it. + +‘I have heard your good news,’ she said, smiling congratulation at him. + +‘My good news? Oh, about my wife, of course. Yes, she ought to be here +by the end of the month. I thought of writing to tell you when the +telegram came, and then I--didn’t. The files drove it out of my head, I +fancy.’ + +‘Heavy day?’ + +‘Yes,’ he said, absently. They went along together in an intimacy of +silence, and Madeline was quite aware of the effort with which she said: + +‘I shall look forward to meeting Mrs. Innes.’ + +It was plain that his smile was perfunctory, but he put it on with +creditable alacrity. + +‘She will be delighted. My wife is a clever woman,’ he went on, ‘very +bright and attractive. She keeps people well amused.’ + +‘She must be a great success in India, then.’ + +‘I think she is liked. She has a tremendous fund of humour and spirits. +A fellow feels terribly dull beside her sometimes.’ + +Madeline cast a quick glance at him, but he was only occupied to find +other matters with which he might commend his wife. + +‘She is very fond of animals,’ he said, ‘and she sings and plays +well--really extremely well.’ + +‘That must be charming,’ murmured Madeline, privately iterating, ‘He +doesn’t mean to damn her--he doesn’t mean to damn her.’ ‘Have you a +photograph of her?’ + +‘Quantities of them,’ he said, with simplicity. + +‘You have never shown me one. But how could you?’ she added in haste; +‘a photograph is always about the size of a door nowadays. It is simply +impossible to keep one’s friends and relations in a pocketbook as one +used to do.’ + +They might have stopped there, but some demon of persistence drove +Madeline on. She besought help from her imagination; she was not for the +moment honest. It was an impulse--an equivocal impulse--born doubtless +of the equivocal situation, and it ended badly. + +‘She will bring something of the spring out to you,’ said Madeline--‘the +spring in England. How many years is it since you have seen it? There +will be a breath of the cowslips about her, and in her eyes the soft wet +of the English sky. Oh, you will be very glad to see her.’ The girl was +well aware of her insincerity, but only dimly of her cruelty. She was +drawn on by something stronger than her sense of honesty and humanity, a +determination to see, to know, that swept these things away. + +Innes’s hand tightened on the rickshaw, and he made at first no answer. +Then he said: + +‘She has been staying in town, you know.’ + +There was just a quiver of Madeline’s eyelid; it said nothing of the +natural rapacity behind. This man’s testimony was coming out in throes, +and yet--it must be said--again she probed. + +‘Then she will put you in touch again,’ she cried; ‘you will remember +when you see her all the vigour of great issues and the fascination of +great personalities. For a little while, anyway, after she comes, you +will be in a world--far away from here--where people talk and think and +live.’ + +He looked at her in wonder, not understanding, as indeed how could he? + +‘Why,’ he said, ‘you speak of what YOU have done’; and before the truth +of this she cast down her eyes and turned a hot, deep red, and had +nothing to say. + +‘No,’ he said, ‘my wife is not like that.’ + +He walked along in absorption, from which he roused himself with +resentment in his voice. + +‘I can not leave such a fabric of illusion in your mind. It irritates me +that it should be there--about anybody belonging to me. My wife is not +in the least what you imagine her. She has her virtues, but she is--like +the rest. I can not hope that you will take to her, and she won’t +like you either--we never care about the same people. And we shall see +nothing of you--nothing. I can hardly believe that I am saying this of +my own wife, but--I wish that she had stayed in England.’ + +‘Mrs. Mickie!’ cried Madeline to a passing rickshaw, ‘what are you +rushing on like that for? Just go quietly and peaceably along with us, +please, and tell us what Mrs. Vesey decided to do about her part in ‘The +Outcast Pearl’. I’m dining out tonight--I must know.’ And Mrs. Mickie +was kind enough to accompany them all the rest of the way. + +Miss Anderson dined out, and preferred to suppose that she had no time +to think until she was on her way home along the empty road round Jakko +at eleven o’clock that night. Then it pleased her to get out of her +rickshaw and walk. There was an opulent moon, the vast hills curving +down to the plains were all grey and silvery, and the deodars overhead +fretted the road with dramatic shadows. About her hung the great +stillness in a mighty loneliness in which little Simla is set, and it +freed her from what had happened, so that she could look at it and cry +out. She actually did speak, pausing in the little pavilion on the road +where the nursemaids gather in the daytime, but very low, so that her +words fell round her even in that silence, and hardly a deodar was +aware. ‘I will not go now,’ she said. ‘I will stay and realize that he +is another woman’s husband. That should cure me if anything will--to see +him surrounded by the commonplaces of married life, that kind of married +life. I will stay till she comes and a fortnight after. Besides, I want +to see her--I want to see how far she comes short.’ She was silent for +a moment, and the moonlight played upon her smile of quiet triumph. +‘He cares too,’ she said; ‘he cares too, but he doesn’t know it, and +I promise you one thing, Madeline Anderson, you won’t help him to find +out. And in five weeks I will go away and leave my love where I found +it--on a mountaintop in the middle of Asia!’ + + + +Chapter 3.IV. + +Madeline did her best to make certain changes delicately, imperceptibly, +so that Innes would not, above all things, be perplexed into seeking for +their reason. The walks and rides came to a vague conclusion, and Miss +Anderson no longer kept the Viceroy or anybody else waiting, while Innes +finished what he had to say to her in public, since his opportunities +for talking to her seemed to become gradually more and more like +everybody else’s. So long as she had been mistress of herself she was +indifferent to the very tolerant and good-natured gossip of the hill +capital; but as soon as she found her citadel undermined, the lightest +kind of comment became a contingency unbearable. In arranging to make +it impossible, she was really over-considerate and over-careful. Her +soldier never thought of analyzing his bad luck or searching for motive +in it. To him the combinations of circumstances that seemed always to +deprive him of former pleasures were simply among the things that might +happen. Grieving, she left him under that impression for the sake of its +expediency, and tried to make it by being more than ever agreeable on +the occasions when he came and demanded a cup of tea, and would not be +denied. After all, she consoled herself, no situation was improved by +being turned too suddenly upside down. + +She did not wholly withdraw his privilege of taking counsel with her, +and he continued to go away freshened and calmed, leaving her to toss +little sad reflections into the fire, and tremulously wonder whether the +jewel of her love had flashed ever so little behind the eyes. They both +saw it a conspicuous thing that as those three weeks went on, neither he +nor she alluded even remotely to Mrs. Innes, but the fact remained, and +they allowed it to remain. + +Nevertheless, Madeline knew precisely when that lady was expected, and +as she sauntered in the bazaar one morning, and heard Innes’s steps and +voice behind her, her mind became one acute surmise as to whether he +could possibly postpone the announcement any longer. But he immediately +made it plain that this was his business in stopping to speak to her. +‘Good morning,’ he said, and then, ‘My wife comes tomorrow.’ He had +not told her a bit of personal news, he had made her an official +communication, as briefly as it could be done, and he would have raised +his hat and gone on without more words if Madeline had not thwarted him. +‘What a stupidity for him to be haunted by afterward!’ was the essence +of the thought that visited her; and she put out a detaining hand. + +‘Really! By the Bombay mail, I suppose--no, an hour or so later; private +tongas are always as much as that behind the mail.’ + +‘About eleven, I fancy. You--you are not inclined for a canter round +Summer Hill before breakfast?’ + +‘I am terrified of Summer Hill. The Turk always misbehaves there. +Yesterday he got one leg well over the khud--I WAS thankful he had four. +Tell me, are you ready for Mrs. Innes--everything in the house? Is there +anything I can do? + +‘Oh, thanks very much! I don’t think so. The house isn’t ready, as a +matter of fact, but two or three people have offered to put us up for a +day or so until it is. I’ve left it open till my wife comes, as I dare +say she has already arranged to go to somebody. What are you buying? +Country tobacco, upon my word! For your men? That’s subversive of all +discipline!’ + +The lines on his face relaxed; he looked at her with fond recognition of +another delightful thing in her. + +‘You give sugar-cane to your horses,’ she declared; ‘why shouldn’t I +give tobacco to mine? Goodbye; I hope Mrs. Innes will like “Two Gables”. +There are roses waiting for her in the garden, at all events.’ + +‘Are there?’ he said. ‘I didn’t notice. Goodbye, then.’ + +He went on to his office thinking of the roses, and that they were in +his garden, and that Madeline had seen them there. He thought that if +they were good roses--in fact, any kind of roses--they should be taken +care of, and he asked a Deputy Assistant Inspector-General of Ordnance +whether he knew of a gardener that was worth anything. + +‘Most of them are mere coolies,’ said Colonel Innes, ‘and I’ve got some +roses in this little place I’ve taken that I want to look after.’ + +Next day Madeline took Brookes, and ‘The Amazing Marriage’, and a +lunch-basket, and went out to Mashobra, where the deodars shadow hardly +any scandal at all, and the Snows come, with perceptible confidence, a +little nearer. + +‘They almost step,’ she said to Brookes, looking at them, ‘out of the +realm of the imagination.’ + +Brookes said that they did indeed, and hoped that she hadn’t by any +chance forgotten the mustard. + +‘The wind is keen off the glaciers over there--anybody would think of a +condiment,’ Miss Anderson remarked in deprecation, and to this Brookes +made no response. It was a liberty she often felt compelled to take. + +The Snows appealed to Madeline even more than did Carintha, Countess +of Fleetwood, to whose fortunes she gave long pauses while she looked +across their summits at renunciation, and fancied her spirit made strong +and equal to its task. She was glad of their sanctuary; she did not know +where she should find such another. Perhaps the spectacle was more than +ever sublime in its alternative to the one she had come away to postpone +the sight of; at all events it drove the reunion of the Inneses from her +mind several times for five minutes together, during which she thought +of Horace by himself, and went over, by way of preparation for her +departure, all that had come and gone between them. There had been +luminous moments, especially as they irradiated him, and she dwelt on +these. There was no reason why she should not preserve in London or in +New York a careful memory of them. + +So the lights were twinkling all up and down and round about Simla +when she cantered back to it and it was late when she started for the +Worsleys, where she was dining. One little lighted house looked much +like another perched on the mountainside, and the wooden board painted +‘Branksome Hall, Maj.-Gen. T.P. Worsley, R.E.,’ nailed to the most +conspicuous tree from the main road, was invisible in the darkness. +Madeline arrived in consequence at the wrong dinner-party, and was +acclaimed and redirected with much gaiety, which gave her a further +agreeable impression of the insouciance of Simla, but made her later +still at the Worsleys. So that half the people were already seated when +she at last appeared, and her hostess had just time to cry, ‘My dear, +we thought the langurs must have eaten you! Captain Gordon, you are not +abandoned after all. You know Miss Anderson?’ when she found herself +before her soup. + +Captain Gordon heard her account of herself with complacence, and +declared, wiping his moustache, that a similar experience had befallen +him only a fortnight before. + +‘Did you ever hear the story of that absent-minded chap, Sir James +Jackson, who went to the RIGHT dinner-party by mistake?’ he asked, ‘and +apologized like mad, by Jove! and insisted he couldn’t stay. The people +nearly had to tie him down in his--’ Captain Gordon stopped, arrested by +his companion’s sudden and complete inattention. + +‘I see a lady,’ interrupted Madeline, with odd distinctness, ‘curiously +like somebody I have known before.’ Her eyes convinced themselves, and +then refused to be convinced of the inconceivable fact that they were +resting on Violet Prendergast. It was at first too amazing, too amazing +only. Then an old forgotten feeling rose in her bosom; the hand on +the stem of her wine-glass grew tense. The sensation fell away; she +remembered her emancipation, the years arose and reassured her during +which Violet Prendergast, living or dead, had been to her of absolutely +no importance. Yet there was a little aroused tremour in her voice as +she went on, ‘She is on the General’s right--he must have taken her in. +Can you see from where you are sitting?’ + +‘These narrow oval tables are a nuisance that way, aren’t they? You +don’t know who you’re dining with till the end of the function. Oh! I +see--that’s Mrs. Innes, just out, and fresh as paint, isn’t she? The +Colonel’--Captain Gordon craned his head again--‘is sitting fourth from +me on this side.’ + +‘Mrs. Innes! Really!’ said Madeline. ‘Then--then of course I must be +mistaken.’ + +She removed her eyes almost stealthily from the other woman’s face +and fixed them on the pattern of the table-cloth. Her brain guided her +clearly through the tumult of her perception, and no emotion could be +observed in the smiling attention which she gave to Captain Gordon’s +account of the afternoon’s tandem racing; but there was a furious +beating in her breast, and she thought she could never draw a breath +long enough to control it. It helped her that there was food to swallow, +wine to drink, and Captain Gordon to listen to; and under cover of these +things she gradually, consciously, prepared herself for the shock of +encounter which should be conclusive. Presently she leaned a little +forward and let her glance, in which no outsider could see the steady +recognition, rest upon the lady on the General’s right, until that +person’s agreeable blue eyes wandered down the table and met it. +Perhaps Madeline’s own eyelids fluttered a little as she saw the sudden +stricture in the face that received her message, and the grimace with +which it uttered, pallid with apprehension, its response to a pleasantry +of General Worsley’s. She was not consummate in her self-control, but +she was able at all events to send the glance travelling prettily on +with a casual smile for an intervening friend, and bring it back to her +dinner-roll without mischief. It did not adventure again; she knew, and +she set herself to hold her knowledge, to look at it and understand it, +while the mechanical part of her made up its mind about the entrees, and +sympathized with Captain Gordon on his hard luck in having three ponies +laid up at once. She did not look again, although she felt the watching +of the other woman, and was quite aware of the moment at which Mrs. +Innes allowed herself the reprieve of believing that at the Worsley’s +dinner-party at least there would be no scandal. The belief had +its reflex action, doing something to calm her. How could there +be--scandal--she asked herself, and dismissed with relief the +denunciations which crowded vague but insistent in her brain. Even then +she had not grasped the salient points of the situation; she was +too much occupied with its irony as it affected her personally; her +impressions circled steadily round the word ‘twice’ and the unimaginable +coincidence. Her resentment filled her, and her indignation was like +a clear flame behind her smiling face. Robbed twice, once in New York +and--oh! preposterous--the second time in Simla! Robbed of the same +things by the same hand! She perceived in the shock of it only a +monstrous fatality, a ludicrously wicked chance. This may have been due +to the necessity of listening to Captain Gordon. + +At all events it was only as she passed Colonel Innes on her way to the +drawing-room and saw ahead of her the very modish receding back of Mrs. +Innes that she realized other things--crime and freedom. + +It was the reversion of power; it brought her a great exultation. She +sat down under it in a corner, hoping to be left alone, with a white +face and shining eyes. Power and opportunity and purpose--righteous +purpose! + +The circumstances had come to her in a flash; she brought them up again +steadily and scrutinized them. The case was absolutely clear. Frank +Prendergast had been dead just seven months. Colonel Innes imagined +himself married four years. Violet Prendergast was a bigamist, and +Horace Innes had no wife. + +That was the marvellous transcendent fact; that was what lifted her and +carried her on great pulsing waves that rolled beyond the walls of the +little fripperied drawing-room and its collection of low-necked women, +out into her life, which had not these boundaries. She lived again in a +possible world. There was no stone wall between herself and joy. + +The old Mussulman butler who offered her coffee looked at her with +aroused curiosity--here was certainly a memsahib under the favour of +God--and as she stirred it, the shadow that Violet Prendergast had +thrown upon her life faded out of her mind in the light that was there. +Then she looked up and met that lady’s vivid blue eyes. Mrs. Innes’s +colour had not returned, but there was a recklessness in the lines of +her mouth. In the way she held her chin, expressing that she had been +reflecting on old scores, and anticipated the worst. Meeting this +vigilance Miss Anderson experienced a slight recoil. Her happiness, she +realized, had been brought to her in the hands of ugly circumstance. + +‘And so melodramatic,’ she told herself. ‘It is really almost vulgar. In +a story I should have no patience with it.’ But she went on stirring her +coffee with a little uncontrollable smile. + +A moment later she had to contemplate the circumstance that her hostess +was addressing her. Mrs. Innes wished to be introduced. Mrs. Innes, +incarnate, conscious sensation, was smiling at her, saying that she must +know so great a friend of her husband’s. He made so few friends, and she +was so grateful to anybody who was good to him. Eyes and voice tolerably +in rein, aware of the situation at every point, she had a meretricious +daring; and it occurred to Madeline, looking at her, that she was after +all a fairly competent second-class adventuress. She would not refuse +the cue. It would make so little difference. + +‘On the contrary, I am tremendously indebted to Colonel Innes. He has +been so very kind about ponies and jhampanies and things. Simla is +full of pitfalls for a stranger, don’t you think?’ And Miss Anderson, +unclosing her fan, turned her reposeful head a little in the direction +of three married schoolgirls voluble on her left. + +‘Not when you get to know the language. You must learn the language; +it’s indispensable. But of course it depends on how long you mean to +stay.’ + +‘I think I will learn the language,’ said Madeline. + +‘But General Worsley told me you were leaving Simla in a fortnight.’ + +‘Oh no. My plans are very indefinite; but I shall stay much longer than +that.’ + +‘It is Miss Anderson, isn’t it?--Miss Madeline Anderson, of New +York--no, Brooklyn?’ + +Madeline looked at her. ‘Did not the General say so?’ she asked. + +‘Yes, he did. But one looks to make quite sure.’ + +‘I can understand that.’ + +Mrs. Innes leaned forward with one elbow on her knee. + +It was not a graceful attitude, but it gave the casual air to the +conversation which was desirable. + +‘What are you going to do?’ she said. + +‘My plans are as indefinite as possible, really,’ Madeline returned. +‘I may spend the cold weather in Calcutta, or go into camp with the +Dovedells--I should like that.’ + +‘Mrs. Innes,’ cried the nearest schoolgirl, ‘we are coming tomorrow to +see all the lovely things in your boxes, may we?’ + +‘Do, duckies. But mind, no copying of them by durzies in the veranda. +They’re all Paris things--Coulter’s--and you know he doesn’t copy well, +does he? Oh, dear! here are the men--they always come too soon, don’t +they? So glad to have had even a little chat, Miss Anderson. I’ll come +and see you tomorrow. You know newcomers in India always make the first +calls. I shall find you at home, sha’n’t I?’ + +‘By all means,’ Madeline said. + +Mrs. Innes crossed the room, crying out that the heat was perfectly +absurd for Simla, it must be cooler outside; and as Captain Valentine +Drake followed her into the semi-darkness of the veranda, the three +married schoolgirls looked at each other and smiled. + +‘Don’t be naughty,’ said Captain Gordon, leaning over the sofa from +behind. ‘They’re very dear friends, and they’ve been separated for two +years.’ + +Madeline heard this as plainly as they did. She noted disdainfully how +it all fell in. + +‘How absent you are tonight!’ Horace Innes exclaimed, when Miss Anderson +had asked him a trivial question for the third time. + +‘Hush!’ she said. ‘Mrs. Scallepa is going to sing;’ and as Mrs. Scallepa +sang she let her eyes play over him with a light in them so tender, that +once catching it the felt a sudden answering throb, and looked again; +but after that her eyes were on the floor. + +‘We are staying here,’ he said a quarter of an hour later, as he saw her +into her rickshaw; ‘and I think I must see you to your quarters. It’s +very dark, and there is an ugly little slip half-way between this and +the Mall. + +He ran upstairs to get his coat and stick, and a white face like an +apparition suddenly hung itself on the edge of Madeline’s rickshaw-hood. + +‘Don’t tell him tonight,’ it said, hoarsely. + +‘Are you ready, Colonel Innes? Then good night, everybody,’ cried +Madeline. + +She was not at all sure that she would not tell Horace Innes ‘tonight’. + + + +Chapter 3.V. + +‘My wife,’ said Colonel Innes, ‘is looking extremely well.’ + +‘She seems so, indeed,’ Madeline replied. + +‘She is delighted with “Two Gables”. Likes it better, she says, than any +other house we could have got.’ + +‘What a good thing!’ + +‘It was a record trip for the Caledonia, thirteen days from Brindisi to +Bombay. Was she telling you about the voyage?’ + +‘No,’ said Madeline impatiently, ‘she didn’t mention it. How shall I +tell the men to put down the hood, please? A rickshaw is detestable with +the hood up--stifling! Thanks. I beg your pardon. The Caledonia made a +good run?’ + +‘Thirteen days. Wonderful weather, of course, which was luck for Violet. +She is an atrocious sailor.’ + +Madeline fancied she heard repose and reassurance in his voice. +Her thought cried, ‘It is not so bad as he expected!’ We can not be +surprised that she failed to see in herself the alleviation of that +first evening. + +‘She has brought quantities of things for the house with her,’ Innes +went on, ‘as well as three dachshund puppies,’ and he laughed. ‘Wouldn’t +you like one? What can we do with three--and the terrier, and Brutus?’ + +‘Oh, thank you, no.’ + +How could he laugh? How could he speak pleasantly of these intimate +details of his bondage? How could he conceive that she would accept-- + +‘Already she has arranged four dinner-parties! It will be a relief not +to have to think of that sort of thing--to be able to leave it to her.’ + +‘Mrs. Innes must have great energy. To drive all the way up from Kalka +by noon and appear at a dinner-party at night--wonderful!’ + +‘Oh, great energy,’ Horace said. + +‘She will take you everywhere--to all the functions. She will insist on +your duty to society.’ + +Madeline felt that she must get him somehow back into his slough of +despond. His freedom paralyzed her. And he returned with a pathetic +change of tone. + +‘I suppose there is no alternative. Violet is very good about being +willing to go alone, or with somebody else; but I never think it quite +fair on one’s wife to impose on her the necessity of going about with +other men.’ + +‘Mrs. Worsley introduced us after dinner,’ said Madeline. + +She kept disparagement out of her mind, but he could not help perceiving +aloofness. + +‘Yes?’ + +The monosyllable told her sensitive ear that while he admitted her +consideration in going on with the subject, he was willing to recognize +that there was no more to say, and have done with it. She gathered up +her scruples and repugnances in a firm grasp. She would not let him +throw his own shadow, as an effectual obstacle, between himself and +liberty. + +‘I am going to ask you something,’ she said; it might come naturally +enough from another man with whom your friendship was as candid as it +is with me; but there is an awkwardness in it from a woman. You must +believe I have a good reason. Will you tell me about your first meeting +with Mrs. Innes, when--when you became engaged?’ + +She knew she was daring a good deal; but when a man’s prison is to be +brought down about his ears, one might as well begin, she thought, at +the foundation. + +For a moment Innes did not speak, and then his words came slowly. + +I find it difficult,’ he said, ‘to answer you. How can it matter--it is +impossible. I suppose you have heard some story, and it is like you to +want to be in a position to negative it. Ignore it instead. She has very +successfully championed herself. Believe nothing to her disadvantage +that may be said about that--that time. I was pleased to marry her, and +she was pleased to marry me. But for God’s sake don’t let us talk about +it!’ + +As he spoke Madeline saw the vivid clearness of the situation grow +blurred and confused. It was as if her point of view had suddenly +changed and her eyes failed her. Her eager impulse had beat less and +less strongly from the Worsley’s door; now it seemed to shrink away in +fetters. Her eyes filled with vaguely resentful tears, which sprang, +if she could have traced them, from the fact that the man she loved was +loyal to his own mistake, and the formless premonition that he might +continue to be. She contorted her lip to keep her emotion back, and +deliberately turned away from a matter in which she was not mistress, +and which contained ugly possibilities of buffeting. She would wait a +little, and though consideration for Violet Prendergast had nothing to +do with it, she would not tell him tonight. + +‘I am sorry,’ she said; and, after a moment, ‘Did I tell you that I have +changed my plans?’ + +‘You are not going so soon?’ she took all the comfort there was in his +eagerness. + +‘I am not going at all for the present. I have abandoned my intentions +and my dates. I mean to drift for a little while. I have been too--too +conscientious.’ + +‘Are you quite serious--do you mean it?’ + +‘Indeed I do.’ + +‘And in less than a fortnight you will not go out of one’s life. You +will stay on--you summer day! It’s hard to believe in luck like that. I +sent a poor devil of a sepoy a reprieve last week--one knows now how he +must have felt about it.’ + +‘Does it make all that difference?’ Madeline asked, softly. + +‘It makes a difference,’ he answered, controlling his words, ‘that I am +glad you can not conceive, since that would mean that your life has been +as barren as mine.’ He seemed to refrain from saying more, and then he +added, ‘You must be careful when you plant your friendship that you mean +it to stay, and blossom. It will not come easily up by the roots, and it +will leave an ugly hole.’ + +He was helping her out of her rickshaw, and as they followed the servant +who carried her wraps the few yards to the door, she left her hand +lightly on his arm. It was the seal, he thought, of her unwritten bond +that there should be no uprooting of the single flower he cherished; and +he went back almost buoyantly because of it to the woman who had been +sitting in the sackcloth and ashes of misfortune, turning over the +expedients for which his step might make occasion. + +By the time the monkeys began to scramble about the roof in the early +creeping of the dawn among the deodars, Madeline had groped her way to +a tolerably clear conception of what might happen. The impeding +circumstance everywhere, it must be acknowledged, was Frederick +Prendergast’s coffin. The case, had convict No. 1596 been still alive +and working out his debt to society, would have been transcendentally +simple, she told herself. Even a convict has a right--a prospective +right--to his wife, and no honest man should be compelled to retain a +criminal’s property. This was an odd reflection, perhaps, to be made by +Madeline Anderson, but the situation as a whole might be described as +curious. And there was no doubt about the coffin. + + + +Chapter 3.VI. + +The veranda of which Miss Anderson’s little sitting-room claimed its +section hung over the road, and it seemed to her that she heard the +sound of Mrs. Innes’s arrival about ten minutes after breakfast. + +On the contrary, she had spent two whole hours contemplating, with very +fixed attention, first the domestic circumstances of Colonel Horace +Innes and their possible development, and then, with a pang of +profoundest acknowledgment, the moral qualities which he would bring to +bear upon them. She was further from knowing what course she personally +intended to pursue than ever, when she heard the wheels roll up +underneath; and she had worked herself into a state of sufficient +detachment from the whole problem to reflect upon the absurdity of a +bigamist rattling forth to discuss her probable ruin in the fanciful +gaiety of a rickshaw. The circumstances had its value though; it +lightened all responsibility for the lady concerned. As Madeline +heard her jump out and give pronounced orders for the securing of an +accompanying dachshund, it did not seem to matter so particularly what +became of Violet Prendergast. + +Mrs. Innes’s footsteps came briskly along the veranda. Madeline noted +that there was no lagging. ‘Number seven,’ she said aloud; as she passed +other doors, ‘Number eight--number nine! Ah! there you are.’ The +door was open. ‘I wouldn’t let them bring up my card for fear of some +mistake. How do you do? Now please don’t get up--you look so comfortable +with your book. What is it? Oh, yes, of course, THAT. People were +talking about it a good deal when I left London, but I haven’t read it. +Is it good?’ + +‘I like it,’ said Madeline. She half rose as Mrs. Innes entered; but as +the lady did not seem to miss the ceremony of greeting, she was glad to +sink back in her chair. + +‘And how do you like Simla? Charming in many ways, isn’t it? A little +too flippant, I always say--rather TOO much champagne and silliness. But +awfully bracing.’ + +‘The Snows are magnificent,’ Madeline said, ‘when you can see them. And +there’s a lot of good work done here.’ + +‘Aren’t they divine? I did nothing, absolutely nothing, my first season +but paint them. And the shops--they’re not bad, are they, for the size +of the place? Though today, upon my soul, there doesn’t seem to be a +yard of white spotted veiling among them.’ + +‘That is annoying,’ said Madeline, ‘if you want spotted veiling.’ + +‘Isn’t it? Well’--Mrs. Innes take a deep breath--‘you DIDN’T tell him +last night?’ + +‘N--no,’ said Madeline, with deliberation. + +‘I WAS grateful. I knew I could rely upon you not to. It would have been +too cruel when we have only just been reunited--dear Horace would have +had to sleep in the--’ + +‘Pray--’ + +‘Well, Horace is the soul of honour. Is your ayah in there?’ Mrs. Innes +nodded towards the bedroom door. ‘You can not imagine what long ears she +has.’ + +‘I have no ayah. There is only Brookes;’ and as that excellent woman +passed through the room with a towel over her arm, Madeline said, ‘You +can go now, Brookes, and see about that alpaca. Take the rickshaw; it +looks very threatening.’ + +‘Maid! You ARE a swell! There are only four genuine maids in Simla that +I know of--the rest are really nurse-girls. What a comfort she must be! +THE luxury of all others that I long for; but alas! army pay, you know. +I did once bring a dear thing out with me from Nice--you should have +seen Horace’s face.’ + +‘I couldn’t very well go about quite alone; it would be uncomfortable.’ + +‘Except that you Americans are so perfectly independent.’ + +‘On the contrary. If I could order about a servant the way an +Englishwoman does--’ + +‘Say you are not going to tell him! I’ve got such a lot of other calls +to make,’ exclaimed Mrs. Innes. ‘Dear Lady Bloomfield won’t understand +it if I don’t call today, especially after the baby. What people in +that position want with more babies I can not comprehend. Of course you +haven’t noticed it, but a baby is such a shock to Simla.’ + +‘Don’t let me keep you,’ Madeline said, rising. + +‘But you haven’t promised. Do promise, Miss Anderson. You gain nothing +by telling him, except your revenge; and I should think by this time +you would have forgiven me for taking Frederick away from you. He didn’t +turn out so well! You can’t still bear me malice over that convict in +Sing Sing.’ + +‘For his sake, poor fellow, I might.’ + +‘Coming along I said to myself, “She CAN score off me badly, but surely +she doesn’t want to so much as all that.” Besides, I really only took +your leavings, you know. You threw poor Fred Prendergast over.’ + +‘I am not prepared to discuss that,’ Madeline said, at no pains to +smooth the curve out of her lip. + +‘Then I thought, “Perhaps--you never can tell with people--she will +think it her DUTY to make a fuss.”’ + +‘That is a possible point of view.’ + +‘I know. You think I’m an imposter on society and I ought to be exposed, +and I suppose you could shut every door in Simla against me if you +liked. But you are a friend of my husband’s, Miss Anderson. You would +not turn his whole married life into a scandal and ruin his career?’ + +‘Ruin his career?’ + +‘Of course. Government is awfully particular. It mayn’t be his fault +in the least, but no man is likely to get any big position with a cloud +over his domestic affairs. Horace would resign, naturally.’ + +‘Or take long leave,’ Mrs. Innes added to herself, but she did not give +Madeline this alternative. A line or two of nervous irritation marked +themselves about her eyes, and her colour had faded. Her hat was less +becoming than it had been, and she had pulled a button off her glove. + +‘Besides,’ she went on quickly, ‘it isn’t as if you could do any good, +you know. The harm was done once for all when I let him think he’d +married me. I thought then--well, I had to take it or leave it--and +every week I expected to hear of Frederick’s death. Then I meant to tell +Horace myself, and have the ceremony over again. He couldn’t refuse. +And all these years it’s been like living on a volcano, in the fear of +meeting New York people. Out here there never are any, but in England I +dye my hair, and alter my complexion.’ + +‘Why did you change your mind,’ Madeline asked, ‘about telling Colonel +Innes?’ + +‘I haven’t! Why should I change my mind? For my own protection, I mean +to get things put straight instantly--when the time comes.’ + +‘When the time comes,’ Madeline repeated; and her eyes, as she fixed +them on Mrs. Innes, were suddenly so lightened with a new idea that she +dropped the lids over them as she waited for the answer. + +‘When poor Frederick does pass away,’ Mrs. Innes said, with an air of +observing the proprieties. ‘When they put him in prison it was a matter +of months, the doctors said. That was one reason why I went abroad. I +couldn’t bear to stay there and see him dying by inches, poor fellow.’ + +‘Couldn’t you?’ + +‘Oh, I couldn’t. And the idea of the hard labour made me SICK. But +it seems to have improved his health, and now--there is no telling! I +sometimes believe he will live out his sentence. Should you think that +possible in the case of a man with half a lung?’ + +‘I have no knowledge of pulmonary disease,’ Madeline said. She forced +the words from her lips and carefully looked away, taking this second +key to the situation mechanically, and for a moment groping with it. + +‘What arrangement did you make to be informed about--about him?’ she +asked, and instantly regretted having gone so perilously near provoking +a direct question. + +‘I subscribe to the “New York World”. I used to see lots of things in +it--about the shock the news of my death gave him--’ + +A flash of hysterical amusement shot into Mrs. Innes’s eyes, and she +questioned Madeline’s face to see whether it responded to her humour. +Then she put her own features straight behind her handkerchief and went +on. + +‘And about his failing health, and then about his being so much better. +But nothing now for ages.’ + +‘Did the “World” tell you,’ asked Miss Anderson, with sudden interest, +‘that Mr. Prendergast came into a considerable fortune before--about two +years ago?’ + +Mrs. Innes’s face turned suddenly blank. ‘How much?’ she exclaimed. + +‘About five hundred thousand dollars, I believe. Left him by a cousin. +Then you didn’t know?’ + +‘That must have been Gordon Prendergast--the engineer!’ Mrs. Innes said, +with excitement. ‘Fancy that! Leaving money to a relation in Sing Sing! +Hadn’t altered his will, I suppose. Who could possibly,’ and her face +fell visibly, ‘have foreseen such a thing?’ + +‘No one, I think,’ said Madeline, through a little edged smile. ‘On that +point you will hardly be criticized.’ + +Mrs. Innes, with clasped hands, was sunk in thought. She raised her eyes +with a conviction in them which she evidently felt to be pathetic. + +‘After all,’ she said, ‘there is something in what the padres say +about our reaping the reward of our misdeeds in this world--some of us, +anyway. If I had stayed in New York--’ + +‘Yes?’ said Madeline. ‘I shall wake up presently,’ she reflected, ‘and +find that I have been dreaming melodrama.’ But that was a fantastic +underscoring of her experience. She knew very well she was making it. + +Mrs. Innes, again wrapped in astonished contemplation, did not reply. +Then she jumped to her feet with a gesture that cast fortunes back into +the lap of fate. + +‘One thing is certain,’ she said; ‘I can’t do anything NOW, can I?’ + +Madeline laid hold of silence and made armour with it. At all events, +she must have time to think. + +‘I decline to advise you,’ she said, and she spoke with a barely +perceptive movement of her lips only. The rest of her face was stone. + +‘How unkind and unforgiving you are! Must people would think the loss of +a hundred thousand pounds about punishment enough for what I have done. +You don’t seem to see it. But on top of that you won’t refuse to promise +not to tell Horace?’ + +‘I will not bind myself in any way whatever.’ + +‘Not even when you know that the moment I hear of the--death I intend +to--to--’ + +‘Make an honest man of him? Not even when I know that.’ + +‘Do you want me to go down on my knees to you?’ + +Madeline glanced at the flowered fabric involved and said, ‘I wouldn’t, +I think.’ + +‘And this is to hang over me the whole season? I shall enjoy +nothing--absolutely NOTHING.’ The blue eyes were suddenly eclipsed +by angry tears, which the advent of a servant with cards checked as +suddenly. + +‘Goodbye, then, dear,’ cried Mrs. Innes, as if in response to the +advancing rustle of skirts in the veranda. ‘So glad to have found you +at home. Dear me, has Trilby made her way up--and I gave such particular +orders! Oh, you NAUGHTY dog!’ + + + +Chapter 3.VII. + +From the complication that surged round Miss Anderson’s waking hours +one point emerged, and gave her a perch for congratulation. That was +the determination she had shown in refusing to let Frederick Prendergast +leave her his money, or any part of it. + +It has been said that he had outlived her tenderness, if not her care, +and this fact, which she never found it necessary to communicate to +poor Frederick himself, naturally made his desire in the matter sharply +distasteful. She was even unaware of the disposition he had made of his +ironical fortune, a reflection which brought her thankfulness that there +was something she did not know. ‘If I had let him do it,’ she thought, +‘I should have felt compelled to tell her everything, instantly. And +think of discussing it with her!’ This was quite a fortnight later, and +Mrs. Innes still occupied her remarkable position only in her own mind +and Madeline’s, still knowing herself the wife of 1596 and of 1596 only, +and still unaware that 1596 was in his grave. Simla had gone on with its +dances and dinners and gymkhanas quite as if no crucial experience were +hanging over the heads of three of the people one met ‘everywhere,’ and +the three people continued to be met everywhere, although only one +of them was unconscious. The women tried to avoid each other without +accenting it, exchanging light words only as occasion demanded, but they +were not clever enough for Mrs. Gammidge and Mrs. Mickie, who went +about saying that Mrs. Innes’s treatment of Madeline Anderson was as +ridiculous as it was inexplicable. ‘Did you ever know her to be jealous +of anybody before?’ demanded Mrs. Mickie, to which Mrs. Gammidge +responded, with her customary humour, that the Colonel had never, in the +memory of the oldest inhabitant, been known to give her occasion. + +‘Well,’ declared Mrs. Mickie, ‘if friendships--UNSENTIMENTAL +friendships--between men and women are not understood in Simla, I’d like +to be told what is understood.’ + +Between them they gave Madeline a noble support, for which--although she +did not particularly require it, and they did not venture to offer it in +so many words--she was grateful. A breath of public criticism from +any point of view would have blown over the toppling structure she was +defending against her conscience. The siege was severe and obstinate, +with an undermining conviction ever at work that in the end she would +yield; in the end she would go away, at least as far as Bombay or +Calcutta, and from there send to Mrs. Innes the news of her liberation. +It would not be necessary, after all, or even excusable, to tell Horace. +His wife would do that quickly enough--at least, she had said she +would. If she didn’t--well, if she didn’t, nothing would be possible but +another letter, giving HIM the simple facts, she, Madeline, carefully +out of the way of his path of duty--at all events, at Calcutta or +Bombay. But there was no danger that Mrs. Innes would lose the advantage +of confession, of throwing herself on his generosity--and at this +point Madeline usually felt her defenses against her better nature +considerably strengthened, and the date of her sacrifice grow vague +again. + +Meanwhile, she was astonished to observe that, in spite of her threat +to the contrary, Mrs. Innes appeared to be enjoying herself particularly +well. Madeline had frequent occasion for private comment on the +advantages of a temperament that could find satisfaction in dancing +through whole programmes at the very door, so to speak, of the criminal +courts; and it can not be denied that this capacity of Mrs. Innes’s went +far to increase the vacillation with which Miss Anderson considered +her duty towards that lady. If she had shown traces of a single hour +of genuine suffering, there would have been an end to Madeline’s +hesitation. But beyond an occasional watchful glance at conversations in +which she might be figuring dramatically, and upon which she instantly +turned her back as soon as she was perceived, Mrs. Innes gave no sign +even of preoccupation. If she had bad half-hours, they occurred between +the teas and tennises, the picnics, riding-parties, luncheons, and other +entertainments, at which you could always count upon meeting her; and in +that case they must have been short. She looked extremely well, and +her admirable frocks gave an accent even to ‘Birthday’ functions at +Viceregal Lodge, which were quite hopelessly general. If any one +could have compelled a revelation of her mind, I think it would have +transpired that her anxieties about Capt. Valentine Drake and Mrs. Vesey +gave her no leisure for lesser ones. These for a few days had been keen +and indignant--Captain Drake had so far forgotten himself as to ride +with Mrs. Vesey twice since Mrs. Innes’s arrival--and any display of +poverty of spirit was naturally impossible under the circumstances. The +moment was a critical one; Captain Drake seemed inclined to place her +in the category of old, unexacting friends--ladies who looked on and +smiled, content to give him tea on rainy days, and call him by his +Christian name, with perhaps the privilege of a tapping finger on his +shoulder, and an occasional order about a rickshaw. Mrs. Violet was not +an introspective person, or she might have discovered here that the most +stable part of her self-respect was her EXIGENCE with Captain Drake. + +She found out quickly enough, however, that she did not mean to discard +it. She threw herself, therefore--her fine shoulders and arms, her +pretty clothes, her hilarity, her complexion, her eyelashes, and all +that appertained to her--into the critical task of making other men +believe, at Captain Drake’s expense, that they were quite as fond of her +as he was. Mrs. Vesey took opposite measures, and the Club laid bets on +the result. + +The Club was not prepossessed by Captain Drake. He said too little and +he implied too much. He had magnificent shoulders, which he bent a great +deal over secluded sofas, and a very languid interest in matters over +which ordinary men were enthusiastic. He seemed to believe that if he +smiled all the way across his face, he would damage a conventionality. +His clothes were unexceptionable, and he always did the right thing, +though bored by the necessity. He was good-looking in an ugly way, which +gave him an air of restrained capacity for melodrama, and made women +think him interesting. Somebody with a knack of disparagement said that +he was too much expressed. It rather added to his unpopularity that he +was a man whom women usually took with preposterous seriousness--all but +Kitty Vesey, who charmed and held him by her outrageous liberties. +When Mrs. Vesey chaffed him, he felt picturesque. He was also aware of +inspiring entertainment for the lookers-on, with the feeling at such +times that he, too, was an amused spectator. This was, of course, their +public attitude. In private there was sentiment, and they talked about +the tyranny of society, or delivered themselves of ideas suggested by +works of fiction which everybody simply HAD to read. + +For a week Mrs. Innes looked on, apparently indifferent, rather +apparently not observing; and an Assistant Secretary in the Home +Department began to fancy that his patience in teaching the three +dachshund puppies tricks was really appreciated. He was an on-coming +Assistant Secretary, with other conspicuous parts, and hitherto his time +had been too valuable to spend upon ladies’ dachshunds. Mrs. Innes +had selected him well. There came an evening when, at a dance at the +Lieutenant-Governor’s, Mrs. Innes was so absorbed in what the Assistant +Secretary was saying to her, as she passed on his arm, that she did +not see Captain Drake in the corridor at all, although he had carefully +broken an engagement to walk with Kitty Vesey that very afternoon, +as the beginning of gradual and painless reform in her direction. His +unrewarded virtue rose up and surprised him with the distinctness of +its resentment; and while his expression was successfully amused, +his shoulders and the back of his neck, as well as the hand on +his moustache, spoke of discipline which promised to be efficient. +Reflection assured him that discipline was after all deserved, and a +quarter of an hour later found him wagging his tail, so to speak, over +Mrs. Innes’s programme in a corner pleasantly isolated. The other chair +was occupied by the Assistant Secretary. Captain Drake represented an +interruption, and was obliged to take a step towards the nearest lamp to +read the card. Three dances were rather ostentatiously left, and Drake +initialled them all. He brought back the card with a bow, which spoke +of dignity under bitter usage, together with the inflexible intention of +courteous self-control, and turned away. + +‘Oh, if you please, Captain Drake--let me see what you’ve done. All +those? But--’ + +‘Isn’t it after eleven, Mrs. Innes?’ asked the Assistant Secretary, with +a timid smile. He was enjoying himself, but he had a respect for vested +interests, and those of Captain Drake were so well known that he felt a +little like a buccaneer. + +‘Dear me, so it is!’ Mrs. Innes glanced at one of her bracelets. +‘Then, Captain Drake, I’m sorry’--she carefully crossed out the three +‘V.D.’s’--‘I promised all the dances I had left after ten to Mr. +Holmcroft. Most of the others I gave away at the gymkhana--really. Why +weren’t you there? That Persian tutor again! I’m afraid you are working +too hard. And what did the Rani do, Mr. Holmcroft? It’s like the Arabian +Nights, only with real jewels--’ + +‘Oh, I say, Holmcroft, this is too much luck, you know. Regular +sweepstakes, by Jove!’ And Captain Drake lingered on the fringe of the +situation. + +‘Perhaps I have been greedy,’ said the Assistant Secretary, +deprecatingly. ‘I’ll--’ + +‘Not in the very least! That is,’ exclaimed Mrs. Violet, pouting, ‘if +I’M to be considered. We’ll sit out all but the waltzes, and you shall +tell me official secrets about the Rani. She put us up once, she’s a +delicious old thing. Gave us string beds to sleep on and gold plate to +eat from, and swore about every other word. She had been investing in +Government paper, and it had dropped three points. “Just my damn luck!” + she said. Wasn’t it exquisite? Captain Drake--’ + +‘Mrs. Innes--’ + +‘I don’t want to be rude, but you’re a dreadful embarrassment. Mr. +Holmcroft won’t tell you official secrets!’ + +‘If she would only behave!’ thought Madeline, looking on, ‘I would tell +her--indeed I would--at once.’ + +Colonel Innes detached himself from a group of men in mess dress as she +appeared with the Worsleys, and let himself drift with the tide that +brought them always together. + +‘You are looking tired--ill,’ she said, seriously, as they sought +the unconfessed solace of each other’s eyes. ‘Last night it was the +Commander-in-Chief’s, and the night before the dance at Peliti’s. +And again tonight. And you are not like those of us who can rest +next morning--you have always your heavy office work!’ She spoke with +indignant, tender reproach, and he gave himself up to hearing it. ‘You +will have to take leave and go away,’ she insisted, foolishly. + +‘Leave! Good heavens, no! I wish all our fellows were as fit as I am. +And--’ + +‘Yes?’ she said. + +‘Don’t pity me, dear friend. I don’t think it’s good for me. The world +really uses me very well.’ + +‘Then it’s all right, I suppose,’ Madeline said, with sudden depression. + +‘Of course it is. You are dining with us on the eighth?’ + +‘I’m afraid not, I’m engaged.’ + +‘Engaged again? Don’t you WANT to break bread in my house, Miss +Anderson?’ She was silent, and he insisted, ‘Tell me,’ he said. + +She gave him instead a kind, mysterious smile. + +‘I will explain to you what I feel about that some day,’ she said; +‘some day soon. I can’t accept Mrs. Innes’s invitation for the eighth, +but--Brookes and I are going to take tea with the fakir’s monkeys on the +top of Jakko tomorrow afternoon.’ + +‘Anybody else, or only Brookes?’ + +‘Only Brookes.’ And she thought she had abandoned coquetry! + +‘Then may I come?’ + +‘Indeed you may.’ + +‘I really don’t know,’ reflected Madeline, as she caught another glimpse +of Mrs. Innes vigorously dancing the reel opposite little Lord Billy in +his Highland uniform, with her hands on her flowered-satin hips, ‘that I +am behaving very well myself.’ + + + +Chapter 3.VIII. + +Horace Innes looked round his wife’s drawing-room as if he were making +an inventory of it, carefully giving each article its value, which +happened, however, to have nothing to do with rupees. Madeline Anderson +had been saying something the day before about the intimacy and accuracy +with which people’s walls expressed them, and though the commonplace was +not new to him, this was the first time it had ever led him to scan his +wife’s. What he saw may be imagined, but his only distinct reflection +was that he had no idea that she had been photographed so variously or +had so many friends who wore resplendent Staff uniforms. The relation of +cheapness in porcelain ornaments to the lady’s individuality was beyond +him, and he could not analyze his feelings of sitting in the midst of +her poverty of spirit. Indeed, thinking of his ordinary unsusceptibility +to such things, he told himself sharply that he was adding an +affectation of discomfort to the others that he had to bear; and that +if Madeline had not given him the idea it would never have entered his +mind. The less, he mused, that one had to do with finicking feelings +in this world the better. They were well enough for people who were +tolerably conditioned in essentials--he preferred this vagueness, even +with himself, in connection with his marriage--otherwise they added +pricks. Besides he had that other matter to think of. + +He thought of the other matter with such obvious irritation that the +butler coming in to say that the ‘English water’ was finished, and how +many dozen should he order, put a chair in its place instead, closed +the door softly again, and went away. It was not good for the dignity of +butlers to ask questions of any sort with a look of that kind under the +eyebrows of the sahib. The matter was not serious, Colonel Innes told +himself, but he would prefer by comparison to deal with matters that +were serious. He knew Simla well enough to attach no overwhelming +importance to things said about women at the Club, where the broadest +charity prevailed underneath, and the idle comment of the moment had +an intrinsic value as a distraction rather than a reflective one as +a criticism. This consideration, however, was more philosophical +in connection with other men’s wives. He found very little in it to +palliate what he had overheard, submerged in the ‘Times of India’, that +afternoon. And to put an edge on it, the thing had been said by one of +his own juniors. Luckily the boy had left the room without discovering +who was behind the ‘Times of India’. Innes felt that he should be +grateful for having been spared the exigency of defending his wife +against a flippant word to which she had very probably laid herself +open. He was very angry, and it is perhaps not surprising that he did +not pause to consider how far his anger was due to the humiliating +necessity of speaking to her about it. She was coming at last though; +she was in the hall. He would get it over quickly. + +‘Goodbye!’ said Mrs. Innes at the door. ‘No, I can’t possibly let you +come in to tea. I don’t know how you have the conscience after drinking +three cups at Mrs. Mickie’s, where I had no business to take you! +Tomorrow? Oh, all right if you want to VERY badly. But I won’t promise +you strawberries--they’re nearly all gone.’ + +There was the sound of a departing pony’s trot, and Mrs. Innes came into +the drawing-room. + +‘Good heavens, Horace! what are you sitting there for like a--like a +ghost? Why didn’t you make a noise or something, and why aren’t you at +office? I can’t tell you how you startled me.’ + +‘It is early,’ Colonel Innes said. ‘We are neither of us in the house, +as a rule, at this hour.’ + +‘Coincidence!’ Violet turned a cool, searching glance on her husband, +and held herself ready. ‘I came home early because I want to alter the +lace on my yellow bodice for tonight. It’s too disgusting as it is. But +I was rather glad to get away from Mrs. Mickie’s lot. So rowdy!’ + +‘And I came because I had a special reason for wanting to speak to you.’ + +Mrs. Violet’s lips parted, and her breath, in spite of herself, came a +little faster. + +‘As we are dining out tonight, I thought that if I didn’t catch you now +I might not have another opportunity--till tomorrow morning.’ + +‘And it’s always a pity to spoil one’s breakfast. I can tell from your +manner, mon ami, it’s something disagreeable. What have I been and gone +and done?’ + +She was dancing, poor thing, in her little vulgar way, on hot iron. But +her eyes kept their inconsistent coolness. + +‘I heard something today which you are not in the way of hearing. You +have--probably--no conception that it could be said.’ + +‘Then she has been telling other people. ABSOLUTELY the worst thing she +could do!’ Mrs. Innes exclaimed privately, sitting unmoved, her face a +little too expectant. + +‘You won’t be prepared for it--you may be shocked and hurt by it. +Indeed, I think there is no need to repeat it to you. But I must put you +on your guard. Men are coarser, you know, than women; they are apt to +put their own interpretation--’ + +‘What is it?’ + +There was a physical gasp, a sharpness in her voice that brought Innes’s +eyes from the floor to her face. + +‘I am sorry,’ he said, ‘but--don’t overestimate it, don’t let it worry +you. It was simply a very impertinent--a very disagreeable reference +to you and Mr. Holmcroft, I think, in connection with the Dovedell’s +picnic. It was a particularly silly thing as well, and I am sure no one +would attach any importance to it, but it was said openly at the Club, +and--’ + +‘Who said it?’ Mrs. Innes demanded. + +A flood of colour rushed over her face. Horace marked that she blushed. + +‘I don’t know whether I ought to tell you, Violet. It certainly was not +meant for your ears.’ + +‘If I’m not to know who said it, I don’t see why I should pay any +attention to it. Mere idle rumour--’ + +Innes bit his lip. + +‘Captain Gordon said it,’ he replied. + +‘Bobby Gordon! DO tell me what he said! I’m dying to know. Was he very +disagreeable? I DID give his dance away on Thursday night.’ + +Innes looked at her with the curious distrust which she often inspired +in him. He had a feeling that he would like to put her out of the room +into a place by herself, and keep her there. + +‘I won’t repeat what he said.’ Colonel Innes took up the ‘Saturday +Review’. + +‘Oh, do, Horace! I particularly want to know.’ + +Innes said nothing. + +‘Horace! Was it--was it anything about Mr. Holmcroft being my +Secretariat baa-lamb?’ + +‘If you adorn your guess with a little profanity,’ said Innes, acidly, +‘you won’t be far wrong.’ + +Mrs. Violet burst into a peal of laughter. + +‘Why, you old goose!’ she articulated, behind her handkerchief; ‘he said +that to ME.’ + +Innes laid down the ‘Saturday Review’. + +‘To you!’ he repeated; ‘Gordon said it to you!’ + +‘Rather!’ Mrs. Violet was still mirthful. ‘I’m not sure that he didn’t +call poor little Homie something worse than that. It’s the purest +jealousy on his part--nothing to make a fuss about.’ + +The fourth skin which enables so many of us to be callous to all but the +relative meaning of careless phrases had not been given to Innes, and +her words fell upon his bare sense of propriety. + +‘Jealous,’ he said, ‘of a married woman? I find that difficult to +understand.’ + +Violet’s face straightened out. + +‘Don’t be absurd, Horace. These boys are always jealous of somebody or +other--it’s the occupation of their lives! I really don’t see how one +can prevent it.’ + +‘It seems to me that a self-respecting woman should see how. Your point +of view in these matters is incomprehensible.’ + +‘Perhaps,’ Violet was driven by righteous anger to say, ‘you find Miss +Anderson’s easier to understand.’ + +Colonel Innes’s face took its regimental disciplinary look, and, though +his eyes were aroused, his words were quiet with repression. + +‘I see no reason to discuss Miss Anderson with you,’ he said. ‘She has +nothing to do with what we are talking about.’ + +‘Oh, don’t you, really! Hasn’t she, indeed! I take it you are trying to +make me believe that compromising things are said about Mr. Holmcroft +and me at the Club. Well, I advise you to keep your ears open a little +more, and listen to the things said about you and Madeline Anderson +there. But I don’t suppose you would be in such a hurry to repeat them +to HER.’ + +Innes turned very white, and the rigidity of his face gave place to +heavy dismay. His look was that of a man upon whom misfortune had fallen +out of a clear sky. For an instant he stared at his wife. When he spoke +his voice was altered. + +‘For God’s sake!’ he said, ‘let us have done with this pitiful +wrangling. I dare say you can take care of yourself; at all events, I +only meant to warn you. But now you must tell me exactly what you mean +by this that you have said--this--about--’ + +‘The fat’s in the fire,’ was Mrs. Innes’s reflection. + +‘Certainly, I’ll tell you--’ + +‘Don’t shout, please!’ + +‘I mean simply that all Simla is talking about your affair with Miss +Anderson. You may imagine that because you are fifteen years older than +she is things won’t be thought of, but they are, and I hear it’s been +spoken about at Viceregal Lodge. I KNOW Lady Bloomfield has noticed it, +for she herself mentioned it to me. I told her I hadn’t the slightest +objection, and neither have I, but there’s an old proverb about people +in glass houses. What are you going to do?’ + +Colonel Innes’s expression was certainly alarming, and he had made a +step toward her that had menace in it. + +‘I am going out,’ he said, and turned and left her to her triumph. + + + +Chapter 3.IX. + +She--Violet--had unspeakably vulgarized it, but it must be true--it must +be, to some extent, true. She may even have lied about it, but the truth +was there, fundamentally, in the mere fact that it had been suggested +to her imagination. Madeline’s name, which had come to be for him an +epitome of what was finest and most valuable, most to be lived for, +was dropping from men’s lips into a kind of an abyss of dishonourable +suggestion. There was no way out of it or around it. It was a cloud +which encompassed them, suddenly blackening down. + +There was nothing that he could do--nothing. Except, yes, of +course--that was obvious, as obvious as any other plain duty. Through +his selfishness it had a beginning; in spite of his selfishness it +should have an end. That went without saying. No more walks or rides. In +a conventional way, perhaps--but nothing deliberate, designed--and never +alone together. Gossip about flippant married women was bad enough, but +that it should concern itself with an unprotected creature like Madeline +was monstrous, incredible. He strode fiercely into the road round Jakko, +and no little harmless snake, if it had crawled across his path, +would have failed to suffer a quick fate under the guidance of his +imagination. But there was nothing for him to kill, and he turned upon +himself. + +The sun went down into the Punjab and left great blue-and-purple hill +worlds barring the passage behind him. The deodars sank waist deep into +filmy shadow, and the yellow afterlight lay silently among the branches. +A pink-haunched monkey lopading across the road with a great show of +prudence seemed to have strayed into an unfamiliar country, and +the rustling twigs behind him made an episode of sound. The road in +perpetual curve between its little stone parapet and the broad flank of +the hill rose and fell under the deodars; Innes took its slopes and its +steepnesses with even, unslackened stride, aware of no difference, aware +of little indeed except the physical necessity of movement, spurred on +by a futile instinct that the end of his walk would be the end of his +trouble--his amazing, black, menacing trouble. A pony’s trot behind him +struck through the silence like percussion-caps; all Jakko seemed to +echo with it; and it came nearer--insistent, purposeful--but he +was hardly aware of it until the creature pulled up beside him, and +Madeline, slipping quickly off, said-- + +‘I’m coming too.’ + +He took off his hat and stared at her. She seemed to represent a climax. + +‘I’m coming too,’ she said. ‘I’m tired of picking flies off the Turk, +and he’s really unbearable about them tonight. Here, syce.’ She threw +the reins to the man and turned to Innes with a smile of relief. ‘I +would much rather do a walk. Why--you want me to come too, don’t you?’ + +His face was all one negative, and under the unexpectedness of it and +the amazement of it her questioning eyes slowly filled with sudden, +uncontrollable tears, so that she had to lower them, and look steadily +at the hoof-marks in the road while she waited for his answer. + +‘You know how I feel about seeing you--how glad I always am,’ he +stammered. ‘But there are reasons--’ + +‘Reasons?’ she repeated, half audibly. + +‘I don’t know how to tell you. I will write. But let me put you up +again--’ + +‘I will not,’ Madeline said, with a sob, ‘I won’t be sent home like +a child. I am going to walk, but--but I can quite well go alone.’ She +started forward, and her foot caught in her habit so that she made an +awkward stumble and came down on her knee. In rising she stumbled again, +and his quick arm was necessary. Looking down at her, he saw that she +was crying bitterly. The tension had lasted long, and the snap had come +when she least expected it. + +‘Stop,’ Innes said, firmly, hardly daring to turn his head and ascertain +the blessed fact that they were still alone. ‘Stop instantly. You +shall not go by yourself.’ He flicked the dust off her habit with +his pocket-handkerchief. ‘Come, please; we will go on together.’ Her +distress seemed to make things simple again. It was as if the cloud that +hung over them had melted as she wept, and lifted, and drifted a little +further on. For the moment, naturally, nothing mattered except that she +should be comforted. As she walked by his side shaken with her effort +at self-control, he had to resist the impulse to touch her. His hand +tingled to do its part in soothing her, his arm ached to protect her, +while he vaguely felt an element of right, of justice, in her tears; +they were in a manner his own. What he did was to turn and ask the syce +following if he had loosened the Turk’s saddle-girths. + +‘I shall be better--in a moment,’ Madeline said, and he answered, ‘Of +course’; but they walked on and said nothing more until the road ran out +from under the last deodar and round the first bare boulder that marked +the beginning of the Ladies’ Mile. It lay rolled out before them, the +Ladies’ Mile, sinuous and grey and empty, along the face of the cliff; +they could see from one end of it to the other. It was the bleak side of +Jakko; even tonight there was a fresh springing coldness in it blowing +over from the hidden snows behind the rims of the nearer hills. Madeline +held up her face to it, and gave herself a moment of its grateful +discipline. + +‘I have been as foolish as possible,’ she said, ‘as foolish as possible. +I have distressed you. Well, I couldn’t help it--that is all there is to +be said. Now if you will tell me--what is in your mind--what you spoke +of writing--I will mount again and go home. It doesn’t matter--I know +you didn’t mean to be unkind.’ Her lip was trembling again, and he knew +it, and dared not look at it. + +‘How can you ask me to tell you--miserable things!’ he exclaimed. ‘How +can I find the words? And I have only just been told--I can hardly +myself conceive it--’ + +‘I am not a child in her teens that my ears should be guarded from +miserable things. I have come of age, I have entered into my inheritance +of the world’s bitterness with the rest. I can listen,’ Madeline said. +‘Why not?’ + +He looked to her with grave tenderness. ‘You think yourself very old, +and very wise about the world,’ he said; ‘but you are a woman, and you +will be hurt. And when I think that a little ordinary forethought on my +part would have protected you, I feel like the criminal I am.’ + +‘Don’t make too much of it,’ she said, simply. ‘I have a presentiment--’ + +‘I’ll tell you,’ Innes said, slowly; ‘I won’t niggle about it. The +people of this place--idiots!--are unable to believe that a man and a +woman can be to each other what we are.’ + +‘Yes?’ said Madeline. She paused beside the parapet and looked down at +the indistinct little fields below, and the blurred masses of white wild +roses waving midway against the precipice. + +‘They can not understand that there can be any higher plane of +intercourse between us than the one they know. They won’t see--they +can’t see--that the satisfaction we find in being together is of a +different nature.’ + +‘I see,’ said Madeline. She had raised her eyes, and they sought +the solemn lines of the horizon. She looked as if she saw something +infinitely lifted above the pettiness he retailed to her. + +‘So they say--good God, why should I tell you what they say!’ It +suddenly flashed upon him that the embodiment of it in words would be at +once, from him, sacrilegious and ludicrous. It flashed upon him that her +natural anger would bring him pain, and that if she laughed--it was so +hard to tell when she would laugh--it would be as if she struck him. +He cast about him dumb and helpless while she kept her invincibly +quiet gaze upon the farther hills. She was thinking that this breath of +gossip, now that it had blown, was a very slight affair compared with +Horace Innes’s misery--which he did not seem to understand. Then her +soul rose up in her, brushing everything aside, and forgetting, alas! +the vow it had once made to her. + +‘I think I know,’ she said. ‘They are indeed foolish. They say that +we--love each other. Is not that what they say?’ + +He looked in amazement into her tender eyes and caught at the little +mocking smile about her lips. Suddenly the world grew light about him, +the shadows fled away. Somewhere down in the valley, he remembered +afterward, a hill-flute made music. When he spoke it was almost in a +whisper, lest he should disturb some newly perceived lovely thing that +had wings, and might leave him. ‘Oh, Madeline,’ he said, ‘is it true?’ +She only smiled on in gladness that took no heed of any apprehension, +any fear or scruple, and he himself keeping his eyes upon her face, +said, ‘It is true.’ + +So they stood for a little time in silence while she resisted her great +opportunity. She resisted it to the end, and presently beckoned to the +syce, who came up leading the pony. Innes mounted her mechanically and +said, ‘Is that all right?’ as she put her foot in the stirrup, without +knowing that he had spoken. + +‘Goodbye,’ she said; ‘I am going away--immediately. It will be better. +And listen--I have known this for weeks--and I have gone on seeing you. +And I hope I am not any more wicked than I feel. Goodbye.’ + +‘Goodbye,’ he said, taking his hand from the pony’s neck, and she rode +buoyantly away. He, turning to breast the road again, saw darkness +gathering over the end of it, and drawing nearer. + +At eleven o’clock next morning Brookes rose from her packing to take +a note addressed to her mistress from the hand of a messenger in the +Imperial red and gold. It ran: + +‘Dear Miss Anderson--I write to tell you that I have obtained three +weeks’ leave, and I am going into the interior to shoot, starting this +afternoon. You spoke yesterday of leaving Simla almost immediately. I +trust you will not do this, as it would be extremely risky to venture +down to the Plains just now. In ten days the rains will have broken, +when it will be safe. Pray wait till then. + +‘Yours sincerely, + +‘Horace Innes.’ + +Involuntarily the letter found its way to Madeline’s lips, and remained +there until she saw the maid observing her with intelligence. + +‘Brookes,’ she said, ‘I am strongly advised not to start until the rains +break. I think, on the whole, that we won’t.’ + +‘Indeed, miss,’ returned Brookes, ‘Mrs. Sergeant Simmons told me that +it was courting cholera to go--and nothing short of it. I must say I’m +thankful.’ + + + +Chapter 3.X. + +A week later Colonel Innes had got his leave, and had left Simla for the +snow-line by what is facetiously known as ‘the carriage road to Tibet.’ +Madeline had done as she was bidden, and was waiting for the rains to +break. Another day had come without them. To write and tell Innes, to +write to tell Violet, to go away and leave the situation as she +found it; she had lived and moved and slept and awakened to these +alternatives. At the moment she slept. + +It was early, very early in the morning. The hills all about seemed +still unaware of it, standing in the greyness, compact, silent, +immutable, as if they slept with their eyes open. Nothing spoke of the +oncoming sun, nothing was yet surprised. The hill world lifted itself +unconscious in a pale solution of daylight, and only on the sky-line, +very far away, it rippled into a cloud. The flimsy town clinging steeply +roof above roof to the slope, mounting to the saddle and slipping over +on the other side, cut the dawn with innumerable little lines and angles +all in one tone like a pencil drawing. + +There was no feeling in it, no expression. It had a temporary air in +that light, like trampled snow, and even the big Secretariat buildings +that raised themselves here and there out of the huddling bazaar looked +trivial, childish enterprises in the simple revelation of the morning. +A cold silence was abroad, which a crow now and then vainly tried to +disturb with a note of tentative enterprise, forced, premature. It +announced that the sun would probably rise, but nothing more. In the +little dark shops of the wood-carvers an occasional indefinite figure +moved, groping among last night’s tools, or an old woman in a red sari +washed a brass dish over the shallow open drain that ran past her door. +At the tonga terminus, below the Mall, a couple of coughing syces, +muffled in their blankets, pulled one of these vehicles out of the +shed. They pushed it about sleepily, with clumsy futility; nothing else +stirred or spoke at all in Simla. Nothing disturbed Miss Anderson asleep +in her hotel. + +A brown figure in a loin-cloth, with a burden, appeared where the road +turned down from the Mall, and then another, and several following. They +were coolies, and they carried luggage. + +The first to arrive beside the tonga bent and loosed the trunk he +brought, which slipped from his back to the ground. The syces looked at +him, saying nothing, and he straightened himself against the wall of the +hillside, also in silence. It was too early for conversation. Thus did +all the others. + +When the last portmanteau had been deposited, a khaki-coloured heap on +the shed floor rose up as a broad-shouldered Punjabi driver, and walked +round the luggage, looking at it. + +‘And you, owls’ brethren,’ he said, with sarcasm, addressing the first +coolie, ‘you have undertaken to carry these matter fifty-eight kos to +Kalka, have you?’ + +‘Na,’ replied the coolie, stolidly, and spat. + +‘How else, then, is it to be taken?’ the driver cried, with anger in +his argument. ‘Behold the memsahib has ordered but one tonga, and a +fool-thing of an ekka. Here is work for six tongas! What reason is there +in this?’ + +The coolie folded his naked arms, and dug in the dust with an +unconcerned toe. + +‘I, what can I do?’ he said, ‘It is the order of the memsahib.’ + +Ram Singh grunted and said no more. A rickshaw was coming down from the +Mall, and the memsahib was in it. + +Ten minutes later the ponies stood in their traces under the iron bar, +and the lady sat in the tonga behind Ram Singh. Her runners, in uniform, +waited beside the empty rickshaw with a puzzled look, at which she +laughed, and threw a rupee to the head man. + +The luggage was piled and corded on three ekkas behind, and their +cross-legged drivers, too, were ready. + +‘Chellao!’ she cried, crisply, and Ram Singh imperturbably lifted the +reins. The little procession clanked and jingled along the hillside, +always tending down, and broke upon the early grey melancholy with a +forced and futile cheerfulness, too early, like everything else. As +it passed the last of Simla’s little gardens, spread like a +pocket-handkerchief on the side of the hill, the lady leaned forward and +looked back as if she wished to impress the place upon her memory. Her +expression was that of a person going forth without demur into the +day’s hazards, ready to cope with them, yet there was some regret in the +backward look. + +‘It’s a place,’ she said aloud, ‘where EVERYBODY has a good time!’ + +Then the Amusement Club went out of sight behind a curve; and she +settled herself more comfortably among her cushions, and drew a wrap +round her to meet the chill wind of the valley. It was all behind +her. The lady looked out as the ponies galloped up to the first +changing-place, and, seeing a saddled horse held by a syce, cramped +herself a little into one corner to make room. The seat would just hold +two. + +Ram Singh salaamed, getting down to harness the fresh pair, and a man +put his face in at the side of the tonga and took off his hat. + +‘Are you all right?’ he said. His smile was as conscious as his words +were casual. + +‘Quite right. The ayah was silly about coming--didn’t want to leave her +babies or something--so I had to leave her behind. Everything else is +either here or in the ekkas.’ + +‘The brute! Never mind--they’re not much use in a railway journey. You +can pick up another at Bombay. Then I suppose I’d better get in.’ + +‘I suppose you better had. Unless you think of walking,’ she laughed, +and he took the place beside her. + +Ram Singh again unquestioningly took up the reins. + +‘Nobody else going down?’ + +‘Not another soul. We might just as well have started together.’ + +‘Oh, well, we couldn’t tell. Beastly awkward if there had been anybody.’ + +‘Yes,’ she said, but thrust up her under lip indifferently. + +Then, with the effect of turning to the business in hand, she bent her +eyes upon him understandingly and smiled in frank reference to something +that had not been mentioned. ‘It’s goodbye Simla, isn’t it?’ she +said. He smiled in response and put his hand upon her firm, round arm, +possessively, and they began to talk. + +Ram Singh, all unaware, kept his horses at their steady clanking +downward gallop, and Simla, clinging to the hilltops, was brushed by the +first rays of the sun. + +It came a gloriously clear morning; early riders round Jakko saw the +real India lying beyond the outer ranges, flat and blue and pictured +with forests and rivers like a map. The plains were pretty and +interesting in this aspect, but nobody found them attractive. Sensitive +people liked it better when the heat mist veiled them and it was +possible to look abroad without a sudden painful thought of contrasting +temperatures. We may suppose that the inhabitants of Paradise sometimes +grieve over their luck. Even Madeline Anderson, whose heart knew no +constriction at the remembrance of brother or husband at some cruel +point in the blue expanse, had come to turn her head more willingly the +other way, towards the hills rolling up to the snows, being a woman who +suffered by proxy, and by observation, and by Rudyard Kipling. + +On this particular morning, however, she had not elected to do either. +She slept late instead, and was glad to sleep. I might as well say at +once that on the night before she had made up her mind, had brought +herself to the point, and had written to Mrs. Innes, at ‘Two Gables’, +all the facts, in so far as she was acquainted with them, connected with +Frederick Prendergast’s death. She was very much ashamed of herself, +poor girl; she was aware that, through her postponement, Horace Innes +would now see his problem in all its bitterness, make his choice with +his eyes wide open. If it had only happened before he knew--anything +about her! + +She charged herself with having deliberately waited, and then spent an +exhausting hour trying to believe that she had drifted unconsciously to +the point of their mutual confession. Whatever the truth was, she did +not hesitate to recognize a new voice in her private counsels from that +hour, urging her in one way or another to bring matters to an end. +It was a strong instinct; looking at the facts, she saw it was the +gambler’s. When she tried to think of the ethical considerations +involved she saw only the chances. The air seemed to throb with them all +night; she had to count them finally to get rid of them. + +Brookes was up betimes, however, and sent off the letter. It went duly, +by Surnoo, to Mrs. Innes at ‘Two Gables’. Madeline woke at seven with a +start, and asked if it had gone, then slept again contentedly. So far +as she was concerned the thing was finished. The breakfast gong had +sounded, and the English mail had arrived before she opened her +eyes again upon the day’s issues; she gave it her somewhat desultory +attention while Brookes did her hair. There was only one scrap of news. +Adele mentioned in a postscript that poor Mr. Prendergast’s money was +likely to go to a distant relative, it having transpired that he died +without leaving a will. + +‘She is sure, absolutely sure,’ Madeline mused, ‘to answer my letter in +person. She will be here within an hour. I shall have this to tell her, +too. How pleased she will be! She will come into it all, I suppose--if +she is allowed. Though she won’t be allowed, that is if--’ But there +speculation began, and Madeline had forbidden herself speculation, if +not once and for all, at least many times and for fifteen minutes. + +No reasonable purpose would be served by Mrs. Innes’s visit, Madeline +reflected, as she sat waiting in the little room opening on the veranda; +but she would come, of course she would come. She would require the +satisfaction of the verbal assurance; she would hope to extract more +details; she would want the objectionable gratification of talking if +over. + +In spite of any assurance, she would believe that Madeline had not told +her before in order to make her miserable a little longer than she +need be; but, after all, her impression about that did not particularly +matter. It couldn’t possibly be a pleasant interview, yet Madeline found +herself impatient for it. + +‘Surnoo,’ she said of her messenger, ‘must be idling on his way back +in the bazaar. I must try to remember to fine him two pice. Surnoo is +incorrigible.’ + +She forgot, however, to fine Surnoo. The pad of his bare feet sounded +along the veranda almost immediately, and the look in his Pahari eyes +was that of expected reproach, and ability to defend himself against it. + +He held out two letters at arm’s-length, for as he was expected to bring +only one there was a fault in this; and all his domestic traditions told +him that he might be chastened. One was addressed to Madeline in Mrs. +Innes’s handwriting; the other, she saw with astonishment, was her own +communication to that lady, her own letter returned. Surnoo explained +volubly all the way along the veranda, and in the flood of his unknown +tongue Madeline caught a sentence or two. + +‘The memsahib was not,’ said Surnoo. Clearly he could not deliver a +letter to a memsahib who was not. ‘Therefore,’ Surnoo continued, ‘I have +brought back your honour’s letter, and the other I had from the hand of +the memsahib’s runner, the runner with one eye, who was on the road to +bring it here. More I do not know, but it appears that the memsahib has +gone to her father and mother in Belaat, being very sorrowful because +the Colonel-sahib has left her to shoot.’ + +‘The letter will tell me,’ said Madeline to herself, fingering it. +‘Enough, Surnoo.’ + +The man went away, and Madeline closed and locked the door of her +sitting-room. The letter would tell her--what? She glanced about her +with dissatisfaction, and sought the greater privacy of her bedroom, +where also she locked the door and drew the muslin curtain across the +window. She laid the letter on the dressing-table and kept her eyes upon +it while she unfastened, with trembling hands, the brooch at her neck +and the belt at her waist. She did one or two other meaningless things, +as if she wanted to gain time, to fortify her nerves even against an +exhibition before herself. + +Then she sat down with her back towards the light and opened the letter. +It had a pink look and a scented air. Even in her beating suspense +Madeline held it a little farther away from her, as she unfolded it, and +it ran: + +‘Dear Miss Anderson--What will you say, I wonder, and what will Simla +say, when you know that Captain Drake and I have determined to DISREGARD +CONVENTIONALITIES, and live henceforward only for one another! I am all +packed up, and long before this meets your eye we shall have taken +the step which society condemns, but which I have a feeling that +you, knowing my storm-tossed history, will be broad-minded enough +to sympathize with, at least to some extent. That is the reason I am +writing to you rather than to any of my own chums, and also of course to +have the satisfaction of telling you that I no longer care what you do +about letting out the secret of my marriage to Frederick Prendergast. I +am now ABOVE AND BEYOND IT. Any way you look at it, I do not see that I +am much to blame. As I never have been Colonel Innes’s wife there can +be no harm in leaving him, though if he had ever been sympathetic, or +understood me the LEAST LITTLE BIT, I might have felt bound to him. But +he has never been able to evoke the finer parts of my nature, and when +this is the case marriage is a mere miserable fleshly failure. You +may say, “Why try it a third time?”--but my union with Val will be +different. I have never been fond of the opposite sex--so far as that +goes I should have made a very good nun--but for a long time Valentine +Drake has been the only man I cared to have come within a mile of me, +and lately we have discovered that we are absolutely necessary to each +other’s existence on the higher plane. I don’t care much what +Simla thinks, but if you happen to be talking about it to dear Lady +Bloomfield, you might just mention this. Val has eight hundred a year of +his own, so it is perfectly practicable. Of course, he will send in his +papers. WHATEVER HAPPENS, Val and I will never bind ourselves in any +way. We both think it wrong and enslaving. I have nothing more to add, +except that I am depending on you to explain to Simla that I never was +Mrs. Innes. + +‘Yours sincerely, + +‘Violet Prendergast. + +‘P.S.--I have written to Horace, telling him everything about +everything, and sent my letter off to him in the wilds by a runner. If +you see him you might try and smooth him down. I don’t want him coming +after Val with a revolver.’ + +Madeline read this communication through twice. Then quietly and +deliberately she lay down upon the bed, and drew herself out of the +control of her heart by the hard labour of thought. When she rose, she +had decided that there were only two things for her to do, and she +began at once to do them, continuing her refuge in action. She threw her +little rooms open again, and walked methodically round the outer one, +collecting the odds and ends of Indian fabrics with which she had +garnished it. + +As the maid came in, she looked up from folding them. + +‘I have news, Brookes,’ she said, ‘that necessitates my going home at +once. No, it is not bad news, but--important. I will go now and see +about the tonga. We must start tomorrow morning.’ + +Brookes called Surnoo, and the rickshaw came round. + +Madeline looked at her watch. + +‘The telegraph office,’ she said; ‘and as quickly as may be.’ + +As the runners panted over the Mall, up and down and on, Madeline said +to herself, ‘She shall have her chance. She shall choose.’ + +The four reeking Paharis pulled up at the telegraph office, and Madeline +sped up the steps. There was a table, with forms printed ‘Indian +Telegraphs,’ and the usual bottle of thickened ink and pair of rusty +pens. She sat down to her intention as if she dared not let it cool; she +wrote her message swiftly, she had worded it on the way. + +‘To Mrs. Innes, Dak Bungalow, Solon. + +‘From M. Anderson, Simla. + +‘Frederick Prendergast died on January 7th, at Sing Sing. Your letter +considered confidential if you return. Prendergast left no will. + +‘M. Anderson.’ + +‘Send this “urgent,” Babu,’ she said to the clerk, ‘and repeat it to the +railway station, Kalka. Shall I fill up another form? No? Very well.’ + +At the door she turned and came back. + +‘It is now eleven o’clock,’ she said. ‘The person I am telegraphing to +is on her way down to get tonight’s train at Kalka. I am hoping to catch +her half-way at Solon. Do you think I can?’ + +‘I think so, madam. Oyess! It is the custom to stop at Solon for tiffin. +The telegram can arrive there. All urgent telegram going very quick.’ + +‘And in any case,’ said Madeline, ‘it can not fail to reach her at +Kalka?’ + +‘Not possible to fail, madam.’ + +‘She will have her chance,’ she said to herself, on her way to the post +office to order her tonga. And with a little nauseated shudder at the +thought of the letter in her pocket, she added, ‘It is amazing. I +should have thought her too good a woman of business!’ After which she +concentrated her whole attention upon the necessities of departure. Her +single immediate apprehension was that Horace Innes might, by some magic +of circumstances, be transported back into Simla before she could get +out of it. That such a contingency was physically impossible made no +difference to her nerves, and to the last Brookes was the hurrying +victim of unnecessary promptings. + +The little rambling hotel of Kalka, where the railway spreads out over +the plains, raises its white-washed shelter under the very walls of the +Himalayas. Madeline, just arrived, lay back in a long wicker chair on +the veranda, and looked up at them as they mounted green and grey and +silent under the beating of the first of the rains. Everywhere was a +luxury of silence, the place was steeped in it, drowned in it. A feeding +cow flicked an automatic tail under a tree. Near the low mud wall that +strolled irresolutely between the house and the hills leaned a bush +with a few single pink roses; their petals were floating down under +the battering drops. A draggled bee tried to climb to a dry place on a +pillar of the veranda. Above all, the hills, immediate, towering, all +grey and green, solidly ideal, with phantasies of mist. Everything +drippingly soft and silent. Suddenly the venetian blind that hung before +the door of a bedroom farther on swayed out before a hand variously +ringed to emit a lady in a pink lawn dress with apt embroideries. +Madeline’s half-closed eyes opened very wide, and for an instant she and +the lady, to whom I must once more refer as Mrs. Innes, confronted each +other. Then Mrs. Innes’s countenance expanded, and she took three or +four light steps forward. + +‘Oh, you dear thing!’ she exclaimed. ‘I thought you were in Simla! +Imagine you being here! Do you know you have SAVED me!’ + +Madeline regarded her in silence, while a pallor spread over her face +and lips, and her features grew sharp with a presage of pain. + +‘Have I?’ she stammered. She could not think. + +‘Indeed you have. I don’t know how to be grateful enough to you. Your +telegram of yesterday reached me at Solon. We had just sat down to +tiffin. Nothing will ever shake my faith in providence again! My dear, +THINK of it--after all I’ve been through, my darling Val--and one +hundred thousand pounds!’ + +‘Well?’ + +‘Well--I stayed behind there last night, and Val came on here and made +the necessary arrangement, and--’ + +‘Yes?’ + +‘And we were married this morning. Good heavens! What’s the matter with +you! Here--oh, Brookes! Water, salts--anything!’ + +Brookes, I know, would think that I should dwell at greater length upon +Miss Anderson’s attack of faintness in Kalka, and the various measures +which were resorted to for her succour, but perhaps the feelings and +expedients of any really capable lady’s-maid under the circumstances may +be taken for granted. I feel more seriously called upon to explain that +Colonel Horace Innes, shortly after these last events, took two years’ +furlough to England, during which he made a very interesting tour in +the United States with the lady with now bears his name by inalienable +right. Captain and Mrs. Valentine Drake are getting the most that is to +be had out of Frederick Prendergast’s fortune with courage in London and +the European capitals, where Mrs. Drake is sometimes mentioned as a +lady with a romantic past. They have not returned to Simla, where the +situation has never been properly understood. People always supposed +that Mrs. Drake ran away that June morning with her present husband, who +must have been tremendously fond of her to have married her ‘after the +divorce.’ She is also occasionally mentioned in undertones as ‘the +first Mrs. Innes.’ All of which we know to be quite erroneous, like most +scandal. + +Mrs. Mickie and Mrs. Gammidge, in retirement, are superintending the +education of their children in Bedford, where it is cheap and practical. +They converse when they meet about the iniquitous prices of dressmakers +and the degeneracy of the kind of cook obtainable in England at +eighteen pounds a year. Mrs. Gammidge has grown rather portly and +very ritualistic. They seldom speak of Simla, and when they do, if too +reminiscent a spark appears in Mrs. Mickie’s eye, Mrs. Gammidge changes +the subject. Kitty Vesey still fills her dance cards at Viceregal +functions, though people do not quote her as they used to, and +subalterns imagine themselves vastly witty about her colour, which is +unimpaired. People often commend her, however, for her good nature to +debutantes, and it is admitted that she may still ride with credit in +‘affinity stakes’--and occasionally win them. + + + + +4. The Pool in the Desert. + +I knew Anna Chichele and Judy Harbottle so well, and they figured so +vividly at one time against the rather empty landscape of life in a +frontier station, that my affection for one of them used to seem little +more, or less, than a variant upon my affection for the other. That +recollection, however, bears examination badly; Judy was much the better +sort, and it is Judy’s part in it that draws me into telling the story. +Conveying Judy is what I tremble at: her part was simple. Looking +back--and not so very far--her part has the relief of high comedy with +the proximity of tears; but looking closely, I find that it is mostly +Judy, and what she did is entirely second, in my untarnished picture, to +what she was. Still I do not think I can dissuade myself from putting it +down. + +They would, of course, inevitably have found each other sooner or later, +Mrs. Harbottle and Mrs. Chichele, but it was I who actually introduced +them; my palmy veranda in Rawul Pindi; where the teacups used to +assemble, was the scene of it. I presided behind my samovar over +the early formalities that were almost at once to drop from their +friendship, like the sheath of some bursting flower. I deliberately +brought them together, so the birth was not accidental, and my interest +in it quite legitimately maternal. We always had tea in the veranda in +Rawul Pindi, the drawing-room was painted blue, blue for thirty feet up +to the whitewashed cotton ceiling; nothing of any value in the way of a +human relation, I am sure, could have originated there. The veranda +was spacious and open, their mutual observation had room and freedom; +I watched it to and fro. I had not long to wait for my reward; the +beautiful candour I expected between them was not ten minutes in coming. +For the sake of it I had taken some trouble, but when I perceived it +revealing I went and sat down beside Judy’s husband, Robert Harbottle, +and talked about Pharaoh’s split hoof. It was only fair; and when next +day I got their impressions of one another, I felt single-minded and +deserving. + +I knew it would be a satisfactory sort of thing to do, but perhaps it +was rather more for Judy’s sake than for Anna’s that I did it. Mrs. +Harbottle was only twenty-seven then and Robert a major, but he had +brought her to India out of an episode too colour-flushed to tone with +English hedges; their marriage had come, in short, of his divorce, and +as too natural a consequence. In India it is well known that the eye +becomes accustomed to primitive pigments and high lights; the aesthetic +consideration, if nothing else, demanded Robert’s exchange. He was lucky +to get a Piffer regiment, and the Twelfth were lucky to get him; we were +all lucky, I thought, to get Judy. It was an opinion, of course, a good +deal challenged, even in Rawul Pindi, where it was thought, especially +in the beginning, that acquiescence was the most the Harbottles could +hope for. That is not enough in India; cordiality is the common right. +I could not have Judy preserving her atmosphere at our tea-parties and +gymkhanas. Not that there were two minds among us about ‘the case’; it +was a preposterous case, sentimentally undignified, from some points of +view deplorable. I chose to reserve my point of view, from which I saw +it, on Judy’s behalf, merely quixotic, preferring on Robert’s just to +close my eyes. There is no doubt that his first wife was odious to a +degree which it is simply pleasanter not to recount, but her malignity +must almost have amounted to a sense of humour. Her detestation of her +cousin Judy Thynne dated much further back than Robert’s attachment. +That began in Paris, where Judy, a young widow, was developing a real +vein at Julian’s. I am entirely convinced that there was nothing, as +people say, ‘in it,’ Judy had not a thought at that time that was not +based on Chinese white and permeated with good-fellowship; but there was +a good deal of it, and no doubt the turgid imagination of the first +Mrs. Harbottle dealt with it honestly enough. At all events, she saw +her opportunity, and the depths of her indifference to Robert bubbled +up venomously into the suit. That it was undefended was the senseless +mystery; decency ordained that he and Judy should have made a fight, +even in the hope that it would be a losing one. The reason it had to +be a losing one--the reason so immensely criticized--was that the +petitioning lady obstinately refused to bring her action against any +other set of circumstances than those to which, I have no doubt, Judy +contributed every indiscretion. It is hard to imagine Robert Harbottle +refusing her any sort of justification that the law demands short of +beating her, but her malice would accept nothing of which the account +did not go for final settlement to Judy Thynne. If her husband wanted +his liberty, he should have it, she declared, at that price and no +other. Major Harbottle did indeed deeply long for his liberty, and his +interesting friend, Mrs. Thynne, had, one can only say, the most vivid +commiseration for his bondage. Whatever chance they had of winning, to +win would be, for the end they had at heart, to lose, so they simply +abstained, as it were, from comment upon the detestable procedure which +terminated in the rule absolute. I have often wondered whether the whole +business would not have been more defensible if there had been on Judy’s +part any emotional spring for the leap they made. I offer my conviction +that there was none, that she was only extravagantly affected by the +ideals of the Quarter--it is a transporting atmosphere--and held a view +of comradeship which permitted the reversal of the modern situation +filled by a blameless correspondent. Robert, of course, was tremendously +in love with her; but my theory is that she married him as the logical +outcome of her sacrifice and by no means the smallest part of it. + +It was all quite unimaginable, as so many things are, but the upshot of +it brought Judy to Rawul Pindi, as I have said, where I for one thought +her mistake insignificant compared with her value. It would have +been great, her value, anywhere; in the middle of the Punjab it was +incalculable. To explain why would be to explain British India, but +I hope it will appear; and I am quite willing, remember, to take the +responsibility if it does not. + +Somers Chichele, Anna’s son, it is absurd to think, must have been about +fifteen then, reflecting at Winchester with the other ‘men’ upon the +comparative merits of tinned sardines and jam roll, and whether a packet +of real Egyptians was not worth the sacrifice of either. His father was +colonel of the Twelfth; his mother was still charming. It was the year +before Dick Forsyth came down from the neighbourhood of Sheikhbudin with +a brevet and a good deal of personal damage. I mention him because he +proved Anna’s charm in the only conclusive way before the eyes of us +all; and the station, I remember, was edified to observe that if Mrs. +Chichele came out of the matter ‘straight’--one relapses so easily into +the simple definitions of those parts--which she undoubtedly did, she +owed it in no small degree to Judy Harbottle. This one feels to be +hardly a legitimate reference, but it is something tangible to lay hold +upon in trying to describe the web of volitions which began to weave +itself between the two that afternoon on my veranda and which afterward +became so strong a bond. I was delighted with the thing; its simplicity +and sincerity stood out among our conventional little compromises at +friendship like an ideal. She and Judy had the assurance of one another; +they made upon one another the finest and often the most unconscionable +demands. One met them walking at odd hours in queer places, of which I +imagine they were not much aware. They would turn deliberately off the +Maidan and away from the bandstand to be rid of our irrelevant bows; +they did their duty by the rest of us, but the most egregious among us, +the Deputy-Commissioner for selection, could see that he hardly counted. +I thought I understood, but that may have been my fatuity; certainly +when their husbands inquired what on earth they had been talking of, it +usually transpired that they had found an infinite amount to say about +nothing. It was a little worrying to hear Colonel Chichele and Major +Harbottle describe their wives as ‘pals,’ but the fact could not be +denied, and after all we were in the Punjab. They were pals too, but the +terms were different. + +People discussed it according to their lights, and girls said in pretty +wonderment that Mrs. Harbottle and Mrs. Chichele were like men, they +never kissed each other. I think Judy prescribed these conditions. Anna +was far more a person who did as the world told her. But it was a poor +negation to describe all that they never did; there was no common little +convention of attachment that did not seem to be tacitly omitted between +them. I hope one did not too cynically observe that they offered these +to their husbands instead; the redeeming observation was their husbands’ +complete satisfaction. This they maintained to the end. In the +natural order of things Robert Harbottle should have paid heavily for +interfering as he did in Paris between a woman and what she was entitled +to live for. As a matter of fact he never paid anything at all; I doubt +whether he ever knew himself a debtor. Judy kept her temperament under +like a current and swam with the tides of the surface, taking refreshing +dips only now and then which one traced in her eyes and her hair when +she and Robert came back from leave. That sort of thing is lost in the +sands of India, but it makes an oasis as it travels, and it sometimes +seemed to me a curious pity that she and Anna should sit in the shade of +it together, while Robert and Peter Chichele, their titular companions, +blundered on in the desert. But after all, if you are born blind--and +the men were both immensely liked, and the shooting was good. + +Ten years later Somers joined. The Twelfth were at Peshawur. Robert +Harbottle was Lieutenant-Colonel by that time and had the regiment. +Distinction had incrusted, in the Indian way, upon Peter Chichele, its +former colonel; he was General Commanding the District and K.C.B. So +we were all still together in Peshawur. It was great luck for the +Chicheles, Sir Peter’s having the district, though his father’s old +regiment would have made it pleasant enough for the boy in any case. He +came to us, I mean, of course, to two or three of us, with the interest +that hangs about a victim of circumstances; we understood that he +wasn’t a ‘born soldier.’ Anna had told me on the contrary that he was +a sacrifice to family tradition made inevitable by the General’s +unfortunate investments. Bellona’s bridegroom was not a role he fancied, +though he would make a kind of compromise as best man; he would agree, +she said, to be a war correspondent and write picturesque specials +for the London halfpenny press. There was the humour of the poor boy’s +despair in it, but she conveyed it, I remember, in exactly the same tone +with which she had said to me years before that he wanted to drive a +milk-cart. She carried quite her half of the family tradition, though +she could talk of sacrifice and make her eyes wistful, contemplating +for Somers the limitations of the drill-book and the camp of exercise, +proclaiming and insisting upon what she would have done if she could +only have chosen for him. Anna Chichele saw things that way. With more +than a passable sense of all that was involved, if she could have made +her son an artist in life or a commander-in-chief, if she could have +given him the seeing eye or Order of the Star of India, she would not +have hesitated for an instant. Judy, with her single mind, cried out, +almost at sight of him, upon them both, I mean both Anna and Sir Peter. +Not that the boy carried his condemnation badly, or even obviously; I +venture that no one noticed it in the mess; but it was naturally plain +to those of us who were under the same. He had put in his two years with +a British regiment at Meerut--they nurse subalterns that way for the +Indian army--and his eyes no longer played with the tinsel vision +of India; they looked instead into the arid stretch beyond. This +preoccupation conveyed to the Surgeon-Major’s wife the suggestion that +Mr. Chichele was the victim of a hopeless attachment. Mrs. Harbottle +made no such mistake; she saw simply, I imagine, the beginnings of +her own hunger and thirst in him, looking back as she told us across a +decade of dusty sunsets to remember them. The decade was there, close to +the memory of all of us; we put, from Judy herself downward, an absurd +amount of confidence in it. + +She looked so well the night she met him. It was English mail day; +she depended a great deal upon her letters, and I suppose somebody had +written her a word that brought her that happy, still excitement that +is the inner mystery of words. He went straight to her with some speech +about his mother having given him leave, and for twenty minutes she +patronized him on a sofa as his mother would not have dreamed of doing. + +Anna Chichele, from the other side of the room, smiled on the pair. + +‘I depend on you and Judy to be good to him while we are away,’ she +said. She and Sir Peter were going on leave at the end of the week to +Scotland, as usual, for the shooting. + +Following her glance I felt incapable of the proportion she assigned me. +‘I will see after his socks with pleasure,’ I said. ‘I think, don’t you, +we may leave the rest to Judy?’ + +Her eyes remained upon the boy, and I saw the passion rise in them, +at which I turned mine elsewhere. Who can look unperturbed upon such a +privacy of nature as that? + +‘Poor old Judy!’ she went on. ‘She never would be bothered with him +in all his dear hobble-dehoy time; she resented his claims, the +unreasonable creature, used to limit me to three anecdotes a week; +and now she has him on her hands, if you like. See the pretty air +of deference in the way he listens to her! He has nice manners, the +villain, if he is a Chichele!’ + +‘Oh, you have improved Sir Peter’s,’ I said kindly. + +‘I do hope Judy will think him worth while. I can’t quite expect that he +will be up to her, bless him, she is so much cleverer, isn’t she, than +any of us? But if she will just be herself with him it will make such a +difference.’ + +The other two crossed the room to us at that, and Judy gaily made Somers +over to his mother, trailing off to find Robert in the billiard-room. + +‘Well, what has Mrs. Harbottle been telling you?’ Anna asked him. + +The young man’s eye followed Judy, his hand went musingly to his +moustache. + +‘She was telling me,’ he said, ‘that people in India were sepulchers of +themselves, but that now and then one came who could roll away another’s +stone.’ + +‘It sounds promising,’ said Lady Chichele to me. + +‘It sounds cryptic,’ I laughed to Somers, but I saw that he had the key. + +I can not say that I attended diligently to Mr. Chichele’s socks, but +the part corresponding was freely assigned me. After his people went I +saw him often. He pretended to find qualities in my tea, implied that he +found them in my talk. As a matter of fact it was my inquiring attitude +that he loved, the knowledge that there was no detail that he could give +me about himself, his impressions and experiences, that was unlikely to +interest me. I would not for the world imply that he was egotistical or +complacent, absolutely the reverse, but he possessed an articulate soul +which found its happiness in expression, and I liked to listen. I feel +that these are complicated words to explain a very simple relation, +and I pause to wonder what is left to me if I wished to describe his +commerce with Mrs. Harbottle. Luckily there is an alternative; one +needn’t do it. I wish I had somewhere on paper Judy’s own account of it +at this period, however. It is a thing she would have enjoyed writing +and more enjoyed communicating, at this period. + +There was a grave reticence in his talk about her which amused me in the +beginning. Mrs. Harbottle had been for ten years important enough to us +all, but her serious significance, the light and the beauty in her, +had plainly been reserved for the discovery of this sensitive and +intelligent person not very long from Sandhurst and exactly twenty-six. +I was barely allowed a familiar reference, and anything approaching a +flippancy was met with penetrating silence. I was almost rebuked for +lightly suggesting that she must occasionally find herself bored in +Peshawur. + +‘I think not anywhere,’ said Mr. Chichele; ‘Mrs. Harbottle is one of the +few people who sound the privilege of living.’ + +This to me, who had counted Mrs. Harbottle’s yawns on so many occasions! +It became presently necessary to be careful, tactful, in one’s +implications about Mrs. Harbottle, and to recognize a certain +distinction in the fact that one was the only person with whom Mr. +Chichele discussed her at all. + +The day came when we talked of Robert; it was bound to come in the +progress of any understanding and affectionate colloquy which had his +wife for inspiration. I was familiar, of course, with Somers’s opinion +that the Colonel was an awfully good sort; that had been among the +preliminaries and become understood as the base of all references. And I +liked Robert Harbottle very well myself. When his adjutant called him a +born leader of men, however, I felt compelled to look at the statement +consideringly. + +‘In a tight place,’ I said--dear me, what expressions had the freedom of +our little frontier drawing-rooms!--‘I would as soon depend on him as on +anybody. But as for leadership--’ + +‘He is such a good fellow that nobody here does justice to his soldierly +qualities,’ said Mr. Chichele, ‘except Mrs. Harbottle.’ + +‘Has she been telling you about them?’ I inquired. + +‘Well,’ he hesitated, ‘she told me about the Mulla Nulla affair. She is +rather proud of that. Any woman would be.’ + +‘Poor dear Judy!’ I mused. + +Somers said nothing, but looked at me, removing his cigarette, as if my +words would be the better of explanation. + +‘She has taken refuge in them--in Bob Harbottle’s soldierly +qualities--ever since she married him,’ I continued. + +‘Taken refuge,’ he repeated, coldly, but at my uncompromising glance his +eyes fell. + +‘Well?’ I said. + +‘You mean--’ + +‘Oh, I mean what I say,’ I laughed. ‘Your cigarette has gone out--have +another.’ + +‘I think her devotion to him splendid.’ + +‘Quite splendid. Have you seen the things he brought her from the Simla +Art Exhibition? He said they were nice bits of colour, and she has hung +them in the drawing-room, where she will have to look at them every day. +Let us admire her--dear Judy.’ + +‘Oh,’ he said, with a fine air of detachment, ‘do you think they are so +necessary, those agreements?’ + +‘Well,’ I replied, ‘we see that they are not indispensable. More sugar? +I have only given you one lump. And we know, at all events,’ I added, +unguardedly, ‘that she could never have had an illusion about him.’ + +The young man looked up quickly. ‘Is that story true?’ he asked. + +‘There was a story, but most of us have forgotten it. Who told you?’ + +‘The doctor.’ + +‘The Surgeon-Major,’ I said, ‘has an accurate memory and a sense of +proportion. As I suppose you were bound to get it from somebody, I am +glad you got it from him.’ + +I was not prepared to go on, and saw with some relief that Somers was +not either. His silence, as he smoked, seemed to me deliberate; and I +had oddly enough at this moment for the first time the impression that +he was a man and not a boy. Then the Harbottles themselves joined us, +very cheery after a gallop from the Wazir-Bagh. We talked of old times, +old friendships, good swords that were broken, names that had carried +far, and Somers effaced himself in the perfect manner of the British +subaltern. It was a long, pleasant gossip, and I thought Judy seemed +rather glad to let her husband dictate its level, which, of course, he +did. I noticed when the three rode away together that the Colonel was +beginning to sit down rather solidly on his big New Zealander; and I +watched the dusk come over from the foothills for a long time thinking +more kindly than I had spoken of Robert Harbottle. + +I have often wondered how far happiness is contributed to a temperament +like Judy Harbottle’s, and how far it creates its own; but I doubt +whether, on either count, she found as much in any other winter of her +life except perhaps the remote ones by the Seine. Those ardent hours +of hers, when everything she said was touched with the flame of her +individuality, came oftener; she suddenly cleaned up her palate and +began to translate in one study after another the language of the +frontier country, that spoke only in stones and in shadows under the +stones and in sunlight over them. There is nothing in the Academy of +this year, at all events, that I would exchange for the one she gave me. +She lived her physical life at a pace which carried us all along +with her; she hunted and drove and danced and dined with such sincere +intention as convinced us all that in hunting and driving and dancing +and dining there were satisfactions that had been somehow overlooked. +The Surgeon-Major’s wife said it was delightful to meet Mrs. Harbottle, +she seemed to enjoy everything so thoroughly; the Surgeon-Major looked +at her critically and asked her if she were quite sure she hadn’t a +night temperature. He was a Scotchman. One night Colonel Harbottle, +hearing her give away the last extra, charged her with renewing her +youth. + +‘No, Bob,’ she said, ‘only imitating it.’ + +Ah, that question of her youth. It was so near her--still, she told +me once, she heard the beat of its flying, and the pulse in her veins +answered the false signal. That was afterward, when she told the truth. +She was not so happy when she indulged herself otherwise. As when she +asked one to remember that she was a middle-aged woman, with middle-aged +thoughts and satisfactions. + +‘I am now really happiest,’ she declared, ‘when the Commissioner takes +me in to dinner, when the General Commanding leads me to the dance.’ + +She did her best to make it an honest conviction. I offered her a recent +success not crowned by the Academy, and she put it down on the table. +‘By and by,’ she said. ‘At present I am reading Pascal and Bossuet.’ +Well, she was reading Pascal and Bossuet. She grieved aloud that most +of our activities in India were so indomitably youthful, owing to the +accident that most of us were always so young. ‘There is no dignified +distraction in this country,’ she complained, ‘for respectable ladies +nearing forty.’ She seemed to like to make these declarations in the +presence of Somers Chichele, who would look at her with a little queer +smile--a bad translation, I imagine, of what he felt. + +She gave herself so generously to her seniors that somebody said Mrs. +Harbottle’s girdle was hung with brass hats. It seems flippant to add +that her complexion was as honest as the day, but the fact is that the +year before Judy had felt compelled, like the rest of us, to repair just +a little the ravages of the climate. If she had never done it one would +not have looked twice at the absurdity when she said of the powder-puff +in the dressing-room, ‘I have raised that thing to the level of an +immorality,’ and sailed in to dance with an uncompromising expression +and a face uncompromised. I have not spoken of her beauty; for one +thing it was not always there, and there were people who would deny +it altogether, or whose considered comment was, ‘I wouldn’t call +her plain.’ They, of course, were people in whom she declined to be +interested, but even for those of us who could evoke some demonstration +of her vivid self her face would not always light in correspondence. +When it did there was none that I liked better to look at; and I envied +Somers Chichele his way to make it the pale, shining thing that would +hold him lifted, in return, for hours together, with I know not what +mystic power of a moon upon the tide. And he? Oh, he was dark and +delicate, by nature simple, sincere, delightfully intelligent. His +common title to charm was the rather sweet seriousness that rested on +his upper lip, and a certain winning gratification in his attention; +but he had a subtler one in his eyes, which must be always seeking and +smiling over what they found; those eyes of perpetual inquiry for the +exquisite which ask so little help to create it. A personality to button +up in a uniform, good heavens! + +As I begin to think of them together I remember how the maternal note +appeared in her talk about him. + +‘His youth is pathetic,’ she told me, ‘but there is nothing that he does +not understand.’ + +‘Don’t apologize, Judy,’ I said. We were so brusque on the frontier. +Besides, the matter still suffered a jocular presentment. Mrs. Harbottle +and Mr. Chichele were still ‘great friends’; we could still put them +next each other at our dinner-parties without the feeling that it would +be ‘marked.’ There was still nothing unusual in the fact that when Mrs. +Harbottle was there Mr. Chichele might be taken for granted. We were so +broad-minded also, on the frontier. + +It grew more obvious, the maternal note. I began positively to dread it, +almost as much, I imagine, as Somers did. She took her privileges all in +Anna’s name, she exercised her authority quite as Lady Chichele’s proxy. +She went to the very limit. ‘Anna Chichele,’ she said actually in his +presence, ‘is a fortunate woman. She has all kinds of cleverness, and +she has her tall son. I have only one little talent, and I have no tall +son.’ Now it was not in nature that she could have had a son as tall as +Somers, nor was that desire in her eyes. All civilization implies a good +deal of farce, but this was a poor refuge, a cheap device; I was glad +when it fell away from her sincerity, when the day came on which she +looked into my fire and said simply, ‘An attachment like ours has no +terms.’ + +‘I wonder,’ I said. + +‘For what comes and goes,’ she went on dreamily, ‘how could there be a +formula?’ + +‘Look here, Judy,’ I said, ‘you know me very well. What if the flesh +leaps with the spirit?’ + +She looked at me, very white. ‘Oh no,’ she said, ‘no.’ + +I waited, but there seemed nothing more that she could say; and in the +silence the futile negative seemed to wander round the room repeating +itself like an echo, ‘Oh no, no.’ I poked the fire presently to drown +the sound of it. Judy sat still, with her feet crossed and her hands +thrust into the pockets of her coat, staring into the coals. + +‘Can you live independently, satisfied with your interests and +occupations?’ she demanded at last. ‘Yes, I know you can. I can’t. I +must exist more than half in other people. It is what they think and +feel that matters to me, just as much as what I think and feel. The best +of life is in that communication.’ + +‘It has always been a passion with you, Judy,’ I replied. ‘I can imagine +how much you must miss--’ + +‘Whom?’ + +‘Anna Chichele,’ I said softly. + +She got up and walked about the room, fixing here and there an intent +regard upon things which she did not see. ‘Oh, I do,’ she said at one +point, with the effect of pulling herself together. She took another +turn or two, and then finding herself near the door she went out. I felt +as profoundly humiliated for her as if she had staggered. + +The next night was one of those that stand out so vividly, for no +reason that one can identify, in one’s memory. We were dining with the +Harbottles, a small party, for a tourist they had with them. Judy and I +and Somers and the traveller had drifted out into the veranda, where the +scent of Japanese lilies came and went on the spring wind to trouble the +souls of any taken unawares. There was a brightness beyond the foothills +where the moon was coming, and I remember how one tall clump swayed +out against it, and seemed in passionate perfume to lay a burden on the +breast. Judy moved away from it and sat clasping her knees on the edge +of the veranda. Somers, when his eyes were not upon her, looked always +at the lily. + +Even the spirit of the globe-trotter was stirred, and he said, ‘I think +you Anglo-Indians live in a kind of little paradise.’ + +There was an instant’s silence, and then Judy turned her face into the +lamplight from the drawing-room. ‘With everything but the essentials,’ +she said. + +We stayed late; Mr. Chichele and ourselves were the last to go. +Judy walked with us along the moonlit drive to the gate, which is so +unnecessary a luxury in India that the servants always leave it open. +She swung the stiff halves together. + +‘Now,’ she said, ‘it is shut.’ + +‘And I,’ said Somers Chichele, softly and quickly, ‘am on the other +side.’ + +Even over that depth she could flash him a smile. ‘It is the business of +my life,’ she gave him in return, ‘to keep this gate shut.’ I felt as +if they had forgotten us. Somers mounted and rode off without a word. We +were walking in a different direction. Looking back, I saw Judy leaning +immovable on the gate, while Somers turned in his saddle, apparently +to repeat the form of lifting his hat. And all about them stretched +the stones of Kabul valley, vague and formless in the tide of the +moonlight... + +Next day a note from Mrs. Harbottle informed me that she had gone to +Bombay for a fortnight. In a postscript she wrote, ‘I shall wait for the +Chicheles there, and come back with them.’ I remember reflecting that +if she could not induce herself to take a passage to England in the ship +that brought them, it seemed the right thing to do. + +She did come back with them. I met the party at the station. I knew +Somers would meet them, and it seemed to me, so imminent did disaster +loom, that someone else should be there, someone to offer a covering +movement or a flank support wherever it might be most needed. And among +all our smiling faces disaster did come, or the cold premonition of it. +We were all perfect, but Somers’s lip trembled. Deprived for a fortnight +he was eager for the draft, and he was only twenty-six. His lip +trembled, and there, under the flickering station-lamps, suddenly stood +that of which there never could be again any denial, for those of us who +saw. + +Did we make, I wonder, even a pretense of disguising the consternation +that sprang up among us, like an armed thing, ready to kill any further +suggestion of the truth? I don’t know. Anna Chichele’s unfinished +sentence dropped as if someone had given her a blow upon the mouth. +Coolies were piling the luggage into a hired carriage at the edge of the +platform. She walked mechanically after them, and would have stepped in +with it but for the sight of her own gleaming landau drawn up within a +yard or two, and the General waiting. We all got home somehow, taking it +with us, and I gave Lady Chichele twenty-four hours to come to me +with her face all one question and her heart all one fear. She came in +twelve. + +‘Have you seen it--long?’ Prepared as I was her directness was +demoralizing. + +‘It isn’t a mortal disease.’ + +‘Oh, for Heaven’s sake--’ + +‘Well, not with certainty, for more than a month.’ + +She made a little spasmodic movement with her hands, then dropped them +pitifully. ‘Couldn’t you do ANYthing?’ + +I looked at her, and she said at once, ‘No, of course you couldn’t.’ + +For a moment or two I took my share of the heavy sense of it, my trivial +share, which yet was an experience sufficiently exciting. ‘I am afraid +it will have to be faced,’ I said. + +‘What will happen?’ Anna cried. ‘Oh, what will happen?’ + +‘Why not the usual thing?’ Lady Chichele looked up quickly as if at a +reminder. ‘The ambiguous attachment of the country,’ I went on, limping +but courageous, ‘half declared, half admitted, that leads vaguely +nowhere, and finally perishes as the man’s life enriches itself--the +thing we have seen so often.’ + +‘Whatever Judy is capable of it won’t be the usual thing. You know +that.’ + +I had to confess in silence that I did. + +‘It flashed at me--the difference in her--in Bombay.’ She pressed her +lips together and then went on unsteadily. ‘In her eyes, her voice. She +was mannered, extravagant, elaborate. With me! All the way up I wondered +and worried. But I never thought--’ She stopped; her voice simply shook +itself into silence. I called a servant. + +‘I am going to give you a good stiff peg,’ I said. I apologize for +the ‘peg,’ but not for the whisky and soda. It is a beverage on the +frontier, of which the vulgarity is lost in the value. While it was +coming I tried to talk of other things, but she would only nod absently +in the pauses. + +‘Last night we dined with him, it was guest night at the mess, and she +was there. I watched her, and she knew it. I don’t know whether she +tried, but anyway, she failed. The covenant between them was written +on her forehead whenever she looked at him, though that was seldom. She +dared not look at him. And the little conversation that they had--you +would have laughed--it was a comedy of stutters. The facile Mrs. +Harbottle!’ + +‘You do well to be angry, naturally,’ I said; ‘but it would be fatal to +let yourself go, Anna.’ + +‘Angry?’ Oh, I am SICK. The misery of it! The terror of it! If it were +anybody but Judy! Can’t you imagine the passion of a temperament like +that in a woman who has all these years been feeding on herself? I tell +you she will take him from my very arms. And he will go--to I dare not +imagine what catastrophe! Who can prevent it? Who can prevent it?’ + +‘There is you,’ I said. + +Lady Chichele laughed hysterically. ‘I think you ought to say, “There +are you.” I--what can I do? Do you realize that it’s JUDY? My friend--my +other self? Do you think we can drag all that out of it? Do you think a +tie like that can be broken by an accident--by a misfortune? With it +all I ADORE Judy Harbottle. I love her, as I have always loved her, +and--it’s damnable, but I don’t know whether, whatever happened, I +wouldn’t go on loving her.’ + +‘Finish your peg,’ I said. She was sobbing. + +‘Where I blame myself most,’ she went on, ‘is for not seeing in him +all that makes him mature to her--that makes her forget the absurd +difference between them, and take him simply and sincerely as I know she +does, as the contemporary of her soul if not of her body. I saw none of +that. Could I, as his mother? Would he show it to me? I thought him just +a charming boy, clever, too, of course, with nice instincts and well +plucked; we were always proud of that, with his delicate physique. Just +a boy! I haven’t yet stopped thinking how different he looks without his +curls. And I thought she would be just kind and gracious and delightful +to him because he was my son.’ + +‘There, of course,’ I said, ‘is the only chance.’ + +‘Where--what?’ + +‘He is your son.’ + +‘Would you have me appeal to her? Do you know I don’t think I could?’ + +‘Dear me, no. Your case must present itself. It must spring upon her +and grow before her out of your silence, and if you can manage it, your +confidence. There is a great deal, after all, remember, to hold her in +that. I can’t somehow imagine her failing you. Otherwise--’ + +Lady Chichele and I exchanged a glance of candid admission. + +‘Otherwise she would be capable of sacrificing everything--everything. +Of gathering her life into an hour. I know. And do you know if the thing +were less impossible, less grotesque, I should not be so much afraid? +I mean that the ABSOLUTE indefensibility of it might bring her a +recklessness and a momentum which might--’ + +‘Send her over the verge,’ I said. ‘Well, go home and ask her to +dinner.’ + +There was a good deal more to say, of course, than I have thought proper +to put down here, but before Anna went I saw that she was keyed up to +the heroic part. This was none the less to her credit because it was the +only part, the dictation of a sense of expediency that despaired while +it dictated. The noble thing was her capacity to take it, and, amid +all that warred in her, to carry it out on the brave high lines of her +inspiration. It seemed a literal inspiration, so perfectly calculated +that it was hard not to think sometimes, when one saw them together, +that Anna had been lulled into a simple resumption of the old relation. +Then from the least thing possible--the lift of an eyelid--it flashed +upon one that between these two every moment was dramatic, and one took +up the word with a curious sense of detachment and futility, but with +one’s heart beating like a trip-hammer with the mad excitement of it. +The acute thing was the splendid sincerity of Judy Harbottle’s response. +For days she was profoundly on her guard, then suddenly she seemed to +become practically, vividly aware of what I must go on calling the great +chance, and passionately to fling herself upon it. It was the strangest +cooperation without a word or a sign to show it conscious--a playing +together for stakes that could not be admitted, a thing to hang upon +breathless. It was there between them--the tenable ground of what they +were to each other: they occupied it with almost an equal eye upon +the tide that threatened, while I from my mainland tower also made an +anguished calculation of the chances. I think in spite of the menace, +they found real beatitudes; so keenly did they set about the business +that it brought them moments finer than any they could count in the +years that were behind them, the flat and colourless years that were +gone. Once or twice the wild idea even visited me that it was, after +all, the projection of his mother in Somers that had so seized Judy +Harbottle, and that the original was all that was needed to help the +happy process of detachment. Somers himself at the time was a good deal +away on escort duty: they had a clear field. + +I can not tell exactly when--between Mrs. Harbottle and myself--it +became a matter for reference more or less overt, I mean her defined +problem, the thing that went about between her and the sun. It will be +imagined that it did not come up like the weather; indeed, it was hardly +ever to be envisaged and never to be held; but it was always there, and +out of our joint consciousness it would sometimes leap and pass, without +shape or face. It might slip between two sentences, or it might remain, +a dogging shadow, for an hour. Or a week would go by while, with +a strong hand, she held it out of sight altogether and talked of +Anna--always of Anna. Her eyes shone with the things she told me then: +she seemed to keep herself under the influence of them as if they had +the power of narcotics. At the end of a time like this she turned to me +in the door as she was going and stood silent, as if she could neither +go nor stay. I had been able to make nothing of her that afternoon: she +had seemed preoccupied with the pattern of the carpet which she traced +continually with her riding crop, and finally I, too, had relapsed. She +sat haggard, with the fight forever in her eyes, and the day seemed to +sombre about her in her corner. When she turned in the door, I looked up +with sudden prescience of a crisis. + +‘Don’t jump,’ she said, ‘it was only to tell you that I have persuaded +Robert to apply for furlough. Eighteen months. From the first of April. +Don’t touch me.’ I suppose I made a movement towards her. Certainly +I wanted to throw my arms about her; with the instinct, I suppose, to +steady her in her great resolution. + +‘At the end of that time, as you know, he will be retired. I had some +trouble, he is so keen on the regiment, but I think--I have succeeded. +You might mention it to Anna.’ + +‘Haven’t you?’ sprang past my lips. + +‘I can’t. It would be like taking an oath to tell her, and--I can’t take +an oath to go. But I mean to.’ + +‘There is nothing to be said,’ I brought out, feeling indeed that there +was not. ‘But I congratulate you, Judy.’ + +‘No, there is nothing to be said. And you congratulate me, no doubt!’ + +She stood for a moment quivering in the isolation she made for herself; +and I felt a primitive angry revolt against the delicate trafficking +of souls that could end in such ravage and disaster. The price was too +heavy; I would have denuded her, at the moment, of all that had led +her into this, and turned her out a clod with fine shoulders like fifty +other women in Peshawur. Then, perhaps, because I held myself silent and +remote and she had no emotion of fear from me, she did not immediately +go. + +‘It will beat itself away, I suppose, like the rest of the unreasonable +pain of the world,’ she said at last; and that, of course, brought me to +her side. ‘Things will go back to their proportions. This,’ she +touched an open rose, ‘will claim its beauty again. And life will +become--perhaps--what it was before.’ Still I found nothing to say, +I could only put my arm in hers and walk with her to the edge of the +veranda where the syce was holding her horse. She stroked the animal’s +neck. ‘Everything in me answered him,’ she informed me, with the grave +intelligence of a patient who relates a symptom past. As she took the +reins she turned to me again. ‘His spirit came to mine like a homing +bird,’ she said, and in her smile even the pale reflection of happiness +was sweet and stirring. It left me hanging in imagination over the +source and the stream, a little blessed in the mere understanding. + +Too much blessed for confidence, or any safe feeling that the source +was bound. Rather I saw it leaping over every obstacle, flashing to its +destiny. As I drove to the Club next day I decided that I would not +tell Anna Chichele of Colonel Harbottle’s projected furlough. If to Judy +telling her would be like taking an oath that they would go, to me it +would at least be like assuming sponsorship for their intention. That +would be heavy indeed. From the first of April--we were then in March. +Anna would hear it soon enough from the General, would see it soon +enough, almost, in the ‘Gazette’, when it would have passed into +irrecoverable fact. So I went by her with locked lips, kept out of the +way of those eyes of the mother that asked and asked, and would have +seen clear to any depth, any hiding-place of knowledge like that. As I +pulled up at the Club I saw Colonel Harbottle talking concernedly to the +wife of our Second-in-Command, and was reminded that I had not heard +for some days how Major Watkins was going on. So I, too, approached Mrs. +Watkins in her victoria to ask. Robert Harbottle kindly forestalled her +reply. ‘Hard luck, isn’t it? Watkins has been ordered home at once. Just +settled into their new house, too--last of the kit came up from Calcutta +yesterday, didn’t it, Mrs. Watkins? But it’s sound to go--Peshawur is +the worst hole in Asia to shake off dysentery in.’ + +We agreed upon this and discussed the sale-list of her new furniture +that Mrs. Watkins would have to send round the station, and considered +the chances of a trooper--to the Watkinses with two children and not +a penny but his pay it did make it easier not to have to go by a +liner--and Colonel Harbottle and I were halfway to the reading-room +before the significance of Major Watkins’s sick-leave flashed upon me. + +‘But this,’ I cried, ‘will make a difference to your plans. You won’t--’ + +‘Be able to ask for that furlough Judy wants. Rather not. I’m afraid +she’s disappointed--she was tremendously set on going--but it doesn’t +matter tuppence to me.’ + +I sought out Mrs. Harbottle, at the end of the room. She looked radiant; +she sat on the edge of the table and swung a light-hearted heel. She +was talking to people who in themselves were a witness to high spirits, +Captain the Hon. Freddy Gisborne, Mrs. Flamboys. + +At sight of me her face clouded, fell suddenly into the old weary lines. +It made me feel somehow a little sick; I went back to my cart and drove +home. + +For more than a week I did not see her except when I met her riding +with Somers Chichele along the peach-bordered road that leads to the +Wazir-Bagh. The trees were all in blossom and made a picture that might +well catch dreaming hearts into a beatitude that would correspond. +The air was full of spring and the scent of violets, those wonderful +Peshawur violets that grow in great clumps, tall and double. Gracious +clouds came and trailed across the frontier barrier; blue as an idyll it +rose about us; the city smiled in her gardens. + +She had it all in her face, poor Judy, all the spring softness and more, +the morning she came, intensely controlled, to announce her defeat. I +was in the drawing-room doing the flowers; I put them down to look at +her. The wonderful telegram from Simla arrived--that was the wonderful +part--at the same time; I remembered how the red, white, and blue turban +of the telegraph peon bobbed up behind her shoulder in the veranda. I +signed and laid it on the table; I suppose it seemed hardly likely that +anything could be important enough to interfere at the moment with my +impression of what love, unbound and victorious, could do with a face I +thought I knew. Love sat there careless of the issue, full of delight. +Love proclaimed that between him and Judith Harbottle it was all +over--she had met him, alas, in too narrow a place--and I marvelled +at the paradox with which he softened every curve and underlined every +vivid note of personality in token that it had just begun. He sat there +in great serenity, and though I knew that somewhere behind lurked a +vanquished woman, I saw her through such a radiance that I could not be +sure of seeing her at all... + +She went back to the very first of it; she seemed herself intensely +interested in the facts; and there is no use in pretending that, while +she talked, the moral consideration was at all present with me either; +it wasn’t. Her extremity was the thing that absorbed us; she even, +in tender thoughtfulness, diagnosed it from its definite beautiful +beginning. + +‘It was there, in my heart, when I woke one morning, exquisite and +strange, the assurance of a gift. How had it come there, while I slept? +I assure you when I closed my eyes it did not exist for me... Yes, of +course, I had seen him, but only somewhere at dinner... As the day went +on it changed--it turned into a clear pool, into a flower. And I--think +of my not understanding! I was pleased with it! For a long time, for +days, I never dreamed that it could be anything but a little secret joy. +Then, suddenly--oh, I had not been perceiving enough!--it was in all my +veins, a tide, an efflorescence, a thing of my very life. + +‘Then--it was a little late--I understood, and since-- + +‘I began by hating it--being furious, furious--and afraid, too. +Sometimes it was like a low cloud, hovering and travelling always with +me, sometimes like a beast of prey that went a little way off and sat +looking at me.... + +‘I have--done my best. But there is nothing to do, to kill, to abolish. +How can I say, “I will not let you in,” when it is already there? How +can I assume indifference when this thing is imposed upon every moment +of my day? And it has grown so sweet--the longing--that--isn’t it +strange?--I could more willingly give him up than the desire of him. +That seems as impossible to part with as life itself.’ + +She sat reflective for a moment, and I saw her eyes slowly fill. + +Don’t--don’t CRY, Judy,’ I faltered, wanting to horribly, myself. + +She smiled them dry. + +‘Not now. But I am giving myself, I suppose, to many tears.’ + +‘God help you,’ I said. What else was there to say? + +‘There is no such person,’ she replied, gaily. ‘There is only a blessed +devil.’ + +‘Then you go all the way--to the logical conclusion?’ + +She hardly hesitated. ‘To the logical conclusion. What poor words!’ + +‘May I ask--when?’ + +‘I should like to tell you that quite definitely, and I think I can. The +English mail leaves tonight.’ + +‘And you have arranged to take it?’ + +‘We have arranged nothing. Do you know’--she smiled as if at the fresh +colours of an idyll--‘we have not even come to the admission? There has +been between us no word, no vision. Ah, we have gone in bonds, and dumb! +Hours we have had, exquisite hours of the spirit, but never a moment of +the heart, a moment confessed. It was mine to give--that moment, and he +has waited--I know--wondering whether perhaps it would ever come. And +today--we are going for a ride today, and I do not think we shall come +back.’ + +‘O Judy,’ I cried, catching at her sleeve, ‘he is only a boy!’ + +‘There were times when I thought that conclusive. Now the misery of it +has gone to sleep; don’t waken it. It pleases me to believe that the +years are a convention. I never had any dignity, you know, and I seem +to have missed the moral deliverance. I only want--oh, you know what I +want. Why don’t you open your telegram?’ + +I had been folding and fingering the brown envelope as if it had been a +scrap of waste paper. + +‘It is probably from Mrs. Watkins about the victoria,’ I said, +feeling its profound irrelevance. ‘I wired an offer to her in Bombay. +However’--and I read the telegram, the little solving telegram from +Army Headquarters. I turned my back on her to read it again, and then I +replaced it very carefully and put it in my pocket. It was a moment to +take hold of with both hands, crying on all one’s gods for steadiness. + +‘How white you look!’ said Mrs. Harbottle, with concern. ‘Not bad news?’ + +‘On the contrary, excellent news. Judy, will you stay to lunch?’ + +She looked at me, hesitating. ‘Won’t it seem rather a compromise on your +part? When you ought to be rousing the city--’ + +‘I don’t intend to rouse the city,’ I said. + +‘I have given you the chance.’ + +‘Thank you,’ I said, grimly, ‘but the only real favour you can do me is +to stay to lunch.’ It was then just on one. + +‘I’ll stay,’ she said, ‘if you will promise not to make any sort of +effort. I shouldn’t mind, but it would distress you.’ + +‘I promise absolutely,’ I said, and ironical joy rose up in me, and the +telegram burned in my pocket. + +She would talk of it, though I found it hard to let her go on, knowing +and knowing and knowing as I did that for that day at least it could not +be. There was very little about herself that she wanted to tell me; she +was there confessed a woman whom joy had overcome; it was understood +that we both accepted that situation. But in the details which she asked +me to take charge of it was plain that she also kept a watchful eye upon +fate--matters of business. + +We were in the drawing-room. The little round clock in its Armritsar +case marked half-past three. Judy put down her coffee cup and rose to +go. As she glanced at the clock the light deepened in her eyes, and I, +with her hand in mine, felt like an agent of the Destroyer--for it was +half-past three--consumed myself with fear lest the blow had miscarried. +Then as we stood, suddenly, the sound of hoofs at a gallop on the drive, +and my husband threw himself off at the door and tore through the hall +to his room; and in the certainty that overwhelmed me even Judy, for an +instant, stood dim and remote. + +‘Major Jim seems to be in a hurry,’ said Mrs. Harbottle, lightly. ‘I +have always liked your husband. I wonder whether he will say tomorrow +that he always liked me.’ + +‘Dear Judy, I don’t think he will be occupied with you tomorrow.’ + +‘Oh, surely, just a little, if I go tonight.’ + +‘You won’t go tonight.’ + +She looked at me helplessly. I felt as if I were insisting upon her +abasement instead of her salvation. ‘I wish--’ + +‘You’re not going--you’re not! You can’t! Look!’ + +I pulled it out of my pocket and thrust it at her--the telegram. +It came, against every regulation, from my good friend the Deputy +Adjutant-General, in Simla, and it read, ‘Row Khurram 12th probably +ordered front three hours’ time.’ + +Her face changed--how my heart leaped to see it change!--and that took +command there which will command trampling, even in the women of the +camp, at news like this. + +‘What luck that Bob couldn’t take his furlough!’ she exclaimed, +single-thoughted. ‘But you have known this for hours’--there was even +something of the Colonel’s wife, authority, incisiveness. ‘Why didn’t +you tell me? Ah--I see.’ + +I stood before her abashed, and that was ridiculous, while she measured +me as if I presented in myself the woman I took her to be. ‘It wasn’t +like that,’ she said. I had to defend myself. ‘Judy,’ I said, ‘if you +weren’t in honour bound to Anna, how could I know that you would be in +honour bound to the regiment? There was a train at three.’ + +‘I beg to assure you that you have overcalculated,’ said Mrs. Harbottle. +Her eyes were hard and proud. ‘And I am not sure’--a deep red swept over +her face, a man’s blush--‘in the light of this I am not sure that I am +not in honour bound to Anna.’ + +We had reached the veranda, and at her signal her coachman drove quickly +up. ‘You have kept me here three hours when there was the whole of +Bob’s kit to see to,’ she said, as she flung herself in; ‘you might have +thought of that.’ + +It was a more than usually tedious campaign, and Colonel Robert +Harbottle was ambushed and shot in a place where one must believe pure +boredom induced him to take his men. The incident was relieved, the +newspapers said--and they are seldom so clever in finding relief for +such incidents--by the dash and courage shown by Lieutenant Chichele, +who, in one of those feats which it has lately been the fashion to +criticize, carried the mortally wounded body of his Colonel out of range +at conspicuous risk of depriving the Queen of another officer. I helped +Judy with her silent packing; she had forgiven me long before that; and +she settled almost at once into the flat in Chelsea which has since been +credited with so delightful an atmosphere, went back straight into her +own world. I have always kept her first letters about it, always shall. +For months after, while the expedition still raged after snipers and +rifle-thieves, I discussed with Lady Chichele the probable outcome of it +all. I have sometimes felt ashamed of leaping as straight as I did with +Anna to what we thought the inevitable. I based no calculation on all +Mrs. Harbottle had gone back to, just as I had based no calculation +on her ten years’ companionship in arms when I kept her from the three +o’clock train. This last was a retrospection in which Anna naturally +could not join me; she never knew, poor dear, how fortunate as to its +moment was the campaign she deplored, and nothing to this day can have +disturbed her conviction that the bond she was at such magnificent pains +to strengthen, held against the strain, as long, happily, as the supreme +need existed. ‘How right you were!’ she often said. ‘She did, after +all, love me best, dear, wonderful Judy!’ Her distress about poor +Robert Harbottle was genuine enough, but one could not be surprised at +a certain ambiguity; one tear for Robert, so to speak, and two for her +boy. It could hardly be, for him, a marriage after his mother’s heart. +And she laid down with some emphasis that Somers was brilliantly +entitled to all he was likely to get--which was natural, too... + +I had been from the beginning so much ‘in it’ that Anna showed me, a +year later, though I don’t believe she liked doing it, the letter in +part of which Mrs. Harbottle shall finally excuse herself. + +‘Somers will give you this,’ I read, ‘and with it take back your son. +You will not find, I know, anything grotesque in the charming enthusiasm +with which he has offered his life to me; you understand too well, you +are too kind. And if you wonder that I can so render up a dear thing +which I might keep and would once have taken, think how sweet in the +desert is the pool, and how barren was the prospect from Balclutha.’ + +It was like her to abandon in pride a happiness that asked so much less +humiliation; I don’t know why, but it was like her. And of course, when +one thought of it, she had consulted all sorts of high expediencies. But +I sat silent with remembrance, quieting a pang in my heart, trying not +to calculate how much it had cost Judy Harbottle to take her second +chance. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s The Pool in the Desert, by Sara Jeanette Duncan + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1168 *** diff --git a/1168-h/1168-h.htm b/1168-h/1168-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..879adcc --- /dev/null +++ b/1168-h/1168-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8823 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Pool in the Desert, by Sara Jeanette Duncan + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1168 ***</div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE POOL IN THE DESERT + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Sara Jeanette Duncan + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>1. A Mother in India</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> Chapter 1.I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> Chapter 1.II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> Chapter 1.III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> Chapter 1.IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> Chapter 1.V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> Chapter 1.VI. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> <b>2. An Impossible Ideal.</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> Chapter 2.I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> Chapter 2.II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> Chapter 2.III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> Chapter 2.IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> Chapter 2.V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> Chapter 2.VI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> Chapter 2.VII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> Chapter 2.VIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> Chapter 2.IX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> Chapter 2.X. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> <b>3. The Hesitation of Miss Anderson.</b> + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> Chapter 3.I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> Chapter 3.II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> Chapter 3.III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> Chapter 3.IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> Chapter 3.V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> Chapter 3.VI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> Chapter 3.VII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> Chapter 3.VIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> Chapter 3.IX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> Chapter 3.X. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> <b>4. The Pool in the Desert.</b> </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + 1. A Mother in India + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 1.I + </h2> + <p> + There were times when we had to go without puddings to pay John’s uniform + bills, and always I did the facings myself with a cloth-ball to save + getting new ones. I would have polished his sword, too, if I had been + allowed; I adored his sword. And once, I remember, we painted and + varnished our own dog-cart, and very smart it looked, to save fifty + rupees. We had nothing but our pay—John had his company when we were + married, but what is that?—and life was made up of small knowing + economies, much more amusing in recollection than in practise. We were + sodden poor, and that is a fact, poor and conscientious, which was worse. + A big fat spider of a money-lender came one day into the veranda and + tempted us—we lived in a hut, but it had a veranda—and John + threatened to report him to the police. Poor when everybody else had + enough to live in the open-handed Indian fashion, that was what made it so + hard; we were alone in our sordid little ways. When the expectation of + Cecily came to us we made out to be delighted, knowing that the whole + station pitied us, and when Cecily came herself, with a swamping burst of + expense, we kept up the pretense splendidly. She was peevish, poor little + thing, and she threatened convulsions from the beginning, but we both knew + that it was abnormal not to love her a great deal, more than life, + immediately and increasingly; and we applied ourselves honestly to do it, + with the thermometer at a hundred and two, and the nurse leaving at the + end of a fortnight because she discovered that I had only six of + everything for the table. To find out a husband’s virtues, you must marry + a poor man. The regiment was under-officered as usual, and John had to + take parade at daylight quite three times a week; but he walked up and + down the veranda with Cecily constantly till two in the morning, when a + little coolness came. I usually lay awake the rest of the night in fear + that a scorpion would drop from the ceiling on her. Nevertheless, we were + of excellent mind towards Cecily; we were in such terror, not so much of + failing in our duty towards her as towards the ideal standard of mankind. + We were very anxious indeed not to come short. To be found too small for + one’s place in nature would have been odious. We would talk about her for + an hour at a time, even when John’s charger was threatening glanders and I + could see his mind perpetually wandering to the stable. I would say to + John that she had brought a new element into our lives—she had + indeed!—and John would reply, ‘I know what you mean,’ and go on to + prophesy that she would ‘bind us together.’ We didn’t need binding + together; we were more to each other, there in the desolation of that arid + frontier outpost, than most husbands and wives; but it seemed a proper and + hopeful thing to believe, so we believed it. Of course, the real + experience would have come, we weren’t monsters; but fate curtailed the + opportunity. She was just five weeks old when the doctor told us that we + must either pack her home immediately or lose her, and the very next day + John went down with enteric. So Cecily was sent to England with a + sergeant’s wife who had lost her twins, and I settled down under the + direction of a native doctor, to fight for my husband’s life, without ice + or proper food, or sickroom comforts of any sort. Ah! Fort Samila, with + the sun glaring up from the sand!—however, it is a long time ago + now. I trusted the baby willingly to Mrs. Berry and to Providence, and did + not fret; my capacity for worry, I suppose, was completely absorbed. Mrs. + Berry’s letter, describing the child’s improvement on the voyage and safe + arrival came, I remember, the day on which John was allowed his first + solid mouthful; it had been a long siege. ‘Poor little wretch!’ he said + when I read it aloud; and after that Cecily became an episode. + </p> + <p> + She had gone to my husband’s people; it was the best arrangement. We were + lucky that it was possible; so many children had to be sent to strangers + and hirelings. Since an unfortunate infant must be brought into the world + and set adrift, the haven of its grandmother and its Aunt Emma and its + Aunt Alice certainly seemed providential. I had absolutely no cause for + anxiety, as I often told people, wondering that I did not feel a little + all the same. Nothing, I knew, could exceed the conscientious devotion of + all three Farnham ladies to the child. She would appear upon their + somewhat barren horizon as a new and interesting duty, and the small + additional income she also represented would be almost nominal + compensation for the care she would receive. They were excellent persons + of the kind that talk about matins and vespers, and attend both. They + helped little charities and gave little teas, and wrote little notes, and + made deprecating allowance for the eccentricities of their titled or + moneyed acquaintances. They were the subdued, smiling, unimaginatively + dressed women on a small definite income that you meet at every rectory + garden-party in the country, a little snobbish, a little priggish, wholly + conventional, but apart from these weaknesses, sound and simple and + dignified, managing their two small servants with a display of the most + exact traditions, and keeping a somewhat vague and belated but constant + eye upon the doings of their country as chronicled in a bi-weekly paper. + They were all immensely interested in royalty, and would read paragraphs + aloud to each other about how the Princess Beatrice or the Princess Maud + had opened a fancy bazaar, looking remarkably well in plain grey poplin + trimmed with Irish lace—an industry which, as is well known, the + Royal Family has set its heart on rehabilitating. Upon which Mrs. + Farnham’s comment invariably would be, ‘How thoughtful of them, dear!’ and + Alice would usually say, ‘Well, if I were a princess, I should like + something nicer than plain grey poplin.’ Alice, being the youngest, was + not always expected to think before she spoke. Alice painted in + water-colours, but Emma was supposed to have the most common sense. + </p> + <p> + They took turns in writing to us with the greatest regularity about + Cecily; only once, I think, did they miss the weekly mail, and that was + when she threatened diphtheria and they thought we had better be kept in + ignorance. The kind and affectionate terms of these letters never altered + except with the facts they described—teething, creeping, measles, + cheeks growing round and rosy, all were conveyed in the same smooth, pat, + and proper phrases, so absolutely empty of any glimpse of the child’s + personality that after the first few months it was like reading about a + somewhat uninteresting infant in a book. I was sure Cecily was not + uninteresting, but her chroniclers were. We used to wade through the long, + thin sheets and saw how much more satisfactory it would be when Cecily + could write to us herself. Meanwhile we noted her weekly progress with + much the feeling one would have about a far-away little bit of property + that was giving no trouble and coming on exceedingly well. We would take + possession of Cecily at our convenience; till then, it was gratifying to + hear of our unearned increment in dear little dimples and sweet little + curls. + </p> + <p> + She was nearly four when I saw her again. We were home on three months’ + leave; John had just got his first brevet for doing something which he + does not allow me to talk about in the Black Mountain country; and we were + fearfully pleased with ourselves. I remember that excitement lasted well + up to Port Said. As far as the Canal, Cecily was only one of the pleasures + and interests we were going home to: John’s majority was the thing that + really gave savour to life. But the first faint line of Europe brought my + child to my horizon; and all the rest of the way she kept her place, + holding out her little arms to me, beckoning me on. Her four motherless + years brought compunction to my heart and tears to my eyes; she should + have all the compensation that could be. I suddenly realized how ready I + was—how ready!—to have her back. I rebelled fiercely against + John’s decision that we must not take her with us on our return to the + frontier; privately, I resolved to dispute it, and, if necessary, I saw + myself abducting the child—my own child. My days and nights as the + ship crept on were full of a long ache to possess her; the defrauded + tenderness of the last four years rose up in me and sometimes caught at my + throat. I could think and talk and dream of nothing else. John indulged me + as much as was reasonable, and only once betrayed by a yawn that the + subject was not for him endlessly absorbing. Then I cried and he + apologized. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘it isn’t exactly the same thing. I’m not + her mother.’ At which I dried my tears and expanded, proud and pacified. I + was her mother! + </p> + <p> + Then the rainy little station and Alice, all-embracing in a damp + waterproof, and the drive in the fly, and John’s mother at the gate and a + necessary pause while I kissed John’s mother. Dear thing, she wanted to + hold our hands and look into our faces and tell us how little we had + changed for all our hardships; and on the way to the house she actually + stopped to point out some alterations in the flower-borders. At last the + drawing-room door and the smiling housemaid turning the handle and the + unforgettable picture of a little girl, a little girl unlike anything we + had imagined, starting bravely to trot across the room with the little + speech that had been taught her. Half-way she came; I suppose our regards + were too fixed, too absorbed, for there she stopped with a wail of terror + at the strange faces, and ran straight back to the outstretched arms of + her Aunt Emma. The most natural thing in the world, no doubt. I walked + over to a chair opposite with my hand-bag and umbrella and sat down—a + spectator, aloof and silent. Aunt Emma fondled and quieted the child, + apologizing for her to me, coaxing her to look up, but the little figure + still shook with sobs, hiding its face in the bosom that it knew. I smiled + politely, like any other stranger, at Emma’s deprecations, and sat + impassive, looking at my alleged baby breaking her heart at the sight of + her mother. It is not amusing even now to remember the anger that I felt. + I did not touch her or speak to her; I simply sat observing my alien + possession, in the frock I had not made and the sash I had not chosen, + being coaxed and kissed and protected and petted by its Aunt Emma. + Presently I asked to be taken to my room, and there I locked myself in for + two atrocious hours. Just once my heart beat high, when a tiny knock came + and a timid, docile little voice said that tea was ready. But I heard the + rustle of a skirt, and guessed the directing angel in Aunt Emma, and + responded, ‘Thank you, dear, run away and say that I am coming,’ with a + pleasant visitor’s inflection which I was able to sustain for the rest of + afternoon. + </p> + <p> + ‘She goes to bed at seven,’ said Emma. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, does she?’ said I. ‘A very good hour, I should think.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She sleeps in my room,’ said Mrs. Farnham. + </p> + <p> + ‘We give her mutton broth very often, but seldom stock soup,’ said Aunt + Emma. ‘Mamma thinks it is too stimulating.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed?’ said I, to all of it. + </p> + <p> + They took me up to see her in her crib, and pointed out, as she lay + asleep, that though she had ‘a general look’ of me, her features were + distinctively Farnham. + </p> + <p> + ‘Won’t you kiss her?’ asked Alice. ‘You haven’t kissed her yet, and she is + used to so much affection.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t think I could take such an advantage of her,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + They looked at each other, and Mrs. Farnham said that I was plainly worn + out. I mustn’t sit up to prayers. + </p> + <p> + If I had been given anything like reasonable time I might have made a + fight for it, but four weeks—it took a month each way in those days—was + too absurdly little; I could do nothing. But I would not stay at mamma’s. + It was more than I would ask of myself, that daily disappointment under + the mask of gratified discovery, for long. + </p> + <p> + I spent an approving, unnatural week, in my farcical character, bridling + my resentment and hiding my mortification with pretty phrases; and then I + went up to town and drowned my sorrows in the summer sales. I took John + with me. I may have been Cecily’s mother in theory, but I was John’s wife + in fact. + </p> + <p> + We went back to the frontier, and the regiment saw a lot of service. That + meant medals and fun for my husband, but economy and anxiety for me, + though I managed to be allowed as close to the firing line as any woman. + </p> + <p> + Once the Colonel’s wife and I, sitting in Fort Samila, actually heard the + rifles of a punitive expedition cracking on the other side of the river—that + was a bad moment. My man came in after fifteen hours’ fighting, and went + sound asleep, sitting before his food with his knife and fork in his + hands. But service makes heavy demands besides those on your wife’s + nerves. We had saved two thousand rupees, I remember, against another run + home, and it all went like powder, in the Mirzai expedition; and the run + home diminished to a month in a boarding-house in the hills. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, however, we had begun to correspond with our daughter, in large + round words of one syllable, behind which, of course, was plain the + patient guiding hand of Aunt Emma. One could hear Aunt Emma suggesting + what would be nice to say, trying to instil a little pale affection for + the far-off papa and mamma. There was so little Cecily and so much Emma—of + course, it could not be otherwise—that I used to take, I fear, but a + perfunctory joy in these letters. When we went home again I stipulated + absolutely that she was to write to us without any sort of supervision—the + child was ten. + </p> + <p> + ‘But the spelling!’ cried Aunt Emma, with lifted eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + ‘Her letters aren’t exercises,’ I was obliged to retort; ‘she will do the + best she can.’ + </p> + <p> + We found her a docile little girl, with nice manners, a thoroughly + unobjectionable child. I saw quite clearly that I could not have brought + her up so well; indeed, there were moments when I fancied that Cecily, + contrasting me with her aunts, wondered a little what my bringing up could + have been like. With this reserve of criticism on Cecily’s part, however, + we got on very tolerably, largely because I found it impossible to assume + any responsibility towards her, and in moments of doubt or discipline + referred her to her aunts. We spent a pleasant summer with a little girl + in the house whose interest in us was amusing, and whose outings it was + gratifying to arrange; but when we went back, I had no desire to take her + with us. I thought her very much better where she was. + </p> + <p> + Then came the period which is filled, in a subordinate degree, with + Cecily’s letters. I do not wish to claim more than I ought; they were not + my only or even my principal interest in life. It was a long period; it + lasted till she was twenty-one. John had had promotion in the meantime, + and there was rather more money, but he had earned his second brevet with + a bullet through one lung, and the doctors ordered our leave to be spent + in South Africa. We had photographs, we knew she had grown tall and + athletic and comely, and the letters were always very creditable. I had + the unusual and qualified privilege of watching my daughter’s development + from ten to twenty-one, at a distance of four thousand miles, by means of + the written word. I wrote myself as provocatively as possible; I sought + for every string, but the vibration that came back across the seas to me + was always other than the one I looked for, and sometimes there was none. + Nevertheless, Mrs. Farnham wrote me that Cecily very much valued my + communications. Once when I had described an unusual excursion in a native + state, I learned that she had read my letter aloud to the sewing circle. + After that I abandoned description, and confined myself to such intimate + personal details as no sewing circle could find amusing. The child’s own + letters were simply a mirror of the ideas of the Farnham ladies; that must + have been so, it was not altogether my jaundiced eye. Alice and Emma and + grandmamma paraded the pages in turn. I very early gave up hope of + discoveries in my daughter, though as much of the original as I could + detect was satisfactorily simple and sturdy. I found little things to + criticize, of course, tendencies to correct; and by return post I + criticized and corrected, but the distance and the deliberation seemed to + touch my maxims with a kind of arid frivolity, and sometimes I tore them + up. One quick, warm-blooded scolding would have been worth a sheaf of + them. My studied little phrases could only inoculate her with a dislike + for me without protecting her from anything under the sun. + </p> + <p> + However, I found she didn’t dislike me, when John and I went home at last + to bring her out. She received me with just a hint of kindness, perhaps, + but on the whole very well. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 1.II + </h2> + <p> + John was recalled, of course, before the end of our furlough, which + knocked various things on the head; but that is the sort of thing one + learned to take with philosophy in any lengthened term of Her Majesty’s + service. Besides, there is usually sugar for the pill; and in this case it + was a Staff command bigger than anything we expected for at least five + years to come. The excitement of it when it was explained to her gave + Cecily a charming colour. She took a good deal of interest in the General, + her papa; I think she had an idea that his distinction would alleviate the + situation in India, however it might present itself. She accepted that + prospective situation calmly; it had been placed before her all her life. + There would always be a time when she should go and live with papa and + mamma in India, and so long as she was of an age to receive the idea with + rebel tears she was assured that papa and mamma would give her a pony. The + pony was no longer added to the prospect; it was absorbed no doubt in the + general list of attractions calculated to reconcile a young lady to a + parental roof with which she had no practical acquaintance. At all events, + when I feared the embarrassment and dismay of a pathetic parting with + darling grandmamma and the aunties, and the sweet cat and the dear vicar + and all the other objects of affection, I found an agreeable unexpected + philosophy. + </p> + <p> + I may add that while I anticipated such broken-hearted farewells I was + quite prepared to take them easily. Time, I imagined, had brought + philosophy to me also, equally agreeable and equally unexpected. + </p> + <p> + It was a Bombay ship, full of returning Anglo-Indians. I looked up and + down the long saloon tables with a sense of relief and of solace; I was + again among my own people. They belonged to Bengal and to Burma, to Madras + and to the Punjab, but they were all my people. I could pick out a score + that I knew in fact, and there were none that in imagination I didn’t + know. The look of wider seas and skies, the casual experienced glance, the + touch of irony and of tolerance, how well I knew it and how well I liked + it! Dear old England, sitting in our wake, seemed to hold by comparison a + great many soft, unsophisticated people, immensely occupied about very + particular trifles. How difficult it had been, all the summer, to be + interested! These of my long acquaintance belonged to my country’s + Executive, acute, alert, with the marks of travail on them. Gladly I went + in and out of the women’s cabins and listened to the argot of the men; my + own ruling, administering, soldiering little lot. + </p> + <p> + Cecily looked at them askance. To her the atmosphere was alien, and I + perceived that gently and privately she registered objections. She cast a + disapproving eye upon the wife of a Conservator of Forests, who scanned + with interest a distant funnel and laid a small wager that it belonged to + the Messageries Maritimes. She looked with a straightened lip at the + crisply stepping women who walked the deck in short and rather shabby + skirts with their hands in their jacket-pockets talking transfers and + promotions; and having got up at six to make a water-colour sketch of the + sunrise, she came to me in profound indignation to say that she had met a + man in his pyjamas; no doubt; poor wretch, on his way to be shaved. I was + unable to convince her he was not expected to visit the barber in all his + clothes. + </p> + <p> + At the end of the third day she told me that she wished these people + wouldn’t talk to her; she didn’t like them. I had turned in the hour we + left the Channel and had not left my berth since, so possibly I was not in + the most amiable mood to receive a douche of cold water. ‘I must try to + remember, dear,’ I said, ‘that you have been brought up altogether in the + society of pussies and vicars and elderly ladies, and of course you miss + them. But you must have a little patience. I shall be up tomorrow, if this + beastly sea continues to go down; and then we will try to find somebody + suitable to introduce to you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you, mamma,’ said my daughter, without a ray of suspicion. Then she + added consideringly, ‘Aunt Emma and Aunt Alice do seem quite elderly + ladies beside you, and yet you are older than either of them aren’t you? I + wonder how that is.’ + </p> + <p> + It was so innocent, so admirable, that I laughed at my own expense; while + Cecily, doing her hair, considered me gravely. ‘I wish you would tell me + why you laugh, mamma,’ quoth she; ‘you laugh so often.’ + </p> + <p> + We had not to wait after all for my good offices of the next morning. + Cecily came down at ten o’clock that night quite happy and excited; she + had been talking to a bishop, such a dear bishop. The bishop had been + showing her his collection of photographs, and she had promised to play + the harmonium for him at the eleven-o’clock service in the morning. ‘Bless + me!’ said I, ‘is it Sunday?’ It seemed she had got on very well indeed + with the bishop, who knew the married sister, at Tunbridge, of her very + greatest friend. Cecily herself did not know the married sister, but that + didn’t matter—it was a link. The bishop was charming. ‘Well, my + love,’ said I—I was teaching myself to use these forms of address + for fear she would feel an unkind lack of them, but it was difficult—‘I + am glad that somebody from my part of the world has impressed you + favourably at last. I wish we had more bishops.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, but my bishop doesn’t belong to your part of the world,’ responded my + daughter sleepily. ‘He is travelling for his health.’ + </p> + <p> + It was the most unexpected and delightful thing to be packed into one’s + chair next morning by Dacres Tottenham. As I emerged from the music saloon + after breakfast—Cecily had stayed below to look over her hymns and + consider with her bishop the possibility of an anthem—Dacres’s face + was the first I saw; it simply illuminated, for me, that portion of the + deck. I noticed with pleasure the quick toss of the cigar overboard as he + recognized and bore down upon me. We were immense friends; John liked him + too. He was one of those people who make a tremendous difference; in all + our three hundred passengers there could be no one like him, certainly no + one whom I could be more glad to see. We plunged at once into immediate + personal affairs, we would get at the heart of them later. He gave his + vivid word to everything he had seen and done; we laughed and exclaimed + and were silent in a concert of admirable understanding. We were still + unravelling, still demanding and explaining when the ship’s bell began to + ring for church, and almost simultaneously Cecily advanced towards us. She + had a proper Sunday hat on, with flowers under the brim, and a + church-going frock; she wore gloves and clasped a prayer-book. Most of the + women who filed past to the summons of the bell were going down as they + were, in cotton blouses and serge skirts, in tweed caps or anything, as to + a kind of family prayers. I knew exactly how they would lean against the + pillars of the saloon during the psalms. This young lady would be little + less than a rebuke to them. I surveyed her approach; she positively walked + as if it were Sunday. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear,’ I said, ‘how endimanchee you look! The bishop will be very + pleased with you. This gentleman is Mr. Tottenham, who administers Her + Majesty’s pleasure in parts of India about Allahabad. My daughter, + Dacres.’ She was certainly looking very fresh, and her calm grey eyes had + the repose in them that has never known itself to be disturbed about + anything. I wondered whether she bowed so distantly also because it was + Sunday, and then I remembered that Dacres was a young man, and that the + Farnham ladies had probably taught her that it was right to be very + distant with young men. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is almost eleven, mamma.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, dear. I see you are going to church.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you not coming, mamma?’ + </p> + <p> + I was well wrapped up in an extremely comfortable corner. I had ‘La + Duchesse Bleue’ uncut in my lap, and an agreeable person to talk to. I + fear that in any case I should not been inclined to attend the service, + but there was something in my daughter’s intonation that made me + distinctly hostile to the idea. I am putting things down as they were, + extenuating nothing. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think not, dear.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve turned up two such nice seats.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Stay, Miss Farnham, and keep us in countenance,’ said Dacres, with his + charming smile. The smile displaced a look of discreet and amused + observation. Dacres had an eye always for a situation, and this one was + even newer to him than to me. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no. She must run away and not bully her mamma,’ I said. ‘When she + comes back we will see how much she remembers of the sermon;’ and as the + flat tinkle from the companion began to show signs of diminishing, Cecily, + with one grieved glance, hastened down. + </p> + <p> + ‘You amazing lady!’ said Dacres. ‘A daughter—and such a tall + daughter! I somehow never—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You knew we had one?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There was theory of that kind, I remember, about ten years ago. Since + then—excuse me—I don’t think you’ve mentioned her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You talk as if she were a skeleton in the closet!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You DIDN’T talk—as if she were.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think she was, in a way, poor child. But the resurrection day hasn’t + confounded me as I deserved. She’s a very good girl.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you had asked me to pick out your daughter—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She would have been the last you would indicate! Quite so,’ I said. ‘She + is like her father’s people. I can’t help that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shouldn’t think you would if you could,’ Dacres remarked absently; but + the sea air, perhaps, enabled me to digest his thoughtlessness with a + smile. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ I said, ‘I am just as well pleased. I think a resemblance to me + would confuse me, often.’ + </p> + <p> + There was a trace of scrutiny in Dacres’s glance. ‘Don’t you find yourself + in sympathy with her?’ he asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear boy, I have seen her just twice in twenty-one years! You see, + I’ve always stuck to John.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But between mother and daughter—I may be old-fashioned, but I had + an idea that there was an instinct that might be depended on.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am depending on it,’ I said, and let my eyes follow the little blue + waves that chased past the hand-rail. ‘We are making very good speed, + aren’t we? Thirty-five knots since last night at ten. Are you in the + sweep?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I never bet on the way out—can’t afford it. Am I old-fashioned?’ he + insisted. + </p> + <p> + ‘Probably. Men are very slow in changing their philosophy about women. I + fancy their idea of the maternal relation is firmest fixed of all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We see it a beatitude!’ he cried. + </p> + <p> + ‘I know,’ I said wearily, ‘and you never modify the view.’ + </p> + <p> + Dacres contemplated the portion of the deck that lay between us. His eyes + were discreetly lowered, but I saw embarrassment and speculation and a + hint of criticism in them. + </p> + <p> + ‘Tell me more about it,’ said he. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake don’t be sympathetic!’ I exclaimed. ‘Lend me a + little philosophy instead. There is nothing to tell. There she is and + there I am, in the most intimate relation in the world, constituted when + she is twenty-one and I am forty.’ Dacres started slightly at the ominous + word; so little do men realize that the women they like can ever pass out + of the constated years of attraction. ‘I find the young lady very + tolerable, very creditable, very nice. I find the relation atrocious. + There you have it. I would like to break the relation into pieces,’ I went + on recklessly, ‘and throw it into the sea. Such things should be tempered + to one. I should feel it much less if she occupied another cabin, and + would consent to call me Elizabeth or Jane. It is not as if I had been her + mother always. One grows fastidious at forty—new intimacies are only + possible then on a basis of temperament—’ + </p> + <p> + I paused; it seemed to me that I was making excuses, and I had not the + least desire in the world to do that. + </p> + <p> + ‘How awfully rough on the girl!’ said Dacres Tottenham. + </p> + <p> + ‘That consideration has also occurred to me,’ I said candidly, ‘though I + have perhaps been even more struck by its converse.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You had no earthly business to be her mother,’ said my friend, with + irritation. + </p> + <p> + I shrugged my shoulders—what would you have done?—and opened + ‘La Duchesse Bleue’. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 1.III + </h2> + <p> + Mrs. Morgan, wife of a judge of the High Court of Bombay, and I sat + amidships on the cool side in the Suez Canal. She was outlining ‘Soiled + Linen’ in chain-stitch on a green canvas bag; I was admiring the Egyptian + sands. ‘How charming,’ said I, ‘is this solitary desert in the endless + oasis we are compelled to cross!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oasis in the desert, you mean,’ said Mrs. Morgan; ‘I haven’t noticed any, + but I happened to look up this morning as I was putting on my stockings, + and I saw through my port-hole the most lovely mirage.’ + </p> + <p> + I had been at school with Mrs. Morgan more than twenty years agone, but + she had come to the special enjoyment of the dignities of life while I + still liked doing things. Mrs. Morgan was the kind of person to make one + realize how distressing a medium is middle age. Contemplating her + precipitous lap, to which conventional attitudes were certainly more + becoming, I crossed my own knees with energy, and once more resolved to be + young until I was old. + </p> + <p> + ‘How perfectly delightful for you to be taking Cecily out!’ said Mrs. + Morgan placidly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Isn’t it?’ I responded, watching the gliding sands. + </p> + <p> + ‘But she was born in sixty-nine—that makes her twenty-one. Quite + time, I should say.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, we couldn’t put it off any longer. I mean—her father has such a + horror of early debuts. He simply would not hear of her coming before.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Doesn’t want her to marry in India, I dare say—the only one,’ + purred Mrs. Morgan. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I don’t know. It isn’t such a bad place. I was brought out there to + marry, and I married. I’ve found it very satisfactory.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You always did say exactly what you thought, Helena,’ said Mrs. Morgan + excusingly. + </p> + <p> + ‘I haven’t much patience with people who bring their daughters out to give + them the chance they never would have in England, and then go about + devoutly hoping they won’t marry in India,’ I said. ‘I shall be very + pleased if Cecily does as well as your girls have done.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mary in the Indian Civil and Jessie in the Imperial Service Troops,’ + sighed Mrs. Morgan complacently. ‘And both, my dear, within a year. It WAS + a blow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, it must have been!’ I said civilly. + </p> + <p> + There was no use in bandying words with Emily Morgan. + </p> + <p> + ‘There is nothing in the world like the satisfaction and pleasure one + takes in one’s daughters,’ Mrs. Morgan went on limpidly. ‘And one can be + in such CLOSE sympathy with one’s girls. I have never regretted having no + sons.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear me, yes. To watch oneself growing up again—call back the + lovely April of one’s prime, etcetera—to read every thought and + anticipate every wish—there is no more golden privilege in life, + dear Emily. Such a direct and natural avenue for affection, such a wide + field for interest!’ + </p> + <p> + I paused, lost in the volume of my admirable sentiments. + </p> + <p> + ‘How beautifully you talk, Helena! I wish I had the gift.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It doesn’t mean very much,’ I said truthfully. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I think it’s everything! And how companionable a girl is! I quite + envy you, this season, having Cecily constantly with you and taking her + about everywhere. Something quite new for you, isn’t it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Absolutely,’ said I; ‘I am looking forward to it immensely. But it is + likely she will make her own friends, don’t you think?’ I added anxiously. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hardly the first season. My girls didn’t. I was practically their only + intimate for months. Don’t be afraid; you won’t be obliged to go shares in + Cecily with anybody for a good long while,’ added Mrs. Morgan kindly. ‘I + know just how you feel about THAT.’ + </p> + <p> + The muddy water of the Ditch chafed up from under us against its banks + with a smell that enabled me to hide the emotions Mrs. Morgan evoked + behind my handkerchief. The pale desert was pictorial with the drifting, + deepening purple shadows of clouds, and in the midst a blue glimmer of the + Bitter Lakes, with a white sail on them. A little frantic Arab boy ran + alongside keeping pace with the ship. Except for the smell, it was like a + dream, we moved so quietly; on, gently on and on between the ridgy clay + banks and the rows of piles. Peace was on the ship; you could hear what + the Fourth in his white ducks said to the quartermaster in his blue + denims; you could count the strokes of the electric bell in the + wheel-house; peace was on the ship as she pushed on, an ever-venturing, + double-funneled impertinence, through the sands of the ages. My eyes + wandered along a plank-line in the deck till they were arrested by a + petticoat I knew, when they returned of their own accord. I seemed to be + always seeing that petticoat. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think,’ resumed Mrs. Morgan, whose glance had wandered in the same + direction, ‘that Cecily is a very fine type of our English girls. With + those dark grey eyes, a LITTLE prominent possibly, and that good colour—it’s + rather high now perhaps, but she will lose quite enough of it in India—and + those regular features, she would make a splendid Britannia. Do you know, + I fancy she must have a great deal of character. Has she?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Any amount. And all of it good,’ I responded, with private dejection. + </p> + <p> + ‘No faults at all?’ chaffed Mrs. Morgan. + </p> + <p> + I shook my head. ‘Nothing,’ I said sadly, ‘that I can put my finger on. + But I hope to discover a few later. The sun may bring them out.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Like freckles. Well, you are a lucky woman. Mine had plenty, I assure + you. Untidiness was no name for Jessie, and Mary—I’m SORRY to say + that Mary sometimes fibbed.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How lovable of her! Cecily’s neatness is a painful example to me, and I + don’t believe she would tell a fib to save my life.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Tell me,’ said Mrs. Morgan, as the lunch-bell rang and she gathered her + occupation into her work-basket, ‘who is that talking to her?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, an old friend,’ I replied easily; ‘Dacres Tottenham, a dear fellow, + and most benevolent. He is trying on my behalf to reconcile her to the + life she’ll have to lead in India.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She won’t need much reconciling, if she’s like most girls,’ observed Mrs. + Morgan, ‘but he seems to be trying very hard.’ + </p> + <p> + That was quite the way I took it—on my behalf—for several + days. When people have understood you very adequately for ten years you do + not expect them to boggle at any problem you may present at the end of the + decade. I thought Dacres was moved by a fine sense of compassion. I + thought that with his admirable perception he had put a finger on the + little comedy of fruitfulness in my life that laughed so bitterly at the + tragedy of the barren woman, and was attempting, by delicate manipulation, + to make it easier. I really thought so. Then I observed that myself had + preposterously deceived me, that it wasn’t like that at all. When Mr. + Tottenham joined us, Cecily and me, I saw that he listened more than he + talked, with an ear specially cocked to register any small irony which + might appear in my remarks to my daughter. Naturally he registered more + than there were, to make up perhaps for dear Cecily’s obviously not + registering any. I could see, too, that he was suspicious of any flavour + of kindness; finally, to avoid the strictures of his upper lip, which + really, dear fellow, began to bore me, I talked exclusively about the + distant sails and the Red Sea littoral. When he no longer joined us as we + sat or walked together, I perceived that his hostility was fixed and his + parti pris. He was brimful of compassion, but it was all for Cecily, none + for the situation or for me. (She would have marvelled, placidly, why he + pitied her. I am glad I can say that.) The primitive man in him rose up as + Pope of nature and excommunicated me as a creature recusant to her + functions. Then deliberately Dacres undertook an office of consolation; + and I fell to wondering, while Mrs. Morgan spoke her convictions plainly + out, how far an impulse of reparation for a misfortune with which he had + nothing to do might carry a man. + </p> + <p> + I began to watch the affair with an interest which even to me seemed + queer. It was not detached, but it was semi-detached, and, of course, on + the side for which I seem, in this history, to be perpetually apologizing. + With certain limitations it didn’t matter an atom whom Cecily married. So + that he was sound and decent, with reasonable prospects, her simple + requirements and ours for her would be quite met. There was the ghost of a + consolation in that; one needn’t be anxious or exacting. + </p> + <p> + I could predict with a certain amount of confidence that in her first + season she would probably receive three or four proposals, any one of + which she might accept with as much propriety and satisfaction as any + other one. For Cecily it was so simple; prearranged by nature like her + digestion, one could not see any logical basis for difficulties. A nice + upstanding sapper, a dashing Bengal Lancer—oh, I could think of half + a dozen types that would answer excellently. She was the kind of young + person, and that was the summing up of it, to marry a type and be + typically happy. I hoped and expected that she would. But Dacres! + </p> + <p> + Dacres should exercise the greatest possible discretion. He was not a + person who could throw the dice indifferently with fate. He could respond + to so much, and he would inevitably, sooner or later, demand so much + response! He was governed by a preposterously exacting temperament, and he + wore his nerves outside. And what vision he had! How he explored the world + he lived in and drew out of it all there was, all there was! I could see + him in the years to come ranging alone the fields that were sweet and the + horizons that lifted for him, and ever returning to pace the common dusty + mortal road by the side of a purblind wife. On general principles, as a + case to point at, it would be a conspicuous pity. Nor would it lack the + aspect of a particular, a personal misfortune. Dacres was occupied in + quite the natural normal degree with his charming self; he would pass his + misery on, and who would deserve to escape it less than his mother-in-law? + </p> + <p> + I listened to Emily Morgan, who gleaned in the ship more information about + Dacres Tottenham’s people, pay, and prospects than I had ever acquired, + and I kept an eye upon the pair which was, I flattered myself, quite + maternal. I watched them without acute anxiety, deploring the threatening + destiny, but hardly nearer to it than one is in the stalls to the stage. + My moments of real concern for Dacres were mingled more with anger than + with sorrow—it seemed inexcusable that he, with his infallible + divining-rod for temperament, should be on the point of making such an ass + of himself. Though I talk of the stage there was nothing at all dramatic + to reward my attention, mine and Emily Morgan’s. To my imagination, + excited by its idea of what Dacres Tottenham’s courtship ought to be, the + attentions he paid to Cecily were most humdrum. He threw rings into + buckets with her—she was good at that—and quoits upon the + ‘bull’ board; he found her chair after the decks were swabbed in the + morning and established her in it; he paced the deck with her at + convenient times and seasons. They were humdrum, but they were constant + and cumulative. Cecily took them with an even breath that perfectly + matched. There was hardly anything, on her part, to note—a little + discreet observation of his comings and goings, eyes scarcely lifted from + her book, and later just a hint of proprietorship, as the evening she came + up to me on deck, our first night in the Indian Ocean. I was lying in my + long chair looking at the thick, low stars and thinking it was a long time + since I had seen John. + </p> + <p> + ‘Dearest mamma, out here and nothing over your shoulders! You ARE + imprudent. Where is your wrap? Mr. Tottenham, will you please fetch + mamma’s wrap for her?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If mamma so instructs me,’ he said audaciously. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do as Cecily tells you,’ I laughed, and he went and did it, while I by + the light of a quartermaster’s lantern distinctly saw my daughter blush. + </p> + <p> + Another time, when Cecily came down to undress, she bent over me as I lay + in the lower berth with unusual solicitude. I had been dozing, and I + jumped. + </p> + <p> + ‘What is it, child?’ I said. ‘Is the ship on fire?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, mamma, the ship is not on fire. There is nothing wrong. I’m so sorry + I startled you. But Mr. Tottenham has been telling me all about what you + did for the soldiers the time plague broke out in the lines at Mian-Mir. I + think it was splendid, mamma, and so does he.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, Lord!’ I groaned. ‘Good night.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 1.IV. + </h2> + <p> + It remained in my mind, that little thing that Dacres had taken the + trouble to tell my daughter; I thought about it a good deal. It seemed to + me the most serious and convincing circumstances that had yet offered + itself to my consideration. Dacres was no longer content to bring solace + and support to the more appealing figure of the situation; he must set to + work, bless him! to improve the situation itself. He must try to induce + Miss Farnham, by telling her everything he could remember to my credit, to + think as well of her mother as possible, in spite of the strange and + secret blows which that mother might be supposed to sit up at night to + deliver to her. Cecily thought very well of me already; indeed, with + private reservations as to my manners and—no, NOT my morals, I + believe I exceeded her expectations of what a perfectly new and untrained + mother would be likely to prove. It was my theory that she found me all + she could understand me to be. The maternal virtues of the outside were + certainly mine; I put them on with care every morning and wore them with + patience all day. Dacres, I assured myself, must have allowed his + preconception to lead him absurdly by the nose not to see that the girl + was satisfied, that my impatience, my impotence, did not at all make her + miserable. Evidently, however, he had created our relations differently; + evidently he had set himself to their amelioration. There was portent in + it; things seemed to be closing in. I bit off a quarter of an inch of + wooden pen-handle in considering whether or not I should mention it in my + letter to John, and decided that it would be better just perhaps to drop a + hint. Though I could not expect John to receive it with any sort of + perturbation. Men are different; he would probably think Tottenham well + enough able to look after himself. + </p> + <p> + I had embarked on my letter, there at the end of a corner-table of the + saloon, when I saw Dacres saunter through. He wore a very conscious and + elaborately purposeless air; and it jumped with my mood that he had + nothing less than the crisis of his life in his pocket, and was looking + for me. As he advanced towards me between the long tables doubt left me + and alarm assailed me. ‘I’m glad to find you in a quiet corner,’ said he, + seating himself, and confirmed my worst anticipations. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m writing to John,’ I said, and again applied myself to my pen-handle. + It is a trick Cecily has since done her best in vain to cure me of. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am going to interrupt you,’ he said. ‘I have not had an opportunity of + talking to you for some time.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I like that!’ I exclaimed derisively. + </p> + <p> + ‘And I want to tell you that I am very much charmed with Cecily.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ I said, ‘I am not going to gratify you by saying anything against + her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You don’t deserve her, you know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I won’t dispute that. But, if you don’t mind—I’m not sure that I’ll + stand being abused, dear boy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I quite see it isn’t any use. Though one spoke with the tongues of men + and of angels—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And had not charity,’ I continued for him. ‘Precisely. I won’t go on, but + your quotation is very apt.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I so bow down before her simplicity. It makes a wide and beautiful margin + for the rest of her character. She is a girl Ruskin would have loved.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wonder,’ said I. ‘He did seem fond of the simple type, didn’t he?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Her mind is so clear, so transparent. The motive spring of everything she + says and does is so direct. Don’t you find you can most completely depend + upon her?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh yes,’ I said; ‘certainly. I nearly always know what she is going to + say before she says it, and under given circumstances I can tell precisely + what she will do.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I fancy her sense of duty is very beautifully developed.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is,’ I said. ‘There is hardly a day when I do not come in contact with + it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, that is surely a good thing. And I find that calm poise of hers + very restful.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I would not have believed that so many virtues could reside in one young + lady,’ I said, taking refuge in flippancy, ‘and to think that she should + be my daughter!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘As I believe you know, that seems to me rather a cruel stroke of destiny, + Mrs. Farnham.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh yes, I know! You have a constructive imagination, Dacres. You don’t + seem to see that the girl is protected by her limitations, like a + tortoise. She lives within them quite secure and happy and content. How + determined you are to be sorry for her!’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. Tottenham looked at the end of this lively exchange as though he + sought for a polite way of conveying to me that I rather was the limited + person. He looked as if he wished he could say things. The first of them + would be, I saw, that he had quite a different conception of Cecily, that + it was illuminated by many trifles, nuances of feeling and expression, + which he had noticed in his talks with her whenever they had skirted the + subject of her adoption by her mother. He knew her, he was longing to say, + better than I did; when it would have been natural to reply that one could + not hope to compete in such a direction with an intelligent young man, and + we should at once have been upon delicate and difficult ground. So it was + as well perhaps that he kept silence until he said, as he had come + prepared to say, ‘Well, I want to put that beyond a doubt—her + happiness—if I’m good enough. I want her, please, and I only hope + that she will be half as willing to come as you are likely to be to let + her go.’ + </p> + <p> + It was a shock when it came, plump, like that; and I was horrified to feel + how completely every other consideration was lost for the instant in the + immense relief that it prefigured. To be my whole complete self again, + without the feeling that a fraction of me was masquerading about in + Cecily! To be freed at once, or almost, from an exacting condition and an + impossible ideal! ‘Oh!’ I exclaimed, and my eyes positively filled. ‘You + ARE good, Dacres, but I couldn’t let you do that.’ + </p> + <p> + His undisguised stare brought me back to a sense of the proportion of + things. I saw that in the combination of influences that had brought Mr. + Tottenham to the point of proposing to marry my daughter consideration for + me, if it had a place, would be fantastic. Inwardly I laughed at the + egotism of raw nerves that had conjured it up, even for an instant, as a + reason for gratitude. The situation was not so peculiar, not so + interesting, as that. But I answered his stare with a smile; what I had + said might very well stand. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you imagine,’ he said, seeing that I did not mean to amplify it, ‘that + I want to marry her out of any sort of GOODness?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Benevolence is your weakness, Dacres.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I see. You think one’s motive is to withdraw her from a relation which + ought to be the most natural in the world, but which is, in her particular + and painful case, the most equivocal.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, come,’ I remonstrated. ‘You have dropped one or two things, you + know, in the heat of your indignation, not badly calculated to give one + that idea. The eloquent statement you have just made, for instance—it + carries all the patness of old conviction. How often have you rehearsed + it?’ + </p> + <p> + I am a fairly long-suffering person, but I began to feel a little annoyed + with my would-be son-in-law. If the relation were achieved it would give + him no prescriptive right to bully me; and we were still in very early + anticipation of that. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah!’ he said disarmingly. ‘Don’t let us quarrel. I’m sorry you think + that; because it isn’t likely to bring your favour to my project, and I + want you friendly and helpful. Oh, confound it!’ he exclaimed, with sudden + temper. ‘You ought to be. I don’t understand this aloofness. I half + suspect it’s pose. You undervalue Cecily—well, you have no business + to undervalue me. You know me better than anybody in the world. Now are + you going to help me to marry your daughter?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t think so,’ I said slowly, after a moment’s silence, which he sat + through like a mutinous schoolboy. ‘I might tell you that I don’t care a + button whom you marry, but that would not be true. I do care more or less. + As you say, I know you pretty well. I’d a little rather you didn’t make a + mess of it; and if you must I should distinctly prefer not to have the + spectacle under my nose for the rest of my life. I can’t hinder you, but I + won’t help you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And what possesses you to imagine that in marrying Cecily I should make a + mess of it? Shouldn’t your first consideration be whether SHE would?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps it should, but, you see, it isn’t. Cecily would be happy with + anybody who made her comfortable. You would ask a good deal more than + that, you know.’ + </p> + <p> + Dacres, at this, took me up promptly. Life, he said, the heart of life, + had particularly little to say to temperament. By the heart of life I + suppose he meant married love. He explained that its roots asked other + sustenance, and that it throve best of all on simple elemental goodness. + So long as a man sought in women mere casual companionship, perhaps the + most exquisite thing to be experienced was the stimulus of some spiritual + feminine counterpart; but when he desired of one woman that she should be + always and intimately with him, the background of his life, the mother of + his children, he was better advised to avoid nerves and sensibilities, and + try for the repose of the common—the uncommon—domestic + virtues. Ah, he said, they were sweet, like lavender. (Already, I told + him, he smelled the housekeeper’s linen-chest.) But I did not interrupt + him much; I couldn’t, he was too absorbed. To temperamental pairing, he + declared, the century owed its breed of decadents. I asked him if he had + ever really recognized one; and he retorted that if he hadn’t he didn’t + wish to make a beginning in his own family. In a quarter of an hour he + repudiated the theories of a lifetime, a gratifying triumph for simple + elemental goodness. Having denied the value of the subtler pretensions to + charm in woman as you marry her, he went artlessly on to endow Cecily with + as many of them as could possibly be desirable. He actually persuaded + himself to say that it was lovely to see the reflections of life in her + tranquil spirit; and when I looked at him incredulously he grew angry, and + hinted that Cecily’s sensitiveness to reflections and other things might + be a trifle beyond her mother’s ken. ‘She responds instantly, intimately, + to the beautiful everywhere,’ he declared. + </p> + <p> + ‘Aren’t the opportunities of life on board ship rather limited to + demonstrate that?’ I inquired. ‘I know—you mean sunsets. Cecily is + very fond of sunsets. She is always asking me to come and look at them.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I was thinking of last night’s sunset,’ he confessed. ‘We looked at it + together.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What did she say?’ I asked idly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nothing very much. That’s just the point. Another girl would have raved + and gushed.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, well, Cecily never does that,’ I responded. ‘Nevertheless she is a + very ordinary human instrument. I hope I shall have no temptation ten + years hence to remind you that I warned you of her quality.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish, not in the least for my own profit, for I am well convinced + already, but simply to win your cordiality and your approval—never + did an unexceptional wooer receive such niggard encouragement!—I + wish there were some sort of test for her quality. I would be proud to + stand by it, and you would be convinced. I can’t find words to describe my + objection to your state of mind.’ + </p> + <p> + The thing seemed to me to be a foregone conclusion. I saw it accomplished, + with all its possibilities of disastrous commonplace. I saw all that I + have here taken the trouble to foreshadow. So far as I was concerned, + Dacres’s burden would add itself to my philosophies, voila tout. I should + always be a little uncomfortable about it, because it had been taken from + my back; but it would not be a matter for the wringing of hands. And yet—the + hatefulness of the mistake! Dacres’s bold talk of a test made no + suggestion. Should my invention be more fertile? I thought of something. + </p> + <p> + ‘You have said nothing to her yet?’ I asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nothing. I don’t think she suspects for a moment. She treats me as if no + such fell design were possible. I’m none too confident, you know,’ he + added, with longer face. + </p> + <p> + ‘We go straight to Agra. Could you come to Agra?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ideal!’ he cried. ‘The memory of Mumtaz! The garden of the Taj! I’ve + always wanted to love under the same moon as Shah Jehan. How thoughtful of + you!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You must spend a few days with us in Agra,’ I continued. ‘And as you say, + it is the very place to shrine your happiness, if it comes to pass there.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I am glad to have extracted a word of kindness from you at last,’ + said Dacres, as the stewards came to lay the table. ‘But I wish,’ he added + regretfully, ‘you could have thought of a test.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 1.V. + </h2> + <p> + Four days later we were in Agra. A time there was when the name would have + been the key of dreams to me; now it stood for John’s headquarters. I was + rejoiced to think I would look again upon the Taj; and the prospect of + living with it was a real enchantment; but I pondered most the kind of + house that would be provided for the General Commanding the District, how + many the dining-room would seat, and whether it would have a roof of + thatch or of corrugated iron—I prayed against corrugated iron. I + confess these my preoccupations. I was forty, and at forty the practical + considerations of life hold their own even against domes of marble, + world-renowned, and set about with gardens where the bulbul sings to the + rose. I smiled across the years at the raptures of my first vision of the + place at twenty-one, just Cecily’s age. Would I now sit under Arjamand’s + cypresses till two o’clock in the morning to see the wonder of her tomb at + a particular angle of the moon? Would I climb one of her tall white + ministering minarets to see anything whatever? I very greatly feared that + I would not. Alas for the aging of sentiment, of interest! Keep your touch + with life and your seat in the saddle as long as you will, the world is no + new toy at forty. But Cecily was twenty-one, Cecily who sat stolidly + finishing her lunch while Dacres Tottenham talked about Akbar and his + philosophy. ‘The sort of man,’ he said, ‘that Carlyle might have smoked a + pipe with.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But surely,’ said Cecily reflectively, ‘tobacco was not discovered in + England then. Akbar came to the throne in 1526.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nor Carlyle either for that matter,’ I hastened to observe. + ‘Nevertheless, I think Mr. Tottenham’s proposition must stand.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thanks, Mrs. Farnham,’ said Dacres. ‘But imagine Miss Farnham’s + remembering Akbar’s date! I’m sure you didn’t!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Let us hope she doesn’t know too much about him,’ I cried gaily, ‘or + there will be nothing to tell!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, really and truly very little!’ said Cecily, ‘but as soon as we heard + papa would be stationed here Aunt Emma made me read up about those old + Moguls and people. I think I remember the dynasty. Baber, wasn’t he the + first? And then Humayon, and after him Akbar, and then Jehangir, and then + Shah Jehan. But I’ve forgotten every date but Akbar’s.’ + </p> + <p> + She smiled her smile of brilliant health and even spirits as she made the + damaging admission, and she was so good to look at, sitting there simple + and wholesome and fresh, peeling her banana with her well-shaped fingers, + that we swallowed the dynasty as it were whole, and smiled back upon her. + John, I may say, was extremely pleased with Cecily; he said she was a very + satisfactory human accomplishment. One would have thought, positively, the + way he plumed himself over his handsome daughter, that he alone was + responsible for her. But John, having received his family, straightway set + off with his Staff on a tour of inspection, and thereby takes himself out + of this history. I sometimes think that if he had stayed—but there + has never been the lightest recrimination between us about it, and I am + not going to hint one now. + </p> + <p> + ‘Did you read,’ asked Dacres, ‘what he and the Court poet wrote over the + entrance gate to the big mosque at Fattehpur-Sikri? It’s rather nice. “The + world is a looking-glass, wherein the image has come and is gone—take + as thine own nothing more than what thou lookest upon.”’ + </p> + <p> + My daughter’s thoughtful gaze was, of course, fixed upon the speaker, and + in his own glance I saw a sudden ray of consciousness; but Cecily + transferred her eyes to the opposite wall, deeply considering, and while + Dacres and I smiled across the table, I saw that she had perceived no + reason for blushing. It was a singularly narrow escape. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ she said, ‘I didn’t; what a curious proverb for an emperor to make! + He couldn’t possibly have been able to see all his possessions at once.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you have finished,’ Dacres addressed her, ‘do let me show you what + your plain and immediate duty is to the garden. The garden waits for you—all + the roses expectant—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, there isn’t one!’ cried Cecily, pinning on her hat. It was pleasing, + and just a trifle pathetic, the way he hurried her out of the scope of any + little dart; he would not have her even within range of amused + observation. Would he continue, I wondered vaguely, as, with my elbows on + the table, I tore into strips the lemon-leaf that floated in my + finger-bowl—would he continue, through life, to shelter her from his + other clever friends as now he attempted to shelter her from her mother? + In that case he would have to domicile her, poor dear, behind the curtain, + like the native ladies—a good price to pay for a protection of + which, bless her heart! she would be all unaware. I had quite stopped + bemoaning the affair; perhaps the comments of my husband, who treated it + with broad approval and satisfaction, did something to soothe my + sensibilities. At all events, I had gradually come to occupy a high + fatalistic ground towards the pair. If it was written upon their foreheads + that they should marry, the inscription was none of mine; and, of course, + it was true, as John had indignantly stated, that Dacres might do very + much worse. One’s interest in Dacres Tottenham’s problematical future had + in no way diminished; but the young man was so positive, so full of + intention, so disinclined to discussion—he had not reopened the + subject since that morning in the saloon of the Caledonia—that one’s + feeling about it rather took the attenuated form of a shrug. I am afraid, + too, that the pleasurable excitement of such an impending event had a + little supervened; even at forty there is no disallowing the natural + interests of one’s sex. As I sat there pulling my lemon-leaf to pieces, I + should not have been surprised or in the least put about if the two had + returned radiant from the lawn to demand my blessing. As to the test of + quality that I had obligingly invented for Dacres on the spur of the + moment without his knowledge or connivance, it had some time ago faded + into what he apprehended it to be—a mere idyllic opportunity, a + charming background, a frame for his project, of prettier sentiment than + the funnels and the hand-rails of a ship. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Tottenham had ten days to spend with us. He knew the place well; it + belonged to the province to whose service he was dedicated, and he claimed + with impressive authority the privilege of showing it to Cecily by degrees—the + Hall of Audience today, the Jessamine Tower tomorrow, the tomb of Akbar + another, and the Deserted City yet another day. We arranged the + expeditions in conference, Dacres insisting only upon the order of them, + which I saw was to be cumulative, with the Taj at the very end, on the + night precisely of the full of the moon, with a better chance of roses. I + had no special views, but Cecily contributed some; that we should do the + Hall of Audience in the morning, so as not to interfere with the club + tennis in the afternoon, that we should bicycle to Akbar’s tomb and take a + cold luncheon—if we were sure there would be no snakes—to the + Deserted City, to all of which Dacres gave loyal assent. I endorsed + everything; I was the encouraging chorus, only stipulating that my number + should be swelled from day to day by the addition of such persons as I + should approve. Cecily, for instance, wanted to invite the Bakewells + because we had come out in the same ship with them; but I could not endure + the Bakewells, and it seemed to me that our having made the voyage with + them was the best possible reason for declining to lay eyes on them for + the rest of our natural lives. ‘Mamma has such strong prejudices,’ Cecily + remarked, as she reluctantly gave up the idea; and I waited to see whether + the graceless Tottenham would unmurmuringly take down the Bakewells. How + strong must be the sentiment that turns a man into a boa-constrictor + without a pang of transmigration! But no, this time he was faithful to the + principles of his pre-Cecilian existence. ‘They are rather Boojums,’ he + declared. ‘You would think so, too, if you knew them better. It is that + kind of excellent person that makes the real burden of India.’ I could + have patted him on the back. + </p> + <p> + Thanks to the rest of the chorus, which proved abundantly available, I was + no immediate witness to Cecily’s introduction to the glorious fragments + which sustain in Agra the memory of the moguls. I may as well say that I + arranged with care that if anybody must be standing by when Dacres + disclosed them, it should not be I. If Cecily had squinted, I should have + been sorry, but I would have found in it no personal humiliation. There + were other imperfections of vision, however, for which I felt responsible + and ashamed; and with Dacres, though the situation, Heaven knows, was none + of my seeking, I had a little the feeling of a dealer who offers a + defective bibelot to a connoisseur. My charming daughter—I was fifty + times congratulated upon her appearance and her manners—had many + excellent qualities and capacities which she never inherited from me; but + she could see no more than the bulk, no further than the perspective; she + could register exactly as much as a camera. + </p> + <p> + This was a curious thing, perhaps, to displease my maternal vanity, but it + did; I had really rather she squinted; and when there was anything to look + at I kept out of the way. I can not tell precisely, therefore, what the + incidents were that contributed to make Mr. Tottenham, on our return from + these expeditions, so thoughtful, with a thoughtfulness which increased, + towards the end of them, to a positive gravity. This would disappear + during dinner under the influence of food and drink. He would talk nightly + with new enthusiasm and fresh hope—or did I imagine it?—of the + loveliness he had arranged to reveal on the following day. If again my + imagination did not lead me astray, I fancied this occurred later and + later in the course of the meal as the week went on; as if his state + required more stimulus as time progressed. One evening, when I expected it + to flag altogether, I had a whim to order champagne and observe the + effect; but I am glad to say that I reproved myself, and refrained. + </p> + <p> + Cecily, meanwhile, was conducting herself in a manner which left nothing + to be desired. If, as I sometimes thought, she took Dacres very much for + granted, she took him calmly for granted; she seemed a prey to none of + those fluttering uncertainties, those suspended judgments and elaborate + indifferences which translate themselves so plainly in a young lady + receiving addresses. She turned herself out very freshly and very well; + she was always ready for everything, and I am sure that no glance of + Dacres Tottenham’s found aught but direct and decorous response. His + society on these occasions gave her solid pleasure; so did the drive and + the lunch; the satisfactions were apparently upon the same plane. She was + aware of the plum, if I may be permitted a brusque but irresistible + simile; and with her mouth open, her eyes modestly closed, and her head in + a convenient position, she waited, placidly, until it should fall in. The + Farnham ladies would have been delighted with the result of their labours + in the sweet reason and eminent propriety of this attitude. Thinking of my + idiotic sufferings when John began to fix himself upon my horizon, I + pondered profoundly the power of nature in differentiation. + </p> + <p> + One evening, the last, I think, but one, I had occasion to go to my + daughter’s room, and found her writing in her commonplace-book. She had a + commonplace-book, as well as a Where Is It? an engagement-book, an + account-book, a diary, a Daily Sunshine, and others with purposes too + various to remember. ‘Dearest mamma,’ she said, as I was departing, ‘there + is only one “p” in “opulence”, isn’t there?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ I replied, with my hand on the door-handle, and added curiously, + for it was an odd word in Cecily’s mouth, ‘Why?’ + </p> + <p> + She hardly hesitated. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘I am just writing down one or two + things Mr. Tottenham said about Agra before I forget them. They seemed so + true.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He has a descriptive touch,’ I remarked. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think he describes beautifully. Would you like to hear what he said + today?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I would,’ I replied, sincerely. + </p> + <p> + ‘“Agra,”’ read this astonishing young lady, ‘“is India’s one pure idyll. + Elsewhere she offers other things, foolish opulence, tawdry pageant, + treachery of eunuchs and jealousies of harems, thefts of kings’ jewels and + barbaric retributions; but they are all actual, visualized, or part of a + past that shows to the backward glance hardly more relief and vitality + than a Persian painting”—I should like to see a Persian painting—“but + here the immortal tombs and pleasure-houses rise out of colour delicate + and subtle; the vision holds across three hundred years; the print of the + court is still in the dust of the city.”’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Did you really let him go on like that?’ I exclaimed. ‘It has the license + of a lecture!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I encouraged him to. Of course he didn’t say it straight off. He said it + naturally; he stopped now and then to cough. I didn’t understand it all; + but I think I have remembered every word.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You have a remarkable memory. I’m glad he stopped to cough. Is there any + more?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘One little bit. “Here the moguls wrought their passions into marble, and + held them up with great refrains from their religion, and set them about + with gardens; and here they stand in the twilight of the glory of those + kings and the noonday splendour of their own.”’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How clever of you!’ I exclaimed. ‘How wonderfully clever of you to + remember!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I had to ask him to repeat one or two sentences. He didn’t like that. But + this is nothing. I used to learn pages letter-perfect for Aunt Emma. She + was very particular. I think it is worth preserving, don’t you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear Cecily,’ I responded, ‘you have a frugal mind.’ + </p> + <p> + There was nothing else to respond. I could not tell her just how practical + I thought her, or how pathetic her little book. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 1.VI. + </h2> + <p> + We drove together, after dinner, to the Taj. The moonlight lay in an empty + splendour over the broad sandy road, with the acacias pricking up on each + side of it and the gardens of the station bungalows stretching back into + clusters of crisp shadows. It was an exquisite February night, very still. + Nothing seemed abroad but two or three pariah dogs, upon vague and errant + business, and the Executive Engineer going swiftly home from the club on + his bicycle. Even the little shops of the bazaar were dark and empty; only + here and there a light showed barred behind the carved balconies of the + upper rooms, and there was hardly any tom-tomming. The last long slope of + the road showed us the river curving to the left, through a silent white + waste that stretched indefinitely into the moonlight on one side, and was + crowned by Akbar’s fort on the other. His long high line of turrets and + battlements still guarded a hint of their evening rose, and dim and + exquisite above them hovered the three dome-bubbles of the Pearl Mosque. + It was a night of perfect illusion, and the illusion was mysterious, + delicate, and faint. I sat silent as we rolled along, twenty years nearer + to the original joy of things when John and I drove through the same old + dream. + </p> + <p> + Dacres, too, seemed preoccupied; only Cecily was, as they say, herself. + Cecily was really more than herself, she exhibited an unusual flow of + spirits. She talked continually, she pointed out this and that, she asked + who lived here and who lived there. At regular intervals of about four + minutes she demanded if it wasn’t simply too lovely. She sat straight up + with her vigorous profile and her smart hat; and the silhouette of her + personality sharply refused to mingle with the dust of any dynasty. She + was a contrast, a protest; positively she was an indignity. ‘Do lean back, + dear child,’ I exclaimed at last. ‘You interfere with the landscape.’ + </p> + <p> + She leaned back, but she went on interfering with it in terms of sincerest + enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + When we stopped at the great archway of entrance I begged to be left in + the carriage. What else could one do, when the golden moment had come, but + sit in the carriage and measure it? They climbed the broad stone steps + together and passed under the lofty gravures into the garden, and I + waited. I waited and remembered. I am not, as perhaps by this time is + evident, a person of overwhelming sentiment, but I think the smile upon my + lips was gentle. So plainly I could see, beyond the massive archway and + across a score of years, all that they saw at that moment—Arjamand’s + garden, and the long straight tank of marble cleaving it full of sleeping + water and the shadows of the marshaling cypresses; her wide dark garden of + roses and of pomegranates, and at the end the Vision, marvellous, aerial, + the soul of something—is it beauty? is it sorrow?—that great + white pride of love in mourning such as only here in all the round of our + little world lifts itself to the stars, the unpaintable, indescribable Taj + Mahal. A gentle breath stole out with a scent of jessamine and such a + memory! I closed my eyes and felt the warm luxury of a tear. + </p> + <p> + Thinking of the two in the garden, my mood was very kind, very conniving. + How foolish after all were my cherry-stone theories of taste and + temperament before that uncalculating thing which sways a world and builds + a Taj Mahal! Was it probable that Arjamand and her Emperor had loved + fastidiously, and yet how they had loved! I wandered away into + consideration of the blind forces which move the world, in which comely + young persons like my daughter Cecily had such a place; I speculated + vaguely upon the value of the subtler gifts of sympathy and insight which + seemed indeed, at that enveloping moment, to be mere flowers strewn upon + the tide of deeper emotions. The garden sent me a fragrance of roses; the + moon sailed higher and picked out the little kiosks set along the wall. It + was a charming, charming thing to wait, there at the portal of the + silvered, scented garden, for an idyll to come forth. + </p> + <p> + When they reappeared, Dacres and my daughter, they came with casual steps + and cheerful voices. They might have been a couple of tourists. The + moonlight fell full upon them on the platform under the arch. It showed + Dacres measuring with his stick the length of the Sanskrit letters which + declared the stately texts, and Cecily’s expression of polite, perfunctory + interest. They looked up at the height above them; they looked back at the + vision behind. Then they sauntered towards the carriage, he offering a + formal hand to help her down the uncertain steps, she gracefully accepting + it. + </p> + <p> + ‘You—you have not been long,’ said I. ‘I hope you didn’t hurry on my + account.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Miss Farnham found the marble a little cold under foot,’ replied Dacres, + putting Miss Farnham in. + </p> + <p> + ‘You see,’ explained Cecily, ‘I stupidly forgot to change into thicker + soles. I have only my slippers. But, mamma, how lovely it is! Do let us + come again in the daytime. I am dying to make a sketch of it.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. Tottenham was to leave us on the following day. In the morning, after + ‘little breakfast,’ as we say in India, he sought me in the room I had set + aside to be particularly my own. + </p> + <p> + Again I was writing to John, but this time I waited for precisely his + interruption. I had got no further than ‘My dearest husband,’ and my + pen-handle was a fringe. + </p> + <p> + ‘Another fine day,’ I said, as if the old, old Indian joke could give him + ease, poor man! + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said he, ‘we are having lovely weather.’ + </p> + <p> + He had forgotten that it was a joke. Then he lapsed into silence while I + renewed my attentions to my pen. + </p> + <p> + ‘I say,’ he said at last, with so strained a look about his mouth that it + was almost a contortion, ‘I haven’t done it, you know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ I responded, cheerfully, ‘and you’re not going to. Is that it? + Well!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Frankly—’ said he. + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear me, yes! Anything else between you and me would be grotesque,’ I + interrupted, ‘after all these years.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t think it would be a success,’ he said, looking at me resolutely + with his clear blue eyes, in which still lay, alas! the possibility of + many delusions. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ I said, ‘I never did, you know. But the prospect had begun to impose + upon me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘To say how right you were would seem, under the circumstances, the most + hateful form of flattery.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I think I can dispense with your verbal endorsement.’ I + felt a little bitter. It was, of course, better that the connoisseur + should have discovered the flaw before concluding the transaction; but + although I had pointed it out myself I was not entirely pleased to have + the article returned. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am infinitely ashamed that it should have taken me all these days—day + after day and each contributory—to discover what you saw so easily + and so completely.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You forget that I am her mother,’ I could not resist the temptation of + saying. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, for God’s sake don’t jeer! Please be absolutely direct, and tell me + if you have reason to believe that to the extent of a thought, of a breath—to + any extent at all—she cares.’ + </p> + <p> + He was, I could see, very deeply moved; he had not arrived at this point + without trouble and disorder not lightly to be put on or off. Yet I did + not hurry to his relief, I was still possessed by a vague feeling of + offense. I reflected that any mother would be, and I quite plumed myself + upon my annoyance. It was so satisfactory, when one had a daughter, to + know the sensations of even any mother. Nor was it soothing to remember + that the young man’s whole attitude towards Cecily had been based upon + criticism of me, even though he sat before me whipped with his own lash. + His temerity had been stupid and obstinate; I could not regret his + punishment. + </p> + <p> + I kept him waiting long enough to think all this, and then I replied, ‘I + have not the least means of knowing.’ + </p> + <p> + I can not say what he expected, but he squared his shoulders as if he had + received a blow and might receive another. Then he looked at me with a + flash of the old indignation. ‘You are not near enough to her for that!’ + he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am not near enough to her for that.’ + </p> + <p> + Silence fell between us. A crow perched upon an opened venetian and cawed + lustily. For years afterward I never heard a crow caw without a sense of + vain, distressing experiment. Dacres got up and began to walk about the + room. I very soon put a stop to that. ‘I can’t talk to a pendulum,’ I + said, but I could not persuade him to sit down again. + </p> + <p> + ‘Candidly,’ he said at length, ‘do you think she would have me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I regret to say that I think she would. But you would not dream of asking + her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why not? She is a dear girl,’ he responded inconsequently. + </p> + <p> + ‘You could not possibly stand it.’ + </p> + <p> + Then Mr. Tottenham delivered himself of this remarkable phrase: ‘I could + stand it,’ he said, ‘as well as you can.’ + </p> + <p> + There was far from being any joy in the irony with which I regarded him + and under which I saw him gather up his resolution to go; nevertheless I + did nothing to make it easy for him. I refrained from imparting my private + conviction that Cecily would accept the first presentable substitute that + appeared, although it was strong. I made no reference to my daughter’s + large fund of philosophy and small balance of sentiment. I did not even—though + this was reprehensible—confess the test, the test of quality in + these ten days with the marble archives of the Moguls, which I had almost + wantonly suggested, which he had so unconsciously accepted, so + disastrously applied. I gave him quite fifteen minutes of his bad quarter + of an hour, and when it was over I wrote truthfully but furiously to + John.... + </p> + <p> + That was ten years ago. We have since attained the shades of retirement, + and our daughter is still with us when she is not with Aunt Emma and Aunt + Alice—grandmamma has passed away. Mr. Tottenham’s dumb departure + that day in February—it was the year John got his C.B.—was + followed, I am thankful to say, by none of the symptoms of unrequited + affection on Cecily’s part. Not for ten minutes, so far as I was aware, + was she the maid forlorn. I think her self-respect was of too robust a + character, thanks to the Misses Farnham. Still less, of course, had she + any reproaches to serve upon her mother, although for a long time I + thought I detected—or was it my guilty conscience?—a spark of + shrewdness in the glance she bent upon me when the talk was of Mr. + Tottenham and the probabilities of his return to Agra. So well did she + sustain her experience, or so little did she feel it, that I believe the + impression went abroad that Dacres had been sent disconsolate away. One + astonishing conversation I had with her some six months later, which + turned upon the point of a particularly desirable offer. She told me + something then, without any sort of embarrassment, but quite lucidly and + directly, that edified me much to hear. She said that while she was quite + sure that Mr. Tottenham thought of her only as a friend—she had + never had the least reason for any other impression—he had done her + a service for which she could not thank him enough—in showing her + what a husband might be. He had given her a standard; it might be high, + but it was unalterable. She didn’t know whether she could describe it, but + Mr. Tottenham was different from the kind of man you seemed to meet in + India. He had his own ways of looking at things, and he talked so well. He + had given her an ideal, and she intended to profit by it. To know that men + like Mr. Tottenham existed, and to marry any other kind would be an act of + folly which she did not intend to commit. No, Major the Hon. Hugh Taverel + did not come near it—very far short, indeed! He had talked to her + during the whole of dinner the night before about jackal-hunting with a + bobbery pack—not at all an elevated mind. Yes, he might be a very + good fellow, but as a companion for life she was sure he would not be at + all suitable. She would wait. + </p> + <p> + And she has waited. I never thought she would, but she has. From time to + time men have wished to take her from us, but the standard has been + inexorable, and none of them have reached it. When Dacres married the + charming American whom he caught like a butterfly upon her Eastern tour, + Cecily sent them as a wedding present an alabaster model of the Taj, and I + let her do it—the gift was so exquisitely appropriate. I suppose he + never looks at it without being reminded that he didn’t marry Miss + Farnham, and I hope that he remembers that he owes it to Miss Farnham’s + mother. So much I think I might claim; it is really very little + considering what it stands for. Cecily is permanently with us—I + believe she considers herself an intimate. I am very reasonable about + lending her to her aunts, but she takes no sort of advantage of my + liberality; she says she knows her duty is at home. She is growing into a + firm and solid English maiden lady, with a good colour and great decision + of character. That she always had. + </p> + <p> + I point out to John, when she takes our crumpets away from us, that she + gets it from him. I could never take away anybody’s crumpets, merely + because they were indigestible, least of all my own parents’. She has + acquired a distinct affection for us, by some means best known to herself; + but I should have no objection to that if she would not rearrange my + bonnet-strings. That is a fond liberty to which I take exception; but it + is one thing to take exception and another to express it. + </p> + <p> + Our daughter is with us, permanently with us. She declares that she + intends to be the prop of our declining years; she makes the statement + often, and always as if it were humorous. Nevertheless I sometimes notice + a spirit of inquiry, a note of investigation in her encounters with the + opposite sex that suggests an expectation not yet extinct that another and + perhaps a more appreciative Dacres Tottenham may flash across her field of + vision—alas, how improbable! Myself I can not imagine why she should + wish it; I have grown in my old age into a perfect horror of cultivated + young men; but if such a person should by a miracle at any time appear, I + think it is extremely improbable that I will interfere on his behalf. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 2. An Impossible Ideal. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 2.I. + </h2> + <p> + To understand how we prized him, Dora Harris and I, it is necessary to + know Simla. I suppose people think of that place, if they ever do think of + it, as an agreeable retreat in the wilds of the Himalayas where deodars + and scandals grow, and where the Viceroy if he likes may take off his + decorations and go about in flannels. I know how useless it would be to + try to give a more faithful impression, and I will hold back from the + attempt as far as I can. Besides, my little story is itself an explanation + of Simla. Ingersoll Armour might have appeared almost anywhere else + without making social history. He came and bloomed among us in the + wilderness, and such and such things happened. It sounds too rude a + generalization to say that Simla is a wilderness; I hasten to add that it + is a waste as highly cultivated as you like, producing many things more + admirable than Ingersoll Armour. Still he bloomed there conspicuously + alone. Perhaps there would have been nothing to tell if we had not tried + to gather him. That was wrong; Nature in Simla expects you to be content + with cocked hats. + </p> + <p> + There are artists almost everywhere and people who paint even in the + Himalayas, though Miss Harris and I in our superior way went yearly to the + Simla Fine Arts Exhibition chiefly to amuse ourselves by scoffing. It was + easy to say clever things about the poor little exhibits; and one was + grateful to the show on this account, for nothing is more depressing east + of Suez than the absence of provocation to say clever things. There one + afternoon in May as we marched about enjoying ourselves, we came upon + Ingersoll Armour, not in the flesh, but in half a dozen studies hanging in + the least conspicuous corner and quite the worst light in the room. + </p> + <p> + ‘Eh, what?’ said I, and Dora exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + ‘I SAY!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Sent out from home,’ I said, ever the oracle. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not at all,’ replied Dora. ‘Look, they are Indian subjects. SIMLA + subjects,’ she went on, with excitement. + </p> + <p> + I turned up the catalogue. ‘Ninety-seven, “Kasumti Bazaar”; ninety-eight, + “Clouds on the Chor”; ninety-nine, “The House of a Friend”—Lord, + what apricot blossoms! Yes, they’re all Simla.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘For goodness’ sake,’ said Dora, ‘who painted them? You’ve got the + catalogue!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘“I. Armour,”’ I read. + </p> + <p> + ‘“I. Armour,”’ she repeated, and we looked at each other, saying in plain + silence that to the small world of Simla I. Armour was unknown. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not on Government House list, I venture to believe,’ said Dora. That in + itself may show to what depths we sink. Yet it was a trenchant and a + reasonable speculation. + </p> + <p> + ‘It may be a newcomer,’ I suggested, but she shook her head. ‘All + newcomers call upon us,’ she said. ‘There in the middle of the Mall we + escape none of them. He isn’t a calling person.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why do you say “he”? You are very confident with your pronouns. There’s a + delicacy of feeling—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Which exactly does not suggest a women. We are undermined by delicacy of + feeling; we’re not strong enough to express it with brushes. A man can + make it a quality, a decorative characteristic, and so we see it. With a + woman it’s everything—all over the place—and of no effect. Oh, + I assure you, I. Armour is a man.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Who shall stand against you! Let him be a man. He has taste.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Taste!’ exclaimed Miss Harris, violently, and from the corners of her + mouth I gathered that I had said one of those things which she would store + up and produce to prove that I was not, for all my pretensions, a person + of the truest feeling. ‘He sees things.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s an intensity,’ I ventured. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s better. Yes, an intensity. A perfect passion of colour. Look at + that.’ She indicated a patch of hillsides perhaps six inches by four, in + which the light seemed to come and go as it does in a sapphire. + </p> + <p> + We stood and gazed. It was a tremendous thing; only half a dozen studies + with feeling and knowledge in them, but there in that remote fastness + thrice barred against the arts a tremendous thing, a banquet for our + famished eyes. What they would have said to us in London is a different + matter, and how good they really were I do not find the courage to + pronounce, but they had merit enough to prick our sense of beauty + delightfully where we found them—oh, they were good! + </p> + <p> + ‘Heaven send it isn’t a Tommy,’ said Dora, with a falling countenance. + ‘There is something absolutely inaccessible about a Tommy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How could it be?’ I asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, there are some inspired ones. But it isn’t—that’s French + technique. It’s an Englishman or an American who has worked in Paris. What + in the name of fortune is he doing here?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh,’ I said, ‘we have had them, you know. Val Prinsep came out at the + time of the Prince of Wales’s visit.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you remember that?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a matter of history,’ I said, evasively, ‘and Edwin Weeks travelled + through India not so many years ago. I saw his studio in Paris afterward. + Between his own canvases and Ahmedabad balconies and Delhi embroideries + and Burmese Buddhas and other things he seemed to have carried off the + whole place.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But they don’t come up here ever. They come in the cold weather, and as + they can get plenty of snow and ice at home, they stay down in the plains + with the palm-trees.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Precisely; they do,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + ‘And besides,’ Dora went on, with increasing excitement, ‘this isn’t a + master. You see, he doesn’t send a single picture—only these tiny + things. And there’s a certain tentativeness’—Miss Harris, her + parasol handle pressed against her lips, looked at me with an eagerness + that was a pleasure to look at in itself. + </p> + <p> + ‘A certain weakness, almost a lack of confidence, in the drawing,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + ‘What does that signify?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, immaturity, of course—not enough discipline.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He’s a student. Not that it amounts to a defect, you know’—she was + as jealous already as if she possessed the things—‘only a sign to + read by. I should be grateful for more signs. Why should a student come to + Simla?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘To teach, perhaps,’ I suggested. Naturally one sought only among reasons + of utility. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s the Kensington person who teaches. When they have worked in the + ateliers and learned as much as this they never do. They paint fans and + menu cards, and starve, but they don’t teach.’ + </p> + <p> + Sir William Lamb, Member of Council for the Department of Finance, was + borne by the stream to our sides. The simile will hardly stand + conscientious examination, for the stream was a thin one and did no more + than trickle past, while Sir William weighed fifteen stone, and was so + eminent that it could never inconvenience him at its deepest. Dora + detached her gaze from the pictures and turned her back upon them; I saw + the measure of precaution. It was unavailing, however. ‘What have we + here?’ said Sir William. Dora removed her person from his line of vision, + and he saw what we had there. + </p> + <p> + ‘The work of a friend of yours?’ Sir William was spoken of as a ‘cautious’ + man. He had risen to his present distinction on stepping-stones of + mistakes he conspicuously had not made. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Dora, ‘we were wondering who the artist could be.’ + </p> + <p> + Sir William looked at the studies, and had a happy thought. ‘If you ask + me, I should say a child of ten,’ he said. He was also known as a man of + humour. + </p> + <p> + ‘Miss Harris had just remarked a certain immaturity,’ I ventured. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, well,’ said Sir William, ‘this isn’t the Royal Academy, is it? I + always say it’s very good of people to send their things here at all. And + some of them are not half bad—I should call this year’s average very + high indeed.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you pleased with the picture that has taken your prize, Sir William?’ + asked Dora. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have bought it.’ Sir William’s chest underwent before our eyes an + expansion of conscious virtue. Living is so expensive in Simla; the + purchase of a merely decorative object takes almost the proportion of an + act of religion, even by a Member of Council drawing four hundred pounds a + month. + </p> + <p> + ‘First-rate it is, first-rate. Have you seen it? “Our Camp in Tirah.” + Natives cooking in the foreground, fellows standing about smoking, and a + whole pile of tinned stores dumped down in one corner, exactly as they + would be, don’t you know! Oh, I think the Committee made a very good + choice indeed, a very good choice.’ + </p> + <p> + Sir William moved on, and Dora was free to send me an expressive glance. + ‘Isn’t that just LIKE this place?’ she demanded. ‘Let me see, the + Viceroy’s medal, the Society’s silver medal, five prizes from Members of + Council. Highly Commended’s as thick as blackberries, and these perfectly + fresh, original, admirable things completely ignored. What an absurd, + impossible corner of the earth it is!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You look very cross, you two,’ said Mrs. Sinclair, trailing past. ‘Come + and see the crazy china exhibit, all made of little bits, you know. They + say the photograph frames are simply lovely.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sinclair’s invitation was not sincere. Miss Harris was able to answer + it with a laugh and a wave. We remained beside the serious fact of + exhibits 97-103. + </p> + <p> + ‘Who are the judges this year?’ I asked, not that I did not know precisely + who they were likely to be. There is a custom in these matters, and I had + been part of Simla for eleven years. + </p> + <p> + Dora took the catalogue from my hand and turned its pages over. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr. Cathcart, of course; the Private Secretary to the Viceroy would be on + the Committee almost ex officio, wouldn’t he? Impossible to conceive a + Private Secretary to the Viceroy whose opinion would not be valuable upon + any head. The member for Public Works—I suppose he can build + bridges, or could once, therefore he can draw, or could once; besides, + look at his precedence and his pay! General Haycock—isn’t he head of + the Ordnance Department? I can’t think of any other reason for putting him + on. Oh yes—he’s a K.C.B., and he is inventing a way of taking + coloured photographs. Mr. Tilley, the old gentleman that teaches + elementary drawing to the little girls in the diocesan school, that’s all + right. And Mr. Jay, of course, because Mr. Jay’s water-colours are the + mainstay of the exhibition, and he must be given a chance of expressing + his opinion of them.’ She handed me back the catalogue. ‘I have never been + really angry with them before,’ she said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you really angry now?’ I asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Furious,’ Dora replied, and indeed her face expressed indignation. Its + lines were quite tense, and a spark shone oddly in the middle of the eyes. + One could not credit her with beauty, but as her lady friends were fond of + saying, there was something ‘more’ in her face. I saw a good deal more at + this moment, and it gave me pleasure, as all her feelings did when they + came out like that. I hasten to add that she was not unpleasing; her + features had a symmetry and a mobility, and her eyes could take any + transient charm they chose to endow themselves with; though there were + moments when she compared very badly with the other young ladies of Simla + with their high spirits and their pretty complexions, very badly indeed. + Those were occasions when the gay monotony of the place pressed, I + imagine, a little heavily upon her, and the dullness she felt translated + itself in her expression. But she was by no means unpleasing. + </p> + <p> + ‘I must go and see Lady Pilkey’s picture,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + ‘What is the use?’ said Dora. ‘It’s a landscape in oils—a view of + the Himalayas, near Narkanda. There are the snows in the background, very + thin and visionary through a gap in the trees, and two hills, one hill on + each side. Dark green trees, pine-trees, with a dead one in the left + foreground covered with a brilliant red creeper. Right foreground occupied + by a mountain path and a solitary native figure with its back turned. + Society’s silver medal.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘When did you see it?’ I asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘I haven’t seen it—this year. But I saw the one she sent last, and + the one the year before that. You can trust my memory, really.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ I said, ‘I can’t. I’m dining there tonight. I must have an original + impression.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Congratulate her on the warm blaze of colour in the foreground. It’s + perfectly safe,’ urged Miss Harris, but I felt compelled to go myself to + see lady Pilkey’s landscape. When I returned I found her still sitting in + grave absorption before the studies that had taken us so by surprise. Her + face was full of a soft new light; I had never before seen the spring + touched in her that could flood it like that. + </p> + <p> + ‘You were very nearly right,’ I announced; ‘but the blaze of colour was in + the middle distance, and there was a torrent in the foreground that quite + put it out. And the picture does take the Society’s silver medal.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I can not decide,’ she replied without looking at me, ‘between the + Kattiawar fair thing and those hills in the rain. I can only have one—father + won’t hear of more than one.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You can have two,’ I said bluntly, so deeply interested I was in the + effect the things had on her. ‘And I will have a third for myself. I can’t + withstand those apricot-trees.’ + </p> + <p> + I thought there was moisture in the eyes she turned upon me, an unusual + thing—a most unusual thing—in Dora Harris; but she winked it + back, if it was there, too quickly for any certainty. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are a dear,’ she said. Once or twice before she had called me a dear. + It reminded me, as nothing else ever did, that I was a contemporary of her + father’s. It is a feeble confession, but I have known myself refrain from + doing occasional agreeable things apprehending that she might call me a + dear. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 2.II. + </h2> + <p> + Dora had been out three seasons when these things happened. I remember + sharing Edward Harris’s anxiety in no slight degree as to how the + situation would resolve itself when she came, the situation consisting so + considerably in his eyes of the second Mrs. Harris, who had complicated it + further with three little red-cheeked boys, all of the age to be led about + the station on very small ponies, and not under any circumstances to be + allowed in the drawing-room when one went to tea with their mother. No + one, except perhaps poor Ted himself, was more interested than I to + observe how the situation did resolve itself, in the decision of Mrs. + Harris that the boys, the two eldest at least, must positively begin the + race for the competitive examinations of the future without further delay, + and that she must as positively be domiciled in England ‘to be near’ them, + at all events until they had well made the start. I should have been glad + to see them ride their ponies up and down the Mall a bit longer, poor + little chaps; they were still very cherubic to be invited to take a view + of competitive examinations, however distant; but Mrs. Harris’s conviction + was not to be overcome. So they went home to begin, and she went with + them, leaving Dora in possession of her father, her father’s house, his + pay, his precedence, and all that was his. Not that I would suggest any + friction; I am convinced that there was nothing like that—at least, + nothing that met the eye, or the ear. Dora adored the three little boys + and was extremely kind to their mother. She regarded this lady, I have + reason to believe, with the greatest indulgence, and behaved towards her + with the greatest consideration; I mean she had unerring intuitions as to + just when, on afternoons when Mrs. Harris was at home from dusk till + dinner, she should be dying for a walk. One could imagine her looking with + her grey eyes at dear mamma’s horizon and deciding that papa was certainly + not enough to fill it by himself, deciding at the same time that he was + never likely to be ousted there, only accompanied, in a less important and + entirely innocent degree. It may be surprising that any one should fly + from so broad-minded a step-daughter; but the happy family party lasted a + bare three months. I think Mrs. Harris had a perception—she was the + kind of woman who arrived obscurely at very correct conclusions—that + she was contributing to her step-daughter’s amusement in a manner which + her most benevolent intentions had not contemplated, and she was not by + any means the little person to go on doing that indefinitely, perhaps + increasingly. Besides, it was in the natural order of things that Dora + should marry, and Mrs. Harris doubtless foresaw a comfortable return for + herself in the course of a year or two, when the usual promising junior in + ‘the Department’ should gild his own prospects and promote the general + well-being by acquiring its head for a father-in-law. Things always worked + out if you gave them time. How much time you ought to give them was + doubtless by now a pretty constant query with the little lady in her foggy + exile; for two years had already passed and Dora had found no connection + with any young man of the Department more permanent than those prescribed + at dinners and at dances. It is doubtful, indeed, if she had had the + opportunity. There was no absolute means of knowing; but if offers were + made they never transpired, and Mrs. Harris, far away in England, + nourished a certainty that they never were made. Speaking with her + intimate knowledge of the sex she declared that Dora frightened the men, + that her cleverness was of a kind to paralyze any sentiment of the sort + that might be expected. It depended upon Mrs. Harris’s humour whether this + was Dora’s misfortune or her crime. She, Dora, never frightened me, and by + the time her cleverness dawned upon me, my sentiment about her had become + too robust to be paralyzed. On the contrary, the agreeable stimulus it + gave me was one of the things I counted most valuable in my life out + there. It hardly mattered, however, that I should confess this; I was not + a young man in Harris’s department. I had a department of my own; and + Dora, though she frisked with me gloriously and bullied continually, must + ever have been aware of the formidable fact that I joined the Service two + years before Edward Harris did. The daughter of three generations of + bureaucrats was not likely to forget that at one time her father had been + junior to me in the same office, though in the course of time and the + march of opportunity he had his own show now, and we nodded to each other + on the Mall with an equal sense of the divine right of secretaries. It may + seem irrelevant, but I feel compelled to explain here that I had remained + a bachelor while Harris had married twice, and that I had kept up my + cricket, while Harris had let his figure take all the soft curves of + middle age. Nevertheless the fact remained. Sometimes I fancied it gave a + certain piquancy to my relations with his daughter, but I could never + believe that the laugh was on my side. + </p> + <p> + If we met at dinner-parties, it would be sometimes Edward Harris and + sometimes myself who would take the dullest and stoutest woman down. If + she fell to him, the next in precedence was bestowed upon me, and there + might not be a pin to choose between them for phlegm and inflation. It is + a preposterous mistake to suppose that the married ladies of Simla are in + the majority brilliant and fascinating creatures, who say things in French + for greater convenience, and lead a man on. After fifteen years I am ready + to swear that I have been led on to nothing more compromising than a + subscription to the Young Women’s Christian Association, though no one + could have been more docile or more intelligent. During one viceroyalty of + happy memory half a dozen clever and amusing men and women came together + in Simla—it was a mere fortuitous occurrence, aided by a joyous + ruler who hated being bored as none before or ever since have hated it—and + the place has lived socially upon the reputation of that meteoric term + ever since. Whereas the domestic virtues are no more deeply rooted + anywhere than under the deodars; nor could any one, I hasten to add, + chronicle the fact with more profound satisfaction than myself. A + dinner-party, however, is not a favourable setting for the domestic + virtues; it does them so little justice that one could sometimes almost + wish them left at home, and I was talking of Simla dinner-parties, where I + have encountered so many. How often have I been consulted as to the best + school for boys in England, or instructed as to how much I should let my + man charge me for shoe-blacking, or advised as to the most effectual way + of preventing the butler from stealing my cheroots, while Dora Harris, + remote as a star, talked to a cavalry subaltern about wind-galls and + splints! At these moments I felt my seniority bitterly; to give Dora to a + cavalry subaltern was such plain waste. + </p> + <p> + It was an infinite pleasure to know any one as well as I seemed to know + Dora Harris. She, I believe, held no one else upon the same terms of + intimacy, though she found women, of course, with whom she fluttered and + embraced; and while there were, naturally, men with whom I exchanged the + time o’day in terms more or less cordial, I am certain that I kept all my + closest thoughts for her. It is necessary again to know Simla to + understand how our friendship was gilded by the consideration that it was + on both sides perfectly spontaneous. Social life in the poor little place + is almost a pure farce with the number of its dictated, prompted + intimacies, not controlled by general laws of expediency as at home, but + each on its own basis of hope and expectancy, broadly and ludicrously + obvious as a case by itself. There is a conspiracy of stupidity about it, + for we are all in the same hat, every one of us; there is none so exalted + that he does not urgently want a post that somebody else can give him. So + we continue to exchange our depreciated smiles, and only privately admit + that the person who most desires to be agreeable to us is the person whom + we regard with the greatest suspicion. As between Dora Harris and myself + there could be, naturally, no ax to grind. We amused ourselves by looking + on penetratingly but tolerantly at the grinding of other people’s. + </p> + <p> + That was a very principal bond between us, that uncompromising clearness + with which we looked at the place we lived in, and on the testimony of + which we were so certain that we didn’t like it. The women were nearly all + so much in heaven in Simla, the men so well satisfied to be there too, at + the top of the tree, that our dissatisfaction gave us to one another the + merit of originality, almost proved in one another a superior mind. It was + not that either of us would have preferred to grill out our days in the + plains; we always had a saving clause for the climate, the altitude, the + scenery; it was Simla intrinsic, Simla as its other conditions made it, + with which we found such liberal fault. Again I should have to explain + Simla, at the length of an essay at least, to justify our condemnation. + This difficulty confronts me everywhere. I must ask you instead to imagine + a small colony of superior—very superior—officials, of British + origin and traditions, set on the top of a hill, years and miles away from + literature, music, pictures, politics, existing like a harem on the gossip + of the Viceroy’s intentions, and depending for amusement on tennis and + bumble-puppy, and then consider, you yourself, whether you are the sort of + person to be unquestionably happy there. If you see no reason to the + contrary, pray do not go on. There were times when Dora declared that she + couldn’t breathe for want of an atmosphere, and times when I looked round + and groaned at the cheerful congratulatory aridity in every man’s eye—men + who had done things at Oxford in my own year, and come out like me to be + mummified into a last state like this. Thank Heaven, there was never any + cheerful congratulation in my eye; one could always put there, when the + thought inspired it, a saving spark of rank ingratitude instead. + </p> + <p> + It was as if we had the most desirable things—roses, cool airs, far + snowy ranges—to build what we like with, and we built Simla—altitude, + 7,000, population 2,500, headquarters of the Government of India during + the summer months. An ark it was, of course; an ark of refuge from the + horrible heat that surged below, and I wondered as I climbed the steeps of + Summer Hill in search of I. Armour’s inaccessible address, whether he was + to be the dove bearing beautiful testimony of a world coming nearer. I + rejected the simile, however, as over-sanguine; we had been too long + abandoned on our Ararat. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 2.III. + </h2> + <p> + A dog of no sort of caste stood in the veranda and barked at me + offensively. I picked up a stone, and he vanished like the dog of a dream + into the house. It was such a small house that it wasn’t on the municipal + map at all: it looked as if someone had built it for amusement with + anything that was lying about. Nevertheless, it had a name, it was called + Amy Villa, freshly painted in white letters on a shiny black board, and + nailed against the nearest tree in the orthodox Simla fashion. It looked + as if the owner of the place had named it as a duty towards his tenant, + the board was so new, and in that case the reflection presented itself + that the tenant might have cooperated to call it something else. It was + disconcerting somehow to find that our dove had perched, even temporarily, + in Amy Villa. Nor was it soothing to discover that the small white object + stuck in the corner of the board was Mr. Ingersoll Armour’s card. + </p> + <p> + In Simla we do not stick our cards about in that way at the mercy of the + wind and the weather; we paint our names neatly under the names of our + houses with ‘I.C.S.’ for Indian Civil Service, or ‘P.W.D.’ for Public + Works Department, or whatever designation we are entitled to immediately + after, so that there can be no mistake. This strikes newcomers sometimes + as a little professional, especially when a hand accompanies, pointing; + but it is the only possible way where there are no streets and no numbers, + but where houses are dropped about a hilltop as if they had fallen from a + pepper-pot. In sticking his card out like that Mr. Armour seemed to + imagine himself au quatrieme or au cinquieme somewhere on the south side + of the Seine; it betrayed rather a ridiculous lack of conformity. He was + high enough up, however, to give any illusion; I had to stop to find the + wind to announce myself. There was nobody else to do it if I except the + dog. + </p> + <p> + I walked into the veranda and shouted. Then I saw that one end of it was + partly glazed off, and inside sat a young man in his shirt-sleeves with + his back to the door. + </p> + <p> + In reply he called out, ‘That you, Rosario?’ and I stood silent, taken + somewhat aback. + </p> + <p> + There was only one Rosario in Simla, and he was a subordinate in my own + office. Again the hateful need to explain. Between subordinate clerks and + officials in Simla there is a greater gulf fixed than was ever imagined in + parable. Besides, Rosario had a plain strain of what we call ‘the country’ + in him, a plain strain, that is, of the colour of the country. It was + certainly the first time in my official career that I had been mistaken + for Rosario. + </p> + <p> + Armour turned round and saw me—that I was a stranger. + </p> + <p> + He got up at once. ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘I thought it was Rosario. + </p> + <p> + ‘It isn’t,’ I replied, ‘my name is Philips. May I ask whether you were + expecting Mr. Rosario? I can come again, you know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, it doesn’t matter. Sit down. He may drop in or he may not—I + rather thought he would today. It’s a pull up, isn’t it, from the Mall? + Have a whisky and soda.’ + </p> + <p> + I stood on the threshold spellbound. It was just the smell that bound me, + the good old smell of oil paints and turpentine and mediums and varnish + and new canvas that you never by any chance put your nose into in any part + of Asia. It carried me back twenty years to old haunts, old friends, old + joys, ideals, theories. Ah, to be young and have a temperament! For I had + one then—that instant in Armour’s veranda proved it to me forever. + </p> + <p> + ‘No thanks,’ I said. ‘If you don’t mind I’ll just have the smell.’ + </p> + <p> + The young fellow knew at once that I liked the smell. ‘Well, have a chair, + anyhow,’ he said, and took one himself and sat down opposite me, letting + his lean brown hands fall between his knees. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you mind,’ I said, ‘if for a minute I sit still and look round?’ + </p> + <p> + He understood again. + </p> + <p> + ‘I haven’t brought much,’ he said, ‘I left pretty near everything in + Paris.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You have brought a world.’ Then after a moment, ‘Did you do that?’ I + asked, nodding towards a canvas tacked against the wall. It was the head + of a half-veiled Arab woman turned away. + </p> + <p> + The picture was in the turning away, and the shadow the head-covering made + over the cheek and lips. + </p> + <p> + ‘Lord, no! That’s Dagnan Bouveret. I used to take my things to him, and + one day he gave me that. You have an eye,’ he added, but without + patronage. ‘It’s the best thing I’ve got.’ + </p> + <p> + I felt the warmth of an old thrill. + </p> + <p> + ‘Once upon a time,’ I said, ‘I was allowed to have an eye.’ The wine, + untasted all those years, went to my head. ‘That’s a vigorous bit above,’ + I continued. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, well! It isn’t really up to much, you know. It’s Rosario’s. He + photographs mostly, but he has a notion of colour.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Really?’ said I, thinking with regard to my eye that the sun of that + atrocious country had put it out. ‘I expect I’ve lost it,’ I said aloud. + </p> + <p> + ‘Your eye? Oh, you’ll easily get a fresh one. Do you go home for the + exhibitions?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I did once,’ I confessed. ‘My first leave. A kind of paralysis overtakes + one here. Last time I went for the grouse.’ + </p> + <p> + He glanced at me with his light clear eyes as if for the first time he + encountered a difficulty. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a magnificent country for painting,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + ‘But not for pictures,’ I rejoined. He paid no attention, staring at the + ground and twisting one end of his moustache. + </p> + <p> + ‘The sun on those old marble tombs—broad sun and sand—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You mean somewhere about Delhi.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I couldn’t get anywhere near it.’ He was not at that moment anywhere near + me. ‘But I have thought out a trick or two—I mean to have another go + when it cools off again down there.’ He returned with a smile, and I saw + how delicate his face was. The smile turned down with a little gentle + mockery in its lines. I had seen that particular smile only on the faces + of one or two beautiful women. It had a borrowed air upon a man, like a + tiara or an earring. + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s plenty to paint,’ he said, looking at me with an air of friendly + speculation. + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed, yes. And it has never been done. We are sure it has never been + done.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘“We”—you mean people generally?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not at all. I mean Miss Harris, Miss Harris and myself.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Your daughter?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My name is Philips,’ I reminded him pleasantly, remembering that the + intelligence of clever people is often limited to a single art. ‘Miss + Harris is the daughter of Mr. Edward Harris, Secretary of the Government + of India in the Legislative Department. She is fond of pictures. We have a + good many tastes in common. We have always suspected that India had never + been painted, and when we saw your things at the Town Hall we knew it.’ + </p> + <p> + His queer eyes dilated, and he blushed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘it’s only one interpretation. It all depends on what a + fellow sees. No fellow can see everything.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Till you came,’ I insisted, ‘nobody had seen anything.’ + </p> + <p> + He shook his head, but I could read in his face that this was not news to + him. + </p> + <p> + ‘That is mainly what I came up to tell you,’ I continued, ‘to beg that you + will go on and on. To hope that you will stay a long time and do a great + deal. It is such an extraordinary chance that any one should turn up who + can say what the country really means.’ + </p> + <p> + He stuck his hands in his pockets with a restive movement. ‘Oh, don’t make + me feel responsible,’ he said, ‘I hate that;’ and then suddenly he + remembered his manners. ‘But it’s certainly nice of you to think so,’ he + added. + </p> + <p> + There was something a little unusual in his inflection which led me to ask + at this point whether he was an American, and to discover that he came + from somewhere in Wisconsin, not directly, but by way of a few years in + London and Paris. This accounted in a way for the effect of freedom in any + fortune about him for which I already liked him, and perhaps partly for + the look of unembarrassed inquiry and experiment which sat so lightly in + his unlined face. He came, one realized, out of the fermentation of new + conditions; he never could have been the product of our limits and systems + and classes in England. His surroundings, his ‘things,’ as he called them, + were as old as the sense of beauty, but he seemed simply to have put them + where he could see them, there was no pose in their arrangement. They were + all good, and his delight in them was plain; but he was evidently in no + sense a connoisseur beyond that of natural instinct. Some of those he had + picked up in India I could tell him about, but I had no impression that he + would remember what I said. There was one Bokhara tapestry I examined with + a good deal of interest. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘they told me I shouldn’t get anything as good as that out + here, so I brought it,’ but I had to explain to him why it was anomalous + that this should be so. + </p> + <p> + ‘It came a good many miles over desert from somewhere,’ he remarked, as I + made a note of inquiry as to the present direction of trade in woven goods + from Persia, ‘I had to pound it for a week to get the dust out.’ + </p> + <p> + We spent an hour looking over work he had done down in the plains, and + then I took my leave. It did not occur to me at the moment to ask Armour + to come to the club or to offer to do anything for him; all the + hospitality, all that was worth offering seemed so much more at his + disposition than at mine. I only asked if I might come again, mentioning + somewhat shyly that I must have the opportunity of adding, at my leisure, + to those of his pictures that were already mine by transaction with the + secretary of the Art Exhibition. I left him so astonished that this had + happened, so plainly pleased, that I was certain he had never sold + anything before in his life. This impression gave me the uplifted joy of a + discoverer to add to the satisfactions I had already drawn from the + afternoon; and I almost bounded down the hill to the Mall. I left the pi + dog barking in the veranda, and I met Mr. Rosario coming up, but in my + unusual elation I hardly paused to consider either of them further. + </p> + <p> + The mare and her groom were waiting on the Mall, and it was only when I + got on her back that the consciousness visited me of something forgotten. + It was my mission—to propose to take Armour, if he were ‘possible,’ + to call upon the Harrises. Oh, well, he was possible enough; I supposed he + possessed a coat, though he hadn’t been wearing it; and I could arrange it + by letter. Meanwhile, as was only fair, I turned the mare in the direction + of the drawing-room where I had reason to believe that Miss Dora Harris + was quenching her impatience in tea. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 2.IV. + </h2> + <p> + The very next morning I met Armour on my way to the office. He was ambling + along on the leanest and most ill-groomed of bazaar ponies, and he wore a + bowler. In Simla sun hats are admissible, straw hats are presentable, and + soft felt hats are superior, but you must not wear a bowler. I might + almost say that if one’s glance falls upon a bowler, one hardly looks + further; the expectation of finding an acquaintance under it is so vain. + In this instance, I did look further, fortunately, though in doing so I + was compelled to notice that the bowler was not lifted in answer to my + salutation. Of no importance in itself, of course, but betraying in Armour + a certain lack of observation. I felt the Departmental Head crumble in me, + however, as I recognized him, and I pulled the mare up in a manner which + she plainly resented. It was my opportunity to do cautiously and + delicately what I had omitted the afternoon before; but my recollection is + that I was very clumsy. + </p> + <p> + I said something about the dust, and he said something about the glare, + and then I could think of nothing better than to ask him if he wouldn’t + like to meet a few Simla people. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I know lots of people, thanks,’ he said. ‘It’s kind of you to think + of it, all the same, but I’ve got any amount of friends here.’ + </p> + <p> + I thought of Mr. Rosario, and stood, or sat confounded. + </p> + <p> + The mare fidgeted; I knocked a beast of a fly off her, and so gained time. + </p> + <p> + ‘This is my second season up here, you know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Your second season!’ I exclaimed. ‘Where on earth have you been hiding?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I didn’t exhibit last year, you see. I’d heard it was a kind of a + toy show, so I thought I wouldn’t. I think now that was foolish. But I got + to know quite a number of families.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But I am sure there are numbers that you haven’t met,’ I urged,’ or I + should have heard of it.’ + </p> + <p> + He glanced at me with a slight flush. ‘If you mean society people,’ he + said, ‘I don’t care about that kind of thing, Mr. Philips. I’m not adapted + to it, and I don’t want to be. If any one offered to introduce me to the + Viceroy, I would ask to be excused.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, the Viceroy,’ I responded, disrespectfully, ‘is neither here nor + there. But there are some people, friends of my own, who would like very + much to meet you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘By the name of Harris?’ he asked. I was too amazed to do anything but + nod. By the name of Harris! The Secretary of the Government of India in + the Legislative Department! The expression, not used as an invocation, was + inexcusable. + </p> + <p> + ‘I remember you mentioned them yesterday.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘there’s a father and daughter. Miss Harris is very + artistic.’ + </p> + <p> + His face clouded, as well it might, at the word. ‘Does she paint?’ he + asked, so apprehensively that I could not forbear a smile at Dora’s + expense. I could assure him that she did not paint, that she had not + painted, at all events, for years, and presently I found myself in the + ridiculous position of using argument to bring a young man to the + Harrises. In the end I prevailed, I know, out of sheer good nature on + Armour’s part; he was as innocent as a baby of any sense of opportunity. + </p> + <p> + We arranged it for the following Friday, but as luck would have it, His + Excellency sent for me at the very hour; we met the messenger. I felt + myself unlucky, but there was nothing for it but that Armour should go + alone, which he did, with neither diffidence nor alacrity, but as if it + were all in the day’s work, and he had no reason to be disobliging. + </p> + <p> + The files were very heavy during the succeeding fortnight, and the Viceroy + quite importunate in his demand for my valuable suggestions. I was worked + off my legs, and two or three times was obliged to deny myself in replying + to notes from Dora suggesting Sunday breakfast or afternoon tea. Finally, + I shook myself free; it was the day she wrote: + </p> + <p> + ‘You must come—I can’t keep it to myself any longer.’ + </p> + <p> + I half thought Armour would be there, but he wasn’t; that is, he was + absent corporeally, but the spirit and expression of him littered every + convenient part. Some few things lay about that I had seen in the studio, + to call it so, but most of the little wooden panels looked fresh, almost + wet, and the air held strongly the fragrance of Armour’s north veranda. In + one corner there used to be a Madonna on a carved easel; the Madonna stood + on the floor, and the easel with working pegs in it held an unfinished + canvas. Dora sat in the midst with a distinct flush—she was inclined + to be sallow—and made me welcome in terms touched with extravagance. + She did not rush, however, upon the matter that was dyeing her cheeks, and + I showed myself as little impetuous. She poured out the tea, and we sat + there inhaling, as it were, the aroma of the thing, while keeping it + consciously in the background. + </p> + <p> + I imagine there was no moment in the time I describe when we enjoyed + Ingersoll Armour so much as at this one, when he lay in his nimbus half + known and wholly suppressed, between us. There were later instances, + perhaps, of deeper satisfaction, but they were more or less perplexed, and + not unobscured by anxiety. That afternoon it was all to know and to be + experienced, with just a delicious foretaste. + </p> + <p> + I said something presently about Lady Pilkey’s picnic on the morrow, to + which we had both been bidden. + </p> + <p> + ‘Shall I call for you?’ I asked. ‘You will ride, of course.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thanks, but I’ve cried off—I’m going sketching.’ Her eyes plainly + added, ‘with Ingersoll Armour,’ but she as obviously shrank from the + roughness of pitching him in that unconsidered way before us. For some + reason I refrained from taking the cue. I would not lug him in either. + </p> + <p> + ‘That is a new accomplishment,’ was as much as I felt I could say with + dignity, and she responded: + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, isn’t it?’ + </p> + <p> + I felt some slight indignation on Lady Pilkey’s account. ‘Do you really + think you ought to do things like that at the eleventh hour?’ I asked, but + Dora smiled at a glance, the hypocrisy out of my face. + </p> + <p> + ‘What does anything matter?’ she demanded. + </p> + <p> + I knew perfectly well the standard by which nothing mattered, and there + was no use, of course, in going on pretending that I did not. + </p> + <p> + ‘I assured him that you didn’t paint,’ I said, accusingly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I had to—otherwise what was there to go upon? He would have + been found only to be lost again. You did not contemplate that?’ Miss + Harris inquired sweetly. + </p> + <p> + ‘I should have thought it was the surest way of losing him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t think why you should be so rude. He observes progress already.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘With a view to claiming and holding him, would it be of any use,’ I + asked, ‘for me to start in oils?’ + </p> + <p> + Miss Harris eyed me calmly. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know,’ she said, ‘but it doesn’t seem the same thing somehow. I + think you had better leave it to me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed, I won’t,’ I said; ‘there is too much in it,’ and we smiled across + the gulf of our friendly understanding. + </p> + <p> + I crossed to the mantelpiece and picked up one of the little wet panels. + There was that in it which explained my friend’s exultation much more + plainly than words. + </p> + <p> + ‘That is what I am to show him tomorrow,’ she exclaimed; ‘I think I have + done as he told me. I think it’s pretty right.’ + </p> + <p> + Whether it was pretty right or pretty wrong, she had taken in an + extraordinary way an essence out of him. It wasn’t of course good, but his + feeling was reflected in it, at once so brilliantly and so profoundly that + it was startling to see. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you think he’ll be pleased?’ she asked, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think he’ll be astounded,’ I said, reserving the rest, and she cried in + her pleasure, ‘Oh, you dear man!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I see you have taken possession of him,’ I went on. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, body and soul,’ Dora rejoined, and it must have been something like + that. I could imagine how she did it; with what wiles of simplicity and + candid good-fellowship she had drawn him to forgetfulness and response, + and how presently his enthusiasm leaped up to answer hers and they had + been caught altogether out of the plane of common relations, and he had + gone away on that disgraceful bazaar pony with a ratified arrangement to + return next day which had been almost taken for granted from the + beginning. + </p> + <p> + I confess, though I had helped to bring it about, the situation didn’t + altogether please me. I did not dream of foolish dangers, but it seemed to + take a little too much for granted; I found myself inwardly demanding + whether, after all, a vivid capacity to make colour conscious was a + sufficient basis on which to bring to Edward Harris’s house a young man + about whom we knew nothing whatever else. An instant’s regard showed the + scruple fraudulent, it fled before the rush of pleasure with which I gazed + at the tokens he had left behind him. I fell back on my wonder, which was + great, that Dora should have possessed the technique necessary to take him + at a point where he could give her so much that was valuable. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, well,’ she said when I uttered it, ‘you know I made the experiment! I + found out in South Kensington—you can learn that much there—that + I never would be able to paint well enough to make it worth while. So I + dropped it and took a more general line towards life. But I find it very + easy to imagine myself dedicated to that particular one again.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You never told me,’ I said. Why had I been shut out of that experience? + </p> + <p> + ‘I tell you now,’ Dora replied, absently, ‘when I am able to offer you the + fact with illustrations.’ She laughed and dropped a still illuminated face + in the palm of her hand. ‘He has wonderfully revived me,’ she declared. ‘I + could throw, honestly, the whole of Simla overboard for this.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t,’ I urged, feeling, suddenly, an integral part of Simla. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, no—what end would be served? But I don’t care who knows,’ she + went on with a rush, ‘that in all life this is what I like best, and + people like Mr. Armour are the people I value most. Heavens, how few of + them there are! And wherever they go how the air clears up round them! It + makes me quite ill to think of the life we lead here—the poverty of + it, the preposterous dullness of it....’ + </p> + <p> + ‘For goodness’ sake,’ I said, obscurely irritated, ‘don’t quote the + bishop. The life holds whatever we put into it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘For other people it does, and for us it holds what other people put into + it,’ she retorted. ‘I don’t know whether you think it’s adequately filled + with gold lace and truffles.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why should I defend it?’ I asked, not knowing indeed why. ‘But it has + perhaps a dignity, you know. Ah, you are too fresh from your baptism,’ I + continued, as she shook her head and went to the piano. The quality, + whatever it was, that the last fortnight had generated in her, leaped from + her fingers; she played with triumph, elation, intention. The notes seemed + an outlet for the sense of beauty and for power to make it. I had never + heard her play like that before. + </p> + <p> + It occurred to me to ask when she had done, how far, after a fortnight, + she could throw light on Armour’s aims and history, where he had come + from, and the great query with which we first received him, what he could + be doing in Simla. I gathered that she had learned practically nothing, + and had hardly concerned herself to learn anything. What difference did it + make? she asked me. Why should we inquire? Why tack a theory of origin to + a phenomenon of joy? Let us say the wind brought him, and build him a + temple. She was very whimsical up to the furthest stretch of what could + possibly be considered tea-time. When I went away I saw her go again and + sit down at the piano. In the veranda I remembered something, stopped, and + went back. I had to go back. ‘You did not tell me,’ I said, ‘when he was + coming again.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, tomorrow—tomorrow, of course,’ Dora paused to reply. + </p> + <p> + I resented, as I made my way to the Club, the weight of official duties + that made it so impossible for me to keep at all closely in touch with + this young man. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 2.V. + </h2> + <p> + The art of the photographer usually arouses in me all that is splenetic, + and I had not submitted myself to him for years before Dora made such a + preposterous point of it—years in which, as I sadly explained to + her, I might have submitted to the ordeal with much more ‘pleasing’ + results. She had often insisted before, but I could never see that she + made out a particularly good case for the operation until one afternoon + when she showed me the bold counterfeit presentment of an Assistant + Adjutant-General or some such person, much flattered as to features but + singularly faithful in its reproduction of the straps and buttons + attached. To my post also there belongs a uniform and a cocked hat + sufficiently dramatic, but persons who serve the State primarily with the + intelligence are supposed to have a mind above buttons; and when I decided + that my photograph should compete with the Assistant Adjutant-General’s, I + gave him every sartorial advantage. I gathered that the offer, cabinet + size, of this gentleman had been a spontaneous one; that certainly could + not be said of mine. Most unwillingly I turned one morning into Kauffer’s; + and I can not now imagine why I did it, for emulation of the Assistant + Adjutant-General was really not motive enough, unless it was with an + instinct prepared to stumble upon matter germane in an absurd degree to + this little history. + </p> + <p> + I had the honour to be subjected to the searching analysis of Mr. Kauffer + himself. It was he who placed the chair and arranged the screw, he who + fixed the angle of my chin and gently disposed my fingers on my knee. He + gave me, I remember, a recent portrait of the Viceroy to fix my eye upon, + doubtless with the purpose of inspiring my countenance with the devotion + which would sit suitably upon one of His Excellency’s slaves, and when it + was all over he conducted me into another apartment in order that I might + see the very latest viceregal group—a domestic one, including the + Staff. The walls of the room contained what is usually there, the enlarged + photograph, the coloured photograph, the amateur theatrical group, the + group of His Excellency’s Executive Council, the native dignitary with a + diamond-tipped aigrette in the front of his turban. The copy in oils of + some old Italian landscape, very black and yellow, also held its + invariable place, and above it, very near the ceiling, a line of canvases + which, had I not been led past them to inspect our ruler and his family, + who sat transfixed on an easel in a resplendent frame, would probably have + escaped my attention. I did proper homage to the easel, and then turned to + those pictures. It was plain enough who had painted them. Armour’s broad + brush stood out all over them. They were mostly Indian sporting subjects, + the incident a trifle elliptical, the drawing unequal, but the verve and + feeling unmistakeable, and colour to send a quiver of glorious + acquiescence through you like a pang. What astonished me was the number of + them; there must have been at least a dozen, all the same size and shape, + all hanging in a line of dazzling repetition. Here then was the + explanation of Armour’s seeming curious lack of output, and plain denial + of the supposition that he spent the whole of his time in doing the little + wooden ‘pochade’ things whose sweetness and delicacy had so feasted our + eyes elsewhere. It was part, no doubt, of his absolutely uncommercial + nature—we had experienced together passages of the keenest + embarrassment over my purchase of some of his studies—that he had + not mentioned these more serious things exposed at Kauffer’s; one had the + feeling of coming unexpectedly on treasure left upon the wayside and + forgotten. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hullo!’ I said, at a standstill, ‘I see you’ve got some of Mr. Armour’s + work there.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. Kauffer, with his hands behind him, made the sound which has its + counterpart in a shrug. ‘Yass,’ he said, ‘I haf some of Mr. Armour’s work + there. This one, that one, all those remaining pictures—they are all + the work of Mr. Armour.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I didn’t know that any of his things were to be seen outside his studio,’ + I observed. + </p> + <p> + ‘So? They are to be seen here. There is no objection.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why should there be any objection?’ I demanded, slightly nettled. ‘People + must see them before they buy them.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Buy them!’ Kauffer’s tone was distinctly exasperated. ‘Who will buy these + pictures? Nobody. They are all, every one of them to REfuse.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you know Mr. Armour well enough,’ I said, ‘you should advise him to + exhibit some of his local studies and sketches here. They might sell + better.’ + </p> + <p> + My words seemed unfortunately chosen. Mr. Kauffer turned an honest angry + red. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do I not know Mr. Armour well enough—und better!’ he exclaimed. + ‘What this man wass doing when I in Paris find him oudt? Shtarving, mein + Gott! I see his work. I see he paint a very goot horse, very goot animal + subject. I bring him oudt on contract, five hundred rupees the monnth to + paint for me, for my firm. Sir, it is now nine monnth. I am yoost four + tousand five hundred rupees out of my pocket by this gentleman!’ + </p> + <p> + To enable me to cope with this astonishing tale I asked Mr. Kauffer for a + chair, which he obligingly gave me, and begged that he also would be + seated. The files at my office were my business, and this was not, but no + matter of Imperial concern seemed at the moment half so urgently to + require probing. ‘Surely,’ I said, ‘that is an unusual piece of enterprise + for a photographic firm to employ an artist to paint on a salary. I don’t + know even a regular dealer who does it.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. Kauffer at once and frankly explained. It was unusual and entirely out + of the regular line of business. It was, in fact, one of the exceptional + forms of enterprise inspired in this country by the native prince. We who + had to treat with the native prince solely on lofty political lines were + hardly likely to remember how largely he bulked in the humbler relations + of trade; but there was more than one Calcutta establishment, Mr. Kauffer + declared, that would be obliged to put up its shutters without this + inconstant and difficult, but liberal customer. I waited with impatience. + I could not for the life of me see Armour’s connection with the native + prince, who is seldom a patron of the arts for their own sakes. + </p> + <p> + ‘Surely,’ I said, ‘you could not depend on the Indian nobility to buy + landscapes. They never do. I know of only one distinguished exception, and + he lives a thousand miles from here, in Bengal.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, not landscape,’ returned Mr. Kauffer; ‘but that Indian nobleman will + buy his portrait. We send our own man—photographic artist—to + his State, and he photograph the Chief and his arab, the Chief and his + Prime Minister, the Chief in his durbar, palace, gardens, stables—everything. + Presently the Chief goes on a big shoot. He says he will not have a plain + photograph—besides, it is difficult. He will have a painting, and he + will pay.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah,’ I said, ‘I begin to see.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You see? Then I send this Armour. Look!’ Mr. Kauffer continued with + rising excitement, baited apparently by the unfortunate canvas to which he + pointed, ‘when Armour go to make that I say you go paint ze Maharajah of + Gridigurh spearing ze wild pig. You see what he make?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ I said, ‘it is a wonderfully spirited, dashing thing, and the + treatment of all that cane-brake and jungle grass is superb.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ze treatment—pardon me, sir, I overboil—do you know which is + ze Maharajah?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t say I do.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Neider does he. Ze Maharajah refuse zat picture; he is a good fellow, + too. He says it is a portrait of ze pig.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But it is so good,’ I protested, ‘of the pig.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But that does not interest the Maharajah, you onderstand, no. You see + this one? Nawab of Kandore on his State elephant.’ + </p> + <p> + No doubt about it,’ I said. ‘I know the Nawab well, the young scoundrel. + How dignified he looks!’ + </p> + <p> + There was a note of real sorrow in Kauffer’s voice. ‘Dignified? Oh, yes; + dignified, but, you observe, also black. The Nawab will not be painted + black. At once it is on my hands.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But he is black,’ I remonstrated. ‘He’s the darkest native I’ve ever seen + among the nobility.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No matter for that. He will not be black. When I photograph that Nawab—any + nawab—I do not him black make. But ziss ass of Armour—ach!’ + </p> + <p> + It was a fascinating subject, and I could have pursued it all along the + line of poor Armour’s rejected canvases, but the need to get away from + Kauffer with his equal claim upon my sympathy was too great. To have + cracked my solemn mask by a single smile would have been to break down + irrepressibly, and never since I set foot in India had I felt a parallel + desire to laugh and to weep. There was a pang in it which I recognize as + impossible to convey, arising from the point of contact, almost + unimaginable yet so clear before me, of the uncompromising ideals of the + atelier and the naive demands of the Oriental, with an unhappy + photographer caught between and wriggling. The situation was really + monstrous, the fatuous rejection of all that fine scheming and exquisite + manipulation, and it did not grow less so as Mr. Kauffer continued to + unfold it. Armour had not, apparently, proceeded to the scene of his + labours without instructions. In the pig-sticking delineation he had been + specially told that the Maharajah and the pig were to be in the middle, + with the rest nowhere and nothing between. Other injunctions were as + clear, and as clearly disregarded. Armour, like the Maharajahs, had simply + ‘REfuse’ to abandon his premeditated conceptions of how the thing should + be done. And here was the result, for the laughter of the gods and anybody + else that might see. I asked Kauffer unguardedly if no sort of pressure + could be brought to bear upon these chaps to make them pay up. His face + beaming with hope and intelligence, he suggested that I should approach + the Foreign Office in his behalf; but this I could not quite see my way + to. The coercion of native rulers, I explained, was a difficult and a + dangerous art, and to insist, for example, that one of them should + recognize his own complexion might be to run up a disproportionate little + bill of our own. I did, however, compound something with Kauffer; I hope + it wasn’t a felony. ‘Look here,’ I said to Kauffer, ‘this isn’t official, + you know, in any way, but how would it do to write that scamp Kandore a + formal letter regretting that the portrait does not suit him, and asking + his permission to dispose of it to me? Of course it is yours to do as you + like with already, but that is no reason why you shouldn’t ask. I should + like it, but the Porcha tiger beat will do as well.’ + </p> + <p> + Kauffer nearly fell upon my neck. + </p> + <p> + ‘That Kandore will buy it to put in one bonfire first,’ he assured me, and + I sincerely hoped for his sake that it would be the case. + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course it’s understood,’ I bethought me to say, ‘that I get it, if I + do get it, at Mr. Armour’s price. I’m not a Maharajah, you know, and it + isn’t a portrait of me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course!’ said Kauffer, ‘but I sink I sell you that Porcha; it is ze + best of ze two.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 2.VI. + </h2> + <p> + I ventured for a few days to keep the light which chance had shed for me + upon Armour’s affairs to myself. The whole thing considered in connection + with his rare and delicate talent, seemed too derogatory and disastrous to + impart without the sense of doing him some kind of injury in the mere + statement. But there came a point when I could no longer listen to Dora + Harris’s theories to account for him, wild idealizations as most of them + were of any man’s circumstances and intentions. ‘Why don’t you ask him + point-blank?’ I said, and she replied, frowning slightly, ‘Oh, I couldn’t + do that. It would destroy something—I don’t know what, but something + valuable—between us.’ This struck me as an exaggeration, considering + how far, by that time, they must have progressed towards intimacy, and my + mouth was opened. She heard me without the exclamations I expected, her + head bent over the pencil she was sharpening, and her silence continued + after I had finished. The touch of comedy I gave the whole thing—surely + I was justified in that!—fell flat, and I extracted from her + muteness a sense of rebuke; one would think I had been taking advantage of + the poor devil. + </p> + <p> + At last, having broken the lead of her pencil three times, she turned a + calm, considering eye upon me. + </p> + <p> + ‘You have known this for a fortnight?’ she asked. ‘That doesn’t seem + somehow quite fair.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘To whom?’ I asked, and her answer startled me. + </p> + <p> + ‘To either of us,’ she said. + </p> + <p> + How she advised herself to that effect is more than I can imagine, but the + print of her words is indelible, that is what she said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, confound it!’ I exclaimed. ‘I couldn’t help finding out, you know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But you could help keeping it to yourself in that—in that base + way,’ she replied, and almost—the evening light was beginning to + glimmer uncertainly through the deodars—I could swear I saw the + flash of a tear on her eyelid. + </p> + <p> + ‘I beg your pardon,’ she went on a moment later, ‘but I do hate having to + pity him. It’s intolerable—that.’ + </p> + <p> + I picked up a dainty edition of Aucassin and Nicolette with the intention + of getting upon ground less emotional, and observed on the flyleaf ‘D.H. + from I.A. In memory of the Hill of Stars.’ I looked appreciatively at the + binding, and as soon as possible put it down. + </p> + <p> + ‘He was not bound to tell me,’ Dora asserted presently, in reply to my + statement that the mare had somehow picked up a nail in the stable, and + was laid up. + </p> + <p> + ‘You have been very good to him,’ I said. ‘I think he was.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘His reticence was due,’ she continued, as if defying contradiction, ‘to a + simple dislike to bore one with his personal affairs.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Was it?’ I assented. My tone acknowledged with all humility that she was + likely to know, and I did not deserve her doubtful glance. + </p> + <p> + ‘He could not certainly,’ she went on, with firmer decision, ‘have been in + the least ashamed of his connection with Kauffer.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He comes from a country where social distinctions are less sharp than + they are in this idiotic place,’ I observed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, if you think it is from any lack of recognition! His sensitiveness is + beyond reason. He has met two or three men in the Military Department here—he + was aware of the nicest shade of their patronage. But he does not care. To + him life is more than a clerkship. He sees all round people like that. + They are only figures in the landscape.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then,’ I said, ‘he is not at all concerned that nobody in this Capua of + ours knows him, or cares anything about him, or has bought a scrap of his + work, except our two selves.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s a different matter. I have tried to rouse in him the feeling that + it would be as well to be appreciated, even in Simla, and I think I’ve + succeeded. He said, after those two men had gone away on Sunday, that he + thought a certain reputation in the place where he lived would help + anybody in his work.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘On Sunday? Do you mean between twelve and two?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, he came and made a formal call. There was no reason why he + shouldn’t.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Now that I think of it,’ I rejoined, ‘he shot a card on me too, at the + Club. I was a little surprised. We didn’t seem somehow to be on those + terms. One doesn’t readily associate him with any conventionality.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s no reason why he shouldn’t,’ said Dora again, and with this vague + comment we spoke of something else, both of us, I think, a little + disquieted and dissatisfied that he had. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think,’ Dora said as I went away, ‘that you had better go up to the + studio and tell him what you have told me. Perhaps it doesn’t matter much, + but I can’t bear the thought of his not knowing.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Come to Kauffer’s in the morning and see the pictures,’ I urged; but she + turned away, ‘Oh, not with you.’ + </p> + <p> + I found my way almost at once to Amy Villa, not only because I had been + told to go there. I wanted, myself, certain satisfactions. Armour was + alone and smoking, but I had come prepared against the contingency of one + of his cigars. They were the cigars of the man who doesn’t know what he + eats. With sociable promptness I lighted one of my own. The little + enclosed veranda testified to a wave of fresh activity. The north light + streamed in upon two or three fresh canvases, the place seemed full of + enthusiasm, and you could see its source, at present quiescent under the + influence of tobacco, in Armour’s face. + </p> + <p> + ‘You have taken a new line,’ I said, pointing to a file of camels, still + half obscured by the dust of the day, coming along a mountain road under a + dim moon. They might have been walking through time and through history. + It was a queer, simple thing, with a world of early Aryanism in it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Does that say anything? I’m glad. It was to me articulate, but I didn’t + know. Oh, things have been going well with me lately. Those two studies + over there simply did themselves. That camp scene on the left is almost a + picture. I think I’ll put a little more work on it and give it a chance in + Paris. I got in once, you know. Champ de Mars. With some horses.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Did you, indeed?’ I said. ‘Capital.’ I asked him if he didn’t atrociously + miss the life of the Quarter, and he surprised me by saying that he never + had lived it. He had been en pension instead with a dear old professor of + chemistry and his family at Puteaux, and used to go in and out. A smile + came into his eyes at the remembrance, and he told me one after the other + idyllic little stories of the old professor and madame. Madame and the + omelet—madame and the melon—M. Vibois and the maire; I sat + charmed. So long as we remained in France his humour was like this, + delicate and expansive, but an accidental allusion led us across the + Channel when he changed. He had no little stories of the time he spent in + England. Instead he let himself go in generalizations, aimed, for they had + a distinct animus, at English institutions and character, particularly as + these appear in English society. I could not believe, from the little I + had seen of him, that his experience of English society of any degree had + been intimate; what he said had the flavour of Radical Sunday papers. The + only original element was the feeling behind, which was plainly part of + him; speculation instantly clamoured as to how far this was purely + temperamental and how far the result of painful contact. He himself, he + said, though later of the Western States, had been born under the British + flag of British parents—though his mother was an Irishwoman she came + from loyal Ulster—and he repeated the statement as if it in some way + justified his attitude towards his fellow countrymen and excused his + truculence in the ear of a servant of the empire which he had the humour + to abuse. I heard him, I confess, with impatience, it was all so shabby + and shallow, but I heard him out, and I was rewarded; he came for an + illustration in the end to Simla. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘at what they call + their “Government House list”; and look at Strobo, Signor Strobo. Isn’t + Strobo a man of intelligence, isn’t he a man of benevolence? He gave ten + thousand rupees last week to the famine fund. Is Strobo on Government + House list? Is he ever invited to dine with the Viceroy? No, because + Strobo keeps a hotel! Look at Rosario—where does Rosario come in? + Nowhere, because Rosario is a clerk, and a subordinate. Yet Rosario is a + man of wide reading and a very accomplished fellow!’ + </p> + <p> + It became more or less necessary to argue then, and the commonplaces with + which I opposed him called forth a wealth of detail bearing most + picturesquely upon his stay among us. I began to think he had never hated + English rigidity and English snobbery until he came to Simla, and that he + and Strobo and Rosario had mingled their experiences in one bitter cup. I + gathered this by inference only, he was curiously watchful and reticent as + to anything that had happened to him personally; indeed, he was careful to + aver preferences for the society of ‘sincere’ people like Strobo and + Rosario, that seemed to declare him more than indifferent to circles in + which he would not meet them. In the end our argument left me ridiculously + irritated—it was simply distressing to see the platform from which + he obtained so wide and exquisite a view of the world upheld by such + flimsy pillars—and my nerves were not soothed by his proposal to + walk with me to the Club. I could hardly refuse it, however, and he came + along in excellent spirits, having effected the demolition of British + social ideals, root and branch. His mongrel dog accompanied, keeping + offensively near our heels. It was not even an honest pi, but a dog of + tawdry pretensions with a banner-like tail dishonestly got from a spaniel. + On one occasion I very nearly kicked the dog. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 2.VII. + </h2> + <p> + ‘The fact is,’ I said to Dora as we rode down to the gymkhana, ‘his + personality takes possession of one. I constantly go to that little hut of + his with intentions, benevolent or otherwise, which I never carry out.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You mean,’ she answered, ‘that you completely forgot to reveal to him + your hateful knowledge about Kauffer.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘On the contrary, I didn’t forget it for a moment. But the conversation + took a turn that made it quite impossible to mention.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I can understand,’ Miss Harris replied softly, ‘how that might be. And it + doesn’t in the least matter,’ she went on triumphantly, ‘because I’ve told + him myself.’ + </p> + <p> + My nerves must have been a trifle strung up at the time, for this struck + me as a matter for offense. ‘You thought I would trample upon him,’ I + exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no really. I disliked his not knowing it was known—rien de + plus,’ she said lightly. + </p> + <p> + ‘What did he say?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, not much. What should he say?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He might have expressed a decent regret on poor Kauffer’s account,’ I + growled. Dora did not reply, and a glance showed her frowning. + </p> + <p> + ‘I believe he apologized!’ I cried, pushing, as it were, my advantage. + </p> + <p> + ‘He explained.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course he hasn’t relished the position, and of course he didn’t + realize it before he came. Shall we trot?’ + </p> + <p> + I was compelled to negative the idea of trotting, since we were descending + quite the steepest pitch of the road down to Annandale. We went on at a + walk, and it occurred to me, as my contemplative gaze fell on my own + pig-skins, that we were, even for Simla, an uncommonly well-turned-out + pair. I had helped to pick Dora’s hack, and I allowed myself to reflect + that he did my judgment credit. She sat him perfectly in her wrath—she + was plainly angry—not a hair out of place. Why is it that a lady out + of temper with her escort always walks away from him? Is her horse + sympathetic? Ronald, at all events, was leading by a couple of yards, when + suddenly he shied, bounding well across the road. + </p> + <p> + The mare, whose manners I can always answer for, simply stopped and looked + haughtily about for explanations. A path dropped into the road from the + hillside; something came scrambling and stumbling down. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh!’ cried Dora, as it emerged and was Armour on his much enduring white + pony, ‘how you frightened us!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why don’t you stick to the road, man?’ I exclaimed. ‘It isn’t usual to + put ponies up and down these coolie tracks!’ + </p> + <p> + He took no notice of this rather broad hint that I was annoyed, but fixed + his eager, light, luminous eyes upon Dora. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and added, ‘I did not expect to see you today!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not till tomorrow,’ she returned. ‘You remember that we are sketching + tomorrow?’ + </p> + <p> + He looked at her and smiled slightly; and then I remember noticing that + his full, arched upper lip seldom quite met its counterpart over his + teeth. This gave an unpremeditated casual effect to everything he found to + say, and made him look a dreamer at his busiest. His smile was at the + folly of her reminder. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve just been looking for something that you would like,’ he said, ‘but + it isn’t much good hunting about alone. I see five times as much when we + go together.’ + </p> + <p> + He and his pony barred the way; he had an air of leisure and of felicity; + one would think we had met at an afternoon party. + </p> + <p> + ‘We are on our way,’ I explained, ‘to the gymkhana. Miss Harris is in one + of the events. You did enter for the needle-threading race, didn’t you, + with Lord Arthur? I think we must get on.’ + </p> + <p> + A slow, dull red mounted to Armour’s face and seemed to put out that + curious light in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is it far?’ he asked, glancing down over the tree-tops. ‘I’ve never been + there.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why,’ cried Dora, suddenly, ‘you’ve been down!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘So you have,’ I confirmed her. ‘Your beast is damaged too.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, it was only a stumble,’ Armour replied; ‘I stuck on all right.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ I said, ‘you had better get off now, as you didn’t then, and look + at your animal’s near fore. The swelling’s as big as a bun already.’ + </p> + <p> + Again he made me no answer, but looked intently and questioningly at Dora. + </p> + <p> + ‘Get off, Mr. Armour,’ she said, sharply, ‘and lead your horse home. It is + not fit to be ridden. Goodbye.’ + </p> + <p> + I have no doubt he did it, but neither of us were inclined to look back to + see. We pushed on under the deodars, and I was indulgent to a trot. At the + end of it Dora remarked that Mr. Armour naturally could not be expected to + know anything about riding, it was very plucky of him to get on a horse at + all, among these precipices; and I of course agreed. + </p> + <p> + Lord Arthur was waiting when we arrived, on his chestnut polo pony, but + Dora immediately scratched for the brilliant event in which they were + paired. Ronald, she said, was simply cooked with the heat. Ronald had come + every yard of the way on his toes and was fit for anything, but Lord + Arthur did not insist. There were young ladies in Simla, I am glad to say, + who appealed more vividly to his imagination than Dora Harris did, and one + of them speedily replaced her, a fresh-coloured young Amazon who was + staying at the Chief’s. She wandered about restlessly over the dry turf + for a few minutes, and then went and sat down in a corner of the little + wooden Grand Stand and sent me for a cup of tea. + </p> + <p> + ‘Won’t you come to the tent?’ I asked a little ruefully, eyeing the + distance and the possible collisions between, but she shook her head. + </p> + <p> + ‘I simply couldn’t bear it,’ she said, and I went feeling somehow + chastened myself by the cloud that was upon her spirit. + </p> + <p> + I found her on my return regarding the scene with a more than usually + critical eye, and a more than usually turned down lip. Yet it was exactly + the scene it always was, and always, probably, will be. I sat down beside + her and regarded it also, but more charitably than usual. Perhaps it was + rather trivial, just a lot of pretty dresses and excited young men in + white riding-breeches doing foolish things on ponies in the shortest + possible time, with one little crowd about the Club’s refreshment tent and + another about the Staff’s, while the hills sat round in an indifferent + circle; but it appealed to me with a kind of family feeling that + afternoon, and inspired me with tolerance, even benevolence. + </p> + <p> + ‘After all,’ I said, ‘it’s mainly youth and high spirits—two good + things. And one knows them all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And who are they to know?’ complained Dora. + </p> + <p> + ‘Just decent young Englishmen and Englishwomen, out here on their + country’s business,’ I replied cheerfully; ‘with the marks of Oxford and + Cambridge and Sandhurst and Woolwich on the men. Well-set-up youngsters, + who know what to do and how to do it. Oh, I like the breed!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wonder,’ said she, in a tone of preposterous melancholy, ‘if eventually + I have to marry one of them.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not necessarily,’ I said. She looked at me with interest, as if I had + contributed importantly to the matter in hand, and resumed tapping her + boot with her riding-crop. We talked of indifferent things and had long + lapses. At the close of one effort Dora threw herself back with a deep, + tumultuous sigh. ‘The poverty of this little wretched resort ties up one’s + tongue!’ she cried. ‘It is the bottom of the cup; here one gets the very + dregs of Simla’s commonplace. Let us climb out of it.’ + </p> + <p> + I thought for a moment that Ronald had been too much for her nerves coming + down, and offered to change saddles, but she would not. We took it out of + the horses all along the first upward slopes, and as we pulled in to + breathe them she turned to me paler than ever. + </p> + <p> + ‘I feel better now,’ she said. + </p> + <p> + For myself I had got rid of Armour for the afternoon. I think my + irritation with him about his pony rose and delivered me from the too + insistent thought of him. With Dora it was otherwise; she had dismissed + him; but he had never left her for a moment the whole long afternoon. + </p> + <p> + She flung a searching look at me. With a reckless turn of her head, she + said, ‘Why didn’t we take him with us?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Did we want him?’ I asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think I always want him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah!’ said I, and would have pondered this statement at some length in + silence, but that she plainly did not wish me to do so. + </p> + <p> + ‘We might perfectly well have sent his pony home with one of our own + servants—he would have been delighted to walk down.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He wasn’t in proper kit,’ I remonstrated. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I wish you would speak to him about that. Make him get some + tennis-flannels and riding-things.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you propose to get him asked to places?’ I inquired. + </p> + <p> + She gave me a charmingly unguarded smile. ‘I propose to induce you to do + so. I have done what I could. He has dined with us several times, and met + a few people who would, I thought, be kind to him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, well,’ I said, ‘I have had him at the Club too, with old Lamb and + Colonel Hamilton. He made us all miserable with his shyness. Don’t ask me + to do it again, please.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve sent him to call on certain people,’ Dora continued, ‘and I’ve shown + his pictures to everybody, and praised him and talked about him, but I + can’t go on doing that indefinitely, can I?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ I said; ‘people might misunderstand.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t think they would MISunderstand,’ replied this astonishing girl, + without flinching. She even sought my eyes to show me that hers were clear + and full of purpose. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good God!’ I said to myself, but the words that fell from me were, ‘He is + outside all that life.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What is the use of living a life that he is outside of?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, if you put it that way,’ I said, and set my teeth, ‘I will do what I + can.’ + </p> + <p> + She held out her hand with an affectionate gesture, and I was reluctantly + compelled to press it. + </p> + <p> + The horses broke into a trot, and we talked no more of Armour, or of + anything, until Ted Harris joined us on the Mall. + </p> + <p> + I have rendered this conversation with Dora in detail because subsequent + events depend so closely upon it. Some may not agree that it was basis + enough for the action I thought well to take; I can only say that it was + all I was ever able to obtain. Dora was always particularly civil and + grateful about my efforts, but she gave me only one more glimpse, and that + enigmatic, of any special reason why they should be made. Perhaps this was + more than compensated for by the abounding views I had of the situation as + it lay with Ingersoll Armour, but of that, other persons, approaching the + subject without prejudice, will doubtless judge better than I. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 2.VIII. + </h2> + <p> + It was better not to inquire, so I never knew to what extent Kauffer + worked upon the vanity of ancient houses the sinful dodge I suggested to + him; but I heard before long that the line of Armour’s rejected efforts + had been considerably diminished. Armour told me himself that Kauffer’s + attitude had become almost conciliatory, that Kauffer had even hinted at + the acceptance of, and adhesion to, certain principles which he would lay + down as the basis of another year’s contract. In talking to me about it, + Armour dwelt on these absurd stipulations only as the reason why any idea + of renewal was impossible. It was his proud theory with me that to work + for a photographer was just as dignified as to produce under any other + conditions, provided you did not stoop to ideals which for lack of a + better word might be called photographic. How he represented it to Dora, + or permitted Dora to represent it to him, I am not so certain—I + imagine there may have been admissions and qualifications. Be that as it + may, however, the fact was imperative that only three months of the hated + bond remained, and that some working substitute for the hated bond would + have to be discovered at their expiration. Simla, in short, must be made + to buy Armour’s pictures, to appreciate them, if the days of miracle were + not entirely past, but to buy them any way. On one or two occasions I had + already made Simla buy things. I had cleared out young Ludlow’s stables + for him in a week—he had a string of ten—when he played polo + in a straw hat and had to go home with sunstroke; and I once auctioned off + all the property costumes of the Amateur Dramatic Society at astonishing + prices. Pictures presented difficulties which I have hinted at in an + earlier chapter, but I did not despair. I began by hauling old Lamb, + puffing and blowing like a grampus, up to Amy Villa, filling him up all + the way with denunciations of Simla’s philistinism and suggestions that he + alone redeemed it. + </p> + <p> + It is a thing I am ashamed to think of, and it deserved its reward. + </p> + <p> + Lamb criticized and patronized every blessed thing he saw, advised Armour + to beware of mannerisms and to be a little less liberal with his colour, + and heard absolutely unmoved of the horses Armour had got into the Salon. + ‘I understand,’ he said, with a benevolent wink, ‘that about four thousand + pictures are hung every year at the Salon, and I don’t know how many + thousand are rejected. Let Mr. Armour get a picture accepted by the + Academy. Then he will have something to talk about.’ + </p> + <p> + Neither did Sir William Lamb buy anything at all. + </p> + <p> + The experiment with Lady Pilkey was even more distressing. She gushed with + fair appropriateness and great liberality, and finally fixed upon one + scene to make her own. She winningly asked the price of it. She had never + known anybody who did not understand prices. Poor Armour, the colour of a + live coal, named one hundred rupees. + </p> + <p> + ‘One hundred rupees! Oh, my dear boy, I can never afford that! You must, + you must really give it to me for seventy-five. It will break my heart if + I can’t have it for seventy-five.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Give me the pleasure,’ said Armour, ‘of making you a present of it. You + have been so kind about everything, and it’s so seldom one meets anybody + who really cares. So let me send it to you.’ It was honest embarrassment; + he did not mean to be impertinent. + </p> + <p> + And she did. + </p> + <p> + Blum, of the Geological Department—Herr Blum in his own country—came + up and honestly rejoiced, and at end of an interminable pipe did purchase + a little Breton bit that I hated to see go—it was one of the things + that gave the place its air; but Blum had a large family undergoing + education at Heidelberg, and exclaimed, to Armour’s keenest anguish, that + on this account he could not more do. + </p> + <p> + Altogether, during the months of August and September, persons resident in + Simla drawing their income from Her Majesty, bought from the eccentric + young artist from nowhere, living on Summer Hill, canvases and little + wooden panels to the extent of two hundred and fifty rupees. Lady Pilkey + had asked him to lunch—she might well! and he had appeared at three + garden-parties and a picnic. It was not enough. + </p> + <p> + It was not enough, and yet it was, in a manner, too much. Pitiful as it + was in substance, it had an extraordinary personal effect. Armour suddenly + began to turn himself out well—his apparel was of smarter cut than + mine, and his neckties in better taste. Little elegances appeared in the + studio—he offered you Scotch in a Venetian decanter and Melachrinos + from a chased silver box. The farouche element faded out of his speech; + his ideas remained as fresh and as simple as ever, but he gave them a + form, bless me! that might have been used at the Club. He worked as hard + as ever, but more variously; he tried his hand at several new things. He + said he was feeling about for something that would really make his + reputation. + </p> + <p> + In spite of all this his little measure of success made him more + contemptuous than before of its scene and its elements. He declared that + he had a poorer idea than ever of society now that he saw the pattern from + the smart side. That his convictions on this head survived one of the best + Simla tailors shows that they must always have been strong. I think he + believed that he was doing all that he did do to make himself socially + possible with the purpose of pleasing Dora Harris. I would not now venture + to say how far Dora inspired and controlled him in this direction, and how + far the impulse was his own. The measure of appreciation that began to + seek his pictures, poor and small though it was, gave him, on the other + hand, the most unalloyed delight. He talked of the advice of Sir William + Lamb as if it were anything but that of a pompous old ass, and he made a + feast with champagne for Blum that must have cost him quite as much as + Blum paid for the Breton sketch. He confirmed my guess that he had never + in his life until he came to Simla sold anything, so that even these small + transactions were great things to him, and the earnest of a future upon + which he covered his eyes not to gaze too raptly. He mentioned to me that + Kauffer had been asked for his address—who could it possibly be?—and + looked so damped by my humourous suggestion that it was a friend of + Kauffer’s in some other line who wanted a bill paid, that I felt I had + been guilty of brutality. And all the while the quality of his wonderful + output never changed or abated. Pure and firm and prismatic it remained. I + found him one day at the very end of October, with shining eyes and + fingers blue with cold, putting the last of the afternoon light on the + snows into one of the most dramatic hill pictures I ever knew him to do. + He seemed intoxicated with his skill, and hummed the ‘Marseillaise,’ I + remember, all the way to Amy Villa whither I accompanied him. + </p> + <p> + It was the last day of Kauffer’s contract; and besides, all the world, + secretaries, establishments, hill captains, grass widows, shops, and + sundries, was trundling down the hill. I came to ask my young friend what + he meant to do. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do?’ he cried. ‘Why, eat, drink, and be merry! Kauffer has paid up, and + his yoke is at the bottom of the sea. Come back and dine with me!’ + </p> + <p> + The hour we spent together in his little inner room before dinner was + served stands out among my strangest, loveliest memories of Armour. He was + divinely caught up, and absurd as it is to write, he seemed to carry me + with him. We drank each a glass of vermouth before dinner sitting over a + scented fire of deodar branches, while outside the little window in front + of me the lifted lines of the great empty Himalayan landscape faded and + fell into a blur. I remembered the solitary scarlet dahlia that stood + between us and the vast cold hills and held its colour when all was grey + but that. The hill world waited for the winter; down a far valley we could + hear a barking deer. Armour talked slowly, often hesitating for a word, of + the joy there was in beauty and the divinity in the man who saw it with + his own eyes. I have read notable pages that brought conviction pale + beside that which stole about the room from what he said. The comment may + seem fantastic, but it is a comment—I caressed the dog. The servant + clattered in with the plates, and at a shout outside Armour left me. He + came in radiant with Signor Strobo, also radiant and carrying a violin, + for hotel-keeping was not the Signor’s only accomplishment. I knew Strobo + well; many a special dish had he ordered for my little parties; and we met + at Armour’s fireside like the genial old acquaintances we were. Another + voice without and presently I was nodding to Rosario and vaguely wondering + why he looked uncomfortable. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m sorry,’ said Armour, as we sat down, ‘I’ve got nothing but beer. If I + had known you were all coming, no vintage that crawls up the hill would + have been good enough for me.’ He threw the bond of his wonderful smile + round us as we swallowed his stuff, and our hearts were lightened. ‘You + fellows,’ he went on nodding at the other two, ‘might happen any day, but + my friend John Philips comes to me across aerial spaces; he is a star I’ve + trapped—you don’t do that often. Pilsener, John Philips, or Black?’ + He was helping his only servant by pouring out the beer himself, and as I + declared for Black he slapped me affectionately on the back and said my + choice was good. + </p> + <p> + The last person who had slapped me on the back was Lord Dufferin, and I + smiled softly and privately at the remembrance, and what a difference + there was. I had resented Dufferin’s slap. + </p> + <p> + We had spiced hump and jungle-fowl and a Normandy cheese, everybody will + understand that; but how shall I make plain with what exultation and + simplicity we ate and drank, how the four candid selves of us sat around + the table in a cloud of tobacco and cheered each other on, Armour always + far in front turning handsprings as he went. Scraps come back to me, but + the whole queer night has receded and taken its place among those dreams + that insist at times upon having been realities. Rosario told us stories + Kipling might have coveted of the under life of Port Said. Strobo talked + with glorious gusto of his uncle the brigand. They were liberated men; we + were all liberated men. ‘Let the direction go,’ cried Armour, ‘and give + the senses flight, taking the image as it comes, beating the air with + happy pinions.’ He must have been talking of his work, but I can not now + remember. And what made Strobo say, of life and art, ‘I have waited for + ten years and five thousand pounds—now my old violin says, “Go, + handle the ladle! Go, add up the account!”’ And did we really discuss the + chances of ultimate salvation for souls in the Secretariat? I know I + lifted my glass once and cried, ‘I, a slave, drink to freedom!’ and + Rosario clinked with me. And Strobo played wailing Hungarian airs with + sudden little shakes of hopeless laughter in them. I can not even now hear + Naches without being filled with the recollection of how certain bare + branches in me that night blossomed. + </p> + <p> + I walked alone down the hill and along the three miles to the Club, and at + every step the tide sank in me till it cast me on my threshold at three in + the morning, just the middle-aged shell of a Secretary to the Government + of India that I was when I set forth. Next day when my head clerk brought + me the files we avoided one another’s glances; and it was quite three + weeks before I could bring myself to address him with the dignity and + distance prescribed for his station as ‘Mr.’ Rosario. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 2.IX. + </h2> + <p> + I went of course to Calcutta for the four winter months. Harris and I were + together at the Club. It was the year, I remember, of the great shindy as + to whether foreign consuls should continue to be made honourary members, + in view of the sentiments some of them were freely reflecting from Europe + upon the subject of a war in South Africa which was none of theirs. + Certainly, feeling as they did, it would have been better if they had + swaggered less about a club that stood for British Government; but I did + not vote to withdraw the invitation. We can not, after all, take notice of + every idle word that drops from Latin or Teutonic tongues; it isn’t our + way; but it was a liverish cold weather on various accounts, and the + public temper was short. I heard from Dora oftener, Harris declared, than + he did. She was spending the winter with friends in Agra, and Armour, of + course, was there too, living at Laurie’s Hotel, and painting, Dora + assured me, with immense energy. It was just the place for Armour, a + sumptuous dynasty wrecked in white marble and buried in desert sands for + three hundred years; and I was glad to hear that he was making the most of + it. It was quite by the way, but I had lent him the money to go there—somebody + had to lend it to him—and when he asked me to decide whether he + should take his passage for Marseilles or use it for this other purpose I + could hardly hesitate, believing in him, as I did, to urge him to paint a + little more of India before he went. I frankly despaired of his ever being + able to pay his way in Simla without Kauffer, but that was no reason why + he should not make a few more notes for further use at home, where I + sometimes saw for him, when his desultory and experimental days were over + and some definiteness and order had come into his work, a Bond Street + exhibition. + </p> + <p> + I have not said all this time what I thought of Ingersoll Armour and Dora + Harris together, because their connection seemed too vague and fantastic + and impossible to hold for an instant before a steady gaze. I have no wish + to justify myself when I write that I preferred to keep my eyes averted, + enjoying perhaps just such a measure of vision as would enter at a corner + of them. This may or may not have been immoral under the circumstances—the + event did not prove it so—but for urgent private reasons I could not + be the person to destroy the idyll, if indeed its destruction were + possible, that flourished there in the corner of my eye. Besides, had not + I myself planted and watered it? But it was foolish to expect other + people, people who are forever on the lookout for trousseaux and + wedding-bells, and who considered these two as mere man and maid, and had + no sight of them as engaging young spirits in happy conjunction—it + was foolish to expect such people to show equal consideration. Christmas + was barely over before the lady with whom Miss Harris was staying found it + her duty to communicate to Edward Harris the fact that dear Dora’s + charming friendship—she was sure it was nothing more—with the + young artist—Mrs. Poulton believed Mr. Harris would understand who + was meant—was exciting a good deal of comment in the station, and + WOULD dear Mr. Harris please write to Dora himself, as Mrs. Poulton was + beginning to feel so responsible? + </p> + <p> + I saw the letter; Harris showed it to me when he sat down to breakfast + with the long face of a man in a domestic difficulty, and we settled + together whom we should ask to put his daughter up in Calcutta. It should + be the wife of a man in his own department of course; it is to one’s + Deputy Secretary that one looks for succour at times like this; and + naturally one never looks in vain. Mrs. Symons would be delighted. I + conjured up Dora’s rage on receipt of the telegram. She loathed the + Symonses. + </p> + <p> + She came, but not at the jerk of a wire; she arrived a week later, with a + face of great propriety and a smile of great unconcern. Harris, having got + her effectually out of harm’s way, shirked further insistence, and I have + reason to believe that Armour was never even mentioned between them. + </p> + <p> + Dora applied herself to the gaieties of the season with the zest of a + debutante; she seemed really refreshed, revitalized. She had never looked + better, happier. I met her again for the first time at one of the Thursday + dances at Government House. In the glance she gave me I was glad to detect + no suspicion of collusion. She plainly could not dream that Edward Harris + in his nefarious exercise of parental authority had acted upon any hint + from me. It was rather sweet. + </p> + <p> + Out in the veranda, away from the blare of the Viceroy’s band, she told me + very delicately and with the most charming ellipses how Armour had been + filling her life in Agra, how it had all been, for these two, a dream and + a vision. There is a place below the bridge there, where the cattle come + down from the waste pastures across the yellow sands to drink and stand in + the low water of the Jumna, to stand and switch their tails while their + herdsmen on the bank coax them back with ‘Ari!’ ‘Ari!’ ‘Ari!’ long and + high, faint and musical; and the minarets of Akbar’s fort rise beyond + against the throbbing sky and the sun fills it all. This place I shall + never see more distinctly than I saw it that night on the veranda at + Government House, Calcutta, with the conviction, like a margin for the + picture, that its foreground had been very often occupied by the woman I + profoundly worshiped and Ingersoll Armour. She told me that he had sent me + a sketch of it, and I very much wished he hadn’t. One felt that the gift + would carry a trifle of irony. + </p> + <p> + ‘He has told me,’ she said once brusquely, ‘how good you have been to + him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Is he coming to Simla again?’ I asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh yes! And please take it from me that this time he will conquer the + place. He has undertaken to do it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘At your request?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘At my persuasion—at my long entreaty. They must recognize him—they + must be taught. I have set my heart on it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Does he himself very much care?’ I asked remembering the night of the + thirty-first of October. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, he does care. He despises it, of course, but in a way he cares. I’ve + been trying to make him care more. A human being isn’t an orchid; he must + draw something from the soil he grows in.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If he were stable,’ I mused; ‘if he had a fixed ambition somewhere in the + firmament. But his purpose is a will-o’-the-wisp.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think he has an ambition,’ said Miss Harris, into the dark. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! Then we must continue,’ I said—‘continue to push from behind.’ + </p> + <p> + Dora did not reply. She is a person of energy and determination, and might + have been expected to offer to cooperate gladly. But she didn’t. + </p> + <p> + ‘He is painting a large picture for next season’s exhibition,’ she + informed me. ‘I was not allowed to see it or to know anything about it, + but he declares it will bring Simla down.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope not,’ I said, piously. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I hope so. I have told him,’ Dora continued, slowly, ‘that a great + deal depends on it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Here is Mrs. Symons,’ I was able to return, ‘and I am afraid she is + looking for you.’ + </p> + <p> + March came, and the city lay white under its own dust. The electric fans + began to purr in the Club, and Lent brought the flagging season to a full + stop. I had to go that year on tour through the famine district with the + Member, and we escaped, gasping, from the Plains about the middle of + April. Simla was crimson with rhododendron blossoms, and seemed a spur of + Arcady. There had been the usual number of flittings from one house to + another, and among them I heard with satisfaction that Armour no longer + occupied Amy Villa. I would not for the world have blurred my + recollections of that last evening—I could not have gone there + again. + </p> + <p> + ‘He is staying with Sir William Lamb,’ said Dora, handing me my cup of + tea. ‘And I am quite jealous. Sir William, only Sir William, has been + allowed to see the exhibition picture.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What does that portend?’ I said, thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know. Sir William was here yesterday simply swelling with his + impression of it. He says it’s the finest thing that has been done in + India. I told you he would conquer them.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You did,’ and without thinking I added, ‘I hope you won’t be sorry that + you asked him to.’ It must have been an inspiration. + </p> + <p> + Armour, those weeks before the exhibition, seemed invisible. Dora reported + him torn with the incapacity of the bazaar frame-maker to follow a design, + and otherwise excessively occupied, and there was no lack of demands upon + my own time. Besides, my ardour to be of assistance to the young man found + a slight damper in the fact that he was staying with Sir William Lamb. + What competence had I to be of use to the guest of Sir William Lamb? + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not for a moment think he will be there,’ said Dora, on the day of + the private view as we went along the Mall towards the Town Hall together. + ‘He will not run with an open mouth to his success. He will take it from + us later.’ + </p> + <p> + But he was there. We entered precisely at the dramatic moment of his + presentation by Sir William Lamb to the Viceroy. He stood embarrassed and + smiling in a little circle of compliments and congratulation. Behind him + and a little to the left hung his picture, large and predominant, and in + the corner of the frame was stuck the red ticket that signified the + Viceroy’s gold medal. We saw that, I think, before we saw anything else. + Then with as little haste as was decent, considering His Excellency’s + proximity, we walked within range of the picture. + </p> + <p> + I am not particularly pleased, even now, to have the task of describing + the thing. Its subject was an old Mahomedan priest with a green turban and + a white beard exhorting a rabble of followers. I heard myself saying to + Dora that it was very well painted indeed, very conscientiously painted, + and that is certainly what struck me. The expression of the fire-eater’s + face was extremely characteristic; his arm was flung out with a gesture + that perfectly matched. The group of listeners was carefully composed and + most ‘naturally’; that is the only word that would come to me. + </p> + <p> + I glanced almost timidly at Dora. She was regarding it with a deep + vertical line between her handsome brows. + </p> + <p> + ‘What—on earth—has he done with himself?’ she demanded, but + before I could reply Armour was by our side. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well?’ he said, looking at Dora. + </p> + <p> + ‘It—it’s very nice,’ she stammered, ‘but I miss YOU.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She only means, you know,’ I rushed in, ‘that you’ve put in everything + that was never there before. Accuracy of detail, you know, and so forth. + ‘Pon my word, there’s some drawing in that!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Dora, calmly, ‘what I complain of is that he has left out + everything that was there before. But he has won the gold medal, and I + congratulate him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ I said, uneasily, ‘don’t congratulate me. I didn’t do it. + Positively I am not to blame.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘His Excellency says that it reminds him of an incident in one of Mrs. + Steel’s novels,’ said Armour, just turning his head to ascertain His + Excellency’s whereabouts. + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear me, so it does,’ I exclaimed, eagerly, ‘one couldn’t name the + chapter—it’s the general feeling.’ I went on to discourse of the + general feeling. Words came generously, questions with point, comments + with intelligence. I swamped the situation and so carried it off. + </p> + <p> + ‘The Viceroy has bought the thing,’ Armour went on, looking at Dora, ‘and + has commissioned me to paint another. The only restriction he makes is—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That it shall be of the same size?’ asked Dora. + </p> + <p> + ‘That it must deal with some phase of native life.’ + </p> + <p> + Miss Harris walked to a point behind us, and stood there with her eyes + fixed upon the picture. I glanced at her once; her gaze was steady, but + perfectly blank. Then she joined us again, and struck into the stream of + my volubility. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am delighted,’ she said, pleasantly, to Armour. ‘You have done exactly + what I wanted you to do. You have won the Viceroy’s medal, and all the + reputation there is to win in this place. Come and dine tonight, and we + will rejoice together. But wasn’t it—for you—a little + difficult?’ + </p> + <p> + He looked at her as if she had offered him a cup, and then dashed it from + his lips; but the occasion was not one, of course, for crying out. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh no,’ he said, putting on an excellent face. ‘But it took a hideous + time.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 2.X. + </h2> + <p> + Within a fortnight I was surprised and a little irritated to receive from + Armour the amount of my loan in full. It was not in accordance with my + preconceived idea of him that he should return it at all. I had arranged + in my own mind that he should be governed by the most honest impulses and + the most approved intentions up to the point of departure, but that he + should never find it quite convenient to pay, and that in order to effect + his final shipment to other shores I should be compelled to lend him some + more money. In the far future, when he should be famous and I an obscure + pauper on pension, my generous imagination permitted me to see the loan + repaid; but not till then. These are perhaps stereotyped and conventional + lines to conceive him on, but I hardly think that anybody who has followed + my little account to this point will think them unjustifiable. I looked at + his cheque with disgust. That a man turns out better than you expected is + no reason why you such not be annoyed that your conception of him is + shattered. You may be gratified on general grounds, but distinctly put out + on personal ones, especially when your conception pointed to his + inevitable removal. That was the way I felt. + </p> + <p> + The cheque stood for so much more than its money value. It stood for a + possible, nay, a probable capacity in Armour to take his place in the + stable body of society, to recognize and make demands, to become a + taxpayer, a churchgoer, a householder, a husband. As I gazed, the + signature changed from that of a gnome with luminous eyes who inhabited an + inaccessible crag among the rhododendrons to that of a prosperous + artist-bourgeois with a silk hat for Sundays. I have in some small degree + the psychological knack, I saw the possibilities of the situation with + immense clearness; and I cursed the cheque. + </p> + <p> + Coincidence is odious, tells on the nerves. I never felt it more so than a + week later, when I read in the ‘Pioneer’ the announcement of the death of + my old friend Fry, Superintendent of the School of Art in Calcutta. The + paragraph in which the journal dismissed poor Fry to his reward was not + unkind, but it distinctly implied that the removal of Fry should include + the removal of his ideas and methods, and the substitution of something + rather more up to date. It remarked that the Bengali student had been + pinned down long enough to drawing plaster casts, and declared that + something should be done to awake within him the creative idea. I remember + the phrase, it seemed so directly to suggest that the person to awake it + should be Ingersoll Armour. + </p> + <p> + I turned the matter over in my mind; indeed, for the best part of an hour + my brain revolved with little else. The billet was an excellent one, with + very decent pay and charming quarters. It carried a pension, it was the + completest sort of provision. There was a long vacation, with + opportunities for original effort, and I had heard Fry call the work + interesting. Fry was the kind of man to be interested in anything that + gave him a living, but there was no reason why a more captious spirit, in + view of the great advantages, should not accommodate itself to the routine + that might present itself. The post was in the gift of the Government of + Bengal, but that was no reason why the Government of Bengal should not be + grateful in the difficulty of making a choice for a hint from us. The + difficulty was really great. They would have to write home and advertise + in the ‘Athenaeum’—for some reason Indian Governments always + advertise educational appointments in the ‘Athenaeum’; it is a habit which + dates from the days of John Company—and that would mean delay. And + then the result might be a disappointment. Might Armour not also be a + disappointment? That I really could not say. A new man is always a + speculation, and departments, like individuals, have got to take their + luck. + </p> + <p> + The Viceroy was so delighted—everybody was so delighted—with + the medal picture that the merest breath blown among them would secure + Armour’s nomination. Should I blow that breath? These happy thoughts must + always occur to somebody. This one had occurred to me. Ten to one it would + occur to nobody else, and last of all to Armour himself. The advertisement + might already be on its way home to the ‘Athenaeum’. + </p> + <p> + It would make everything possible. It would throw a very different + complexion over the idyll. It would turn that interlacing wreath of + laurels and of poppies into the strongest bond in the world. + </p> + <p> + I would simply have nothing to do with it. + </p> + <p> + But there was no harm I asking Armour to dine with me; I sent the note off + by messenger after breakfast and told the steward to put a magnum of + Pommery to cool at seven precisely. I had some idea, I suppose, of + drinking with Armour to his eternal discomfiture. Then I went to the + office with a mind cleared of responsibility and comfortably pervaded with + the glow of good intentions. + </p> + <p> + The moment I saw the young man, punctual and immediate and a little + uncomfortable about the cuffs, I regretted not having asked one or two + more fellows. It might have spoiled the occasion, but it would have saved + the situation. That single glance of my accustomed eye—alas! that it + was so well accustomed—revealed him anxious and screwed up, as + nervous as a cat, but determined, revealed—how well I knew the + signs!—that he had something confidential and important and highly + personal to communicate, a matter in which I could, if I only would, be of + the greatest possible assistance. From these appearances twenty years had + taught me to fly to any burrow, but your dinner-table offers no retreat; + you are hoist, so to speak, on your own carving-fork. There are men, of + course, and even women, who have scruples about taking advantage of so + intimate and unguarded an opportunity, but Armour, I rapidly decided, was + not one of these. His sophistication was progressing, but it had not + reached that point. He wanted something—I flew instantly to the mad + conclusion that he wanted Dora. I did not pause to inquire why he should + ask her of me. It had seemed for a long time eminently proper that anybody + who wanted Dora should ask her of me. The application was impossible, but + applications nearly always were impossible. Nobody knew that better than + the Secretary to the Government of India in the Home Department. + </p> + <p> + I squared my shoulders and we got through the soup. It was necessary to + apologize for the fish. ‘I suppose one must remember,’ I said, ‘that it + has to climb six thousand feet,’ when suddenly he burst out. + </p> + <p> + ‘Sir William Lamb tells me,’ he said, and stopped to swallow some wine, + ‘that there is something very good going in Calcutta and that I should ask + you to help me to get it. May I?’ + </p> + <p> + So the miserable idea—the happy thought—had occurred to + somebody else. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is there?’ I said, with interest and attention. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s something in the School of Art. A man named Fry has died.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah!’ I said, ‘a man named Fry. He, I think was Director of that + institution.’ I looked at Armour in the considering, measuring way with + which we suggest to candidates for posts that their fitness to fill them + is not to be absolutely taken for granted. ‘Fry was a man of fifty-six,’ I + said. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am thirty.’ He certainly did not look it, but years often fall lightly + upon a temperament. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a vile climate.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know. Is it too vile, do you think,’ he said anxiously, ‘to ask a lady + to share?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Lots of ladies do share it,’ I replied, with amazing calmness; ‘but I + must decline absolutely to enter into that.’ + </p> + <p> + My frown was so forbidding that he couldn’t and didn’t dare to go on. He + looked dashed and disappointed; he was really a fool of an applicant, + quite ready to retire from the siege on the first intimation that the + gates were not to be thrown open at his approach. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you think you would like teaching?’ I asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can teach. Miss—my only pupil here has made capital progress.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am afraid you must not measure the Bengali art student by the standard + of Miss Harris,’ I replied coldly. He WAS a fool. We talked of other + things. I led him on to betray his ludicrous lack of knowledge of the + world in various directions. At other times it had irritated me, that + night it gave me purest pleasure. I agreed with him about everything. + </p> + <p> + As he selected his smoke to go home with I said, ‘Send your application in + to the Director of Public Instruction, Bengal—Lamb will tell you how—and + I’ll see what I can do.’ + </p> + <p> + They were only too thankful to get him. As a student it seemed he had been + diligent both in London and Paris; he possessed diplomas or some such + things bearing names which were bound to have weight with a Department of + Public Instruction anywhere. I felt particularly thankful for this, for I + was committed to him if he had not a rag to show. + </p> + <p> + The matter was settled in three weeks, during which Armour became more and + more the fashion in Simla. He was given every opportunity of experiment in + the society of which he was about to become a permanent item. He dined out + four or five times a week, and learned exactly what to talk about. He + surprised me one day with a piece of news of my own department, which was + a liberty of a very serious kind, but I forgave him upon finding that it + was not true. He rode Lamb’s weight-carriers, to cross which his short + legs were barely adequate, and apart from this disadvantage he did not + ride them badly. Only one thing marred the completeness of the + transformation—he didn’t dismiss the dog. The dog, fundamentally, + was still and ever his companion. It was a suspicious circumstance if we + had known; but we saw in it only a kind heart, and ignored it. + </p> + <p> + I saw little of Dora Harris at this time. Making no doubt that she was + enjoying her triumph as she deserved, I took the liberty of supposing that + she would hardly wish to share so intimate a source of satisfaction. I met + them both several times at people’s houses—certain things had + apparently been taken for granted—but I was only one of the little + circle that wondered how soon it might venture upon open congratulations. + The rest of us knew as much, it seemed, as Edward Harris did. Lady Pilkey + asked him point-blank, and he said what his daughter found to like in the + fellow the Lord only knew, and he was glad to say that at present he had + no announcement to make. Lady Pilkey told me she thought it very romantic—like + marrying a newspaper correspondent—but I pointed to a lifelong task, + with a pension attached, of teaching fat young Bengalis to draw, and asked + her if she saw extravagant romance in that. + </p> + <p> + They wrote up from Calcutta that they would like to have a look at Armour + before making the final recommendation, and he left us, I remember, by the + mail tonga of the third of June. He dropped into my office to say goodbye, + but I was busy with the Member and could see nobody, so he left a card + with ‘P.P.C.’ on it. I kept the card by accident, and I keep it still by + design, for the sake of that inscription. + </p> + <p> + Strobo had given up his hotel in Simla to start one in Calcutta. It never + occurred to me that Armour might go to Strobo’s; but it was, of course, + the natural thing for him to do, especially as Strobo happened to be in + Calcutta himself at the time. He went and stayed with Strobo, and every + day he and the Signor, clad in bath-towels, lay in closed rooms under + punkahs and had iced drinks in the long tumblers of the East, and smoked + and talked away the burden of the hours. + </p> + <p> + Strobo was in Calcutta to meet a friend, an Austrian, who was shortly + leaving India in the Messagerie Maritimes steamer Dupleix after agreeable + wanderings disguised as a fakir in Tibet; and to this friend was attached, + in what capacity I never thought well to inquire, a lady who was a Pole, + and played and sang as well as Strobo fiddled. I believe they dined + together every night, this precious quartet, and exchanged in various + tongues their impressions of India under British control. ‘A houri in + stays,’ the lady who was a Pole described it. I believe she herself was a + houri without them. And at midnight, when the south wind was cool and + strong from the river, Strobo and Armour would walk up Chowringhee Road + and look at the red brick School of Art from the outside in the light of + the street lamps, as a preliminary to our friend’s final acceptance of the + task of superintending it from within. + </p> + <p> + We in Simla, of course, knew nothing of all this at the time; the details + leaked out later when Strobo came up again. I began to feel some joyful + anxiety when in a letter dated a week after Armour’s arrival in Calcutta, + the Director of Public Instruction wrote to inquire whether he had yet + left Simla; but the sweet blow did not fall with any precision or + certainty until the newspaper arrived containing his name immediately + under that of Herr Vanrig and Mme. Dansky in the list of passengers who + had sailed per S.S. Dupleix on the fifteenth of June for Colombo. There it + was, ‘I. Armour,’ as significant as ever to two persons intimately + concerned with it, but no longer a wrapping of mystery, rather a radiating + centre of light. Its power of illumination was such that it tried my eyes. + I closed them to recall the outlines of the School of Art—it had + been built in a fit of economy—and the headings of the last + Director’s report, which I had kindly sent after Armour to Calcutta. + Perhaps that had been the last straw. + </p> + <p> + The real meaning of the task of implanting Western ideals in the Eastern + mind rose before me when I thought of Armour’s doing it—how they + would dwindle in the process, and how he must go on handling them and + looking at them withered and shrunken for twenty-odd years. I understood—there + was enough left in me to understand—Armour’s terrified escape. I was + happy in the thought of him, sailing down the Bay. The possibilities of + marriage, social position, assured income, support in old age, the strands + in the bond that held him, the bond that holds us all, had been + untwisting, untwisting, from the third of June to the fifteenth. The + strand that stood for Dora doubtless was the last to break, but it did not + detract from my beatitude to know that even this consideration, before the + Dupleix and liberty, failed to hold. + </p> + <p> + I kept out of Miss Harris’s way so studiously for the next week or two + that she was kind enough in the end to feel compelled to send for me. I + went with misgivings—I expected, as may be imagined, to be very + deeply distressed. She met me with a storm of gay reproaches. I had never + seen her in better health or spirits. My surprise must have been more + evident than I supposed or intended, for before I went away she told me + the whole story. By that time she had heard from Ceylon, a delicious + letter with a pen-and-ink sketch at the top. I have it still; it + infallibly brought the man back to me. But it was all over; she assured me + with shining eyes that it was. The reason of her plainly boundless + thankfulness that Armour had run away from the School of Art did not come + to the surface until I was just going. Then I gathered that if he had + taken the post she would have felt compelled, compelled by all she had + done for him, to share its honours with him; and this, ever since at her + bidding he had begun to gather such things up, was precisely what she had + lost all inclination to do. + </p> + <p> + We were married the following October. We had a big, gorgeous official + wedding, which we both enjoyed enormously. I took furlough, and we went + home, but we found London very expensive and the country very slow; and + with my K.C.S.I. came the offer of the Membership, so we went back to + Simla for three perfectly unnecessary years, which we now look back upon + with pleasure and regret. I fear that we, no more than Ingersoll Armour, + were quite whole-hearted Bohemians; but I don’t know that we really ever + pretended to be. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 3. The Hesitation of Miss Anderson. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 3.I. + </h2> + <p> + When it became known that Madeline Anderson had finally decided to go + abroad for two years, her little circle in New York naturally talked a + good deal, in review, about her curious reason for never having gone + before. So much that happened afterward, so much that I am going to tell, + depends upon this reason for not going before, that I also must talk about + it and explain it; I could never bring it out just as we went along. It + would have been a curious reason in connection with anybody, but doubly so + as explaining the behaviour of Miss Anderson, whose profile gave you the + impression that she was anything but the shuttlecock of her emotions. + Shortly, her reason was a convict, Number 1596, who, up to February in + that year, had been working, or rather waiting, out his sentence in the + State penitentiary. So long as he worked or waited, Madeline remained in + New York, but when in February death gave him his quittance, she took her + freedom too, with wide intentions and many coupons. + </p> + <p> + Earlier in his career Number 1596 had been known in New York society as + Mr. Frederick Prendergast, and for a little while he was disapproved there + on the score of having engaged himself to a Miss Anderson, Madeline + Anderson, whom nobody knew anything about. There was her own little + circle, as I have said, and it lacked neither dignity nor refinement, but + I doubt whether any member of it was valeted from London, or could imply, + in conversation, a personal acquaintance with Yvette Guilbert. There is no + need, however, to insist that there are many persons of comfortable income + and much cultivation in New York, who would not be met by strangers having + what are called the ‘best’ introductions there. The best so often fails to + include the better. It may be accepted that Madeline Anderson and her + people were of these, and that she wondered sometimes during the brief + days of her engagement what it would be like to belong to the brilliant + little world about her that had its visiting list in London, Paris, or St. + Petersburg, and was immensely entertained by the gaucheries of the great + ones of the earth. + </p> + <p> + Then came, with the most unexceptionable introductions, Miss Violet Forde, + from a Sloane Square address, London. She came leaning on the arm of a + brother, the only relative she had in the world, and so brilliant was the + form of these young people that it occurred to nobody to imagine that it + had the most precarious pecuniary foundation, must have faded and + shrivelled indeed, after another year or two of anything but hospitality + as generous as that of New York. Well-nourished and undimmed, however, it + concealed for them admirably the fact that it was the hospitality they + were after, and not the bracing climate or the desire to see the + fascinating Americans of London and Paris at home. New York found them + agreeable specimens of high-spirited young English people, and played with + them indefinitely. Miss Forde, when she sat imperturbably on a cushion in + the middle of the floor after dinner and sang to a guitar the songs of + Albert Chevalier, was an anomaly in English decorum that was as pleasing + to observe as it was amusing to criticize. + </p> + <p> + The Americans she met delighted in drawing her out—it was a pastime + that took the lead at dinner-parties, to an extent which her hostess often + thought preposterous—and she responded with naivete and vigour, + perfectly aware that she was scoring all along the line. Upon many + charming people she made the impression that she was a type of the most + finished class of what they called ‘English society girls,’ that she + represented the best they could do over there in this direction. As a + matter of fact she might have sat to any of those ‘black and white’ + artists, who draw townish young women of London, saying cynical things to + young men in the weekly papers. That was her type, and if you look for her + picture there, you will see that her face was very accurately oval, with + eyes that knew their value, and other features that didn’t very much + matter, except in so far as they expressed a very full conception of the + satisfactions of this life, and a wide philosophy as to methods of + obtaining them. + </p> + <p> + Frederick Prendergast was unacquainted with the popular pictures I have + mentioned, having a very reasonable preference for the illustrated papers + of his own country; otherwise—there is no telling—he might + have observed the resemblance and escaped the State prison, whither he + assuredly never would have gone had he married Madeline Anderson—as + he fully intended to do when Miss Forde came over. He was worth at that + time a great deal of money, besides being more personable than any one + would have believed who knew him as ‘1596.’ His fiancee was never too + obtrusively in evidence, and if Miss Forde thought of Miss Anderson with + any scruple, it was probably to reflect that if she could not take care of + these things she did not deserve to have them. This at all events was how + her attitude expressed itself practically; and the upshot was that Miss + Anderson lost them. There came a day when Frederick Prendergast, in much + discomfort of mind, took to Violet the news that Madeline had brought + their engagement to an end. She, Violet, gave him some tea, and they + talked frankly of the absurd misconception of the relations between them + upon which his dismissal was founded; and Prendergast went away much + comforted and wholly disposed to respect Miss Anderson’s startling wishes. + She, with what both the others thought excellent taste, persuaded her + mother and sister to move to Brooklyn; and so far as the thoroughfares and + social theatres of New York were concerned, the city over the river might + have been a nunnery which had closed its gates upon her. It was only in + imagination that she heard Frederick Prendergast’s wedding-bells when, two + months later, he was united to Miss Forde in Grace Church, and that after + the fact, their melody being brought to her inner sense next day by the + marriage notice in the ‘Tribune’. + </p> + <p> + It would be painful, in view of what we know of Frederick Prendergast, to + dwell upon what Madeline Anderson undeniably felt. Besides her emotions + were not destructively acute, they only lasted longer than any one could + have either expected or approved. She suffered for him as well; she saw as + plainly as he did the first sordid consequences of his mistake the + afternoon he came to solicit her friendship, having lost other claims; and + it was then perhaps, that her responsibility in allowing Violet Forde to + spoil his life for him began to suggest itself to her. Up to that time she + had thought of the matter differently, as she would have said, selfishly. + He was not permitted to come again; but he went away lightened, inasmuch + as he had added his burden to hers. + </p> + <p> + When a year later the national credit involved that of Prendergast’s firm, + Madeline read financial articles in the newspapers with heavy concern, + surprising her family with views on ‘sound money’; and when, shortly + afterward, his partners brought that unhappy young man before the criminal + courts for an irregular use of the firm’s signature, which further + involved it beyond hope of extrication, there was no moment of the day + which did not find her, in spirit, beside him there. + </p> + <p> + The case dragged on through appeal, and the decision of the lower courts + was not reversed. The day this became known the fact also transpired that + poor Prendergast would never live to complete his ten years’ term of + imprisonment. He went to prison with hardly more than one lung, and in the + most favourable physical condition to get rid of the other. Mrs. + Prendergast wept a little over the installation, and assured Frederick + that it was perfectly absurd; they were certain to get him out again; + people always got people out again in America. She took him grapes and + flowers once a week for about a month, and then she sailed for Europe. She + put it about that her stay was to be as brief as was consistent with the + transaction of certain necessary business in London; but she never came + back, and Madeline Anderson had taken her place, in so far as the grapes + and flowers were concerned, for many months, when the announcement of his + wife’s death reached Prendergast in an English paper published in Paris. + About a year after that it began to be thought singular how he picked up + in health, and Madeline’s mother and sister occasionally romanced about + the possibility of his recovering and marrying her after all—they + had an enormous opinion of the artistic virtue of forgiveness—but it + was not a contingency ever seriously contemplated by Miss Anderson + herself. Her affection, pricked on by remorse, had long satisfied itself + with the duties of her ministry. If she would not leave him until he died, + it was because there was no one but herself to brighten the long day in + the prison hospital for him, because she had thrown him into the arms of + the woman who had deserted him, because he represented in her fancy her + life’s only budding towards the sun. Her patience lasted through six + years, which was four years longer than any doctor had given Frederick + Prendergast to live; but when one last morning she found an empty bed, and + learned that Number 1596 had been discharged in his coffin, she rose from + the shock with the sense of a task fully performed and a well-developed + desire to see what else there might be in the world. + </p> + <p> + She announced her intention of travelling for a year or two with a maid, + and her family expressed the usual acquiescence. It would help her, they + said, to ‘shake it off’; but they said that to one another. They were not + aware—and it would have spoiled an ideal for them if they had been—that + she had shaken it off, quite completely, into Prendergast’s grave. + </p> + <p> + This was the curious reason why Miss Anderson’s travels were so long + postponed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 3.II. + </h2> + <p> + It was Madeline’s fancy to enjoy the contrast between West and East in all + its sharpness, so she and Brookes embarked at San Francisco for Yokohama. + Their wanderings in Japan were ideal, in spite of Brookes’s ungrateful + statement that she could have done with fewer eggs and more bacon; and + Madeline prolonged the appeal of the country to her sense of humour and + fantasy, putting off her departure for India from week to week. She went + at last in March; and found herself down with fever at Benares in the + middle of one particularly hot April, two months after the last of her + fellow travellers had sailed from Bombay, haunted on her baking pillow by + pictorial views of the burning ghat and the vultures. The station doctor, + using appalling language to her punkah-coolie, ordered her to the hills; + and thus it was that she went to Simla, where she had no intention of + going, and where this story really begins. + </p> + <p> + Brookes has always declared that Providence in sending Miss Anderson to + Simla had it in mind to prevent a tragedy; but as to that there is room + for a difference of opinion: besides I can not be anticipated by Brookes. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s the oddest place imaginable, and in many ways the most delightful,’ + Madeline wrote to her sister Adele, ‘this microcosm of Indian official + society withdrawn from all the world, and playing at being a municipality + on three Himalayan mountaintops. You can’t imagine its individuality, its + airy, unsubstantial, superior poise. How can I explain to you elderly + gentlemen, whose faces express daily electric communications with the + Secretary of State, playing tennis violently every single afternoon in + striped flannels—writing letters of admonition to the Amir all day + long, and in the evening, with the assistance of yellow wigs and make-up + sticks from the Calcutta hair-dresser, imagining that they produce things, + poor dears, only a LITTLE less well done than is done at the Lyceum? + Nothing is beyond them. I assure you they are contemplating at the moment + ‘The Second Mrs. Tanqueray’. The effect of remoteness from the world, I + suppose, and the enormous mutual appreciation of people who have watched + each other climb. For to arrive officially at Simla they have had to climb + in more ways than one...It is all so hilarious, so high-spirited, so young + and yet, my word! what a cult of official dignity underlying! I saw a + staff-officer in full uniform, red and white feathers and all, going to + the birthday dinner at the Viceroy’s the other evening in a perambulator—rickshaw, + you know, such as they have in Japan. That is typical of the place. All + the honours and dignities—and a perambulator to put them in—or + a ridiculous little white-washed house made of mud and tin, and calling + itself Warwick Castle, Blenheim, Abbotsford! They haven’t a very good + hold, these Simla residences, and sometimes they slip fifty yards or so + down the mountain-side, but the chimneys (bad pun coming) are never any + more out of drawing than they were before. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yet—never forget—the queer little place has a nobility, drawn + I suppose from high standards of conduct in essentials. + </p> + <p> + ‘...This matter of precedence is a bore for an outsider. I am very tired + of being taken in to dinner by subalterns, because I have no “official + position.” Something of the kind was offered me, by the way, the other + day, by a little gunner with red eyelids, in the Ordnance Department, + named McDermott—Captain McDermott. He took my declining very + cheerfully, said he knew Americans didn’t like Englishmen, who hadn’t been + taught to pronounce their “g’s,” but hoped I would change my mind before + the rains, when he was goin’ down. Of course I sha’n’t. The red eyelids + alone...I am living in a boarding-house precisely under the deodars, and + have “tiffin” with Mrs. Hauksbee every day when neither of us are having + it anywhere else. And I’ve been told the original of “General Bangs,” + “that most immoral man.” You remember, don’t you, the heliograph incident—I + needn’t quote it. It really happened! and the General still lives, none + the worse—perhaps rather greater. Quite half the people seem + materializations of Kipling, and it’s very interesting; but one mustn’t + say so if one wants to be popular. Talking of materializations, I saw the + original of Crawford’s Mr. Isaacs, too, the other day. He used to be a + diamond agent among the native princes when Crawford knew him. When I saw + him he was auctioning off his collection of curios and things. These types + of novelists look wonderfully little impaired; I suppose it’s the dry air. + </p> + <p> + ‘P.S.—Brookes is also quite happy. She was much struck, on arriving, + by an apparent anomaly in nature. “Have you noticed, ma’am,” said she, + “how at this height all the birds are crows and monkeys?”’ + </p> + <p> + Miss Anderson described Simla exhaustively in her letters to New York. She + touched upon almost every feature, from Mrs. Mickie and Mrs. Gammidge, + whose husbands were perspiring in the Plains, and nobody telling them + anything, to the much larger number of ladies interested in the work of + the Young Women’s Christian Association; from the ‘type’ of the Military + Secretary to the Viceroy to that of Ali Buksh, who sold raw turquoises in + a little carved shop in the bazaar. I should like to quote more of her + letters, but if I did I should find nothing about Colonel Horace Innes, + who represented—she often acknowledged to herself—her only + serious interest. Miss Anderson took the world at its own light valuation + as it came; but she had a scale of recognitions and acceptances, which she + kept apart for the very few, and Innes had claimed a place in it the first + time they met. It seems a trifle ungrateful that she should have left him + out, since it was he who gave her a standard by which to measure the + frivolity of Simla. He went to gymkhanas—if he knew she was going—but + he towered almost pictorially above them; and when he talked to Madeline + his shoulders expressed a resentment of possible interruptions that + isolated him still further. I would not suggest that he was superior by + conviction; he was only intent, whereas most of the other people were + extremely diffused, and discriminating, while the intimacies of the rest + were practically coextensive with Government House list. Neither, for his + part, would he admit that the tone of Simla was as wholly flippant as I + have implied. They often talked about it; he recognized it as a feature + likely to compel the attention of people from other parts of the world; + and one afternoon he asked her, with some directness, if she could see no + tragedies underneath. + </p> + <p> + ‘Tragedies of the heart?’ she asked. ‘Oh, I can not take them seriously. + The emotion is so ephemeral! A woman came to tea with me three days ago, + and made me her confessor. It was unexpected; if it hadn’t been, I + wouldn’t have asked her to tea. She was so unhappy that she forgot about + the rouge, and it all came off on her handkerchief when she cried. The man + likes somebody else better this season. Well, I gave her nougat and cheap + cynicisms, and she allowed herself to be comforted! Why, the loves of + kitchen-maids are more dignified.’ + </p> + <p> + They were riding on the broad four-mile road, blasted out of the rock, + that winds round Jakko. The deodars stood thick above them, with the + sunlight filtering through; a thousand feet below lay the little square + fields, yellow and green, of the King of Koti. The purple-brown Himalayas + shouldered the eye out to the horizon, and there the Snows lifted + themselves, hardly more palpable than the drifted clouds, except for a + gleam of ice in their whiteness. A low stone wall ran along the verge of + the precipice, and, looking down, they saw tangled patches of the white + wild rose of the Himalayas, waving and drooping over the abyss. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am afraid,’ said Innes, ‘you are not even upon the fringe of the + situation.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s the situation as I see it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then—excuse me—you do not see deep enough. That poor lady + suffered, I suppose, to the extent of her capacity. You would not have + have increased it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know, I should have preferred not to measure it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Besides, that was not quite the sort of thing I had in mind. I was + thinking more of the—separations.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah!’ said Madeline. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s not fair to ask women to live much in India. Sometimes it’s the + children, sometimes it’s ill health, sometimes it’s natural antipathy to + the place; there’s always a reason to take them away.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Madeline, turning a glance of scrutiny on him. His face was + impassive; he was watching mechanically for a chance to slay a teasing + green spider-fly. + </p> + <p> + ‘That is the beginning of the tragedy I was thinking of. Time does the + rest, time and the aridity of separations. How many men and women can hold + themselves together with letters? I don’t mean aging or any physical + change. I don’t mean change at all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Madeline, and this time, though her curiosity was greater, she + did not look at him. + </p> + <p> + ‘No. The mind could accustom itself to expect that, and so forestall the + blow, if it really would be a blow, which I doubt. For myself, I’m pretty + sure that nothing of that kind could have much effect upon one’s feeling, + if it were the real thing.’ He spoke practically to himself, as if he had + reasoned this out many times. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, no!’ said Madeline. + </p> + <p> + ‘But separation can do a worse thing than that. It can REINTRODUCE people, + having deprived them of their mutual illusion under which they married. If + they lived together the illusion would go, I suppose, but custom and + comfort would step in to prevent a jar. There never would be that awful + revelation of indifference.’ + </p> + <p> + He stopped sharply, and the hope went through Madeline’s mind that her + face expressed no personal concern for him. There was a small red stain in + the brown of his cheek as he looked at her to find out, and he added, + ‘I’ve known—in Bombay—one or two bad cases of that. But, of + course, it is the wife who suffers most. Shall we canter on?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘In a minute,’ said Madeline, and he drew his rein again. + </p> + <p> + She could not let this be the last word; he must not imagine that she had + seen, through the simple crystal of his convictions, the personal + situation that gave them to him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course,’ she said, thoughtfully, ‘you know the Anglo-Indian world and + I don’t. You must have observed this that you speak of it; it sounds only + too probable. And I confess it makes my little impression very vulgar and + superficial.’ She turned her head and a candid smile to him. ‘All the + same, I fancy that the people who are capable of suffering much that way + are the exceptions. And—I don’t care—I believe there is more + cheap sentiment in this place than the other kind. What do you think I + heard a woman say the other day at a tiffin-party? “No man has touched my + heart since I’ve been married,” she proclaimed, “except my husband!” AT A + TIFFIN-party!’ + </p> + <p> + She heard the relief in Innes’s laugh and was satisfied. + </p> + <p> + ‘How does it happen,’ he said, ‘that women nowadays are critical of the + world so young?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall be thirty in September, and we no longer look at society through + a tambour-frame,’ she said, hardily. + </p> + <p> + ‘And I shall be forty-three next month, but hitherto I have known it to + produce nothing like you,’ he returned, and if there was ambiguity in his + phrase there was none in his face. + </p> + <p> + Miss Anderson made with her head her little smiling gesture—Simla + called it very American—which expressed that all chivalrous speech + was to be taken for granted and meant nothing whatever; and as they turned + into the Ladies’ Mile gave her horse his head, and herself a chance for + meditation. She thought of the matter again that evening before her little + fire of snapping deodar twigs, thought of it intently. She remembered it + all with perfect distinctness; she might have been listening to a + telephonic reproduction. + </p> + <p> + It was the almost intimate glimpse Innes had given her of himself, and it + brought her an excitement which she did not think of analyzing. She wrung + from every sentence its last possibility of unconscious meaning, and she + found when she had finished that it was eleven o’clock. + </p> + <p> + Then she went to bed, preferring not to call Brookes, with the somewhat + foolish feeling of being unable to account for her evening. Her last + reflection before she slept shaped itself in her mind in definite words. + </p> + <p> + ‘There are no children,’ it ran, ‘and her health has always been good, he + says. She must have left him after that first six months in Lucknow, + because of a natural antipathy to the country—and when she + condescended to come out again for a winter he met the different lady he + thinks about. With little hard lines around the mouth and common + conventional habits of thought, full of subservience to his official + superiors, and perfectly uninterested in him except as the source of + supplies. But I don’t know why I should WANT her to be so disagreeable. + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact, Mrs. Innes, travelling at the moment with the mails + from London to Bombay, was hastening to present to Miss Anderson features + astonishingly different. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 3.III. + </h2> + <p> + The lady guests at Peliti’s—Mrs. Jack Owen and the rest—were + giving a tea in the hotel pavilion. They had the band, the wife of the + Commander-in-Chief, the governess from Viceregal Lodge and one little + Viceregal girl, three A.D.C.‘s, one member of council, and the Archdeacon. + These were the main features, moving among a hundred or so of people more + miscellaneous, who, like the ladies at Peliti’s, had come up out of the + seething Plains to the Paradise of the summer capital. The Pavilion + overhung the Mall; looking down one could see the coming and going of + leisurely Government peons in scarlet and gold, Cashmiri vendors of great + bales of embroideries and skins, big-turbaned Pahari horse-dealers, + chaffering in groups, and here and there a mounted Secretary-sahib + trotting to the Club. Beyond, the hills dipped blue and bluer to the + plains, and against them hung a single waving yellow laburnum, a note of + imagination. Madeline Anderson was looking at it when Mrs. Mickie and Mrs. + Gammidge came up with an affectionate observation upon the cut of her + skirt, after which Mrs. Mickie harked back to what they had been talking + about before. + </p> + <p> + ‘She’s straight enough now, I suppose,’ this lady said. + </p> + <p> + ‘She goes down. But she gives people a good deal of latitude for + speculation.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Who is this?’ asked Madeline. ‘I ask for information, to keep out of her + way. I find I am developing the most shocking curiosity. I must be in a + position to check it.’ + </p> + <p> + The ladies exchanged hardly perceptible glances. Then Mrs. Gammidge said, + ‘Mrs. Innes,’ and looked as if, for the moment, at any rate, she would + withhold further judgment. + </p> + <p> + ‘But you mustn’t avoid the poor lady,’ put in Mrs. Mickie, ‘simply because + of her past. It wouldn’t be fair. Besides—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Her past?’ Madeline made one little effort to look indifferent, and then + let the question leap up in her. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear,’ said Mrs. Gammidge, with brief impatience, ‘he married her in + Cairo, and she was—dancing there. Case of chivalry, I believe, + though there are different versions. Awful row in the regiment—he + had to take a year’s leave. Then he succeeded to the command, and the + Twenty-third were ordered out here. She came with him to Lucknow—and + made slaves of every one of them. They’ll swear to you now that she was + staying at Shepheard’s with an invalid mother when he met her. And now + she’s accepted like everybody else; and that’s all there is about it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s nothing in that,’ said Madeline, determinedly, ‘to prove that she + wasn’t—respectable.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘N—no. Of course not,’ and again the eye of Mrs. Gammidge met that + of Mrs. Mickie. + </p> + <p> + ‘Though, you see love,’ added the latter lady, ‘it would have been nicer + for his people—they’ve never spoken to him since—if she had + been making her living otherwise in Cairo.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘As a barmaid, for instance,’ said Madeline, sarcastically. + </p> + <p> + ‘As a barmaid, for instance,’ repeated Mrs. Gammidge, calmly. + </p> + <p> + ‘But Simla isn’t related to him—Simla doesn’t care!’ Mrs. Mickie + exclaimed. ‘Everybody will be as polite as possible when she turns up. + You’ll see. You knew, didn’t you, that she was coming out in the + Caledonia?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Madeline. She looked carefully where she was going to put her + coffee-cup, and then she glanced out again at the laburnum hanging over + the plains. ‘I—I am glad to hear it. These separations you take so + lightly out here are miserable, tragic.’ + </p> + <p> + The other ladies did not exchange glances this time. Miss Anderson’s + change of tone was too marked for comment which she might have detected. + </p> + <p> + ‘Colonel Innes got the telegram this morning. She wired from Brindisi,’ + Mrs. Gammidge said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Does he seem pleased?’ asked Mrs. Mickie, demurely. + </p> + <p> + ‘He said he was afraid she would find it very hot coming up here from + Bombay. And, of course, he is worried about a house. When a man has been + living for months at the Club—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course, poor fellow! I do love that dear old Colonel Innes, though I + can’t say I know him a bit. He won’t take the trouble to be nice to me, + but I am perfectly certain he must be the dearest old thing inside of him. + Worth any dozen of these little bow-wows that run round after rickshaws,’ + said Mrs. Mickie, with candour. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think he’s a ridiculous old glacier,’ Mrs. Gammidge remarked, and Mrs. + Mickie looked at Madeline and said, ‘Slap her!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What for?’ asked Miss Anderson, with composure. ‘I dare say he is—occasionally. + It isn’t a bad thing to be, I should think, in Indian temperatures.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I guess you got it that time, dear lady,’ said Mrs. Mickie to Mrs. + Gammidge, as Madeline slipped toward the door. + </p> + <p> + ‘Meant to be cross, did she? How silly of her! If she gives her little + heart away like that often, people will begin to make remarks.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The worst of that girl is,’ Mrs. Mickie continued, ‘that you never can + depend upon her. For days together she’ll be just as giddy and jolly as + anybody and then suddenly she’ll give you a nasty superior bit of ice down + the back of your neck like that. I’ve got her coming to tea tomorrow + afternoon,’ Mrs. Mickie added, with sudden gloom, ‘and little Lord Billy + and all that set are coming. They’ll throw buns at each other—I know + they will. What, in heaven’s name, made me ask her?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, she’ll have recovered by then. You must make allowance for the shock + we gave her, poor dear. Consider how you would feel if Lady Worsley + suddenly appeared upon the scene, and demanded devotion from Sir Frank.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She wouldn’t get it,’ Mrs. Mickie dimpled candidly. ‘Frank always loses + his heart and his conscience at the same time. But you don’t suppose + there’s anything serious in this affair? Pure pretty platonics, I should + call it.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Gammidge lifted her eyebrows. ‘I dare say that is what they imagine + it. Well, they’re never in the same room for two minutes without being + aware of it, and their absorption when they get in a corner—I saw + her keep the Viceroy waiting, the other night after dinner, while Colonel + Innes finished a sentence. And then she was annoyed at the interruption. + Here’s Kitty Vesey, lookin’ SUCH a dog! Hello, Kitty! where did you get + that hat, where did you get that tile? But that wasn’t the colour of your + hair last week, Kitty!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t feel any kind of a dog’—Mrs. Vesey’s pout, though becoming, + was genuine. ‘I’m in a perfectly furious rage, my dears, and I’m coming + home to cry, just as soon as I’ve had an ice. What do you think—they + won’t let me have Val for Captain Wynne’s part in ‘The Outcast Pearl’—they + say he’s been tried before, and he’s a stick. Did you ever hear of such + brutes? They want me to act with Major Dalton, and he’s MUCH too old for + the part.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Kitten,’ said Mrs. Mickie, with conviction, ‘Valentine Drake on the stage + would be fatal to your affection for him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t care, I won’t act with anybody else—I’ll throw up the part. + Haven’t I got to make love to the man? How am I to play up to such an + unkissable-looking animal as Major Dalton? I shall CERTAINLY throw up the + part.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t do anything rash, Kitty. If you do, they’ll probably offer it to + me, and I warn you I won’t give it back to you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, refuse it, like a dear! I am dying to put them in a hole. It’s + jealousy, that’s what it is. Goodbye, Mrs. Jack, I’ve had a lovely time. + Val and I have been explaining our affection to the Archdeacon, and he + says it’s perfectly innocent. We’re going to get him to put it on paper to + produce when Jimmy sues for a divorce, aren’t we, Val?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re not going?’ said Mrs. Jack Owen. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, yes, I must. But I’ve enjoyed myself awfully, and so has everybody + I’ve been talking to. I say, Mickie, dear—about tomorrow afternoon—I + suppose I may bring Val?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, dear, yes,’ Mrs. Mickie replied. ‘But you must let me hold his hand.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know which of you is the most ridiculous,’ Mrs. Owen remarked; ‘I + shall write to both your husbands this very night,’ but as the group + shifted and left her alone with Mrs. Gammidge, she said she didn’t know + whether Mrs. Vesey would be quite so chirpy three weeks hence. ‘When Mrs. + Innes comes out,’ she added in explanation. ‘Oh, yes, Valentine Drake is + quite her property. My own idea is that Kitty won’t be in it.’ + </p> + <p> + Where the road past Peliti’s dips to the Mall Madeline met Horace Innes. + When she appeared in her rickshaw he dismounted, and gave the reins to his + syce. She saw in his eyes the look of a person who has been all day + lapsing into meditation and rousing himself from it. ‘You are very late,’ + she said as he came up. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I’m not going; at least, you are just coming away, aren’t you? I + think it is too late. I’ll turn back with you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do,’ she said, and looked at his capable, sensitive hand as he laid it on + the side of her little carriage. Miss Anderson had not the accomplishment + of palm-reading, but she took general manual impressions. She had observed + Colonel Innes’s hand before, but it had never offered itself so intimately + to her inspection. That, perhaps, was why the conviction seemed new to + her, as she thought ‘He is admirable—and it is all there.’ + </p> + <p> + When they got to the level Mall he kept his hold, which was a perfectly + natural and proper thing for him to do, walking alongside; but she still + looked at it. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have heard your good news,’ she said, smiling congratulation at him. + </p> + <p> + ‘My good news? Oh, about my wife, of course. Yes, she ought to be here by + the end of the month. I thought of writing to tell you when the telegram + came, and then I—didn’t. The files drove it out of my head, I + fancy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Heavy day?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ he said, absently. They went along together in an intimacy of + silence, and Madeline was quite aware of the effort with which she said: + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall look forward to meeting Mrs. Innes.’ + </p> + <p> + It was plain that his smile was perfunctory, but he put it on with + creditable alacrity. + </p> + <p> + ‘She will be delighted. My wife is a clever woman,’ he went on, ‘very + bright and attractive. She keeps people well amused.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She must be a great success in India, then.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think she is liked. She has a tremendous fund of humour and spirits. A + fellow feels terribly dull beside her sometimes.’ + </p> + <p> + Madeline cast a quick glance at him, but he was only occupied to find + other matters with which he might commend his wife. + </p> + <p> + ‘She is very fond of animals,’ he said, ‘and she sings and plays well—really + extremely well.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That must be charming,’ murmured Madeline, privately iterating, ‘He + doesn’t mean to damn her—he doesn’t mean to damn her.’ ‘Have you a + photograph of her?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Quantities of them,’ he said, with simplicity. + </p> + <p> + ‘You have never shown me one. But how could you?’ she added in haste; ‘a + photograph is always about the size of a door nowadays. It is simply + impossible to keep one’s friends and relations in a pocketbook as one used + to do.’ + </p> + <p> + They might have stopped there, but some demon of persistence drove + Madeline on. She besought help from her imagination; she was not for the + moment honest. It was an impulse—an equivocal impulse—born + doubtless of the equivocal situation, and it ended badly. + </p> + <p> + ‘She will bring something of the spring out to you,’ said Madeline—‘the + spring in England. How many years is it since you have seen it? There will + be a breath of the cowslips about her, and in her eyes the soft wet of the + English sky. Oh, you will be very glad to see her.’ The girl was well + aware of her insincerity, but only dimly of her cruelty. She was drawn on + by something stronger than her sense of honesty and humanity, a + determination to see, to know, that swept these things away. + </p> + <p> + Innes’s hand tightened on the rickshaw, and he made at first no answer. + Then he said: + </p> + <p> + ‘She has been staying in town, you know.’ + </p> + <p> + There was just a quiver of Madeline’s eyelid; it said nothing of the + natural rapacity behind. This man’s testimony was coming out in throes, + and yet—it must be said—again she probed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then she will put you in touch again,’ she cried; ‘you will remember when + you see her all the vigour of great issues and the fascination of great + personalities. For a little while, anyway, after she comes, you will be in + a world—far away from here—where people talk and think and + live.’ + </p> + <p> + He looked at her in wonder, not understanding, as indeed how could he? + </p> + <p> + ‘Why,’ he said, ‘you speak of what YOU have done’; and before the truth of + this she cast down her eyes and turned a hot, deep red, and had nothing to + say. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ he said, ‘my wife is not like that.’ + </p> + <p> + He walked along in absorption, from which he roused himself with + resentment in his voice. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can not leave such a fabric of illusion in your mind. It irritates me + that it should be there—about anybody belonging to me. My wife is + not in the least what you imagine her. She has her virtues, but she is—like + the rest. I can not hope that you will take to her, and she won’t like you + either—we never care about the same people. And we shall see nothing + of you—nothing. I can hardly believe that I am saying this of my own + wife, but—I wish that she had stayed in England.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs. Mickie!’ cried Madeline to a passing rickshaw, ‘what are you rushing + on like that for? Just go quietly and peaceably along with us, please, and + tell us what Mrs. Vesey decided to do about her part in ‘The Outcast + Pearl’. I’m dining out tonight—I must know.’ And Mrs. Mickie was + kind enough to accompany them all the rest of the way. + </p> + <p> + Miss Anderson dined out, and preferred to suppose that she had no time to + think until she was on her way home along the empty road round Jakko at + eleven o’clock that night. Then it pleased her to get out of her rickshaw + and walk. There was an opulent moon, the vast hills curving down to the + plains were all grey and silvery, and the deodars overhead fretted the + road with dramatic shadows. About her hung the great stillness in a mighty + loneliness in which little Simla is set, and it freed her from what had + happened, so that she could look at it and cry out. She actually did + speak, pausing in the little pavilion on the road where the nursemaids + gather in the daytime, but very low, so that her words fell round her even + in that silence, and hardly a deodar was aware. ‘I will not go now,’ she + said. ‘I will stay and realize that he is another woman’s husband. That + should cure me if anything will—to see him surrounded by the + commonplaces of married life, that kind of married life. I will stay till + she comes and a fortnight after. Besides, I want to see her—I want + to see how far she comes short.’ She was silent for a moment, and the + moonlight played upon her smile of quiet triumph. ‘He cares too,’ she + said; ‘he cares too, but he doesn’t know it, and I promise you one thing, + Madeline Anderson, you won’t help him to find out. And in five weeks I + will go away and leave my love where I found it—on a mountaintop in + the middle of Asia!’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 3.IV. + </h2> + <p> + Madeline did her best to make certain changes delicately, imperceptibly, + so that Innes would not, above all things, be perplexed into seeking for + their reason. The walks and rides came to a vague conclusion, and Miss + Anderson no longer kept the Viceroy or anybody else waiting, while Innes + finished what he had to say to her in public, since his opportunities for + talking to her seemed to become gradually more and more like everybody + else’s. So long as she had been mistress of herself she was indifferent to + the very tolerant and good-natured gossip of the hill capital; but as soon + as she found her citadel undermined, the lightest kind of comment became a + contingency unbearable. In arranging to make it impossible, she was really + over-considerate and over-careful. Her soldier never thought of analyzing + his bad luck or searching for motive in it. To him the combinations of + circumstances that seemed always to deprive him of former pleasures were + simply among the things that might happen. Grieving, she left him under + that impression for the sake of its expediency, and tried to make it by + being more than ever agreeable on the occasions when he came and demanded + a cup of tea, and would not be denied. After all, she consoled herself, no + situation was improved by being turned too suddenly upside down. + </p> + <p> + She did not wholly withdraw his privilege of taking counsel with her, and + he continued to go away freshened and calmed, leaving her to toss little + sad reflections into the fire, and tremulously wonder whether the jewel of + her love had flashed ever so little behind the eyes. They both saw it a + conspicuous thing that as those three weeks went on, neither he nor she + alluded even remotely to Mrs. Innes, but the fact remained, and they + allowed it to remain. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, Madeline knew precisely when that lady was expected, and as + she sauntered in the bazaar one morning, and heard Innes’s steps and voice + behind her, her mind became one acute surmise as to whether he could + possibly postpone the announcement any longer. But he immediately made it + plain that this was his business in stopping to speak to her. ‘Good + morning,’ he said, and then, ‘My wife comes tomorrow.’ He had not told her + a bit of personal news, he had made her an official communication, as + briefly as it could be done, and he would have raised his hat and gone on + without more words if Madeline had not thwarted him. ‘What a stupidity for + him to be haunted by afterward!’ was the essence of the thought that + visited her; and she put out a detaining hand. + </p> + <p> + ‘Really! By the Bombay mail, I suppose—no, an hour or so later; + private tongas are always as much as that behind the mail.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘About eleven, I fancy. You—you are not inclined for a canter round + Summer Hill before breakfast?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am terrified of Summer Hill. The Turk always misbehaves there. + Yesterday he got one leg well over the khud—I WAS thankful he had + four. Tell me, are you ready for Mrs. Innes—everything in the house? + Is there anything I can do? + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, thanks very much! I don’t think so. The house isn’t ready, as a + matter of fact, but two or three people have offered to put us up for a + day or so until it is. I’ve left it open till my wife comes, as I dare say + she has already arranged to go to somebody. What are you buying? Country + tobacco, upon my word! For your men? That’s subversive of all discipline!’ + </p> + <p> + The lines on his face relaxed; he looked at her with fond recognition of + another delightful thing in her. + </p> + <p> + ‘You give sugar-cane to your horses,’ she declared; ‘why shouldn’t I give + tobacco to mine? Goodbye; I hope Mrs. Innes will like “Two Gables”. There + are roses waiting for her in the garden, at all events.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Are there?’ he said. ‘I didn’t notice. Goodbye, then.’ + </p> + <p> + He went on to his office thinking of the roses, and that they were in his + garden, and that Madeline had seen them there. He thought that if they + were good roses—in fact, any kind of roses—they should be + taken care of, and he asked a Deputy Assistant Inspector-General of + Ordnance whether he knew of a gardener that was worth anything. + </p> + <p> + ‘Most of them are mere coolies,’ said Colonel Innes, ‘and I’ve got some + roses in this little place I’ve taken that I want to look after.’ + </p> + <p> + Next day Madeline took Brookes, and ‘The Amazing Marriage’, and a + lunch-basket, and went out to Mashobra, where the deodars shadow hardly + any scandal at all, and the Snows come, with perceptible confidence, a + little nearer. + </p> + <p> + ‘They almost step,’ she said to Brookes, looking at them, ‘out of the + realm of the imagination.’ + </p> + <p> + Brookes said that they did indeed, and hoped that she hadn’t by any chance + forgotten the mustard. + </p> + <p> + ‘The wind is keen off the glaciers over there—anybody would think of + a condiment,’ Miss Anderson remarked in deprecation, and to this Brookes + made no response. It was a liberty she often felt compelled to take. + </p> + <p> + The Snows appealed to Madeline even more than did Carintha, Countess of + Fleetwood, to whose fortunes she gave long pauses while she looked across + their summits at renunciation, and fancied her spirit made strong and + equal to its task. She was glad of their sanctuary; she did not know where + she should find such another. Perhaps the spectacle was more than ever + sublime in its alternative to the one she had come away to postpone the + sight of; at all events it drove the reunion of the Inneses from her mind + several times for five minutes together, during which she thought of + Horace by himself, and went over, by way of preparation for her departure, + all that had come and gone between them. There had been luminous moments, + especially as they irradiated him, and she dwelt on these. There was no + reason why she should not preserve in London or in New York a careful + memory of them. + </p> + <p> + So the lights were twinkling all up and down and round about Simla when + she cantered back to it and it was late when she started for the Worsleys, + where she was dining. One little lighted house looked much like another + perched on the mountainside, and the wooden board painted ‘Branksome Hall, + Maj.-Gen. T.P. Worsley, R.E.,’ nailed to the most conspicuous tree from + the main road, was invisible in the darkness. Madeline arrived in + consequence at the wrong dinner-party, and was acclaimed and redirected + with much gaiety, which gave her a further agreeable impression of the + insouciance of Simla, but made her later still at the Worsleys. So that + half the people were already seated when she at last appeared, and her + hostess had just time to cry, ‘My dear, we thought the langurs must have + eaten you! Captain Gordon, you are not abandoned after all. You know Miss + Anderson?’ when she found herself before her soup. + </p> + <p> + Captain Gordon heard her account of herself with complacence, and + declared, wiping his moustache, that a similar experience had befallen him + only a fortnight before. + </p> + <p> + ‘Did you ever hear the story of that absent-minded chap, Sir James + Jackson, who went to the RIGHT dinner-party by mistake?’ he asked, ‘and + apologized like mad, by Jove! and insisted he couldn’t stay. The people + nearly had to tie him down in his—’ Captain Gordon stopped, arrested + by his companion’s sudden and complete inattention. + </p> + <p> + ‘I see a lady,’ interrupted Madeline, with odd distinctness, ‘curiously + like somebody I have known before.’ Her eyes convinced themselves, and + then refused to be convinced of the inconceivable fact that they were + resting on Violet Prendergast. It was at first too amazing, too amazing + only. Then an old forgotten feeling rose in her bosom; the hand on the + stem of her wine-glass grew tense. The sensation fell away; she remembered + her emancipation, the years arose and reassured her during which Violet + Prendergast, living or dead, had been to her of absolutely no importance. + Yet there was a little aroused tremour in her voice as she went on, ‘She + is on the General’s right—he must have taken her in. Can you see + from where you are sitting?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘These narrow oval tables are a nuisance that way, aren’t they? You don’t + know who you’re dining with till the end of the function. Oh! I see—that’s + Mrs. Innes, just out, and fresh as paint, isn’t she? The Colonel’—Captain + Gordon craned his head again—‘is sitting fourth from me on this + side.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs. Innes! Really!’ said Madeline. ‘Then—then of course I must be + mistaken.’ + </p> + <p> + She removed her eyes almost stealthily from the other woman’s face and + fixed them on the pattern of the table-cloth. Her brain guided her clearly + through the tumult of her perception, and no emotion could be observed in + the smiling attention which she gave to Captain Gordon’s account of the + afternoon’s tandem racing; but there was a furious beating in her breast, + and she thought she could never draw a breath long enough to control it. + It helped her that there was food to swallow, wine to drink, and Captain + Gordon to listen to; and under cover of these things she gradually, + consciously, prepared herself for the shock of encounter which should be + conclusive. Presently she leaned a little forward and let her glance, in + which no outsider could see the steady recognition, rest upon the lady on + the General’s right, until that person’s agreeable blue eyes wandered down + the table and met it. Perhaps Madeline’s own eyelids fluttered a little as + she saw the sudden stricture in the face that received her message, and + the grimace with which it uttered, pallid with apprehension, its response + to a pleasantry of General Worsley’s. She was not consummate in her + self-control, but she was able at all events to send the glance travelling + prettily on with a casual smile for an intervening friend, and bring it + back to her dinner-roll without mischief. It did not adventure again; she + knew, and she set herself to hold her knowledge, to look at it and + understand it, while the mechanical part of her made up its mind about the + entrees, and sympathized with Captain Gordon on his hard luck in having + three ponies laid up at once. She did not look again, although she felt + the watching of the other woman, and was quite aware of the moment at + which Mrs. Innes allowed herself the reprieve of believing that at the + Worsley’s dinner-party at least there would be no scandal. The belief had + its reflex action, doing something to calm her. How could there be—scandal—she + asked herself, and dismissed with relief the denunciations which crowded + vague but insistent in her brain. Even then she had not grasped the + salient points of the situation; she was too much occupied with its irony + as it affected her personally; her impressions circled steadily round the + word ‘twice’ and the unimaginable coincidence. Her resentment filled her, + and her indignation was like a clear flame behind her smiling face. Robbed + twice, once in New York and—oh! preposterous—the second time + in Simla! Robbed of the same things by the same hand! She perceived in the + shock of it only a monstrous fatality, a ludicrously wicked chance. This + may have been due to the necessity of listening to Captain Gordon. + </p> + <p> + At all events it was only as she passed Colonel Innes on her way to the + drawing-room and saw ahead of her the very modish receding back of Mrs. + Innes that she realized other things—crime and freedom. + </p> + <p> + It was the reversion of power; it brought her a great exultation. She sat + down under it in a corner, hoping to be left alone, with a white face and + shining eyes. Power and opportunity and purpose—righteous purpose! + </p> + <p> + The circumstances had come to her in a flash; she brought them up again + steadily and scrutinized them. The case was absolutely clear. Frank + Prendergast had been dead just seven months. Colonel Innes imagined + himself married four years. Violet Prendergast was a bigamist, and Horace + Innes had no wife. + </p> + <p> + That was the marvellous transcendent fact; that was what lifted her and + carried her on great pulsing waves that rolled beyond the walls of the + little fripperied drawing-room and its collection of low-necked women, out + into her life, which had not these boundaries. She lived again in a + possible world. There was no stone wall between herself and joy. + </p> + <p> + The old Mussulman butler who offered her coffee looked at her with aroused + curiosity—here was certainly a memsahib under the favour of God—and + as she stirred it, the shadow that Violet Prendergast had thrown upon her + life faded out of her mind in the light that was there. Then she looked up + and met that lady’s vivid blue eyes. Mrs. Innes’s colour had not returned, + but there was a recklessness in the lines of her mouth. In the way she + held her chin, expressing that she had been reflecting on old scores, and + anticipated the worst. Meeting this vigilance Miss Anderson experienced a + slight recoil. Her happiness, she realized, had been brought to her in the + hands of ugly circumstance. + </p> + <p> + ‘And so melodramatic,’ she told herself. ‘It is really almost vulgar. In a + story I should have no patience with it.’ But she went on stirring her + coffee with a little uncontrollable smile. + </p> + <p> + A moment later she had to contemplate the circumstance that her hostess + was addressing her. Mrs. Innes wished to be introduced. Mrs. Innes, + incarnate, conscious sensation, was smiling at her, saying that she must + know so great a friend of her husband’s. He made so few friends, and she + was so grateful to anybody who was good to him. Eyes and voice tolerably + in rein, aware of the situation at every point, she had a meretricious + daring; and it occurred to Madeline, looking at her, that she was after + all a fairly competent second-class adventuress. She would not refuse the + cue. It would make so little difference. + </p> + <p> + ‘On the contrary, I am tremendously indebted to Colonel Innes. He has been + so very kind about ponies and jhampanies and things. Simla is full of + pitfalls for a stranger, don’t you think?’ And Miss Anderson, unclosing + her fan, turned her reposeful head a little in the direction of three + married schoolgirls voluble on her left. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not when you get to know the language. You must learn the language; it’s + indispensable. But of course it depends on how long you mean to stay.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think I will learn the language,’ said Madeline. + </p> + <p> + ‘But General Worsley told me you were leaving Simla in a fortnight.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh no. My plans are very indefinite; but I shall stay much longer than + that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is Miss Anderson, isn’t it?—Miss Madeline Anderson, of New York—no, + Brooklyn?’ + </p> + <p> + Madeline looked at her. ‘Did not the General say so?’ she asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, he did. But one looks to make quite sure.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I can understand that.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Innes leaned forward with one elbow on her knee. + </p> + <p> + It was not a graceful attitude, but it gave the casual air to the + conversation which was desirable. + </p> + <p> + ‘What are you going to do?’ she said. + </p> + <p> + ‘My plans are as indefinite as possible, really,’ Madeline returned. ‘I + may spend the cold weather in Calcutta, or go into camp with the Dovedells—I + should like that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs. Innes,’ cried the nearest schoolgirl, ‘we are coming tomorrow to see + all the lovely things in your boxes, may we?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do, duckies. But mind, no copying of them by durzies in the veranda. + They’re all Paris things—Coulter’s—and you know he doesn’t + copy well, does he? Oh, dear! here are the men—they always come too + soon, don’t they? So glad to have had even a little chat, Miss Anderson. + I’ll come and see you tomorrow. You know newcomers in India always make + the first calls. I shall find you at home, sha’n’t I?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘By all means,’ Madeline said. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Innes crossed the room, crying out that the heat was perfectly absurd + for Simla, it must be cooler outside; and as Captain Valentine Drake + followed her into the semi-darkness of the veranda, the three married + schoolgirls looked at each other and smiled. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t be naughty,’ said Captain Gordon, leaning over the sofa from + behind. ‘They’re very dear friends, and they’ve been separated for two + years.’ + </p> + <p> + Madeline heard this as plainly as they did. She noted disdainfully how it + all fell in. + </p> + <p> + ‘How absent you are tonight!’ Horace Innes exclaimed, when Miss Anderson + had asked him a trivial question for the third time. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hush!’ she said. ‘Mrs. Scallepa is going to sing;’ and as Mrs. Scallepa + sang she let her eyes play over him with a light in them so tender, that + once catching it the felt a sudden answering throb, and looked again; but + after that her eyes were on the floor. + </p> + <p> + ‘We are staying here,’ he said a quarter of an hour later, as he saw her + into her rickshaw; ‘and I think I must see you to your quarters. It’s very + dark, and there is an ugly little slip half-way between this and the Mall. + </p> + <p> + He ran upstairs to get his coat and stick, and a white face like an + apparition suddenly hung itself on the edge of Madeline’s rickshaw-hood. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t tell him tonight,’ it said, hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you ready, Colonel Innes? Then good night, everybody,’ cried + Madeline. + </p> + <p> + She was not at all sure that she would not tell Horace Innes ‘tonight’. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 3.V. + </h2> + <h3> + ‘My wife,’ said Colonel Innes, ‘is looking extremely well.’ + </h3> + <p> + ‘She seems so, indeed,’ Madeline replied. + </p> + <p> + ‘She is delighted with “Two Gables”. Likes it better, she says, than any + other house we could have got.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What a good thing!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It was a record trip for the Caledonia, thirteen days from Brindisi to + Bombay. Was she telling you about the voyage?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Madeline impatiently, ‘she didn’t mention it. How shall I tell + the men to put down the hood, please? A rickshaw is detestable with the + hood up—stifling! Thanks. I beg your pardon. The Caledonia made a + good run?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thirteen days. Wonderful weather, of course, which was luck for Violet. + She is an atrocious sailor.’ + </p> + <p> + Madeline fancied she heard repose and reassurance in his voice. Her + thought cried, ‘It is not so bad as he expected!’ We can not be surprised + that she failed to see in herself the alleviation of that first evening. + </p> + <p> + ‘She has brought quantities of things for the house with her,’ Innes went + on, ‘as well as three dachshund puppies,’ and he laughed. ‘Wouldn’t you + like one? What can we do with three—and the terrier, and Brutus?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, thank you, no.’ + </p> + <p> + How could he laugh? How could he speak pleasantly of these intimate + details of his bondage? How could he conceive that she would accept— + </p> + <p> + ‘Already she has arranged four dinner-parties! It will be a relief not to + have to think of that sort of thing—to be able to leave it to her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs. Innes must have great energy. To drive all the way up from Kalka by + noon and appear at a dinner-party at night—wonderful!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, great energy,’ Horace said. + </p> + <p> + ‘She will take you everywhere—to all the functions. She will insist + on your duty to society.’ + </p> + <p> + Madeline felt that she must get him somehow back into his slough of + despond. His freedom paralyzed her. And he returned with a pathetic change + of tone. + </p> + <p> + ‘I suppose there is no alternative. Violet is very good about being + willing to go alone, or with somebody else; but I never think it quite + fair on one’s wife to impose on her the necessity of going about with + other men.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs. Worsley introduced us after dinner,’ said Madeline. + </p> + <p> + She kept disparagement out of her mind, but he could not help perceiving + aloofness. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes?’ + </p> + <p> + The monosyllable told her sensitive ear that while he admitted her + consideration in going on with the subject, he was willing to recognize + that there was no more to say, and have done with it. She gathered up her + scruples and repugnances in a firm grasp. She would not let him throw his + own shadow, as an effectual obstacle, between himself and liberty. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am going to ask you something,’ she said; it might come naturally + enough from another man with whom your friendship was as candid as it is + with me; but there is an awkwardness in it from a woman. You must believe + I have a good reason. Will you tell me about your first meeting with Mrs. + Innes, when—when you became engaged?’ + </p> + <p> + She knew she was daring a good deal; but when a man’s prison is to be + brought down about his ears, one might as well begin, she thought, at the + foundation. + </p> + <p> + For a moment Innes did not speak, and then his words came slowly. + </p> + <p> + I find it difficult,’ he said, ‘to answer you. How can it matter—it + is impossible. I suppose you have heard some story, and it is like you to + want to be in a position to negative it. Ignore it instead. She has very + successfully championed herself. Believe nothing to her disadvantage that + may be said about that—that time. I was pleased to marry her, and + she was pleased to marry me. But for God’s sake don’t let us talk about + it!’ + </p> + <p> + As he spoke Madeline saw the vivid clearness of the situation grow blurred + and confused. It was as if her point of view had suddenly changed and her + eyes failed her. Her eager impulse had beat less and less strongly from + the Worsley’s door; now it seemed to shrink away in fetters. Her eyes + filled with vaguely resentful tears, which sprang, if she could have + traced them, from the fact that the man she loved was loyal to his own + mistake, and the formless premonition that he might continue to be. She + contorted her lip to keep her emotion back, and deliberately turned away + from a matter in which she was not mistress, and which contained ugly + possibilities of buffeting. She would wait a little, and though + consideration for Violet Prendergast had nothing to do with it, she would + not tell him tonight. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am sorry,’ she said; and, after a moment, ‘Did I tell you that I have + changed my plans?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You are not going so soon?’ she took all the comfort there was in his + eagerness. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am not going at all for the present. I have abandoned my intentions and + my dates. I mean to drift for a little while. I have been too—too + conscientious.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you quite serious—do you mean it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed I do.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And in less than a fortnight you will not go out of one’s life. You will + stay on—you summer day! It’s hard to believe in luck like that. I + sent a poor devil of a sepoy a reprieve last week—one knows now how + he must have felt about it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Does it make all that difference?’ Madeline asked, softly. + </p> + <p> + ‘It makes a difference,’ he answered, controlling his words, ‘that I am + glad you can not conceive, since that would mean that your life has been + as barren as mine.’ He seemed to refrain from saying more, and then he + added, ‘You must be careful when you plant your friendship that you mean + it to stay, and blossom. It will not come easily up by the roots, and it + will leave an ugly hole.’ + </p> + <p> + He was helping her out of her rickshaw, and as they followed the servant + who carried her wraps the few yards to the door, she left her hand lightly + on his arm. It was the seal, he thought, of her unwritten bond that there + should be no uprooting of the single flower he cherished; and he went back + almost buoyantly because of it to the woman who had been sitting in the + sackcloth and ashes of misfortune, turning over the expedients for which + his step might make occasion. + </p> + <p> + By the time the monkeys began to scramble about the roof in the early + creeping of the dawn among the deodars, Madeline had groped her way to a + tolerably clear conception of what might happen. The impeding circumstance + everywhere, it must be acknowledged, was Frederick Prendergast’s coffin. + The case, had convict No. 1596 been still alive and working out his debt + to society, would have been transcendentally simple, she told herself. + Even a convict has a right—a prospective right—to his wife, + and no honest man should be compelled to retain a criminal’s property. + This was an odd reflection, perhaps, to be made by Madeline Anderson, but + the situation as a whole might be described as curious. And there was no + doubt about the coffin. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 3.VI. + </h2> + <p> + The veranda of which Miss Anderson’s little sitting-room claimed its + section hung over the road, and it seemed to her that she heard the sound + of Mrs. Innes’s arrival about ten minutes after breakfast. + </p> + <p> + On the contrary, she had spent two whole hours contemplating, with very + fixed attention, first the domestic circumstances of Colonel Horace Innes + and their possible development, and then, with a pang of profoundest + acknowledgment, the moral qualities which he would bring to bear upon + them. She was further from knowing what course she personally intended to + pursue than ever, when she heard the wheels roll up underneath; and she + had worked herself into a state of sufficient detachment from the whole + problem to reflect upon the absurdity of a bigamist rattling forth to + discuss her probable ruin in the fanciful gaiety of a rickshaw. The + circumstances had its value though; it lightened all responsibility for + the lady concerned. As Madeline heard her jump out and give pronounced + orders for the securing of an accompanying dachshund, it did not seem to + matter so particularly what became of Violet Prendergast. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Innes’s footsteps came briskly along the veranda. Madeline noted that + there was no lagging. ‘Number seven,’ she said aloud; as she passed other + doors, ‘Number eight—number nine! Ah! there you are.’ The door was + open. ‘I wouldn’t let them bring up my card for fear of some mistake. How + do you do? Now please don’t get up—you look so comfortable with your + book. What is it? Oh, yes, of course, THAT. People were talking about it a + good deal when I left London, but I haven’t read it. Is it good?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I like it,’ said Madeline. She half rose as Mrs. Innes entered; but as + the lady did not seem to miss the ceremony of greeting, she was glad to + sink back in her chair. + </p> + <p> + ‘And how do you like Simla? Charming in many ways, isn’t it? A little too + flippant, I always say—rather TOO much champagne and silliness. But + awfully bracing.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The Snows are magnificent,’ Madeline said, ‘when you can see them. And + there’s a lot of good work done here.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Aren’t they divine? I did nothing, absolutely nothing, my first season + but paint them. And the shops—they’re not bad, are they, for the + size of the place? Though today, upon my soul, there doesn’t seem to be a + yard of white spotted veiling among them.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That is annoying,’ said Madeline, ‘if you want spotted veiling.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Isn’t it? Well’—Mrs. Innes take a deep breath—‘you DIDN’T + tell him last night?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘N—no,’ said Madeline, with deliberation. + </p> + <p> + ‘I WAS grateful. I knew I could rely upon you not to. It would have been + too cruel when we have only just been reunited—dear Horace would + have had to sleep in the—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Pray—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, Horace is the soul of honour. Is your ayah in there?’ Mrs. Innes + nodded towards the bedroom door. ‘You can not imagine what long ears she + has.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have no ayah. There is only Brookes;’ and as that excellent woman + passed through the room with a towel over her arm, Madeline said, ‘You can + go now, Brookes, and see about that alpaca. Take the rickshaw; it looks + very threatening.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Maid! You ARE a swell! There are only four genuine maids in Simla that I + know of—the rest are really nurse-girls. What a comfort she must be! + THE luxury of all others that I long for; but alas! army pay, you know. I + did once bring a dear thing out with me from Nice—you should have + seen Horace’s face.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I couldn’t very well go about quite alone; it would be uncomfortable.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Except that you Americans are so perfectly independent.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘On the contrary. If I could order about a servant the way an Englishwoman + does—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Say you are not going to tell him! I’ve got such a lot of other calls to + make,’ exclaimed Mrs. Innes. ‘Dear Lady Bloomfield won’t understand it if + I don’t call today, especially after the baby. What people in that + position want with more babies I can not comprehend. Of course you haven’t + noticed it, but a baby is such a shock to Simla.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t let me keep you,’ Madeline said, rising. + </p> + <p> + ‘But you haven’t promised. Do promise, Miss Anderson. You gain nothing by + telling him, except your revenge; and I should think by this time you + would have forgiven me for taking Frederick away from you. He didn’t turn + out so well! You can’t still bear me malice over that convict in Sing + Sing.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘For his sake, poor fellow, I might.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Coming along I said to myself, “She CAN score off me badly, but surely + she doesn’t want to so much as all that.” Besides, I really only took your + leavings, you know. You threw poor Fred Prendergast over.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am not prepared to discuss that,’ Madeline said, at no pains to smooth + the curve out of her lip. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then I thought, “Perhaps—you never can tell with people—she + will think it her DUTY to make a fuss.”’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That is a possible point of view.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know. You think I’m an imposter on society and I ought to be exposed, + and I suppose you could shut every door in Simla against me if you liked. + But you are a friend of my husband’s, Miss Anderson. You would not turn + his whole married life into a scandal and ruin his career?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ruin his career?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course. Government is awfully particular. It mayn’t be his fault in + the least, but no man is likely to get any big position with a cloud over + his domestic affairs. Horace would resign, naturally.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Or take long leave,’ Mrs. Innes added to herself, but she did not give + Madeline this alternative. A line or two of nervous irritation marked + themselves about her eyes, and her colour had faded. Her hat was less + becoming than it had been, and she had pulled a button off her glove. + </p> + <p> + ‘Besides,’ she went on quickly, ‘it isn’t as if you could do any good, you + know. The harm was done once for all when I let him think he’d married me. + I thought then—well, I had to take it or leave it—and every + week I expected to hear of Frederick’s death. Then I meant to tell Horace + myself, and have the ceremony over again. He couldn’t refuse. And all + these years it’s been like living on a volcano, in the fear of meeting New + York people. Out here there never are any, but in England I dye my hair, + and alter my complexion.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why did you change your mind,’ Madeline asked, ‘about telling Colonel + Innes?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I haven’t! Why should I change my mind? For my own protection, I mean to + get things put straight instantly—when the time comes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘When the time comes,’ Madeline repeated; and her eyes, as she fixed them + on Mrs. Innes, were suddenly so lightened with a new idea that she dropped + the lids over them as she waited for the answer. + </p> + <p> + ‘When poor Frederick does pass away,’ Mrs. Innes said, with an air of + observing the proprieties. ‘When they put him in prison it was a matter of + months, the doctors said. That was one reason why I went abroad. I + couldn’t bear to stay there and see him dying by inches, poor fellow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Couldn’t you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I couldn’t. And the idea of the hard labour made me SICK. But it + seems to have improved his health, and now—there is no telling! I + sometimes believe he will live out his sentence. Should you think that + possible in the case of a man with half a lung?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have no knowledge of pulmonary disease,’ Madeline said. She forced the + words from her lips and carefully looked away, taking this second key to + the situation mechanically, and for a moment groping with it. + </p> + <p> + ‘What arrangement did you make to be informed about—about him?’ she + asked, and instantly regretted having gone so perilously near provoking a + direct question. + </p> + <p> + ‘I subscribe to the “New York World”. I used to see lots of things in it—about + the shock the news of my death gave him—’ + </p> + <p> + A flash of hysterical amusement shot into Mrs. Innes’s eyes, and she + questioned Madeline’s face to see whether it responded to her humour. Then + she put her own features straight behind her handkerchief and went on. + </p> + <p> + ‘And about his failing health, and then about his being so much better. + But nothing now for ages.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Did the “World” tell you,’ asked Miss Anderson, with sudden interest, + ‘that Mr. Prendergast came into a considerable fortune before—about + two years ago?’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Innes’s face turned suddenly blank. ‘How much?’ she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + ‘About five hundred thousand dollars, I believe. Left him by a cousin. + Then you didn’t know?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That must have been Gordon Prendergast—the engineer!’ Mrs. Innes + said, with excitement. ‘Fancy that! Leaving money to a relation in Sing + Sing! Hadn’t altered his will, I suppose. Who could possibly,’ and her + face fell visibly, ‘have foreseen such a thing?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No one, I think,’ said Madeline, through a little edged smile. ‘On that + point you will hardly be criticized.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Innes, with clasped hands, was sunk in thought. She raised her eyes + with a conviction in them which she evidently felt to be pathetic. + </p> + <p> + ‘After all,’ she said, ‘there is something in what the padres say about + our reaping the reward of our misdeeds in this world—some of us, + anyway. If I had stayed in New York—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes?’ said Madeline. ‘I shall wake up presently,’ she reflected, ‘and + find that I have been dreaming melodrama.’ But that was a fantastic + underscoring of her experience. She knew very well she was making it. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Innes, again wrapped in astonished contemplation, did not reply. Then + she jumped to her feet with a gesture that cast fortunes back into the lap + of fate. + </p> + <p> + ‘One thing is certain,’ she said; ‘I can’t do anything NOW, can I?’ + </p> + <p> + Madeline laid hold of silence and made armour with it. At all events, she + must have time to think. + </p> + <p> + ‘I decline to advise you,’ she said, and she spoke with a barely + perceptive movement of her lips only. The rest of her face was stone. + </p> + <p> + ‘How unkind and unforgiving you are! Must people would think the loss of a + hundred thousand pounds about punishment enough for what I have done. You + don’t seem to see it. But on top of that you won’t refuse to promise not + to tell Horace?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I will not bind myself in any way whatever.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not even when you know that the moment I hear of the—death I intend + to—to—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Make an honest man of him? Not even when I know that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you want me to go down on my knees to you?’ + </p> + <p> + Madeline glanced at the flowered fabric involved and said, ‘I wouldn’t, I + think.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And this is to hang over me the whole season? I shall enjoy nothing—absolutely + NOTHING.’ The blue eyes were suddenly eclipsed by angry tears, which the + advent of a servant with cards checked as suddenly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Goodbye, then, dear,’ cried Mrs. Innes, as if in response to the + advancing rustle of skirts in the veranda. ‘So glad to have found you at + home. Dear me, has Trilby made her way up—and I gave such particular + orders! Oh, you NAUGHTY dog!’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 3.VII. + </h2> + <p> + From the complication that surged round Miss Anderson’s waking hours one + point emerged, and gave her a perch for congratulation. That was the + determination she had shown in refusing to let Frederick Prendergast leave + her his money, or any part of it. + </p> + <p> + It has been said that he had outlived her tenderness, if not her care, and + this fact, which she never found it necessary to communicate to poor + Frederick himself, naturally made his desire in the matter sharply + distasteful. She was even unaware of the disposition he had made of his + ironical fortune, a reflection which brought her thankfulness that there + was something she did not know. ‘If I had let him do it,’ she thought, ‘I + should have felt compelled to tell her everything, instantly. And think of + discussing it with her!’ This was quite a fortnight later, and Mrs. Innes + still occupied her remarkable position only in her own mind and + Madeline’s, still knowing herself the wife of 1596 and of 1596 only, and + still unaware that 1596 was in his grave. Simla had gone on with its + dances and dinners and gymkhanas quite as if no crucial experience were + hanging over the heads of three of the people one met ‘everywhere,’ and + the three people continued to be met everywhere, although only one of them + was unconscious. The women tried to avoid each other without accenting it, + exchanging light words only as occasion demanded, but they were not clever + enough for Mrs. Gammidge and Mrs. Mickie, who went about saying that Mrs. + Innes’s treatment of Madeline Anderson was as ridiculous as it was + inexplicable. ‘Did you ever know her to be jealous of anybody before?’ + demanded Mrs. Mickie, to which Mrs. Gammidge responded, with her customary + humour, that the Colonel had never, in the memory of the oldest + inhabitant, been known to give her occasion. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ declared Mrs. Mickie, ‘if friendships—UNSENTIMENTAL + friendships—between men and women are not understood in Simla, I’d + like to be told what is understood.’ + </p> + <p> + Between them they gave Madeline a noble support, for which—although + she did not particularly require it, and they did not venture to offer it + in so many words—she was grateful. A breath of public criticism from + any point of view would have blown over the toppling structure she was + defending against her conscience. The siege was severe and obstinate, with + an undermining conviction ever at work that in the end she would yield; in + the end she would go away, at least as far as Bombay or Calcutta, and from + there send to Mrs. Innes the news of her liberation. It would not be + necessary, after all, or even excusable, to tell Horace. His wife would do + that quickly enough—at least, she had said she would. If she didn’t—well, + if she didn’t, nothing would be possible but another letter, giving HIM + the simple facts, she, Madeline, carefully out of the way of his path of + duty—at all events, at Calcutta or Bombay. But there was no danger + that Mrs. Innes would lose the advantage of confession, of throwing + herself on his generosity—and at this point Madeline usually felt + her defenses against her better nature considerably strengthened, and the + date of her sacrifice grow vague again. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, she was astonished to observe that, in spite of her threat to + the contrary, Mrs. Innes appeared to be enjoying herself particularly + well. Madeline had frequent occasion for private comment on the advantages + of a temperament that could find satisfaction in dancing through whole + programmes at the very door, so to speak, of the criminal courts; and it + can not be denied that this capacity of Mrs. Innes’s went far to increase + the vacillation with which Miss Anderson considered her duty towards that + lady. If she had shown traces of a single hour of genuine suffering, there + would have been an end to Madeline’s hesitation. But beyond an occasional + watchful glance at conversations in which she might be figuring + dramatically, and upon which she instantly turned her back as soon as she + was perceived, Mrs. Innes gave no sign even of preoccupation. If she had + bad half-hours, they occurred between the teas and tennises, the picnics, + riding-parties, luncheons, and other entertainments, at which you could + always count upon meeting her; and in that case they must have been short. + She looked extremely well, and her admirable frocks gave an accent even to + ‘Birthday’ functions at Viceregal Lodge, which were quite hopelessly + general. If any one could have compelled a revelation of her mind, I think + it would have transpired that her anxieties about Capt. Valentine Drake + and Mrs. Vesey gave her no leisure for lesser ones. These for a few days + had been keen and indignant—Captain Drake had so far forgotten + himself as to ride with Mrs. Vesey twice since Mrs. Innes’s arrival—and + any display of poverty of spirit was naturally impossible under the + circumstances. The moment was a critical one; Captain Drake seemed + inclined to place her in the category of old, unexacting friends—ladies + who looked on and smiled, content to give him tea on rainy days, and call + him by his Christian name, with perhaps the privilege of a tapping finger + on his shoulder, and an occasional order about a rickshaw. Mrs. Violet was + not an introspective person, or she might have discovered here that the + most stable part of her self-respect was her EXIGENCE with Captain Drake. + </p> + <p> + She found out quickly enough, however, that she did not mean to discard + it. She threw herself, therefore—her fine shoulders and arms, her + pretty clothes, her hilarity, her complexion, her eyelashes, and all that + appertained to her—into the critical task of making other men + believe, at Captain Drake’s expense, that they were quite as fond of her + as he was. Mrs. Vesey took opposite measures, and the Club laid bets on + the result. + </p> + <p> + The Club was not prepossessed by Captain Drake. He said too little and he + implied too much. He had magnificent shoulders, which he bent a great deal + over secluded sofas, and a very languid interest in matters over which + ordinary men were enthusiastic. He seemed to believe that if he smiled all + the way across his face, he would damage a conventionality. His clothes + were unexceptionable, and he always did the right thing, though bored by + the necessity. He was good-looking in an ugly way, which gave him an air + of restrained capacity for melodrama, and made women think him + interesting. Somebody with a knack of disparagement said that he was too + much expressed. It rather added to his unpopularity that he was a man whom + women usually took with preposterous seriousness—all but Kitty + Vesey, who charmed and held him by her outrageous liberties. When Mrs. + Vesey chaffed him, he felt picturesque. He was also aware of inspiring + entertainment for the lookers-on, with the feeling at such times that he, + too, was an amused spectator. This was, of course, their public attitude. + In private there was sentiment, and they talked about the tyranny of + society, or delivered themselves of ideas suggested by works of fiction + which everybody simply HAD to read. + </p> + <p> + For a week Mrs. Innes looked on, apparently indifferent, rather apparently + not observing; and an Assistant Secretary in the Home Department began to + fancy that his patience in teaching the three dachshund puppies tricks was + really appreciated. He was an on-coming Assistant Secretary, with other + conspicuous parts, and hitherto his time had been too valuable to spend + upon ladies’ dachshunds. Mrs. Innes had selected him well. There came an + evening when, at a dance at the Lieutenant-Governor’s, Mrs. Innes was so + absorbed in what the Assistant Secretary was saying to her, as she passed + on his arm, that she did not see Captain Drake in the corridor at all, + although he had carefully broken an engagement to walk with Kitty Vesey + that very afternoon, as the beginning of gradual and painless reform in + her direction. His unrewarded virtue rose up and surprised him with the + distinctness of its resentment; and while his expression was successfully + amused, his shoulders and the back of his neck, as well as the hand on his + moustache, spoke of discipline which promised to be efficient. Reflection + assured him that discipline was after all deserved, and a quarter of an + hour later found him wagging his tail, so to speak, over Mrs. Innes’s + programme in a corner pleasantly isolated. The other chair was occupied by + the Assistant Secretary. Captain Drake represented an interruption, and + was obliged to take a step towards the nearest lamp to read the card. + Three dances were rather ostentatiously left, and Drake initialled them + all. He brought back the card with a bow, which spoke of dignity under + bitter usage, together with the inflexible intention of courteous + self-control, and turned away. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, if you please, Captain Drake—let me see what you’ve done. All + those? But—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Isn’t it after eleven, Mrs. Innes?’ asked the Assistant Secretary, with a + timid smile. He was enjoying himself, but he had a respect for vested + interests, and those of Captain Drake were so well known that he felt a + little like a buccaneer. + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear me, so it is!’ Mrs. Innes glanced at one of her bracelets. ‘Then, + Captain Drake, I’m sorry’—she carefully crossed out the three + ‘V.D.‘s’—‘I promised all the dances I had left after ten to Mr. + Holmcroft. Most of the others I gave away at the gymkhana—really. + Why weren’t you there? That Persian tutor again! I’m afraid you are + working too hard. And what did the Rani do, Mr. Holmcroft? It’s like the + Arabian Nights, only with real jewels—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I say, Holmcroft, this is too much luck, you know. Regular + sweepstakes, by Jove!’ And Captain Drake lingered on the fringe of the + situation. + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps I have been greedy,’ said the Assistant Secretary, deprecatingly. + ‘I’ll—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not in the very least! That is,’ exclaimed Mrs. Violet, pouting, ‘if I’M + to be considered. We’ll sit out all but the waltzes, and you shall tell me + official secrets about the Rani. She put us up once, she’s a delicious old + thing. Gave us string beds to sleep on and gold plate to eat from, and + swore about every other word. She had been investing in Government paper, + and it had dropped three points. “Just my damn luck!” she said. Wasn’t it + exquisite? Captain Drake—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs. Innes—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t want to be rude, but you’re a dreadful embarrassment. Mr. + Holmcroft won’t tell you official secrets!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If she would only behave!’ thought Madeline, looking on, ‘I would tell + her—indeed I would—at once.’ + </p> + <p> + Colonel Innes detached himself from a group of men in mess dress as she + appeared with the Worsleys, and let himself drift with the tide that + brought them always together. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are looking tired—ill,’ she said, seriously, as they sought the + unconfessed solace of each other’s eyes. ‘Last night it was the + Commander-in-Chief’s, and the night before the dance at Peliti’s. And + again tonight. And you are not like those of us who can rest next morning—you + have always your heavy office work!’ She spoke with indignant, tender + reproach, and he gave himself up to hearing it. ‘You will have to take + leave and go away,’ she insisted, foolishly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Leave! Good heavens, no! I wish all our fellows were as fit as I am. And—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes?’ she said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t pity me, dear friend. I don’t think it’s good for me. The world + really uses me very well.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then it’s all right, I suppose,’ Madeline said, with sudden depression. + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course it is. You are dining with us on the eighth?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m afraid not, I’m engaged.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Engaged again? Don’t you WANT to break bread in my house, Miss Anderson?’ + She was silent, and he insisted, ‘Tell me,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + She gave him instead a kind, mysterious smile. + </p> + <p> + ‘I will explain to you what I feel about that some day,’ she said; ‘some + day soon. I can’t accept Mrs. Innes’s invitation for the eighth, but—Brookes + and I are going to take tea with the fakir’s monkeys on the top of Jakko + tomorrow afternoon.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Anybody else, or only Brookes?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Only Brookes.’ And she thought she had abandoned coquetry! + </p> + <p> + ‘Then may I come?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed you may.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I really don’t know,’ reflected Madeline, as she caught another glimpse + of Mrs. Innes vigorously dancing the reel opposite little Lord Billy in + his Highland uniform, with her hands on her flowered-satin hips, ‘that I + am behaving very well myself.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 3.VIII. + </h2> + <p> + Horace Innes looked round his wife’s drawing-room as if he were making an + inventory of it, carefully giving each article its value, which happened, + however, to have nothing to do with rupees. Madeline Anderson had been + saying something the day before about the intimacy and accuracy with which + people’s walls expressed them, and though the commonplace was not new to + him, this was the first time it had ever led him to scan his wife’s. What + he saw may be imagined, but his only distinct reflection was that he had + no idea that she had been photographed so variously or had so many friends + who wore resplendent Staff uniforms. The relation of cheapness in + porcelain ornaments to the lady’s individuality was beyond him, and he + could not analyze his feelings of sitting in the midst of her poverty of + spirit. Indeed, thinking of his ordinary unsusceptibility to such things, + he told himself sharply that he was adding an affectation of discomfort to + the others that he had to bear; and that if Madeline had not given him the + idea it would never have entered his mind. The less, he mused, that one + had to do with finicking feelings in this world the better. They were well + enough for people who were tolerably conditioned in essentials—he + preferred this vagueness, even with himself, in connection with his + marriage—otherwise they added pricks. Besides he had that other + matter to think of. + </p> + <p> + He thought of the other matter with such obvious irritation that the + butler coming in to say that the ‘English water’ was finished, and how + many dozen should he order, put a chair in its place instead, closed the + door softly again, and went away. It was not good for the dignity of + butlers to ask questions of any sort with a look of that kind under the + eyebrows of the sahib. The matter was not serious, Colonel Innes told + himself, but he would prefer by comparison to deal with matters that were + serious. He knew Simla well enough to attach no overwhelming importance to + things said about women at the Club, where the broadest charity prevailed + underneath, and the idle comment of the moment had an intrinsic value as a + distraction rather than a reflective one as a criticism. This + consideration, however, was more philosophical in connection with other + men’s wives. He found very little in it to palliate what he had overheard, + submerged in the ‘Times of India’, that afternoon. And to put an edge on + it, the thing had been said by one of his own juniors. Luckily the boy had + left the room without discovering who was behind the ‘Times of India’. + Innes felt that he should be grateful for having been spared the exigency + of defending his wife against a flippant word to which she had very + probably laid herself open. He was very angry, and it is perhaps not + surprising that he did not pause to consider how far his anger was due to + the humiliating necessity of speaking to her about it. She was coming at + last though; she was in the hall. He would get it over quickly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Goodbye!’ said Mrs. Innes at the door. ‘No, I can’t possibly let you come + in to tea. I don’t know how you have the conscience after drinking three + cups at Mrs. Mickie’s, where I had no business to take you! Tomorrow? Oh, + all right if you want to VERY badly. But I won’t promise you strawberries—they’re + nearly all gone.’ + </p> + <p> + There was the sound of a departing pony’s trot, and Mrs. Innes came into + the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good heavens, Horace! what are you sitting there for like a—like a + ghost? Why didn’t you make a noise or something, and why aren’t you at + office? I can’t tell you how you startled me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is early,’ Colonel Innes said. ‘We are neither of us in the house, as + a rule, at this hour.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Coincidence!’ Violet turned a cool, searching glance on her husband, and + held herself ready. ‘I came home early because I want to alter the lace on + my yellow bodice for tonight. It’s too disgusting as it is. But I was + rather glad to get away from Mrs. Mickie’s lot. So rowdy!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And I came because I had a special reason for wanting to speak to you.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Violet’s lips parted, and her breath, in spite of herself, came a + little faster. + </p> + <p> + ‘As we are dining out tonight, I thought that if I didn’t catch you now I + might not have another opportunity—till tomorrow morning.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And it’s always a pity to spoil one’s breakfast. I can tell from your + manner, mon ami, it’s something disagreeable. What have I been and gone + and done?’ + </p> + <p> + She was dancing, poor thing, in her little vulgar way, on hot iron. But + her eyes kept their inconsistent coolness. + </p> + <p> + ‘I heard something today which you are not in the way of hearing. You have—probably—no + conception that it could be said.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then she has been telling other people. ABSOLUTELY the worst thing she + could do!’ Mrs. Innes exclaimed privately, sitting unmoved, her face a + little too expectant. + </p> + <p> + ‘You won’t be prepared for it—you may be shocked and hurt by it. + Indeed, I think there is no need to repeat it to you. But I must put you + on your guard. Men are coarser, you know, than women; they are apt to put + their own interpretation—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What is it?’ + </p> + <p> + There was a physical gasp, a sharpness in her voice that brought Innes’s + eyes from the floor to her face. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am sorry,’ he said, ‘but—don’t overestimate it, don’t let it + worry you. It was simply a very impertinent—a very disagreeable + reference to you and Mr. Holmcroft, I think, in connection with the + Dovedell’s picnic. It was a particularly silly thing as well, and I am + sure no one would attach any importance to it, but it was said openly at + the Club, and—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Who said it?’ Mrs. Innes demanded. + </p> + <p> + A flood of colour rushed over her face. Horace marked that she blushed. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know whether I ought to tell you, Violet. It certainly was not + meant for your ears.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If I’m not to know who said it, I don’t see why I should pay any + attention to it. Mere idle rumour—’ + </p> + <p> + Innes bit his lip. + </p> + <p> + ‘Captain Gordon said it,’ he replied. + </p> + <p> + ‘Bobby Gordon! DO tell me what he said! I’m dying to know. Was he very + disagreeable? I DID give his dance away on Thursday night.’ + </p> + <p> + Innes looked at her with the curious distrust which she often inspired in + him. He had a feeling that he would like to put her out of the room into a + place by herself, and keep her there. + </p> + <p> + ‘I won’t repeat what he said.’ Colonel Innes took up the ‘Saturday + Review’. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, do, Horace! I particularly want to know.’ + </p> + <p> + Innes said nothing. + </p> + <p> + ‘Horace! Was it—was it anything about Mr. Holmcroft being my + Secretariat baa-lamb?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you adorn your guess with a little profanity,’ said Innes, acidly, + ‘you won’t be far wrong.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Violet burst into a peal of laughter. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, you old goose!’ she articulated, behind her handkerchief; ‘he said + that to ME.’ + </p> + <p> + Innes laid down the ‘Saturday Review’. + </p> + <p> + ‘To you!’ he repeated; ‘Gordon said it to you!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Rather!’ Mrs. Violet was still mirthful. ‘I’m not sure that he didn’t + call poor little Homie something worse than that. It’s the purest jealousy + on his part—nothing to make a fuss about.’ + </p> + <p> + The fourth skin which enables so many of us to be callous to all but the + relative meaning of careless phrases had not been given to Innes, and her + words fell upon his bare sense of propriety. + </p> + <p> + ‘Jealous,’ he said, ‘of a married woman? I find that difficult to + understand.’ + </p> + <p> + Violet’s face straightened out. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t be absurd, Horace. These boys are always jealous of somebody or + other—it’s the occupation of their lives! I really don’t see how one + can prevent it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It seems to me that a self-respecting woman should see how. Your point of + view in these matters is incomprehensible.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps,’ Violet was driven by righteous anger to say, ‘you find Miss + Anderson’s easier to understand.’ + </p> + <p> + Colonel Innes’s face took its regimental disciplinary look, and, though + his eyes were aroused, his words were quiet with repression. + </p> + <p> + ‘I see no reason to discuss Miss Anderson with you,’ he said. ‘She has + nothing to do with what we are talking about.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, don’t you, really! Hasn’t she, indeed! I take it you are trying to + make me believe that compromising things are said about Mr. Holmcroft and + me at the Club. Well, I advise you to keep your ears open a little more, + and listen to the things said about you and Madeline Anderson there. But I + don’t suppose you would be in such a hurry to repeat them to HER.’ + </p> + <p> + Innes turned very white, and the rigidity of his face gave place to heavy + dismay. His look was that of a man upon whom misfortune had fallen out of + a clear sky. For an instant he stared at his wife. When he spoke his voice + was altered. + </p> + <p> + ‘For God’s sake!’ he said, ‘let us have done with this pitiful wrangling. + I dare say you can take care of yourself; at all events, I only meant to + warn you. But now you must tell me exactly what you mean by this that you + have said—this—about—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The fat’s in the fire,’ was Mrs. Innes’s reflection. + </p> + <p> + ‘Certainly, I’ll tell you—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t shout, please!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I mean simply that all Simla is talking about your affair with Miss + Anderson. You may imagine that because you are fifteen years older than + she is things won’t be thought of, but they are, and I hear it’s been + spoken about at Viceregal Lodge. I KNOW Lady Bloomfield has noticed it, + for she herself mentioned it to me. I told her I hadn’t the slightest + objection, and neither have I, but there’s an old proverb about people in + glass houses. What are you going to do?’ + </p> + <p> + Colonel Innes’s expression was certainly alarming, and he had made a step + toward her that had menace in it. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am going out,’ he said, and turned and left her to her triumph. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 3.IX. + </h2> + <p> + She—Violet—had unspeakably vulgarized it, but it must be true—it + must be, to some extent, true. She may even have lied about it, but the + truth was there, fundamentally, in the mere fact that it had been + suggested to her imagination. Madeline’s name, which had come to be for + him an epitome of what was finest and most valuable, most to be lived for, + was dropping from men’s lips into a kind of an abyss of dishonourable + suggestion. There was no way out of it or around it. It was a cloud which + encompassed them, suddenly blackening down. + </p> + <p> + There was nothing that he could do—nothing. Except, yes, of course—that + was obvious, as obvious as any other plain duty. Through his selfishness + it had a beginning; in spite of his selfishness it should have an end. + That went without saying. No more walks or rides. In a conventional way, + perhaps—but nothing deliberate, designed—and never alone + together. Gossip about flippant married women was bad enough, but that it + should concern itself with an unprotected creature like Madeline was + monstrous, incredible. He strode fiercely into the road round Jakko, and + no little harmless snake, if it had crawled across his path, would have + failed to suffer a quick fate under the guidance of his imagination. But + there was nothing for him to kill, and he turned upon himself. + </p> + <p> + The sun went down into the Punjab and left great blue-and-purple hill + worlds barring the passage behind him. The deodars sank waist deep into + filmy shadow, and the yellow afterlight lay silently among the branches. A + pink-haunched monkey lopading across the road with a great show of + prudence seemed to have strayed into an unfamiliar country, and the + rustling twigs behind him made an episode of sound. The road in perpetual + curve between its little stone parapet and the broad flank of the hill + rose and fell under the deodars; Innes took its slopes and its steepnesses + with even, unslackened stride, aware of no difference, aware of little + indeed except the physical necessity of movement, spurred on by a futile + instinct that the end of his walk would be the end of his trouble—his + amazing, black, menacing trouble. A pony’s trot behind him struck through + the silence like percussion-caps; all Jakko seemed to echo with it; and it + came nearer—insistent, purposeful—but he was hardly aware of + it until the creature pulled up beside him, and Madeline, slipping quickly + off, said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m coming too.’ + </p> + <p> + He took off his hat and stared at her. She seemed to represent a climax. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m coming too,’ she said. ‘I’m tired of picking flies off the Turk, and + he’s really unbearable about them tonight. Here, syce.’ She threw the + reins to the man and turned to Innes with a smile of relief. ‘I would much + rather do a walk. Why—you want me to come too, don’t you?’ + </p> + <p> + His face was all one negative, and under the unexpectedness of it and the + amazement of it her questioning eyes slowly filled with sudden, + uncontrollable tears, so that she had to lower them, and look steadily at + the hoof-marks in the road while she waited for his answer. + </p> + <p> + ‘You know how I feel about seeing you—how glad I always am,’ he + stammered. ‘But there are reasons—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Reasons?’ she repeated, half audibly. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know how to tell you. I will write. But let me put you up again—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I will not,’ Madeline said, with a sob, ‘I won’t be sent home like a + child. I am going to walk, but—but I can quite well go alone.’ She + started forward, and her foot caught in her habit so that she made an + awkward stumble and came down on her knee. In rising she stumbled again, + and his quick arm was necessary. Looking down at her, he saw that she was + crying bitterly. The tension had lasted long, and the snap had come when + she least expected it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Stop,’ Innes said, firmly, hardly daring to turn his head and ascertain + the blessed fact that they were still alone. ‘Stop instantly. You shall + not go by yourself.’ He flicked the dust off her habit with his + pocket-handkerchief. ‘Come, please; we will go on together.’ Her distress + seemed to make things simple again. It was as if the cloud that hung over + them had melted as she wept, and lifted, and drifted a little further on. + For the moment, naturally, nothing mattered except that she should be + comforted. As she walked by his side shaken with her effort at + self-control, he had to resist the impulse to touch her. His hand tingled + to do its part in soothing her, his arm ached to protect her, while he + vaguely felt an element of right, of justice, in her tears; they were in a + manner his own. What he did was to turn and ask the syce following if he + had loosened the Turk’s saddle-girths. + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall be better—in a moment,’ Madeline said, and he answered, ‘Of + course’; but they walked on and said nothing more until the road ran out + from under the last deodar and round the first bare boulder that marked + the beginning of the Ladies’ Mile. It lay rolled out before them, the + Ladies’ Mile, sinuous and grey and empty, along the face of the cliff; + they could see from one end of it to the other. It was the bleak side of + Jakko; even tonight there was a fresh springing coldness in it blowing + over from the hidden snows behind the rims of the nearer hills. Madeline + held up her face to it, and gave herself a moment of its grateful + discipline. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have been as foolish as possible,’ she said, ‘as foolish as possible. I + have distressed you. Well, I couldn’t help it—that is all there is + to be said. Now if you will tell me—what is in your mind—what + you spoke of writing—I will mount again and go home. It doesn’t + matter—I know you didn’t mean to be unkind.’ Her lip was trembling + again, and he knew it, and dared not look at it. + </p> + <p> + ‘How can you ask me to tell you—miserable things!’ he exclaimed. + ‘How can I find the words? And I have only just been told—I can + hardly myself conceive it—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am not a child in her teens that my ears should be guarded from + miserable things. I have come of age, I have entered into my inheritance + of the world’s bitterness with the rest. I can listen,’ Madeline said. + ‘Why not?’ + </p> + <p> + He looked to her with grave tenderness. ‘You think yourself very old, and + very wise about the world,’ he said; ‘but you are a woman, and you will be + hurt. And when I think that a little ordinary forethought on my part would + have protected you, I feel like the criminal I am.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t make too much of it,’ she said, simply. ‘I have a presentiment—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll tell you,’ Innes said, slowly; ‘I won’t niggle about it. The people + of this place—idiots!—are unable to believe that a man and a + woman can be to each other what we are.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes?’ said Madeline. She paused beside the parapet and looked down at the + indistinct little fields below, and the blurred masses of white wild roses + waving midway against the precipice. + </p> + <p> + ‘They can not understand that there can be any higher plane of intercourse + between us than the one they know. They won’t see—they can’t see—that + the satisfaction we find in being together is of a different nature.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I see,’ said Madeline. She had raised her eyes, and they sought the + solemn lines of the horizon. She looked as if she saw something infinitely + lifted above the pettiness he retailed to her. + </p> + <p> + ‘So they say—good God, why should I tell you what they say!’ It + suddenly flashed upon him that the embodiment of it in words would be at + once, from him, sacrilegious and ludicrous. It flashed upon him that her + natural anger would bring him pain, and that if she laughed—it was + so hard to tell when she would laugh—it would be as if she struck + him. He cast about him dumb and helpless while she kept her invincibly + quiet gaze upon the farther hills. She was thinking that this breath of + gossip, now that it had blown, was a very slight affair compared with + Horace Innes’s misery—which he did not seem to understand. Then her + soul rose up in her, brushing everything aside, and forgetting, alas! the + vow it had once made to her. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think I know,’ she said. ‘They are indeed foolish. They say that we—love + each other. Is not that what they say?’ + </p> + <p> + He looked in amazement into her tender eyes and caught at the little + mocking smile about her lips. Suddenly the world grew light about him, the + shadows fled away. Somewhere down in the valley, he remembered afterward, + a hill-flute made music. When he spoke it was almost in a whisper, lest he + should disturb some newly perceived lovely thing that had wings, and might + leave him. ‘Oh, Madeline,’ he said, ‘is it true?’ She only smiled on in + gladness that took no heed of any apprehension, any fear or scruple, and + he himself keeping his eyes upon her face, said, ‘It is true.’ + </p> + <p> + So they stood for a little time in silence while she resisted her great + opportunity. She resisted it to the end, and presently beckoned to the + syce, who came up leading the pony. Innes mounted her mechanically and + said, ‘Is that all right?’ as she put her foot in the stirrup, without + knowing that he had spoken. + </p> + <p> + ‘Goodbye,’ she said; ‘I am going away—immediately. It will be + better. And listen—I have known this for weeks—and I have gone + on seeing you. And I hope I am not any more wicked than I feel. Goodbye.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Goodbye,’ he said, taking his hand from the pony’s neck, and she rode + buoyantly away. He, turning to breast the road again, saw darkness + gathering over the end of it, and drawing nearer. + </p> + <p> + At eleven o’clock next morning Brookes rose from her packing to take a + note addressed to her mistress from the hand of a messenger in the + Imperial red and gold. It ran: + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear Miss Anderson—I write to tell you that I have obtained three + weeks’ leave, and I am going into the interior to shoot, starting this + afternoon. You spoke yesterday of leaving Simla almost immediately. I + trust you will not do this, as it would be extremely risky to venture down + to the Plains just now. In ten days the rains will have broken, when it + will be safe. Pray wait till then. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yours sincerely, + </p> + <p> + ‘Horace Innes.’ + </p> + <p> + Involuntarily the letter found its way to Madeline’s lips, and remained + there until she saw the maid observing her with intelligence. + </p> + <p> + ‘Brookes,’ she said, ‘I am strongly advised not to start until the rains + break. I think, on the whole, that we won’t.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed, miss,’ returned Brookes, ‘Mrs. Sergeant Simmons told me that it + was courting cholera to go—and nothing short of it. I must say I’m + thankful.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 3.X. + </h2> + <p> + A week later Colonel Innes had got his leave, and had left Simla for the + snow-line by what is facetiously known as ‘the carriage road to Tibet.’ + Madeline had done as she was bidden, and was waiting for the rains to + break. Another day had come without them. To write and tell Innes, to + write to tell Violet, to go away and leave the situation as she found it; + she had lived and moved and slept and awakened to these alternatives. At + the moment she slept. + </p> + <p> + It was early, very early in the morning. The hills all about seemed still + unaware of it, standing in the greyness, compact, silent, immutable, as if + they slept with their eyes open. Nothing spoke of the oncoming sun, + nothing was yet surprised. The hill world lifted itself unconscious in a + pale solution of daylight, and only on the sky-line, very far away, it + rippled into a cloud. The flimsy town clinging steeply roof above roof to + the slope, mounting to the saddle and slipping over on the other side, cut + the dawn with innumerable little lines and angles all in one tone like a + pencil drawing. + </p> + <p> + There was no feeling in it, no expression. It had a temporary air in that + light, like trampled snow, and even the big Secretariat buildings that + raised themselves here and there out of the huddling bazaar looked + trivial, childish enterprises in the simple revelation of the morning. A + cold silence was abroad, which a crow now and then vainly tried to disturb + with a note of tentative enterprise, forced, premature. It announced that + the sun would probably rise, but nothing more. In the little dark shops of + the wood-carvers an occasional indefinite figure moved, groping among last + night’s tools, or an old woman in a red sari washed a brass dish over the + shallow open drain that ran past her door. At the tonga terminus, below + the Mall, a couple of coughing syces, muffled in their blankets, pulled + one of these vehicles out of the shed. They pushed it about sleepily, with + clumsy futility; nothing else stirred or spoke at all in Simla. Nothing + disturbed Miss Anderson asleep in her hotel. + </p> + <p> + A brown figure in a loin-cloth, with a burden, appeared where the road + turned down from the Mall, and then another, and several following. They + were coolies, and they carried luggage. + </p> + <p> + The first to arrive beside the tonga bent and loosed the trunk he brought, + which slipped from his back to the ground. The syces looked at him, saying + nothing, and he straightened himself against the wall of the hillside, + also in silence. It was too early for conversation. Thus did all the + others. + </p> + <p> + When the last portmanteau had been deposited, a khaki-coloured heap on the + shed floor rose up as a broad-shouldered Punjabi driver, and walked round + the luggage, looking at it. + </p> + <p> + ‘And you, owls’ brethren,’ he said, with sarcasm, addressing the first + coolie, ‘you have undertaken to carry these matter fifty-eight kos to + Kalka, have you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Na,’ replied the coolie, stolidly, and spat. + </p> + <p> + ‘How else, then, is it to be taken?’ the driver cried, with anger in his + argument. ‘Behold the memsahib has ordered but one tonga, and a fool-thing + of an ekka. Here is work for six tongas! What reason is there in this?’ + </p> + <p> + The coolie folded his naked arms, and dug in the dust with an unconcerned + toe. + </p> + <p> + ‘I, what can I do?’ he said, ‘It is the order of the memsahib.’ + </p> + <p> + Ram Singh grunted and said no more. A rickshaw was coming down from the + Mall, and the memsahib was in it. + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes later the ponies stood in their traces under the iron bar, and + the lady sat in the tonga behind Ram Singh. Her runners, in uniform, + waited beside the empty rickshaw with a puzzled look, at which she + laughed, and threw a rupee to the head man. + </p> + <p> + The luggage was piled and corded on three ekkas behind, and their + cross-legged drivers, too, were ready. + </p> + <p> + ‘Chellao!’ she cried, crisply, and Ram Singh imperturbably lifted the + reins. The little procession clanked and jingled along the hillside, + always tending down, and broke upon the early grey melancholy with a + forced and futile cheerfulness, too early, like everything else. As it + passed the last of Simla’s little gardens, spread like a + pocket-handkerchief on the side of the hill, the lady leaned forward and + looked back as if she wished to impress the place upon her memory. Her + expression was that of a person going forth without demur into the day’s + hazards, ready to cope with them, yet there was some regret in the + backward look. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a place,’ she said aloud, ‘where EVERYBODY has a good time!’ + </p> + <p> + Then the Amusement Club went out of sight behind a curve; and she settled + herself more comfortably among her cushions, and drew a wrap round her to + meet the chill wind of the valley. It was all behind her. The lady looked + out as the ponies galloped up to the first changing-place, and, seeing a + saddled horse held by a syce, cramped herself a little into one corner to + make room. The seat would just hold two. + </p> + <p> + Ram Singh salaamed, getting down to harness the fresh pair, and a man put + his face in at the side of the tonga and took off his hat. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you all right?’ he said. His smile was as conscious as his words were + casual. + </p> + <p> + ‘Quite right. The ayah was silly about coming—didn’t want to leave + her babies or something—so I had to leave her behind. Everything + else is either here or in the ekkas.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The brute! Never mind—they’re not much use in a railway journey. + You can pick up another at Bombay. Then I suppose I’d better get in.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I suppose you better had. Unless you think of walking,’ she laughed, and + he took the place beside her. + </p> + <p> + Ram Singh again unquestioningly took up the reins. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nobody else going down?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not another soul. We might just as well have started together.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, well, we couldn’t tell. Beastly awkward if there had been anybody.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ she said, but thrust up her under lip indifferently. + </p> + <p> + Then, with the effect of turning to the business in hand, she bent her + eyes upon him understandingly and smiled in frank reference to something + that had not been mentioned. ‘It’s goodbye Simla, isn’t it?’ she said. He + smiled in response and put his hand upon her firm, round arm, + possessively, and they began to talk. + </p> + <p> + Ram Singh, all unaware, kept his horses at their steady clanking downward + gallop, and Simla, clinging to the hilltops, was brushed by the first rays + of the sun. + </p> + <p> + It came a gloriously clear morning; early riders round Jakko saw the real + India lying beyond the outer ranges, flat and blue and pictured with + forests and rivers like a map. The plains were pretty and interesting in + this aspect, but nobody found them attractive. Sensitive people liked it + better when the heat mist veiled them and it was possible to look abroad + without a sudden painful thought of contrasting temperatures. We may + suppose that the inhabitants of Paradise sometimes grieve over their luck. + Even Madeline Anderson, whose heart knew no constriction at the + remembrance of brother or husband at some cruel point in the blue expanse, + had come to turn her head more willingly the other way, towards the hills + rolling up to the snows, being a woman who suffered by proxy, and by + observation, and by Rudyard Kipling. + </p> + <p> + On this particular morning, however, she had not elected to do either. She + slept late instead, and was glad to sleep. I might as well say at once + that on the night before she had made up her mind, had brought herself to + the point, and had written to Mrs. Innes, at ‘Two Gables’, all the facts, + in so far as she was acquainted with them, connected with Frederick + Prendergast’s death. She was very much ashamed of herself, poor girl; she + was aware that, through her postponement, Horace Innes would now see his + problem in all its bitterness, make his choice with his eyes wide open. If + it had only happened before he knew—anything about her! + </p> + <p> + She charged herself with having deliberately waited, and then spent an + exhausting hour trying to believe that she had drifted unconsciously to + the point of their mutual confession. Whatever the truth was, she did not + hesitate to recognize a new voice in her private counsels from that hour, + urging her in one way or another to bring matters to an end. It was a + strong instinct; looking at the facts, she saw it was the gambler’s. When + she tried to think of the ethical considerations involved she saw only the + chances. The air seemed to throb with them all night; she had to count + them finally to get rid of them. + </p> + <p> + Brookes was up betimes, however, and sent off the letter. It went duly, by + Surnoo, to Mrs. Innes at ‘Two Gables’. Madeline woke at seven with a + start, and asked if it had gone, then slept again contentedly. So far as + she was concerned the thing was finished. The breakfast gong had sounded, + and the English mail had arrived before she opened her eyes again upon the + day’s issues; she gave it her somewhat desultory attention while Brookes + did her hair. There was only one scrap of news. Adele mentioned in a + postscript that poor Mr. Prendergast’s money was likely to go to a distant + relative, it having transpired that he died without leaving a will. + </p> + <p> + ‘She is sure, absolutely sure,’ Madeline mused, ‘to answer my letter in + person. She will be here within an hour. I shall have this to tell her, + too. How pleased she will be! She will come into it all, I suppose—if + she is allowed. Though she won’t be allowed, that is if—’ But there + speculation began, and Madeline had forbidden herself speculation, if not + once and for all, at least many times and for fifteen minutes. + </p> + <p> + No reasonable purpose would be served by Mrs. Innes’s visit, Madeline + reflected, as she sat waiting in the little room opening on the veranda; + but she would come, of course she would come. She would require the + satisfaction of the verbal assurance; she would hope to extract more + details; she would want the objectionable gratification of talking if + over. + </p> + <p> + In spite of any assurance, she would believe that Madeline had not told + her before in order to make her miserable a little longer than she need + be; but, after all, her impression about that did not particularly matter. + It couldn’t possibly be a pleasant interview, yet Madeline found herself + impatient for it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Surnoo,’ she said of her messenger, ‘must be idling on his way back in + the bazaar. I must try to remember to fine him two pice. Surnoo is + incorrigible.’ + </p> + <p> + She forgot, however, to fine Surnoo. The pad of his bare feet sounded + along the veranda almost immediately, and the look in his Pahari eyes was + that of expected reproach, and ability to defend himself against it. + </p> + <p> + He held out two letters at arm’s-length, for as he was expected to bring + only one there was a fault in this; and all his domestic traditions told + him that he might be chastened. One was addressed to Madeline in Mrs. + Innes’s handwriting; the other, she saw with astonishment, was her own + communication to that lady, her own letter returned. Surnoo explained + volubly all the way along the veranda, and in the flood of his unknown + tongue Madeline caught a sentence or two. + </p> + <p> + ‘The memsahib was not,’ said Surnoo. Clearly he could not deliver a letter + to a memsahib who was not. ‘Therefore,’ Surnoo continued, ‘I have brought + back your honour’s letter, and the other I had from the hand of the + memsahib’s runner, the runner with one eye, who was on the road to bring + it here. More I do not know, but it appears that the memsahib has gone to + her father and mother in Belaat, being very sorrowful because the + Colonel-sahib has left her to shoot.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The letter will tell me,’ said Madeline to herself, fingering it. + ‘Enough, Surnoo.’ + </p> + <p> + The man went away, and Madeline closed and locked the door of her + sitting-room. The letter would tell her—what? She glanced about her + with dissatisfaction, and sought the greater privacy of her bedroom, where + also she locked the door and drew the muslin curtain across the window. + She laid the letter on the dressing-table and kept her eyes upon it while + she unfastened, with trembling hands, the brooch at her neck and the belt + at her waist. She did one or two other meaningless things, as if she + wanted to gain time, to fortify her nerves even against an exhibition + before herself. + </p> + <p> + Then she sat down with her back towards the light and opened the letter. + It had a pink look and a scented air. Even in her beating suspense + Madeline held it a little farther away from her, as she unfolded it, and + it ran: + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear Miss Anderson—What will you say, I wonder, and what will Simla + say, when you know that Captain Drake and I have determined to DISREGARD + CONVENTIONALITIES, and live henceforward only for one another! I am all + packed up, and long before this meets your eye we shall have taken the + step which society condemns, but which I have a feeling that you, knowing + my storm-tossed history, will be broad-minded enough to sympathize with, + at least to some extent. That is the reason I am writing to you rather + than to any of my own chums, and also of course to have the satisfaction + of telling you that I no longer care what you do about letting out the + secret of my marriage to Frederick Prendergast. I am now ABOVE AND BEYOND + IT. Any way you look at it, I do not see that I am much to blame. As I + never have been Colonel Innes’s wife there can be no harm in leaving him, + though if he had ever been sympathetic, or understood me the LEAST LITTLE + BIT, I might have felt bound to him. But he has never been able to evoke + the finer parts of my nature, and when this is the case marriage is a mere + miserable fleshly failure. You may say, “Why try it a third time?”—but + my union with Val will be different. I have never been fond of the + opposite sex—so far as that goes I should have made a very good nun—but + for a long time Valentine Drake has been the only man I cared to have come + within a mile of me, and lately we have discovered that we are absolutely + necessary to each other’s existence on the higher plane. I don’t care much + what Simla thinks, but if you happen to be talking about it to dear Lady + Bloomfield, you might just mention this. Val has eight hundred a year of + his own, so it is perfectly practicable. Of course, he will send in his + papers. WHATEVER HAPPENS, Val and I will never bind ourselves in any way. + We both think it wrong and enslaving. I have nothing more to add, except + that I am depending on you to explain to Simla that I never was Mrs. + Innes. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yours sincerely, + </p> + <p> + ‘Violet Prendergast. + </p> + <p> + ‘P.S.—I have written to Horace, telling him everything about + everything, and sent my letter off to him in the wilds by a runner. If you + see him you might try and smooth him down. I don’t want him coming after + Val with a revolver.’ + </p> + <p> + Madeline read this communication through twice. Then quietly and + deliberately she lay down upon the bed, and drew herself out of the + control of her heart by the hard labour of thought. When she rose, she had + decided that there were only two things for her to do, and she began at + once to do them, continuing her refuge in action. She threw her little + rooms open again, and walked methodically round the outer one, collecting + the odds and ends of Indian fabrics with which she had garnished it. + </p> + <p> + As the maid came in, she looked up from folding them. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have news, Brookes,’ she said, ‘that necessitates my going home at + once. No, it is not bad news, but—important. I will go now and see + about the tonga. We must start tomorrow morning.’ + </p> + <p> + Brookes called Surnoo, and the rickshaw came round. + </p> + <p> + Madeline looked at her watch. + </p> + <p> + ‘The telegraph office,’ she said; ‘and as quickly as may be.’ + </p> + <p> + As the runners panted over the Mall, up and down and on, Madeline said to + herself, ‘She shall have her chance. She shall choose.’ + </p> + <p> + The four reeking Paharis pulled up at the telegraph office, and Madeline + sped up the steps. There was a table, with forms printed ‘Indian + Telegraphs,’ and the usual bottle of thickened ink and pair of rusty pens. + She sat down to her intention as if she dared not let it cool; she wrote + her message swiftly, she had worded it on the way. + </p> + <p> + ‘To Mrs. Innes, Dak Bungalow, Solon. + </p> + <p> + ‘From M. Anderson, Simla. + </p> + <p> + ‘Frederick Prendergast died on January 7th, at Sing Sing. Your letter + considered confidential if you return. Prendergast left no will. + </p> + <p> + ‘M. Anderson.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Send this “urgent,” Babu,’ she said to the clerk, ‘and repeat it to the + railway station, Kalka. Shall I fill up another form? No? Very well.’ + </p> + <p> + At the door she turned and came back. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is now eleven o’clock,’ she said. ‘The person I am telegraphing to is + on her way down to get tonight’s train at Kalka. I am hoping to catch her + half-way at Solon. Do you think I can?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think so, madam. Oyess! It is the custom to stop at Solon for tiffin. + The telegram can arrive there. All urgent telegram going very quick.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And in any case,’ said Madeline, ‘it can not fail to reach her at Kalka?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not possible to fail, madam.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She will have her chance,’ she said to herself, on her way to the post + office to order her tonga. And with a little nauseated shudder at the + thought of the letter in her pocket, she added, ‘It is amazing. I should + have thought her too good a woman of business!’ After which she + concentrated her whole attention upon the necessities of departure. Her + single immediate apprehension was that Horace Innes might, by some magic + of circumstances, be transported back into Simla before she could get out + of it. That such a contingency was physically impossible made no + difference to her nerves, and to the last Brookes was the hurrying victim + of unnecessary promptings. + </p> + <p> + The little rambling hotel of Kalka, where the railway spreads out over the + plains, raises its white-washed shelter under the very walls of the + Himalayas. Madeline, just arrived, lay back in a long wicker chair on the + veranda, and looked up at them as they mounted green and grey and silent + under the beating of the first of the rains. Everywhere was a luxury of + silence, the place was steeped in it, drowned in it. A feeding cow flicked + an automatic tail under a tree. Near the low mud wall that strolled + irresolutely between the house and the hills leaned a bush with a few + single pink roses; their petals were floating down under the battering + drops. A draggled bee tried to climb to a dry place on a pillar of the + veranda. Above all, the hills, immediate, towering, all grey and green, + solidly ideal, with phantasies of mist. Everything drippingly soft and + silent. Suddenly the venetian blind that hung before the door of a bedroom + farther on swayed out before a hand variously ringed to emit a lady in a + pink lawn dress with apt embroideries. Madeline’s half-closed eyes opened + very wide, and for an instant she and the lady, to whom I must once more + refer as Mrs. Innes, confronted each other. Then Mrs. Innes’s countenance + expanded, and she took three or four light steps forward. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, you dear thing!’ she exclaimed. ‘I thought you were in Simla! Imagine + you being here! Do you know you have SAVED me!’ + </p> + <p> + Madeline regarded her in silence, while a pallor spread over her face and + lips, and her features grew sharp with a presage of pain. + </p> + <p> + ‘Have I?’ she stammered. She could not think. + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed you have. I don’t know how to be grateful enough to you. Your + telegram of yesterday reached me at Solon. We had just sat down to tiffin. + Nothing will ever shake my faith in providence again! My dear, THINK of it—after + all I’ve been through, my darling Val—and one hundred thousand + pounds!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well—I stayed behind there last night, and Val came on here and + made the necessary arrangement, and—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And we were married this morning. Good heavens! What’s the matter with + you! Here—oh, Brookes! Water, salts—anything!’ + </p> + <p> + Brookes, I know, would think that I should dwell at greater length upon + Miss Anderson’s attack of faintness in Kalka, and the various measures + which were resorted to for her succour, but perhaps the feelings and + expedients of any really capable lady’s-maid under the circumstances may + be taken for granted. I feel more seriously called upon to explain that + Colonel Horace Innes, shortly after these last events, took two years’ + furlough to England, during which he made a very interesting tour in the + United States with the lady with now bears his name by inalienable right. + Captain and Mrs. Valentine Drake are getting the most that is to be had + out of Frederick Prendergast’s fortune with courage in London and the + European capitals, where Mrs. Drake is sometimes mentioned as a lady with + a romantic past. They have not returned to Simla, where the situation has + never been properly understood. People always supposed that Mrs. Drake ran + away that June morning with her present husband, who must have been + tremendously fond of her to have married her ‘after the divorce.’ She is + also occasionally mentioned in undertones as ‘the first Mrs. Innes.’ All + of which we know to be quite erroneous, like most scandal. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mickie and Mrs. Gammidge, in retirement, are superintending the + education of their children in Bedford, where it is cheap and practical. + They converse when they meet about the iniquitous prices of dressmakers + and the degeneracy of the kind of cook obtainable in England at eighteen + pounds a year. Mrs. Gammidge has grown rather portly and very ritualistic. + They seldom speak of Simla, and when they do, if too reminiscent a spark + appears in Mrs. Mickie’s eye, Mrs. Gammidge changes the subject. Kitty + Vesey still fills her dance cards at Viceregal functions, though people do + not quote her as they used to, and subalterns imagine themselves vastly + witty about her colour, which is unimpaired. People often commend her, + however, for her good nature to debutantes, and it is admitted that she + may still ride with credit in ‘affinity stakes’—and occasionally win + them. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 4. The Pool in the Desert. + </h2> + <p> + I knew Anna Chichele and Judy Harbottle so well, and they figured so + vividly at one time against the rather empty landscape of life in a + frontier station, that my affection for one of them used to seem little + more, or less, than a variant upon my affection for the other. That + recollection, however, bears examination badly; Judy was much the better + sort, and it is Judy’s part in it that draws me into telling the story. + Conveying Judy is what I tremble at: her part was simple. Looking back—and + not so very far—her part has the relief of high comedy with the + proximity of tears; but looking closely, I find that it is mostly Judy, + and what she did is entirely second, in my untarnished picture, to what + she was. Still I do not think I can dissuade myself from putting it down. + </p> + <p> + They would, of course, inevitably have found each other sooner or later, + Mrs. Harbottle and Mrs. Chichele, but it was I who actually introduced + them; my palmy veranda in Rawul Pindi; where the teacups used to assemble, + was the scene of it. I presided behind my samovar over the early + formalities that were almost at once to drop from their friendship, like + the sheath of some bursting flower. I deliberately brought them together, + so the birth was not accidental, and my interest in it quite legitimately + maternal. We always had tea in the veranda in Rawul Pindi, the + drawing-room was painted blue, blue for thirty feet up to the whitewashed + cotton ceiling; nothing of any value in the way of a human relation, I am + sure, could have originated there. The veranda was spacious and open, + their mutual observation had room and freedom; I watched it to and fro. I + had not long to wait for my reward; the beautiful candour I expected + between them was not ten minutes in coming. For the sake of it I had taken + some trouble, but when I perceived it revealing I went and sat down beside + Judy’s husband, Robert Harbottle, and talked about Pharaoh’s split hoof. + It was only fair; and when next day I got their impressions of one + another, I felt single-minded and deserving. + </p> + <p> + I knew it would be a satisfactory sort of thing to do, but perhaps it was + rather more for Judy’s sake than for Anna’s that I did it. Mrs. Harbottle + was only twenty-seven then and Robert a major, but he had brought her to + India out of an episode too colour-flushed to tone with English hedges; + their marriage had come, in short, of his divorce, and as too natural a + consequence. In India it is well known that the eye becomes accustomed to + primitive pigments and high lights; the aesthetic consideration, if + nothing else, demanded Robert’s exchange. He was lucky to get a Piffer + regiment, and the Twelfth were lucky to get him; we were all lucky, I + thought, to get Judy. It was an opinion, of course, a good deal + challenged, even in Rawul Pindi, where it was thought, especially in the + beginning, that acquiescence was the most the Harbottles could hope for. + That is not enough in India; cordiality is the common right. I could not + have Judy preserving her atmosphere at our tea-parties and gymkhanas. Not + that there were two minds among us about ‘the case’; it was a preposterous + case, sentimentally undignified, from some points of view deplorable. I + chose to reserve my point of view, from which I saw it, on Judy’s behalf, + merely quixotic, preferring on Robert’s just to close my eyes. There is no + doubt that his first wife was odious to a degree which it is simply + pleasanter not to recount, but her malignity must almost have amounted to + a sense of humour. Her detestation of her cousin Judy Thynne dated much + further back than Robert’s attachment. That began in Paris, where Judy, a + young widow, was developing a real vein at Julian’s. I am entirely + convinced that there was nothing, as people say, ‘in it,’ Judy had not a + thought at that time that was not based on Chinese white and permeated + with good-fellowship; but there was a good deal of it, and no doubt the + turgid imagination of the first Mrs. Harbottle dealt with it honestly + enough. At all events, she saw her opportunity, and the depths of her + indifference to Robert bubbled up venomously into the suit. That it was + undefended was the senseless mystery; decency ordained that he and Judy + should have made a fight, even in the hope that it would be a losing one. + The reason it had to be a losing one—the reason so immensely + criticized—was that the petitioning lady obstinately refused to + bring her action against any other set of circumstances than those to + which, I have no doubt, Judy contributed every indiscretion. It is hard to + imagine Robert Harbottle refusing her any sort of justification that the + law demands short of beating her, but her malice would accept nothing of + which the account did not go for final settlement to Judy Thynne. If her + husband wanted his liberty, he should have it, she declared, at that price + and no other. Major Harbottle did indeed deeply long for his liberty, and + his interesting friend, Mrs. Thynne, had, one can only say, the most vivid + commiseration for his bondage. Whatever chance they had of winning, to win + would be, for the end they had at heart, to lose, so they simply + abstained, as it were, from comment upon the detestable procedure which + terminated in the rule absolute. I have often wondered whether the whole + business would not have been more defensible if there had been on Judy’s + part any emotional spring for the leap they made. I offer my conviction + that there was none, that she was only extravagantly affected by the + ideals of the Quarter—it is a transporting atmosphere—and held + a view of comradeship which permitted the reversal of the modern situation + filled by a blameless correspondent. Robert, of course, was tremendously + in love with her; but my theory is that she married him as the logical + outcome of her sacrifice and by no means the smallest part of it. + </p> + <p> + It was all quite unimaginable, as so many things are, but the upshot of it + brought Judy to Rawul Pindi, as I have said, where I for one thought her + mistake insignificant compared with her value. It would have been great, + her value, anywhere; in the middle of the Punjab it was incalculable. To + explain why would be to explain British India, but I hope it will appear; + and I am quite willing, remember, to take the responsibility if it does + not. + </p> + <p> + Somers Chichele, Anna’s son, it is absurd to think, must have been about + fifteen then, reflecting at Winchester with the other ‘men’ upon the + comparative merits of tinned sardines and jam roll, and whether a packet + of real Egyptians was not worth the sacrifice of either. His father was + colonel of the Twelfth; his mother was still charming. It was the year + before Dick Forsyth came down from the neighbourhood of Sheikhbudin with a + brevet and a good deal of personal damage. I mention him because he proved + Anna’s charm in the only conclusive way before the eyes of us all; and the + station, I remember, was edified to observe that if Mrs. Chichele came out + of the matter ‘straight’—one relapses so easily into the simple + definitions of those parts—which she undoubtedly did, she owed it in + no small degree to Judy Harbottle. This one feels to be hardly a + legitimate reference, but it is something tangible to lay hold upon in + trying to describe the web of volitions which began to weave itself + between the two that afternoon on my veranda and which afterward became so + strong a bond. I was delighted with the thing; its simplicity and + sincerity stood out among our conventional little compromises at + friendship like an ideal. She and Judy had the assurance of one another; + they made upon one another the finest and often the most unconscionable + demands. One met them walking at odd hours in queer places, of which I + imagine they were not much aware. They would turn deliberately off the + Maidan and away from the bandstand to be rid of our irrelevant bows; they + did their duty by the rest of us, but the most egregious among us, the + Deputy-Commissioner for selection, could see that he hardly counted. I + thought I understood, but that may have been my fatuity; certainly when + their husbands inquired what on earth they had been talking of, it usually + transpired that they had found an infinite amount to say about nothing. It + was a little worrying to hear Colonel Chichele and Major Harbottle + describe their wives as ‘pals,’ but the fact could not be denied, and + after all we were in the Punjab. They were pals too, but the terms were + different. + </p> + <p> + People discussed it according to their lights, and girls said in pretty + wonderment that Mrs. Harbottle and Mrs. Chichele were like men, they never + kissed each other. I think Judy prescribed these conditions. Anna was far + more a person who did as the world told her. But it was a poor negation to + describe all that they never did; there was no common little convention of + attachment that did not seem to be tacitly omitted between them. I hope + one did not too cynically observe that they offered these to their + husbands instead; the redeeming observation was their husbands’ complete + satisfaction. This they maintained to the end. In the natural order of + things Robert Harbottle should have paid heavily for interfering as he did + in Paris between a woman and what she was entitled to live for. As a + matter of fact he never paid anything at all; I doubt whether he ever knew + himself a debtor. Judy kept her temperament under like a current and swam + with the tides of the surface, taking refreshing dips only now and then + which one traced in her eyes and her hair when she and Robert came back + from leave. That sort of thing is lost in the sands of India, but it makes + an oasis as it travels, and it sometimes seemed to me a curious pity that + she and Anna should sit in the shade of it together, while Robert and + Peter Chichele, their titular companions, blundered on in the desert. But + after all, if you are born blind—and the men were both immensely + liked, and the shooting was good. + </p> + <p> + Ten years later Somers joined. The Twelfth were at Peshawur. Robert + Harbottle was Lieutenant-Colonel by that time and had the regiment. + Distinction had incrusted, in the Indian way, upon Peter Chichele, its + former colonel; he was General Commanding the District and K.C.B. So we + were all still together in Peshawur. It was great luck for the Chicheles, + Sir Peter’s having the district, though his father’s old regiment would + have made it pleasant enough for the boy in any case. He came to us, I + mean, of course, to two or three of us, with the interest that hangs about + a victim of circumstances; we understood that he wasn’t a ‘born soldier.’ + Anna had told me on the contrary that he was a sacrifice to family + tradition made inevitable by the General’s unfortunate investments. + Bellona’s bridegroom was not a role he fancied, though he would make a + kind of compromise as best man; he would agree, she said, to be a war + correspondent and write picturesque specials for the London halfpenny + press. There was the humour of the poor boy’s despair in it, but she + conveyed it, I remember, in exactly the same tone with which she had said + to me years before that he wanted to drive a milk-cart. She carried quite + her half of the family tradition, though she could talk of sacrifice and + make her eyes wistful, contemplating for Somers the limitations of the + drill-book and the camp of exercise, proclaiming and insisting upon what + she would have done if she could only have chosen for him. Anna Chichele + saw things that way. With more than a passable sense of all that was + involved, if she could have made her son an artist in life or a + commander-in-chief, if she could have given him the seeing eye or Order of + the Star of India, she would not have hesitated for an instant. Judy, with + her single mind, cried out, almost at sight of him, upon them both, I mean + both Anna and Sir Peter. Not that the boy carried his condemnation badly, + or even obviously; I venture that no one noticed it in the mess; but it + was naturally plain to those of us who were under the same. He had put in + his two years with a British regiment at Meerut—they nurse + subalterns that way for the Indian army—and his eyes no longer + played with the tinsel vision of India; they looked instead into the arid + stretch beyond. This preoccupation conveyed to the Surgeon-Major’s wife + the suggestion that Mr. Chichele was the victim of a hopeless attachment. + Mrs. Harbottle made no such mistake; she saw simply, I imagine, the + beginnings of her own hunger and thirst in him, looking back as she told + us across a decade of dusty sunsets to remember them. The decade was + there, close to the memory of all of us; we put, from Judy herself + downward, an absurd amount of confidence in it. + </p> + <p> + She looked so well the night she met him. It was English mail day; she + depended a great deal upon her letters, and I suppose somebody had written + her a word that brought her that happy, still excitement that is the inner + mystery of words. He went straight to her with some speech about his + mother having given him leave, and for twenty minutes she patronized him + on a sofa as his mother would not have dreamed of doing. + </p> + <p> + Anna Chichele, from the other side of the room, smiled on the pair. + </p> + <p> + ‘I depend on you and Judy to be good to him while we are away,’ she said. + She and Sir Peter were going on leave at the end of the week to Scotland, + as usual, for the shooting. + </p> + <p> + Following her glance I felt incapable of the proportion she assigned me. + ‘I will see after his socks with pleasure,’ I said. ‘I think, don’t you, + we may leave the rest to Judy?’ + </p> + <p> + Her eyes remained upon the boy, and I saw the passion rise in them, at + which I turned mine elsewhere. Who can look unperturbed upon such a + privacy of nature as that? + </p> + <p> + ‘Poor old Judy!’ she went on. ‘She never would be bothered with him in all + his dear hobble-dehoy time; she resented his claims, the unreasonable + creature, used to limit me to three anecdotes a week; and now she has him + on her hands, if you like. See the pretty air of deference in the way he + listens to her! He has nice manners, the villain, if he is a Chichele!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, you have improved Sir Peter’s,’ I said kindly. + </p> + <p> + ‘I do hope Judy will think him worth while. I can’t quite expect that he + will be up to her, bless him, she is so much cleverer, isn’t she, than any + of us? But if she will just be herself with him it will make such a + difference.’ + </p> + <p> + The other two crossed the room to us at that, and Judy gaily made Somers + over to his mother, trailing off to find Robert in the billiard-room. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, what has Mrs. Harbottle been telling you?’ Anna asked him. + </p> + <p> + The young man’s eye followed Judy, his hand went musingly to his + moustache. + </p> + <p> + ‘She was telling me,’ he said, ‘that people in India were sepulchers of + themselves, but that now and then one came who could roll away another’s + stone.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It sounds promising,’ said Lady Chichele to me. + </p> + <p> + ‘It sounds cryptic,’ I laughed to Somers, but I saw that he had the key. + </p> + <p> + I can not say that I attended diligently to Mr. Chichele’s socks, but the + part corresponding was freely assigned me. After his people went I saw him + often. He pretended to find qualities in my tea, implied that he found + them in my talk. As a matter of fact it was my inquiring attitude that he + loved, the knowledge that there was no detail that he could give me about + himself, his impressions and experiences, that was unlikely to interest + me. I would not for the world imply that he was egotistical or complacent, + absolutely the reverse, but he possessed an articulate soul which found + its happiness in expression, and I liked to listen. I feel that these are + complicated words to explain a very simple relation, and I pause to wonder + what is left to me if I wished to describe his commerce with Mrs. + Harbottle. Luckily there is an alternative; one needn’t do it. I wish I + had somewhere on paper Judy’s own account of it at this period, however. + It is a thing she would have enjoyed writing and more enjoyed + communicating, at this period. + </p> + <p> + There was a grave reticence in his talk about her which amused me in the + beginning. Mrs. Harbottle had been for ten years important enough to us + all, but her serious significance, the light and the beauty in her, had + plainly been reserved for the discovery of this sensitive and intelligent + person not very long from Sandhurst and exactly twenty-six. I was barely + allowed a familiar reference, and anything approaching a flippancy was met + with penetrating silence. I was almost rebuked for lightly suggesting that + she must occasionally find herself bored in Peshawur. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think not anywhere,’ said Mr. Chichele; ‘Mrs. Harbottle is one of the + few people who sound the privilege of living.’ + </p> + <p> + This to me, who had counted Mrs. Harbottle’s yawns on so many occasions! + It became presently necessary to be careful, tactful, in one’s + implications about Mrs. Harbottle, and to recognize a certain distinction + in the fact that one was the only person with whom Mr. Chichele discussed + her at all. + </p> + <p> + The day came when we talked of Robert; it was bound to come in the + progress of any understanding and affectionate colloquy which had his wife + for inspiration. I was familiar, of course, with Somers’s opinion that the + Colonel was an awfully good sort; that had been among the preliminaries + and become understood as the base of all references. And I liked Robert + Harbottle very well myself. When his adjutant called him a born leader of + men, however, I felt compelled to look at the statement consideringly. + </p> + <p> + ‘In a tight place,’ I said—dear me, what expressions had the freedom + of our little frontier drawing-rooms!—‘I would as soon depend on him + as on anybody. But as for leadership—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He is such a good fellow that nobody here does justice to his soldierly + qualities,’ said Mr. Chichele, ‘except Mrs. Harbottle.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Has she been telling you about them?’ I inquired. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ he hesitated, ‘she told me about the Mulla Nulla affair. She is + rather proud of that. Any woman would be.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Poor dear Judy!’ I mused. + </p> + <p> + Somers said nothing, but looked at me, removing his cigarette, as if my + words would be the better of explanation. + </p> + <p> + ‘She has taken refuge in them—in Bob Harbottle’s soldierly qualities—ever + since she married him,’ I continued. + </p> + <p> + ‘Taken refuge,’ he repeated, coldly, but at my uncompromising glance his + eyes fell. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well?’ I said. + </p> + <p> + ‘You mean—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I mean what I say,’ I laughed. ‘Your cigarette has gone out—have + another.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think her devotion to him splendid.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Quite splendid. Have you seen the things he brought her from the Simla + Art Exhibition? He said they were nice bits of colour, and she has hung + them in the drawing-room, where she will have to look at them every day. + Let us admire her—dear Judy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh,’ he said, with a fine air of detachment, ‘do you think they are so + necessary, those agreements?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ I replied, ‘we see that they are not indispensable. More sugar? I + have only given you one lump. And we know, at all events,’ I added, + unguardedly, ‘that she could never have had an illusion about him.’ + </p> + <p> + The young man looked up quickly. ‘Is that story true?’ he asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘There was a story, but most of us have forgotten it. Who told you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The doctor.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The Surgeon-Major,’ I said, ‘has an accurate memory and a sense of + proportion. As I suppose you were bound to get it from somebody, I am glad + you got it from him.’ + </p> + <p> + I was not prepared to go on, and saw with some relief that Somers was not + either. His silence, as he smoked, seemed to me deliberate; and I had + oddly enough at this moment for the first time the impression that he was + a man and not a boy. Then the Harbottles themselves joined us, very cheery + after a gallop from the Wazir-Bagh. We talked of old times, old + friendships, good swords that were broken, names that had carried far, and + Somers effaced himself in the perfect manner of the British subaltern. It + was a long, pleasant gossip, and I thought Judy seemed rather glad to let + her husband dictate its level, which, of course, he did. I noticed when + the three rode away together that the Colonel was beginning to sit down + rather solidly on his big New Zealander; and I watched the dusk come over + from the foothills for a long time thinking more kindly than I had spoken + of Robert Harbottle. + </p> + <p> + I have often wondered how far happiness is contributed to a temperament + like Judy Harbottle’s, and how far it creates its own; but I doubt + whether, on either count, she found as much in any other winter of her + life except perhaps the remote ones by the Seine. Those ardent hours of + hers, when everything she said was touched with the flame of her + individuality, came oftener; she suddenly cleaned up her palate and began + to translate in one study after another the language of the frontier + country, that spoke only in stones and in shadows under the stones and in + sunlight over them. There is nothing in the Academy of this year, at all + events, that I would exchange for the one she gave me. She lived her + physical life at a pace which carried us all along with her; she hunted + and drove and danced and dined with such sincere intention as convinced us + all that in hunting and driving and dancing and dining there were + satisfactions that had been somehow overlooked. The Surgeon-Major’s wife + said it was delightful to meet Mrs. Harbottle, she seemed to enjoy + everything so thoroughly; the Surgeon-Major looked at her critically and + asked her if she were quite sure she hadn’t a night temperature. He was a + Scotchman. One night Colonel Harbottle, hearing her give away the last + extra, charged her with renewing her youth. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, Bob,’ she said, ‘only imitating it.’ + </p> + <p> + Ah, that question of her youth. It was so near her—still, she told + me once, she heard the beat of its flying, and the pulse in her veins + answered the false signal. That was afterward, when she told the truth. + She was not so happy when she indulged herself otherwise. As when she + asked one to remember that she was a middle-aged woman, with middle-aged + thoughts and satisfactions. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am now really happiest,’ she declared, ‘when the Commissioner takes me + in to dinner, when the General Commanding leads me to the dance.’ + </p> + <p> + She did her best to make it an honest conviction. I offered her a recent + success not crowned by the Academy, and she put it down on the table. ‘By + and by,’ she said. ‘At present I am reading Pascal and Bossuet.’ Well, she + was reading Pascal and Bossuet. She grieved aloud that most of our + activities in India were so indomitably youthful, owing to the accident + that most of us were always so young. ‘There is no dignified distraction + in this country,’ she complained, ‘for respectable ladies nearing forty.’ + She seemed to like to make these declarations in the presence of Somers + Chichele, who would look at her with a little queer smile—a bad + translation, I imagine, of what he felt. + </p> + <p> + She gave herself so generously to her seniors that somebody said Mrs. + Harbottle’s girdle was hung with brass hats. It seems flippant to add that + her complexion was as honest as the day, but the fact is that the year + before Judy had felt compelled, like the rest of us, to repair just a + little the ravages of the climate. If she had never done it one would not + have looked twice at the absurdity when she said of the powder-puff in the + dressing-room, ‘I have raised that thing to the level of an immorality,’ + and sailed in to dance with an uncompromising expression and a face + uncompromised. I have not spoken of her beauty; for one thing it was not + always there, and there were people who would deny it altogether, or whose + considered comment was, ‘I wouldn’t call her plain.’ They, of course, were + people in whom she declined to be interested, but even for those of us who + could evoke some demonstration of her vivid self her face would not always + light in correspondence. When it did there was none that I liked better to + look at; and I envied Somers Chichele his way to make it the pale, shining + thing that would hold him lifted, in return, for hours together, with I + know not what mystic power of a moon upon the tide. And he? Oh, he was + dark and delicate, by nature simple, sincere, delightfully intelligent. + His common title to charm was the rather sweet seriousness that rested on + his upper lip, and a certain winning gratification in his attention; but + he had a subtler one in his eyes, which must be always seeking and smiling + over what they found; those eyes of perpetual inquiry for the exquisite + which ask so little help to create it. A personality to button up in a + uniform, good heavens! + </p> + <p> + As I begin to think of them together I remember how the maternal note + appeared in her talk about him. + </p> + <p> + ‘His youth is pathetic,’ she told me, ‘but there is nothing that he does + not understand.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t apologize, Judy,’ I said. We were so brusque on the frontier. + Besides, the matter still suffered a jocular presentment. Mrs. Harbottle + and Mr. Chichele were still ‘great friends’; we could still put them next + each other at our dinner-parties without the feeling that it would be + ‘marked.’ There was still nothing unusual in the fact that when Mrs. + Harbottle was there Mr. Chichele might be taken for granted. We were so + broad-minded also, on the frontier. + </p> + <p> + It grew more obvious, the maternal note. I began positively to dread it, + almost as much, I imagine, as Somers did. She took her privileges all in + Anna’s name, she exercised her authority quite as Lady Chichele’s proxy. + She went to the very limit. ‘Anna Chichele,’ she said actually in his + presence, ‘is a fortunate woman. She has all kinds of cleverness, and she + has her tall son. I have only one little talent, and I have no tall son.’ + Now it was not in nature that she could have had a son as tall as Somers, + nor was that desire in her eyes. All civilization implies a good deal of + farce, but this was a poor refuge, a cheap device; I was glad when it fell + away from her sincerity, when the day came on which she looked into my + fire and said simply, ‘An attachment like ours has no terms.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wonder,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + ‘For what comes and goes,’ she went on dreamily, ‘how could there be a + formula?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Look here, Judy,’ I said, ‘you know me very well. What if the flesh leaps + with the spirit?’ + </p> + <p> + She looked at me, very white. ‘Oh no,’ she said, ‘no.’ + </p> + <p> + I waited, but there seemed nothing more that she could say; and in the + silence the futile negative seemed to wander round the room repeating + itself like an echo, ‘Oh no, no.’ I poked the fire presently to drown the + sound of it. Judy sat still, with her feet crossed and her hands thrust + into the pockets of her coat, staring into the coals. + </p> + <p> + ‘Can you live independently, satisfied with your interests and + occupations?’ she demanded at last. ‘Yes, I know you can. I can’t. I must + exist more than half in other people. It is what they think and feel that + matters to me, just as much as what I think and feel. The best of life is + in that communication.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It has always been a passion with you, Judy,’ I replied. ‘I can imagine + how much you must miss—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Whom?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Anna Chichele,’ I said softly. + </p> + <p> + She got up and walked about the room, fixing here and there an intent + regard upon things which she did not see. ‘Oh, I do,’ she said at one + point, with the effect of pulling herself together. She took another turn + or two, and then finding herself near the door she went out. I felt as + profoundly humiliated for her as if she had staggered. + </p> + <p> + The next night was one of those that stand out so vividly, for no reason + that one can identify, in one’s memory. We were dining with the + Harbottles, a small party, for a tourist they had with them. Judy and I + and Somers and the traveller had drifted out into the veranda, where the + scent of Japanese lilies came and went on the spring wind to trouble the + souls of any taken unawares. There was a brightness beyond the foothills + where the moon was coming, and I remember how one tall clump swayed out + against it, and seemed in passionate perfume to lay a burden on the + breast. Judy moved away from it and sat clasping her knees on the edge of + the veranda. Somers, when his eyes were not upon her, looked always at the + lily. + </p> + <p> + Even the spirit of the globe-trotter was stirred, and he said, ‘I think + you Anglo-Indians live in a kind of little paradise.’ + </p> + <p> + There was an instant’s silence, and then Judy turned her face into the + lamplight from the drawing-room. ‘With everything but the essentials,’ she + said. + </p> + <p> + We stayed late; Mr. Chichele and ourselves were the last to go. Judy + walked with us along the moonlit drive to the gate, which is so + unnecessary a luxury in India that the servants always leave it open. She + swung the stiff halves together. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now,’ she said, ‘it is shut.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And I,’ said Somers Chichele, softly and quickly, ‘am on the other side.’ + </p> + <p> + Even over that depth she could flash him a smile. ‘It is the business of + my life,’ she gave him in return, ‘to keep this gate shut.’ I felt as if + they had forgotten us. Somers mounted and rode off without a word. We were + walking in a different direction. Looking back, I saw Judy leaning + immovable on the gate, while Somers turned in his saddle, apparently to + repeat the form of lifting his hat. And all about them stretched the + stones of Kabul valley, vague and formless in the tide of the moonlight... + </p> + <p> + Next day a note from Mrs. Harbottle informed me that she had gone to + Bombay for a fortnight. In a postscript she wrote, ‘I shall wait for the + Chicheles there, and come back with them.’ I remember reflecting that if + she could not induce herself to take a passage to England in the ship that + brought them, it seemed the right thing to do. + </p> + <p> + She did come back with them. I met the party at the station. I knew Somers + would meet them, and it seemed to me, so imminent did disaster loom, that + someone else should be there, someone to offer a covering movement or a + flank support wherever it might be most needed. And among all our smiling + faces disaster did come, or the cold premonition of it. We were all + perfect, but Somers’s lip trembled. Deprived for a fortnight he was eager + for the draft, and he was only twenty-six. His lip trembled, and there, + under the flickering station-lamps, suddenly stood that of which there + never could be again any denial, for those of us who saw. + </p> + <p> + Did we make, I wonder, even a pretense of disguising the consternation + that sprang up among us, like an armed thing, ready to kill any further + suggestion of the truth? I don’t know. Anna Chichele’s unfinished sentence + dropped as if someone had given her a blow upon the mouth. Coolies were + piling the luggage into a hired carriage at the edge of the platform. She + walked mechanically after them, and would have stepped in with it but for + the sight of her own gleaming landau drawn up within a yard or two, and + the General waiting. We all got home somehow, taking it with us, and I + gave Lady Chichele twenty-four hours to come to me with her face all one + question and her heart all one fear. She came in twelve. + </p> + <p> + ‘Have you seen it—long?’ Prepared as I was her directness was + demoralizing. + </p> + <p> + ‘It isn’t a mortal disease.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, for Heaven’s sake—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, not with certainty, for more than a month.’ + </p> + <p> + She made a little spasmodic movement with her hands, then dropped them + pitifully. ‘Couldn’t you do ANYthing?’ + </p> + <p> + I looked at her, and she said at once, ‘No, of course you couldn’t.’ + </p> + <p> + For a moment or two I took my share of the heavy sense of it, my trivial + share, which yet was an experience sufficiently exciting. ‘I am afraid it + will have to be faced,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + ‘What will happen?’ Anna cried. ‘Oh, what will happen?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why not the usual thing?’ Lady Chichele looked up quickly as if at a + reminder. ‘The ambiguous attachment of the country,’ I went on, limping + but courageous, ‘half declared, half admitted, that leads vaguely nowhere, + and finally perishes as the man’s life enriches itself—the thing we + have seen so often.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Whatever Judy is capable of it won’t be the usual thing. You know that.’ + </p> + <p> + I had to confess in silence that I did. + </p> + <p> + ‘It flashed at me—the difference in her—in Bombay.’ She + pressed her lips together and then went on unsteadily. ‘In her eyes, her + voice. She was mannered, extravagant, elaborate. With me! All the way up I + wondered and worried. But I never thought—’ She stopped; her voice + simply shook itself into silence. I called a servant. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am going to give you a good stiff peg,’ I said. I apologize for the + ‘peg,’ but not for the whisky and soda. It is a beverage on the frontier, + of which the vulgarity is lost in the value. While it was coming I tried + to talk of other things, but she would only nod absently in the pauses. + </p> + <p> + ‘Last night we dined with him, it was guest night at the mess, and she was + there. I watched her, and she knew it. I don’t know whether she tried, but + anyway, she failed. The covenant between them was written on her forehead + whenever she looked at him, though that was seldom. She dared not look at + him. And the little conversation that they had—you would have + laughed—it was a comedy of stutters. The facile Mrs. Harbottle!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You do well to be angry, naturally,’ I said; ‘but it would be fatal to + let yourself go, Anna.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Angry?’ Oh, I am SICK. The misery of it! The terror of it! If it were + anybody but Judy! Can’t you imagine the passion of a temperament like that + in a woman who has all these years been feeding on herself? I tell you she + will take him from my very arms. And he will go—to I dare not + imagine what catastrophe! Who can prevent it? Who can prevent it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There is you,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + Lady Chichele laughed hysterically. ‘I think you ought to say, “There are + you.” I—what can I do? Do you realize that it’s JUDY? My friend—my + other self? Do you think we can drag all that out of it? Do you think a + tie like that can be broken by an accident—by a misfortune? With it + all I ADORE Judy Harbottle. I love her, as I have always loved her, and—it’s + damnable, but I don’t know whether, whatever happened, I wouldn’t go on + loving her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Finish your peg,’ I said. She was sobbing. + </p> + <p> + ‘Where I blame myself most,’ she went on, ‘is for not seeing in him all + that makes him mature to her—that makes her forget the absurd + difference between them, and take him simply and sincerely as I know she + does, as the contemporary of her soul if not of her body. I saw none of + that. Could I, as his mother? Would he show it to me? I thought him just a + charming boy, clever, too, of course, with nice instincts and well + plucked; we were always proud of that, with his delicate physique. Just a + boy! I haven’t yet stopped thinking how different he looks without his + curls. And I thought she would be just kind and gracious and delightful to + him because he was my son.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There, of course,’ I said, ‘is the only chance.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Where—what?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He is your son.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Would you have me appeal to her? Do you know I don’t think I could?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear me, no. Your case must present itself. It must spring upon her and + grow before her out of your silence, and if you can manage it, your + confidence. There is a great deal, after all, remember, to hold her in + that. I can’t somehow imagine her failing you. Otherwise—’ + </p> + <p> + Lady Chichele and I exchanged a glance of candid admission. + </p> + <p> + ‘Otherwise she would be capable of sacrificing everything—everything. + Of gathering her life into an hour. I know. And do you know if the thing + were less impossible, less grotesque, I should not be so much afraid? I + mean that the ABSOLUTE indefensibility of it might bring her a + recklessness and a momentum which might—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Send her over the verge,’ I said. ‘Well, go home and ask her to dinner.’ + </p> + <p> + There was a good deal more to say, of course, than I have thought proper + to put down here, but before Anna went I saw that she was keyed up to the + heroic part. This was none the less to her credit because it was the only + part, the dictation of a sense of expediency that despaired while it + dictated. The noble thing was her capacity to take it, and, amid all that + warred in her, to carry it out on the brave high lines of her inspiration. + It seemed a literal inspiration, so perfectly calculated that it was hard + not to think sometimes, when one saw them together, that Anna had been + lulled into a simple resumption of the old relation. Then from the least + thing possible—the lift of an eyelid—it flashed upon one that + between these two every moment was dramatic, and one took up the word with + a curious sense of detachment and futility, but with one’s heart beating + like a trip-hammer with the mad excitement of it. The acute thing was the + splendid sincerity of Judy Harbottle’s response. For days she was + profoundly on her guard, then suddenly she seemed to become practically, + vividly aware of what I must go on calling the great chance, and + passionately to fling herself upon it. It was the strangest cooperation + without a word or a sign to show it conscious—a playing together for + stakes that could not be admitted, a thing to hang upon breathless. It was + there between them—the tenable ground of what they were to each + other: they occupied it with almost an equal eye upon the tide that + threatened, while I from my mainland tower also made an anguished + calculation of the chances. I think in spite of the menace, they found + real beatitudes; so keenly did they set about the business that it brought + them moments finer than any they could count in the years that were behind + them, the flat and colourless years that were gone. Once or twice the wild + idea even visited me that it was, after all, the projection of his mother + in Somers that had so seized Judy Harbottle, and that the original was all + that was needed to help the happy process of detachment. Somers himself at + the time was a good deal away on escort duty: they had a clear field. + </p> + <p> + I can not tell exactly when—between Mrs. Harbottle and myself—it + became a matter for reference more or less overt, I mean her defined + problem, the thing that went about between her and the sun. It will be + imagined that it did not come up like the weather; indeed, it was hardly + ever to be envisaged and never to be held; but it was always there, and + out of our joint consciousness it would sometimes leap and pass, without + shape or face. It might slip between two sentences, or it might remain, a + dogging shadow, for an hour. Or a week would go by while, with a strong + hand, she held it out of sight altogether and talked of Anna—always + of Anna. Her eyes shone with the things she told me then: she seemed to + keep herself under the influence of them as if they had the power of + narcotics. At the end of a time like this she turned to me in the door as + she was going and stood silent, as if she could neither go nor stay. I had + been able to make nothing of her that afternoon: she had seemed + preoccupied with the pattern of the carpet which she traced continually + with her riding crop, and finally I, too, had relapsed. She sat haggard, + with the fight forever in her eyes, and the day seemed to sombre about her + in her corner. When she turned in the door, I looked up with sudden + prescience of a crisis. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t jump,’ she said, ‘it was only to tell you that I have persuaded + Robert to apply for furlough. Eighteen months. From the first of April. + Don’t touch me.’ I suppose I made a movement towards her. Certainly I + wanted to throw my arms about her; with the instinct, I suppose, to steady + her in her great resolution. + </p> + <p> + ‘At the end of that time, as you know, he will be retired. I had some + trouble, he is so keen on the regiment, but I think—I have + succeeded. You might mention it to Anna.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Haven’t you?’ sprang past my lips. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t. It would be like taking an oath to tell her, and—I can’t + take an oath to go. But I mean to.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There is nothing to be said,’ I brought out, feeling indeed that there + was not. ‘But I congratulate you, Judy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, there is nothing to be said. And you congratulate me, no doubt!’ + </p> + <p> + She stood for a moment quivering in the isolation she made for herself; + and I felt a primitive angry revolt against the delicate trafficking of + souls that could end in such ravage and disaster. The price was too heavy; + I would have denuded her, at the moment, of all that had led her into + this, and turned her out a clod with fine shoulders like fifty other women + in Peshawur. Then, perhaps, because I held myself silent and remote and + she had no emotion of fear from me, she did not immediately go. + </p> + <p> + ‘It will beat itself away, I suppose, like the rest of the unreasonable + pain of the world,’ she said at last; and that, of course, brought me to + her side. ‘Things will go back to their proportions. This,’ she touched an + open rose, ‘will claim its beauty again. And life will become—perhaps—what + it was before.’ Still I found nothing to say, I could only put my arm in + hers and walk with her to the edge of the veranda where the syce was + holding her horse. She stroked the animal’s neck. ‘Everything in me + answered him,’ she informed me, with the grave intelligence of a patient + who relates a symptom past. As she took the reins she turned to me again. + ‘His spirit came to mine like a homing bird,’ she said, and in her smile + even the pale reflection of happiness was sweet and stirring. It left me + hanging in imagination over the source and the stream, a little blessed in + the mere understanding. + </p> + <p> + Too much blessed for confidence, or any safe feeling that the source was + bound. Rather I saw it leaping over every obstacle, flashing to its + destiny. As I drove to the Club next day I decided that I would not tell + Anna Chichele of Colonel Harbottle’s projected furlough. If to Judy + telling her would be like taking an oath that they would go, to me it + would at least be like assuming sponsorship for their intention. That + would be heavy indeed. From the first of April—we were then in + March. Anna would hear it soon enough from the General, would see it soon + enough, almost, in the ‘Gazette’, when it would have passed into + irrecoverable fact. So I went by her with locked lips, kept out of the way + of those eyes of the mother that asked and asked, and would have seen + clear to any depth, any hiding-place of knowledge like that. As I pulled + up at the Club I saw Colonel Harbottle talking concernedly to the wife of + our Second-in-Command, and was reminded that I had not heard for some days + how Major Watkins was going on. So I, too, approached Mrs. Watkins in her + victoria to ask. Robert Harbottle kindly forestalled her reply. ‘Hard + luck, isn’t it? Watkins has been ordered home at once. Just settled into + their new house, too—last of the kit came up from Calcutta + yesterday, didn’t it, Mrs. Watkins? But it’s sound to go—Peshawur is + the worst hole in Asia to shake off dysentery in.’ + </p> + <p> + We agreed upon this and discussed the sale-list of her new furniture that + Mrs. Watkins would have to send round the station, and considered the + chances of a trooper—to the Watkinses with two children and not a + penny but his pay it did make it easier not to have to go by a liner—and + Colonel Harbottle and I were halfway to the reading-room before the + significance of Major Watkins’s sick-leave flashed upon me. + </p> + <p> + ‘But this,’ I cried, ‘will make a difference to your plans. You won’t—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Be able to ask for that furlough Judy wants. Rather not. I’m afraid she’s + disappointed—she was tremendously set on going—but it doesn’t + matter tuppence to me.’ + </p> + <p> + I sought out Mrs. Harbottle, at the end of the room. She looked radiant; + she sat on the edge of the table and swung a light-hearted heel. She was + talking to people who in themselves were a witness to high spirits, + Captain the Hon. Freddy Gisborne, Mrs. Flamboys. + </p> + <p> + At sight of me her face clouded, fell suddenly into the old weary lines. + It made me feel somehow a little sick; I went back to my cart and drove + home. + </p> + <p> + For more than a week I did not see her except when I met her riding with + Somers Chichele along the peach-bordered road that leads to the + Wazir-Bagh. The trees were all in blossom and made a picture that might + well catch dreaming hearts into a beatitude that would correspond. The air + was full of spring and the scent of violets, those wonderful Peshawur + violets that grow in great clumps, tall and double. Gracious clouds came + and trailed across the frontier barrier; blue as an idyll it rose about + us; the city smiled in her gardens. + </p> + <p> + She had it all in her face, poor Judy, all the spring softness and more, + the morning she came, intensely controlled, to announce her defeat. I was + in the drawing-room doing the flowers; I put them down to look at her. The + wonderful telegram from Simla arrived—that was the wonderful part—at + the same time; I remembered how the red, white, and blue turban of the + telegraph peon bobbed up behind her shoulder in the veranda. I signed and + laid it on the table; I suppose it seemed hardly likely that anything + could be important enough to interfere at the moment with my impression of + what love, unbound and victorious, could do with a face I thought I knew. + Love sat there careless of the issue, full of delight. Love proclaimed + that between him and Judith Harbottle it was all over—she had met + him, alas, in too narrow a place—and I marvelled at the paradox with + which he softened every curve and underlined every vivid note of + personality in token that it had just begun. He sat there in great + serenity, and though I knew that somewhere behind lurked a vanquished + woman, I saw her through such a radiance that I could not be sure of + seeing her at all... + </p> + <p> + She went back to the very first of it; she seemed herself intensely + interested in the facts; and there is no use in pretending that, while she + talked, the moral consideration was at all present with me either; it + wasn’t. Her extremity was the thing that absorbed us; she even, in tender + thoughtfulness, diagnosed it from its definite beautiful beginning. + </p> + <p> + ‘It was there, in my heart, when I woke one morning, exquisite and + strange, the assurance of a gift. How had it come there, while I slept? I + assure you when I closed my eyes it did not exist for me... Yes, of + course, I had seen him, but only somewhere at dinner... As the day went on + it changed—it turned into a clear pool, into a flower. And I—think + of my not understanding! I was pleased with it! For a long time, for days, + I never dreamed that it could be anything but a little secret joy. Then, + suddenly—oh, I had not been perceiving enough!—it was in all + my veins, a tide, an efflorescence, a thing of my very life. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then—it was a little late—I understood, and since— + </p> + <p> + ‘I began by hating it—being furious, furious—and afraid, too. + Sometimes it was like a low cloud, hovering and travelling always with me, + sometimes like a beast of prey that went a little way off and sat looking + at me.... + </p> + <p> + ‘I have—done my best. But there is nothing to do, to kill, to + abolish. How can I say, “I will not let you in,” when it is already there? + How can I assume indifference when this thing is imposed upon every moment + of my day? And it has grown so sweet—the longing—that—isn’t + it strange?—I could more willingly give him up than the desire of + him. That seems as impossible to part with as life itself.’ + </p> + <p> + She sat reflective for a moment, and I saw her eyes slowly fill. + </p> + <p> + Don’t—don’t CRY, Judy,’ I faltered, wanting to horribly, myself. + </p> + <p> + She smiled them dry. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not now. But I am giving myself, I suppose, to many tears.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘God help you,’ I said. What else was there to say? + </p> + <p> + ‘There is no such person,’ she replied, gaily. ‘There is only a blessed + devil.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then you go all the way—to the logical conclusion?’ + </p> + <p> + She hardly hesitated. ‘To the logical conclusion. What poor words!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘May I ask—when?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I should like to tell you that quite definitely, and I think I can. The + English mail leaves tonight.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And you have arranged to take it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We have arranged nothing. Do you know’—she smiled as if at the + fresh colours of an idyll—‘we have not even come to the admission? + There has been between us no word, no vision. Ah, we have gone in bonds, + and dumb! Hours we have had, exquisite hours of the spirit, but never a + moment of the heart, a moment confessed. It was mine to give—that + moment, and he has waited—I know—wondering whether perhaps it + would ever come. And today—we are going for a ride today, and I do + not think we shall come back.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O Judy,’ I cried, catching at her sleeve, ‘he is only a boy!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There were times when I thought that conclusive. Now the misery of it has + gone to sleep; don’t waken it. It pleases me to believe that the years are + a convention. I never had any dignity, you know, and I seem to have missed + the moral deliverance. I only want—oh, you know what I want. Why + don’t you open your telegram?’ + </p> + <p> + I had been folding and fingering the brown envelope as if it had been a + scrap of waste paper. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is probably from Mrs. Watkins about the victoria,’ I said, feeling its + profound irrelevance. ‘I wired an offer to her in Bombay. However’—and + I read the telegram, the little solving telegram from Army Headquarters. I + turned my back on her to read it again, and then I replaced it very + carefully and put it in my pocket. It was a moment to take hold of with + both hands, crying on all one’s gods for steadiness. + </p> + <p> + ‘How white you look!’ said Mrs. Harbottle, with concern. ‘Not bad news?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘On the contrary, excellent news. Judy, will you stay to lunch?’ + </p> + <p> + She looked at me, hesitating. ‘Won’t it seem rather a compromise on your + part? When you ought to be rousing the city—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t intend to rouse the city,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have given you the chance.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you,’ I said, grimly, ‘but the only real favour you can do me is to + stay to lunch.’ It was then just on one. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll stay,’ she said, ‘if you will promise not to make any sort of + effort. I shouldn’t mind, but it would distress you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I promise absolutely,’ I said, and ironical joy rose up in me, and the + telegram burned in my pocket. + </p> + <p> + She would talk of it, though I found it hard to let her go on, knowing and + knowing and knowing as I did that for that day at least it could not be. + There was very little about herself that she wanted to tell me; she was + there confessed a woman whom joy had overcome; it was understood that we + both accepted that situation. But in the details which she asked me to + take charge of it was plain that she also kept a watchful eye upon fate—matters + of business. + </p> + <p> + We were in the drawing-room. The little round clock in its Armritsar case + marked half-past three. Judy put down her coffee cup and rose to go. As + she glanced at the clock the light deepened in her eyes, and I, with her + hand in mine, felt like an agent of the Destroyer—for it was + half-past three—consumed myself with fear lest the blow had + miscarried. Then as we stood, suddenly, the sound of hoofs at a gallop on + the drive, and my husband threw himself off at the door and tore through + the hall to his room; and in the certainty that overwhelmed me even Judy, + for an instant, stood dim and remote. + </p> + <p> + ‘Major Jim seems to be in a hurry,’ said Mrs. Harbottle, lightly. ‘I have + always liked your husband. I wonder whether he will say tomorrow that he + always liked me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear Judy, I don’t think he will be occupied with you tomorrow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, surely, just a little, if I go tonight.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You won’t go tonight.’ + </p> + <p> + She looked at me helplessly. I felt as if I were insisting upon her + abasement instead of her salvation. ‘I wish—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re not going—you’re not! You can’t! Look!’ + </p> + <p> + I pulled it out of my pocket and thrust it at her—the telegram. It + came, against every regulation, from my good friend the Deputy + Adjutant-General, in Simla, and it read, ‘Row Khurram 12th probably + ordered front three hours’ time.’ + </p> + <p> + Her face changed—how my heart leaped to see it change!—and + that took command there which will command trampling, even in the women of + the camp, at news like this. + </p> + <p> + ‘What luck that Bob couldn’t take his furlough!’ she exclaimed, + single-thoughted. ‘But you have known this for hours’—there was even + something of the Colonel’s wife, authority, incisiveness. ‘Why didn’t you + tell me? Ah—I see.’ + </p> + <p> + I stood before her abashed, and that was ridiculous, while she measured me + as if I presented in myself the woman I took her to be. ‘It wasn’t like + that,’ she said. I had to defend myself. ‘Judy,’ I said, ‘if you weren’t + in honour bound to Anna, how could I know that you would be in honour + bound to the regiment? There was a train at three.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I beg to assure you that you have overcalculated,’ said Mrs. Harbottle. + Her eyes were hard and proud. ‘And I am not sure’—a deep red swept + over her face, a man’s blush—‘in the light of this I am not sure + that I am not in honour bound to Anna.’ + </p> + <p> + We had reached the veranda, and at her signal her coachman drove quickly + up. ‘You have kept me here three hours when there was the whole of Bob’s + kit to see to,’ she said, as she flung herself in; ‘you might have thought + of that.’ + </p> + <p> + It was a more than usually tedious campaign, and Colonel Robert Harbottle + was ambushed and shot in a place where one must believe pure boredom + induced him to take his men. The incident was relieved, the newspapers + said—and they are seldom so clever in finding relief for such + incidents—by the dash and courage shown by Lieutenant Chichele, who, + in one of those feats which it has lately been the fashion to criticize, + carried the mortally wounded body of his Colonel out of range at + conspicuous risk of depriving the Queen of another officer. I helped Judy + with her silent packing; she had forgiven me long before that; and she + settled almost at once into the flat in Chelsea which has since been + credited with so delightful an atmosphere, went back straight into her own + world. I have always kept her first letters about it, always shall. For + months after, while the expedition still raged after snipers and + rifle-thieves, I discussed with Lady Chichele the probable outcome of it + all. I have sometimes felt ashamed of leaping as straight as I did with + Anna to what we thought the inevitable. I based no calculation on all Mrs. + Harbottle had gone back to, just as I had based no calculation on her ten + years’ companionship in arms when I kept her from the three o’clock train. + This last was a retrospection in which Anna naturally could not join me; + she never knew, poor dear, how fortunate as to its moment was the campaign + she deplored, and nothing to this day can have disturbed her conviction + that the bond she was at such magnificent pains to strengthen, held + against the strain, as long, happily, as the supreme need existed. ‘How + right you were!’ she often said. ‘She did, after all, love me best, dear, + wonderful Judy!’ Her distress about poor Robert Harbottle was genuine + enough, but one could not be surprised at a certain ambiguity; one tear + for Robert, so to speak, and two for her boy. It could hardly be, for him, + a marriage after his mother’s heart. And she laid down with some emphasis + that Somers was brilliantly entitled to all he was likely to get—which + was natural, too... + </p> + <p> + I had been from the beginning so much ‘in it’ that Anna showed me, a year + later, though I don’t believe she liked doing it, the letter in part of + which Mrs. Harbottle shall finally excuse herself. + </p> + <p> + ‘Somers will give you this,’ I read, ‘and with it take back your son. You + will not find, I know, anything grotesque in the charming enthusiasm with + which he has offered his life to me; you understand too well, you are too + kind. And if you wonder that I can so render up a dear thing which I might + keep and would once have taken, think how sweet in the desert is the pool, + and how barren was the prospect from Balclutha.’ + </p> + <p> + It was like her to abandon in pride a happiness that asked so much less + humiliation; I don’t know why, but it was like her. And of course, when + one thought of it, she had consulted all sorts of high expediencies. But I + sat silent with remembrance, quieting a pang in my heart, trying not to + calculate how much it had cost Judy Harbottle to take her second chance. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> + <div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1168 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ff50bf5 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #1168 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1168) diff --git a/old/1168-0.txt b/old/1168-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..132d659 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1168-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7766 @@ +Project Gutenberg’s The Pool in the Desert, by Sara Jeanette Duncan + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Pool in the Desert + +Author: Sara Jeanette Duncan + +Posting Date: August 26, 2008 [EBook #1168] +Release Date: January, 1998 +Last Updated: November 4, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POOL IN THE DESERT *** + + + + +Produced by Sue Asscher + + + + + +THE POOL IN THE DESERT + +By Sara Jeanette Duncan + + + +Contents + + 1. A Mother in India. + + 2. An Impossible Ideal. + + 3. The Hesitation of Miss Anderson. + + 4. The Pool in the Desert. + + + + +1. A Mother in India + + + +Chapter 1.I + +There were times when we had to go without puddings to pay John’s +uniform bills, and always I did the facings myself with a cloth-ball to +save getting new ones. I would have polished his sword, too, if I had +been allowed; I adored his sword. And once, I remember, we painted and +varnished our own dog-cart, and very smart it looked, to save fifty +rupees. We had nothing but our pay--John had his company when we were +married, but what is that?--and life was made up of small knowing +economies, much more amusing in recollection than in practise. We were +sodden poor, and that is a fact, poor and conscientious, which was +worse. A big fat spider of a money-lender came one day into the veranda +and tempted us--we lived in a hut, but it had a veranda--and John +threatened to report him to the police. Poor when everybody else had +enough to live in the open-handed Indian fashion, that was what made it +so hard; we were alone in our sordid little ways. When the expectation +of Cecily came to us we made out to be delighted, knowing that the whole +station pitied us, and when Cecily came herself, with a swamping burst +of expense, we kept up the pretense splendidly. She was peevish, poor +little thing, and she threatened convulsions from the beginning, but we +both knew that it was abnormal not to love her a great deal, more than +life, immediately and increasingly; and we applied ourselves honestly to +do it, with the thermometer at a hundred and two, and the nurse leaving +at the end of a fortnight because she discovered that I had only six +of everything for the table. To find out a husband’s virtues, you must +marry a poor man. The regiment was under-officered as usual, and John +had to take parade at daylight quite three times a week; but he walked +up and down the veranda with Cecily constantly till two in the morning, +when a little coolness came. I usually lay awake the rest of the +night in fear that a scorpion would drop from the ceiling on her. +Nevertheless, we were of excellent mind towards Cecily; we were in such +terror, not so much of failing in our duty towards her as towards the +ideal standard of mankind. We were very anxious indeed not to come +short. To be found too small for one’s place in nature would have been +odious. We would talk about her for an hour at a time, even when John’s +charger was threatening glanders and I could see his mind perpetually +wandering to the stable. I would say to John that she had brought a new +element into our lives--she had indeed!--and John would reply, ‘I know +what you mean,’ and go on to prophesy that she would ‘bind us together.’ +We didn’t need binding together; we were more to each other, there in +the desolation of that arid frontier outpost, than most husbands and +wives; but it seemed a proper and hopeful thing to believe, so we +believed it. Of course, the real experience would have come, we weren’t +monsters; but fate curtailed the opportunity. She was just five +weeks old when the doctor told us that we must either pack her home +immediately or lose her, and the very next day John went down with +enteric. So Cecily was sent to England with a sergeant’s wife who had +lost her twins, and I settled down under the direction of a native +doctor, to fight for my husband’s life, without ice or proper food, or +sickroom comforts of any sort. Ah! Fort Samila, with the sun glaring up +from the sand!--however, it is a long time ago now. I trusted the baby +willingly to Mrs. Berry and to Providence, and did not fret; my capacity +for worry, I suppose, was completely absorbed. Mrs. Berry’s letter, +describing the child’s improvement on the voyage and safe arrival came, +I remember, the day on which John was allowed his first solid mouthful; +it had been a long siege. ‘Poor little wretch!’ he said when I read it +aloud; and after that Cecily became an episode. + +She had gone to my husband’s people; it was the best arrangement. We +were lucky that it was possible; so many children had to be sent to +strangers and hirelings. Since an unfortunate infant must be brought +into the world and set adrift, the haven of its grandmother and its Aunt +Emma and its Aunt Alice certainly seemed providential. I had absolutely +no cause for anxiety, as I often told people, wondering that I did +not feel a little all the same. Nothing, I knew, could exceed the +conscientious devotion of all three Farnham ladies to the child. She +would appear upon their somewhat barren horizon as a new and interesting +duty, and the small additional income she also represented would be +almost nominal compensation for the care she would receive. They were +excellent persons of the kind that talk about matins and vespers, and +attend both. They helped little charities and gave little teas, +and wrote little notes, and made deprecating allowance for the +eccentricities of their titled or moneyed acquaintances. They were the +subdued, smiling, unimaginatively dressed women on a small definite +income that you meet at every rectory garden-party in the country, a +little snobbish, a little priggish, wholly conventional, but apart from +these weaknesses, sound and simple and dignified, managing their two +small servants with a display of the most exact traditions, and keeping +a somewhat vague and belated but constant eye upon the doings of their +country as chronicled in a bi-weekly paper. They were all immensely +interested in royalty, and would read paragraphs aloud to each other +about how the Princess Beatrice or the Princess Maud had opened a fancy +bazaar, looking remarkably well in plain grey poplin trimmed with Irish +lace--an industry which, as is well known, the Royal Family has set its +heart on rehabilitating. Upon which Mrs. Farnham’s comment invariably +would be, ‘How thoughtful of them, dear!’ and Alice would usually say, +‘Well, if I were a princess, I should like something nicer than plain +grey poplin.’ Alice, being the youngest, was not always expected to +think before she spoke. Alice painted in water-colours, but Emma was +supposed to have the most common sense. + +They took turns in writing to us with the greatest regularity about +Cecily; only once, I think, did they miss the weekly mail, and that was +when she threatened diphtheria and they thought we had better be kept +in ignorance. The kind and affectionate terms of these letters never +altered except with the facts they described--teething, creeping, +measles, cheeks growing round and rosy, all were conveyed in the same +smooth, pat, and proper phrases, so absolutely empty of any glimpse +of the child’s personality that after the first few months it was like +reading about a somewhat uninteresting infant in a book. I was sure +Cecily was not uninteresting, but her chroniclers were. We used to wade +through the long, thin sheets and saw how much more satisfactory it +would be when Cecily could write to us herself. Meanwhile we noted her +weekly progress with much the feeling one would have about a far-away +little bit of property that was giving no trouble and coming on +exceedingly well. We would take possession of Cecily at our convenience; +till then, it was gratifying to hear of our unearned increment in dear +little dimples and sweet little curls. + +She was nearly four when I saw her again. We were home on three months’ +leave; John had just got his first brevet for doing something which he +does not allow me to talk about in the Black Mountain country; and we +were fearfully pleased with ourselves. I remember that excitement lasted +well up to Port Said. As far as the Canal, Cecily was only one of the +pleasures and interests we were going home to: John’s majority was +the thing that really gave savour to life. But the first faint line of +Europe brought my child to my horizon; and all the rest of the way she +kept her place, holding out her little arms to me, beckoning me on. Her +four motherless years brought compunction to my heart and tears to my +eyes; she should have all the compensation that could be. I suddenly +realized how ready I was--how ready!--to have her back. I rebelled +fiercely against John’s decision that we must not take her with us on +our return to the frontier; privately, I resolved to dispute it, and, if +necessary, I saw myself abducting the child--my own child. My days and +nights as the ship crept on were full of a long ache to possess her; the +defrauded tenderness of the last four years rose up in me and sometimes +caught at my throat. I could think and talk and dream of nothing else. +John indulged me as much as was reasonable, and only once betrayed by a +yawn that the subject was not for him endlessly absorbing. Then I cried +and he apologized. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘it isn’t exactly the same +thing. I’m not her mother.’ At which I dried my tears and expanded, +proud and pacified. I was her mother! + +Then the rainy little station and Alice, all-embracing in a damp +waterproof, and the drive in the fly, and John’s mother at the gate and +a necessary pause while I kissed John’s mother. Dear thing, she wanted +to hold our hands and look into our faces and tell us how little we had +changed for all our hardships; and on the way to the house she actually +stopped to point out some alterations in the flower-borders. At last the +drawing-room door and the smiling housemaid turning the handle and the +unforgettable picture of a little girl, a little girl unlike anything we +had imagined, starting bravely to trot across the room with the little +speech that had been taught her. Half-way she came; I suppose our +regards were too fixed, too absorbed, for there she stopped with a +wail of terror at the strange faces, and ran straight back to the +outstretched arms of her Aunt Emma. The most natural thing in the +world, no doubt. I walked over to a chair opposite with my hand-bag and +umbrella and sat down--a spectator, aloof and silent. Aunt Emma fondled +and quieted the child, apologizing for her to me, coaxing her to look +up, but the little figure still shook with sobs, hiding its face in +the bosom that it knew. I smiled politely, like any other stranger, +at Emma’s deprecations, and sat impassive, looking at my alleged baby +breaking her heart at the sight of her mother. It is not amusing even +now to remember the anger that I felt. I did not touch her or speak to +her; I simply sat observing my alien possession, in the frock I had +not made and the sash I had not chosen, being coaxed and kissed and +protected and petted by its Aunt Emma. Presently I asked to be taken to +my room, and there I locked myself in for two atrocious hours. Just once +my heart beat high, when a tiny knock came and a timid, docile little +voice said that tea was ready. But I heard the rustle of a skirt, and +guessed the directing angel in Aunt Emma, and responded, ‘Thank you, +dear, run away and say that I am coming,’ with a pleasant visitor’s +inflection which I was able to sustain for the rest of afternoon. + +‘She goes to bed at seven,’ said Emma. + +‘Oh, does she?’ said I. ‘A very good hour, I should think.’ + +‘She sleeps in my room,’ said Mrs. Farnham. + +‘We give her mutton broth very often, but seldom stock soup,’ said Aunt +Emma. ‘Mamma thinks it is too stimulating.’ + +‘Indeed?’ said I, to all of it. + +They took me up to see her in her crib, and pointed out, as she lay +asleep, that though she had ‘a general look’ of me, her features were +distinctively Farnham. + +‘Won’t you kiss her?’ asked Alice. ‘You haven’t kissed her yet, and she +is used to so much affection.’ + +‘I don’t think I could take such an advantage of her,’ I said. + +They looked at each other, and Mrs. Farnham said that I was plainly worn +out. I mustn’t sit up to prayers. + +If I had been given anything like reasonable time I might have made +a fight for it, but four weeks--it took a month each way in those +days--was too absurdly little; I could do nothing. But I would not +stay at mamma’s. It was more than I would ask of myself, that daily +disappointment under the mask of gratified discovery, for long. + +I spent an approving, unnatural week, in my farcical character, bridling +my resentment and hiding my mortification with pretty phrases; and then +I went up to town and drowned my sorrows in the summer sales. I took +John with me. I may have been Cecily’s mother in theory, but I was +John’s wife in fact. + +We went back to the frontier, and the regiment saw a lot of service. +That meant medals and fun for my husband, but economy and anxiety for +me, though I managed to be allowed as close to the firing line as any +woman. + +Once the Colonel’s wife and I, sitting in Fort Samila, actually heard +the rifles of a punitive expedition cracking on the other side of +the river--that was a bad moment. My man came in after fifteen hours’ +fighting, and went sound asleep, sitting before his food with his knife +and fork in his hands. But service makes heavy demands besides those +on your wife’s nerves. We had saved two thousand rupees, I remember, +against another run home, and it all went like powder, in the Mirzai +expedition; and the run home diminished to a month in a boarding-house +in the hills. + +Meanwhile, however, we had begun to correspond with our daughter, in +large round words of one syllable, behind which, of course, was +plain the patient guiding hand of Aunt Emma. One could hear Aunt Emma +suggesting what would be nice to say, trying to instil a little pale +affection for the far-off papa and mamma. There was so little Cecily and +so much Emma--of course, it could not be otherwise--that I used to take, +I fear, but a perfunctory joy in these letters. When we went home again +I stipulated absolutely that she was to write to us without any sort of +supervision--the child was ten. + +‘But the spelling!’ cried Aunt Emma, with lifted eyebrows. + +‘Her letters aren’t exercises,’ I was obliged to retort; ‘she will do +the best she can.’ + +We found her a docile little girl, with nice manners, a thoroughly +unobjectionable child. I saw quite clearly that I could not have brought +her up so well; indeed, there were moments when I fancied that Cecily, +contrasting me with her aunts, wondered a little what my bringing up +could have been like. With this reserve of criticism on Cecily’s part, +however, we got on very tolerably, largely because I found it impossible +to assume any responsibility towards her, and in moments of doubt or +discipline referred her to her aunts. We spent a pleasant summer with +a little girl in the house whose interest in us was amusing, and whose +outings it was gratifying to arrange; but when we went back, I had no +desire to take her with us. I thought her very much better where she +was. + +Then came the period which is filled, in a subordinate degree, with +Cecily’s letters. I do not wish to claim more than I ought; they were +not my only or even my principal interest in life. It was a long +period; it lasted till she was twenty-one. John had had promotion in the +meantime, and there was rather more money, but he had earned his second +brevet with a bullet through one lung, and the doctors ordered our leave +to be spent in South Africa. We had photographs, we knew she had +grown tall and athletic and comely, and the letters were always very +creditable. I had the unusual and qualified privilege of watching my +daughter’s development from ten to twenty-one, at a distance of +four thousand miles, by means of the written word. I wrote myself as +provocatively as possible; I sought for every string, but the vibration +that came back across the seas to me was always other than the one I +looked for, and sometimes there was none. Nevertheless, Mrs. Farnham +wrote me that Cecily very much valued my communications. Once when I had +described an unusual excursion in a native state, I learned that she +had read my letter aloud to the sewing circle. After that I abandoned +description, and confined myself to such intimate personal details as no +sewing circle could find amusing. The child’s own letters were simply +a mirror of the ideas of the Farnham ladies; that must have been so, +it was not altogether my jaundiced eye. Alice and Emma and grandmamma +paraded the pages in turn. I very early gave up hope of discoveries +in my daughter, though as much of the original as I could detect was +satisfactorily simple and sturdy. I found little things to criticize, +of course, tendencies to correct; and by return post I criticized and +corrected, but the distance and the deliberation seemed to touch my +maxims with a kind of arid frivolity, and sometimes I tore them up. One +quick, warm-blooded scolding would have been worth a sheaf of them. My +studied little phrases could only inoculate her with a dislike for me +without protecting her from anything under the sun. + +However, I found she didn’t dislike me, when John and I went home at +last to bring her out. She received me with just a hint of kindness, +perhaps, but on the whole very well. + + + +Chapter 1.II + +John was recalled, of course, before the end of our furlough, which +knocked various things on the head; but that is the sort of thing one +learned to take with philosophy in any lengthened term of Her Majesty’s +service. Besides, there is usually sugar for the pill; and in this case +it was a Staff command bigger than anything we expected for at least +five years to come. The excitement of it when it was explained to her +gave Cecily a charming colour. She took a good deal of interest in the +General, her papa; I think she had an idea that his distinction would +alleviate the situation in India, however it might present itself. She +accepted that prospective situation calmly; it had been placed before +her all her life. There would always be a time when she should go and +live with papa and mamma in India, and so long as she was of an age to +receive the idea with rebel tears she was assured that papa and mamma +would give her a pony. The pony was no longer added to the prospect; it +was absorbed no doubt in the general list of attractions calculated +to reconcile a young lady to a parental roof with which she had no +practical acquaintance. At all events, when I feared the embarrassment +and dismay of a pathetic parting with darling grandmamma and the +aunties, and the sweet cat and the dear vicar and all the other objects +of affection, I found an agreeable unexpected philosophy. + +I may add that while I anticipated such broken-hearted farewells I +was quite prepared to take them easily. Time, I imagined, had brought +philosophy to me also, equally agreeable and equally unexpected. + +It was a Bombay ship, full of returning Anglo-Indians. I looked up and +down the long saloon tables with a sense of relief and of solace; I +was again among my own people. They belonged to Bengal and to Burma, to +Madras and to the Punjab, but they were all my people. I could pick out +a score that I knew in fact, and there were none that in imagination I +didn’t know. The look of wider seas and skies, the casual experienced +glance, the touch of irony and of tolerance, how well I knew it and how +well I liked it! Dear old England, sitting in our wake, seemed to hold +by comparison a great many soft, unsophisticated people, immensely +occupied about very particular trifles. How difficult it had been, all +the summer, to be interested! These of my long acquaintance belonged to +my country’s Executive, acute, alert, with the marks of travail on them. +Gladly I went in and out of the women’s cabins and listened to the argot +of the men; my own ruling, administering, soldiering little lot. + +Cecily looked at them askance. To her the atmosphere was alien, and I +perceived that gently and privately she registered objections. She +cast a disapproving eye upon the wife of a Conservator of Forests, who +scanned with interest a distant funnel and laid a small wager that it +belonged to the Messageries Maritimes. She looked with a straightened +lip at the crisply stepping women who walked the deck in short and +rather shabby skirts with their hands in their jacket-pockets +talking transfers and promotions; and having got up at six to make +a water-colour sketch of the sunrise, she came to me in profound +indignation to say that she had met a man in his pyjamas; no doubt; poor +wretch, on his way to be shaved. I was unable to convince her he was not +expected to visit the barber in all his clothes. + +At the end of the third day she told me that she wished these people +wouldn’t talk to her; she didn’t like them. I had turned in the hour we +left the Channel and had not left my berth since, so possibly I was not +in the most amiable mood to receive a douche of cold water. ‘I must try +to remember, dear,’ I said, ‘that you have been brought up altogether in +the society of pussies and vicars and elderly ladies, and of course you +miss them. But you must have a little patience. I shall be up tomorrow, +if this beastly sea continues to go down; and then we will try to find +somebody suitable to introduce to you.’ + +‘Thank you, mamma,’ said my daughter, without a ray of suspicion. Then +she added consideringly, ‘Aunt Emma and Aunt Alice do seem quite elderly +ladies beside you, and yet you are older than either of them aren’t you? +I wonder how that is.’ + +It was so innocent, so admirable, that I laughed at my own expense; +while Cecily, doing her hair, considered me gravely. ‘I wish you would +tell me why you laugh, mamma,’ quoth she; ‘you laugh so often.’ + +We had not to wait after all for my good offices of the next morning. +Cecily came down at ten o’clock that night quite happy and excited; she +had been talking to a bishop, such a dear bishop. The bishop had been +showing her his collection of photographs, and she had promised to play +the harmonium for him at the eleven-o’clock service in the morning. +‘Bless me!’ said I, ‘is it Sunday?’ It seemed she had got on very well +indeed with the bishop, who knew the married sister, at Tunbridge, +of her very greatest friend. Cecily herself did not know the married +sister, but that didn’t matter--it was a link. The bishop was charming. +‘Well, my love,’ said I--I was teaching myself to use these forms of +address for fear she would feel an unkind lack of them, but it was +difficult--‘I am glad that somebody from my part of the world has +impressed you favourably at last. I wish we had more bishops.’ + +‘Oh, but my bishop doesn’t belong to your part of the world,’ responded +my daughter sleepily. ‘He is travelling for his health.’ + +It was the most unexpected and delightful thing to be packed into one’s +chair next morning by Dacres Tottenham. As I emerged from the music +saloon after breakfast--Cecily had stayed below to look over her hymns +and consider with her bishop the possibility of an anthem--Dacres’s face +was the first I saw; it simply illuminated, for me, that portion of the +deck. I noticed with pleasure the quick toss of the cigar overboard as +he recognized and bore down upon me. We were immense friends; John liked +him too. He was one of those people who make a tremendous difference; +in all our three hundred passengers there could be no one like him, +certainly no one whom I could be more glad to see. We plunged at once +into immediate personal affairs, we would get at the heart of them +later. He gave his vivid word to everything he had seen and done; +we laughed and exclaimed and were silent in a concert of admirable +understanding. We were still unravelling, still demanding and explaining +when the ship’s bell began to ring for church, and almost simultaneously +Cecily advanced towards us. She had a proper Sunday hat on, with flowers +under the brim, and a church-going frock; she wore gloves and clasped a +prayer-book. Most of the women who filed past to the summons of the bell +were going down as they were, in cotton blouses and serge skirts, in +tweed caps or anything, as to a kind of family prayers. I knew exactly +how they would lean against the pillars of the saloon during the psalms. +This young lady would be little less than a rebuke to them. I surveyed +her approach; she positively walked as if it were Sunday. + +‘My dear,’ I said, ‘how endimanchee you look! The bishop will be very +pleased with you. This gentleman is Mr. Tottenham, who administers +Her Majesty’s pleasure in parts of India about Allahabad. My daughter, +Dacres.’ She was certainly looking very fresh, and her calm grey eyes +had the repose in them that has never known itself to be disturbed about +anything. I wondered whether she bowed so distantly also because it was +Sunday, and then I remembered that Dacres was a young man, and that +the Farnham ladies had probably taught her that it was right to be very +distant with young men. + +‘It is almost eleven, mamma.’ + +‘Yes, dear. I see you are going to church.’ + +‘Are you not coming, mamma?’ + +I was well wrapped up in an extremely comfortable corner. I had ‘La +Duchesse Bleue’ uncut in my lap, and an agreeable person to talk to. I +fear that in any case I should not been inclined to attend the service, +but there was something in my daughter’s intonation that made me +distinctly hostile to the idea. I am putting things down as they were, +extenuating nothing. + +‘I think not, dear.’ + +‘I’ve turned up two such nice seats.’ + +‘Stay, Miss Farnham, and keep us in countenance,’ said Dacres, with +his charming smile. The smile displaced a look of discreet and amused +observation. Dacres had an eye always for a situation, and this one was +even newer to him than to me. + +‘No, no. She must run away and not bully her mamma,’ I said. ‘When she +comes back we will see how much she remembers of the sermon;’ and as +the flat tinkle from the companion began to show signs of diminishing, +Cecily, with one grieved glance, hastened down. + +‘You amazing lady!’ said Dacres. ‘A daughter--and such a tall daughter! +I somehow never--’ + +‘You knew we had one?’ + +‘There was theory of that kind, I remember, about ten years ago. Since +then--excuse me--I don’t think you’ve mentioned her.’ + +‘You talk as if she were a skeleton in the closet!’ + +‘You DIDN’T talk--as if she were.’ + +‘I think she was, in a way, poor child. But the resurrection day hasn’t +confounded me as I deserved. She’s a very good girl.’ + +‘If you had asked me to pick out your daughter--’ + +‘She would have been the last you would indicate! Quite so,’ I said. +‘She is like her father’s people. I can’t help that.’ + +‘I shouldn’t think you would if you could,’ Dacres remarked absently; +but the sea air, perhaps, enabled me to digest his thoughtlessness with +a smile. + +‘No,’ I said, ‘I am just as well pleased. I think a resemblance to me +would confuse me, often.’ + +There was a trace of scrutiny in Dacres’s glance. ‘Don’t you find +yourself in sympathy with her?’ he asked. + +‘My dear boy, I have seen her just twice in twenty-one years! You see, +I’ve always stuck to John.’ + +‘But between mother and daughter--I may be old-fashioned, but I had an +idea that there was an instinct that might be depended on.’ + +‘I am depending on it,’ I said, and let my eyes follow the little blue +waves that chased past the hand-rail. ‘We are making very good speed, +aren’t we? Thirty-five knots since last night at ten. Are you in the +sweep?’ + +‘I never bet on the way out--can’t afford it. Am I old-fashioned?’ he +insisted. + +‘Probably. Men are very slow in changing their philosophy about women. I +fancy their idea of the maternal relation is firmest fixed of all.’ + +‘We see it a beatitude!’ he cried. + +‘I know,’ I said wearily, ‘and you never modify the view.’ + +Dacres contemplated the portion of the deck that lay between us. His +eyes were discreetly lowered, but I saw embarrassment and speculation +and a hint of criticism in them. + +‘Tell me more about it,’ said he. + +‘Oh, for heaven’s sake don’t be sympathetic!’ I exclaimed. ‘Lend me a +little philosophy instead. There is nothing to tell. There she is and +there I am, in the most intimate relation in the world, constituted +when she is twenty-one and I am forty.’ Dacres started slightly at the +ominous word; so little do men realize that the women they like can ever +pass out of the constated years of attraction. ‘I find the young +lady very tolerable, very creditable, very nice. I find the relation +atrocious. There you have it. I would like to break the relation into +pieces,’ I went on recklessly, ‘and throw it into the sea. Such things +should be tempered to one. I should feel it much less if she occupied +another cabin, and would consent to call me Elizabeth or Jane. It is not +as if I had been her mother always. One grows fastidious at forty--new +intimacies are only possible then on a basis of temperament--’ + +I paused; it seemed to me that I was making excuses, and I had not the +least desire in the world to do that. + +‘How awfully rough on the girl!’ said Dacres Tottenham. + +‘That consideration has also occurred to me,’ I said candidly, ‘though I +have perhaps been even more struck by its converse.’ + +‘You had no earthly business to be her mother,’ said my friend, with +irritation. + +I shrugged my shoulders--what would you have done?--and opened ‘La +Duchesse Bleue’. + + + +Chapter 1.III + +Mrs. Morgan, wife of a judge of the High Court of Bombay, and I sat +amidships on the cool side in the Suez Canal. She was outlining ‘Soiled +Linen’ in chain-stitch on a green canvas bag; I was admiring the +Egyptian sands. ‘How charming,’ said I, ‘is this solitary desert in the +endless oasis we are compelled to cross!’ + +‘Oasis in the desert, you mean,’ said Mrs. Morgan; ‘I haven’t noticed +any, but I happened to look up this morning as I was putting on my +stockings, and I saw through my port-hole the most lovely mirage.’ + +I had been at school with Mrs. Morgan more than twenty years agone, but +she had come to the special enjoyment of the dignities of life while I +still liked doing things. Mrs. Morgan was the kind of person to make +one realize how distressing a medium is middle age. Contemplating her +precipitous lap, to which conventional attitudes were certainly more +becoming, I crossed my own knees with energy, and once more resolved to +be young until I was old. + +‘How perfectly delightful for you to be taking Cecily out!’ said Mrs. +Morgan placidly. + +‘Isn’t it?’ I responded, watching the gliding sands. + +‘But she was born in sixty-nine--that makes her twenty-one. Quite time, +I should say.’ + +‘Oh, we couldn’t put it off any longer. I mean--her father has such a +horror of early debuts. He simply would not hear of her coming before.’ + +‘Doesn’t want her to marry in India, I dare say--the only one,’ purred +Mrs. Morgan. + +‘Oh, I don’t know. It isn’t such a bad place. I was brought out there to +marry, and I married. I’ve found it very satisfactory.’ + +‘You always did say exactly what you thought, Helena,’ said Mrs. Morgan +excusingly. + +‘I haven’t much patience with people who bring their daughters out to +give them the chance they never would have in England, and then go about +devoutly hoping they won’t marry in India,’ I said. ‘I shall be very +pleased if Cecily does as well as your girls have done.’ + +‘Mary in the Indian Civil and Jessie in the Imperial Service Troops,’ +sighed Mrs. Morgan complacently. ‘And both, my dear, within a year. It +WAS a blow.’ + +‘Oh, it must have been!’ I said civilly. + +There was no use in bandying words with Emily Morgan. + +‘There is nothing in the world like the satisfaction and pleasure one +takes in one’s daughters,’ Mrs. Morgan went on limpidly. ‘And one can be +in such CLOSE sympathy with one’s girls. I have never regretted having +no sons.’ + +‘Dear me, yes. To watch oneself growing up again--call back the lovely +April of one’s prime, etcetera--to read every thought and anticipate +every wish--there is no more golden privilege in life, dear Emily. +Such a direct and natural avenue for affection, such a wide field for +interest!’ + +I paused, lost in the volume of my admirable sentiments. + +‘How beautifully you talk, Helena! I wish I had the gift.’ + +‘It doesn’t mean very much,’ I said truthfully. + +‘Oh, I think it’s everything! And how companionable a girl is! I quite +envy you, this season, having Cecily constantly with you and taking her +about everywhere. Something quite new for you, isn’t it?’ + +‘Absolutely,’ said I; ‘I am looking forward to it immensely. But it +is likely she will make her own friends, don’t you think?’ I added +anxiously. + +‘Hardly the first season. My girls didn’t. I was practically their only +intimate for months. Don’t be afraid; you won’t be obliged to go shares +in Cecily with anybody for a good long while,’ added Mrs. Morgan kindly. +‘I know just how you feel about THAT.’ + +The muddy water of the Ditch chafed up from under us against its banks +with a smell that enabled me to hide the emotions Mrs. Morgan evoked +behind my handkerchief. The pale desert was pictorial with the drifting, +deepening purple shadows of clouds, and in the midst a blue glimmer of +the Bitter Lakes, with a white sail on them. A little frantic Arab boy +ran alongside keeping pace with the ship. Except for the smell, it was +like a dream, we moved so quietly; on, gently on and on between the +ridgy clay banks and the rows of piles. Peace was on the ship; you could +hear what the Fourth in his white ducks said to the quartermaster in +his blue denims; you could count the strokes of the electric bell in the +wheel-house; peace was on the ship as she pushed on, an ever-venturing, +double-funneled impertinence, through the sands of the ages. My eyes +wandered along a plank-line in the deck till they were arrested by a +petticoat I knew, when they returned of their own accord. I seemed to be +always seeing that petticoat. + +‘I think,’ resumed Mrs. Morgan, whose glance had wandered in the same +direction, ‘that Cecily is a very fine type of our English girls. +With those dark grey eyes, a LITTLE prominent possibly, and that good +colour--it’s rather high now perhaps, but she will lose quite enough +of it in India--and those regular features, she would make a splendid +Britannia. Do you know, I fancy she must have a great deal of character. +Has she?’ + +‘Any amount. And all of it good,’ I responded, with private dejection. + +‘No faults at all?’ chaffed Mrs. Morgan. + +I shook my head. ‘Nothing,’ I said sadly, ‘that I can put my finger on. +But I hope to discover a few later. The sun may bring them out.’ + +‘Like freckles. Well, you are a lucky woman. Mine had plenty, I assure +you. Untidiness was no name for Jessie, and Mary--I’m SORRY to say that +Mary sometimes fibbed.’ + +‘How lovable of her! Cecily’s neatness is a painful example to me, and I +don’t believe she would tell a fib to save my life.’ + +‘Tell me,’ said Mrs. Morgan, as the lunch-bell rang and she gathered her +occupation into her work-basket, ‘who is that talking to her?’ + +‘Oh, an old friend,’ I replied easily; ‘Dacres Tottenham, a dear fellow, +and most benevolent. He is trying on my behalf to reconcile her to the +life she’ll have to lead in India.’ + +‘She won’t need much reconciling, if she’s like most girls,’ observed +Mrs. Morgan, ‘but he seems to be trying very hard.’ + +That was quite the way I took it--on my behalf--for several days. When +people have understood you very adequately for ten years you do not +expect them to boggle at any problem you may present at the end of the +decade. I thought Dacres was moved by a fine sense of compassion. I +thought that with his admirable perception he had put a finger on the +little comedy of fruitfulness in my life that laughed so bitterly at +the tragedy of the barren woman, and was attempting, by delicate +manipulation, to make it easier. I really thought so. Then I observed +that myself had preposterously deceived me, that it wasn’t like that at +all. When Mr. Tottenham joined us, Cecily and me, I saw that he listened +more than he talked, with an ear specially cocked to register any small +irony which might appear in my remarks to my daughter. Naturally he +registered more than there were, to make up perhaps for dear Cecily’s +obviously not registering any. I could see, too, that he was suspicious +of any flavour of kindness; finally, to avoid the strictures of his +upper lip, which really, dear fellow, began to bore me, I talked +exclusively about the distant sails and the Red Sea littoral. When he +no longer joined us as we sat or walked together, I perceived that his +hostility was fixed and his parti pris. He was brimful of compassion, +but it was all for Cecily, none for the situation or for me. (She would +have marvelled, placidly, why he pitied her. I am glad I can say that.) +The primitive man in him rose up as Pope of nature and excommunicated +me as a creature recusant to her functions. Then deliberately Dacres +undertook an office of consolation; and I fell to wondering, while +Mrs. Morgan spoke her convictions plainly out, how far an impulse of +reparation for a misfortune with which he had nothing to do might carry +a man. + +I began to watch the affair with an interest which even to me seemed +queer. It was not detached, but it was semi-detached, and, of course, +on the side for which I seem, in this history, to be perpetually +apologizing. With certain limitations it didn’t matter an atom whom +Cecily married. So that he was sound and decent, with reasonable +prospects, her simple requirements and ours for her would be quite met. +There was the ghost of a consolation in that; one needn’t be anxious or +exacting. + +I could predict with a certain amount of confidence that in her first +season she would probably receive three or four proposals, any one of +which she might accept with as much propriety and satisfaction as any +other one. For Cecily it was so simple; prearranged by nature like her +digestion, one could not see any logical basis for difficulties. A nice +upstanding sapper, a dashing Bengal Lancer--oh, I could think of half +a dozen types that would answer excellently. She was the kind of young +person, and that was the summing up of it, to marry a type and be +typically happy. I hoped and expected that she would. But Dacres! + +Dacres should exercise the greatest possible discretion. He was not +a person who could throw the dice indifferently with fate. He could +respond to so much, and he would inevitably, sooner or later, demand so +much response! He was governed by a preposterously exacting temperament, +and he wore his nerves outside. And what vision he had! How he explored +the world he lived in and drew out of it all there was, all there was! +I could see him in the years to come ranging alone the fields that were +sweet and the horizons that lifted for him, and ever returning to pace +the common dusty mortal road by the side of a purblind wife. On general +principles, as a case to point at, it would be a conspicuous pity. Nor +would it lack the aspect of a particular, a personal misfortune. Dacres +was occupied in quite the natural normal degree with his charming self; +he would pass his misery on, and who would deserve to escape it less +than his mother-in-law? + +I listened to Emily Morgan, who gleaned in the ship more information +about Dacres Tottenham’s people, pay, and prospects than I had ever +acquired, and I kept an eye upon the pair which was, I flattered myself, +quite maternal. I watched them without acute anxiety, deploring the +threatening destiny, but hardly nearer to it than one is in the stalls +to the stage. My moments of real concern for Dacres were mingled more +with anger than with sorrow--it seemed inexcusable that he, with his +infallible divining-rod for temperament, should be on the point of +making such an ass of himself. Though I talk of the stage there was +nothing at all dramatic to reward my attention, mine and Emily Morgan’s. +To my imagination, excited by its idea of what Dacres Tottenham’s +courtship ought to be, the attentions he paid to Cecily were most +humdrum. He threw rings into buckets with her--she was good at that--and +quoits upon the ‘bull’ board; he found her chair after the decks were +swabbed in the morning and established her in it; he paced the deck with +her at convenient times and seasons. They were humdrum, but they were +constant and cumulative. Cecily took them with an even breath that +perfectly matched. There was hardly anything, on her part, to note--a +little discreet observation of his comings and goings, eyes scarcely +lifted from her book, and later just a hint of proprietorship, as the +evening she came up to me on deck, our first night in the Indian +Ocean. I was lying in my long chair looking at the thick, low stars and +thinking it was a long time since I had seen John. + +‘Dearest mamma, out here and nothing over your shoulders! You ARE +imprudent. Where is your wrap? Mr. Tottenham, will you please fetch +mamma’s wrap for her?’ + +‘If mamma so instructs me,’ he said audaciously. + +‘Do as Cecily tells you,’ I laughed, and he went and did it, while I by +the light of a quartermaster’s lantern distinctly saw my daughter blush. + +Another time, when Cecily came down to undress, she bent over me as I +lay in the lower berth with unusual solicitude. I had been dozing, and I +jumped. + +‘What is it, child?’ I said. ‘Is the ship on fire?’ + +‘No, mamma, the ship is not on fire. There is nothing wrong. I’m so +sorry I startled you. But Mr. Tottenham has been telling me all about +what you did for the soldiers the time plague broke out in the lines at +Mian-Mir. I think it was splendid, mamma, and so does he.’ + +‘Oh, Lord!’ I groaned. ‘Good night.’ + + + +Chapter 1.IV. + +It remained in my mind, that little thing that Dacres had taken the +trouble to tell my daughter; I thought about it a good deal. It seemed +to me the most serious and convincing circumstances that had yet offered +itself to my consideration. Dacres was no longer content to bring solace +and support to the more appealing figure of the situation; he must set +to work, bless him! to improve the situation itself. He must try to +induce Miss Farnham, by telling her everything he could remember to +my credit, to think as well of her mother as possible, in spite of the +strange and secret blows which that mother might be supposed to sit +up at night to deliver to her. Cecily thought very well of me already; +indeed, with private reservations as to my manners and--no, NOT my +morals, I believe I exceeded her expectations of what a perfectly new +and untrained mother would be likely to prove. It was my theory that she +found me all she could understand me to be. The maternal virtues of the +outside were certainly mine; I put them on with care every morning and +wore them with patience all day. Dacres, I assured myself, must have +allowed his preconception to lead him absurdly by the nose not to see +that the girl was satisfied, that my impatience, my impotence, did +not at all make her miserable. Evidently, however, he had created +our relations differently; evidently he had set himself to their +amelioration. There was portent in it; things seemed to be closing in. I +bit off a quarter of an inch of wooden pen-handle in considering whether +or not I should mention it in my letter to John, and decided that it +would be better just perhaps to drop a hint. Though I could not expect +John to receive it with any sort of perturbation. Men are different; he +would probably think Tottenham well enough able to look after himself. + +I had embarked on my letter, there at the end of a corner-table of the +saloon, when I saw Dacres saunter through. He wore a very conscious +and elaborately purposeless air; and it jumped with my mood that he had +nothing less than the crisis of his life in his pocket, and was looking +for me. As he advanced towards me between the long tables doubt left me +and alarm assailed me. ‘I’m glad to find you in a quiet corner,’ said +he, seating himself, and confirmed my worst anticipations. + +‘I’m writing to John,’ I said, and again applied myself to my +pen-handle. It is a trick Cecily has since done her best in vain to cure +me of. + +‘I am going to interrupt you,’ he said. ‘I have not had an opportunity +of talking to you for some time.’ + +‘I like that!’ I exclaimed derisively. + +‘And I want to tell you that I am very much charmed with Cecily.’ + +‘Well,’ I said, ‘I am not going to gratify you by saying anything +against her.’ + +‘You don’t deserve her, you know.’ + +‘I won’t dispute that. But, if you don’t mind--I’m not sure that I’ll +stand being abused, dear boy.’ + +‘I quite see it isn’t any use. Though one spoke with the tongues of men +and of angels--’ + +‘And had not charity,’ I continued for him. ‘Precisely. I won’t go on, +but your quotation is very apt.’ + +‘I so bow down before her simplicity. It makes a wide and beautiful +margin for the rest of her character. She is a girl Ruskin would have +loved.’ + +‘I wonder,’ said I. ‘He did seem fond of the simple type, didn’t he?’ + +‘Her mind is so clear, so transparent. The motive spring of everything +she says and does is so direct. Don’t you find you can most completely +depend upon her?’ + +‘Oh yes,’ I said; ‘certainly. I nearly always know what she is going +to say before she says it, and under given circumstances I can tell +precisely what she will do.’ + +‘I fancy her sense of duty is very beautifully developed.’ + +‘It is,’ I said. ‘There is hardly a day when I do not come in contact +with it.’ + +‘Well, that is surely a good thing. And I find that calm poise of hers +very restful.’ + +‘I would not have believed that so many virtues could reside in one +young lady,’ I said, taking refuge in flippancy, ‘and to think that she +should be my daughter!’ + +‘As I believe you know, that seems to me rather a cruel stroke of +destiny, Mrs. Farnham.’ + +‘Oh yes, I know! You have a constructive imagination, Dacres. You +don’t seem to see that the girl is protected by her limitations, like a +tortoise. She lives within them quite secure and happy and content. How +determined you are to be sorry for her!’ + +Mr. Tottenham looked at the end of this lively exchange as though he +sought for a polite way of conveying to me that I rather was the limited +person. He looked as if he wished he could say things. The first of them +would be, I saw, that he had quite a different conception of Cecily, +that it was illuminated by many trifles, nuances of feeling and +expression, which he had noticed in his talks with her whenever they had +skirted the subject of her adoption by her mother. He knew her, he was +longing to say, better than I did; when it would have been natural to +reply that one could not hope to compete in such a direction with an +intelligent young man, and we should at once have been upon delicate and +difficult ground. So it was as well perhaps that he kept silence until +he said, as he had come prepared to say, ‘Well, I want to put that +beyond a doubt--her happiness--if I’m good enough. I want her, please, +and I only hope that she will be half as willing to come as you are +likely to be to let her go.’ + +It was a shock when it came, plump, like that; and I was horrified to +feel how completely every other consideration was lost for the instant +in the immense relief that it prefigured. To be my whole complete self +again, without the feeling that a fraction of me was masquerading about +in Cecily! To be freed at once, or almost, from an exacting condition +and an impossible ideal! ‘Oh!’ I exclaimed, and my eyes positively +filled. ‘You ARE good, Dacres, but I couldn’t let you do that.’ + +His undisguised stare brought me back to a sense of the proportion of +things. I saw that in the combination of influences that had brought Mr. +Tottenham to the point of proposing to marry my daughter consideration +for me, if it had a place, would be fantastic. Inwardly I laughed at the +egotism of raw nerves that had conjured it up, even for an instant, as +a reason for gratitude. The situation was not so peculiar, not so +interesting, as that. But I answered his stare with a smile; what I had +said might very well stand. + +‘Do you imagine,’ he said, seeing that I did not mean to amplify it, +‘that I want to marry her out of any sort of GOODness?’ + +‘Benevolence is your weakness, Dacres.’ + +‘I see. You think one’s motive is to withdraw her from a relation +which ought to be the most natural in the world, but which is, in her +particular and painful case, the most equivocal.’ + +‘Well, come,’ I remonstrated. ‘You have dropped one or two things, you +know, in the heat of your indignation, not badly calculated to give one +that idea. The eloquent statement you have just made, for instance--it +carries all the patness of old conviction. How often have you rehearsed +it?’ + +I am a fairly long-suffering person, but I began to feel a little +annoyed with my would-be son-in-law. If the relation were achieved it +would give him no prescriptive right to bully me; and we were still in +very early anticipation of that. + +‘Ah!’ he said disarmingly. ‘Don’t let us quarrel. I’m sorry you think +that; because it isn’t likely to bring your favour to my project, and +I want you friendly and helpful. Oh, confound it!’ he exclaimed, with +sudden temper. ‘You ought to be. I don’t understand this aloofness. +I half suspect it’s pose. You undervalue Cecily--well, you have no +business to undervalue me. You know me better than anybody in the world. +Now are you going to help me to marry your daughter?’ + +‘I don’t think so,’ I said slowly, after a moment’s silence, which he +sat through like a mutinous schoolboy. ‘I might tell you that I don’t +care a button whom you marry, but that would not be true. I do care more +or less. As you say, I know you pretty well. I’d a little rather you +didn’t make a mess of it; and if you must I should distinctly prefer +not to have the spectacle under my nose for the rest of my life. I can’t +hinder you, but I won’t help you.’ + +‘And what possesses you to imagine that in marrying Cecily I should make +a mess of it? Shouldn’t your first consideration be whether SHE would?’ + +‘Perhaps it should, but, you see, it isn’t. Cecily would be happy with +anybody who made her comfortable. You would ask a good deal more than +that, you know.’ + +Dacres, at this, took me up promptly. Life, he said, the heart of life, +had particularly little to say to temperament. By the heart of life I +suppose he meant married love. He explained that its roots asked other +sustenance, and that it throve best of all on simple elemental goodness. +So long as a man sought in women mere casual companionship, perhaps +the most exquisite thing to be experienced was the stimulus of some +spiritual feminine counterpart; but when he desired of one woman that +she should be always and intimately with him, the background of his +life, the mother of his children, he was better advised to avoid +nerves and sensibilities, and try for the repose of the common--the +uncommon--domestic virtues. Ah, he said, they were sweet, like lavender. +(Already, I told him, he smelled the housekeeper’s linen-chest.) But +I did not interrupt him much; I couldn’t, he was too absorbed. To +temperamental pairing, he declared, the century owed its breed of +decadents. I asked him if he had ever really recognized one; and he +retorted that if he hadn’t he didn’t wish to make a beginning in his +own family. In a quarter of an hour he repudiated the theories of a +lifetime, a gratifying triumph for simple elemental goodness. Having +denied the value of the subtler pretensions to charm in woman as you +marry her, he went artlessly on to endow Cecily with as many of them as +could possibly be desirable. He actually persuaded himself to say that +it was lovely to see the reflections of life in her tranquil spirit; +and when I looked at him incredulously he grew angry, and hinted that +Cecily’s sensitiveness to reflections and other things might be a trifle +beyond her mother’s ken. ‘She responds instantly, intimately, to the +beautiful everywhere,’ he declared. + +‘Aren’t the opportunities of life on board ship rather limited to +demonstrate that?’ I inquired. ‘I know--you mean sunsets. Cecily is very +fond of sunsets. She is always asking me to come and look at them.’ + +‘I was thinking of last night’s sunset,’ he confessed. ‘We looked at it +together.’ + +‘What did she say?’ I asked idly. + +‘Nothing very much. That’s just the point. Another girl would have raved +and gushed.’ + +‘Oh, well, Cecily never does that,’ I responded. ‘Nevertheless she is +a very ordinary human instrument. I hope I shall have no temptation ten +years hence to remind you that I warned you of her quality.’ + +‘I wish, not in the least for my own profit, for I am well convinced +already, but simply to win your cordiality and your approval--never did +an unexceptional wooer receive such niggard encouragement!--I wish there +were some sort of test for her quality. I would be proud to stand by it, +and you would be convinced. I can’t find words to describe my objection +to your state of mind.’ + +The thing seemed to me to be a foregone conclusion. I saw it +accomplished, with all its possibilities of disastrous commonplace. I +saw all that I have here taken the trouble to foreshadow. So far as +I was concerned, Dacres’s burden would add itself to my philosophies, +voila tout. I should always be a little uncomfortable about it, because +it had been taken from my back; but it would not be a matter for the +wringing of hands. And yet--the hatefulness of the mistake! Dacres’s +bold talk of a test made no suggestion. Should my invention be more +fertile? I thought of something. + +‘You have said nothing to her yet?’ I asked. + +‘Nothing. I don’t think she suspects for a moment. She treats me as if +no such fell design were possible. I’m none too confident, you know,’ he +added, with longer face. + +‘We go straight to Agra. Could you come to Agra?’ + +‘Ideal!’ he cried. ‘The memory of Mumtaz! The garden of the Taj! I’ve +always wanted to love under the same moon as Shah Jehan. How thoughtful +of you!’ + +‘You must spend a few days with us in Agra,’ I continued. ‘And as you +say, it is the very place to shrine your happiness, if it comes to pass +there.’ + +‘Well, I am glad to have extracted a word of kindness from you at last,’ +said Dacres, as the stewards came to lay the table. ‘But I wish,’ he +added regretfully, ‘you could have thought of a test.’ + + + +Chapter 1.V. + +Four days later we were in Agra. A time there was when the name would +have been the key of dreams to me; now it stood for John’s headquarters. +I was rejoiced to think I would look again upon the Taj; and the +prospect of living with it was a real enchantment; but I pondered most +the kind of house that would be provided for the General Commanding the +District, how many the dining-room would seat, and whether it would +have a roof of thatch or of corrugated iron--I prayed against corrugated +iron. I confess these my preoccupations. I was forty, and at forty the +practical considerations of life hold their own even against domes of +marble, world-renowned, and set about with gardens where the bulbul +sings to the rose. I smiled across the years at the raptures of my first +vision of the place at twenty-one, just Cecily’s age. Would I now sit +under Arjamand’s cypresses till two o’clock in the morning to see the +wonder of her tomb at a particular angle of the moon? Would I climb one +of her tall white ministering minarets to see anything whatever? I very +greatly feared that I would not. Alas for the aging of sentiment, of +interest! Keep your touch with life and your seat in the saddle as +long as you will, the world is no new toy at forty. But Cecily was +twenty-one, Cecily who sat stolidly finishing her lunch while Dacres +Tottenham talked about Akbar and his philosophy. ‘The sort of man,’ he +said, ‘that Carlyle might have smoked a pipe with.’ + +‘But surely,’ said Cecily reflectively, ‘tobacco was not discovered in +England then. Akbar came to the throne in 1526.’ + +‘Nor Carlyle either for that matter,’ I hastened to observe. +‘Nevertheless, I think Mr. Tottenham’s proposition must stand.’ + +‘Thanks, Mrs. Farnham,’ said Dacres. ‘But imagine Miss Farnham’s +remembering Akbar’s date! I’m sure you didn’t!’ + +‘Let us hope she doesn’t know too much about him,’ I cried gaily, ‘or +there will be nothing to tell!’ + +‘Oh, really and truly very little!’ said Cecily, ‘but as soon as we +heard papa would be stationed here Aunt Emma made me read up about those +old Moguls and people. I think I remember the dynasty. Baber, wasn’t he +the first? And then Humayon, and after him Akbar, and then Jehangir, and +then Shah Jehan. But I’ve forgotten every date but Akbar’s.’ + +She smiled her smile of brilliant health and even spirits as she made +the damaging admission, and she was so good to look at, sitting there +simple and wholesome and fresh, peeling her banana with her well-shaped +fingers, that we swallowed the dynasty as it were whole, and smiled back +upon her. John, I may say, was extremely pleased with Cecily; he +said she was a very satisfactory human accomplishment. One would +have thought, positively, the way he plumed himself over his handsome +daughter, that he alone was responsible for her. But John, having +received his family, straightway set off with his Staff on a tour of +inspection, and thereby takes himself out of this history. I sometimes +think that if he had stayed--but there has never been the lightest +recrimination between us about it, and I am not going to hint one now. + +‘Did you read,’ asked Dacres, ‘what he and the Court poet wrote over the +entrance gate to the big mosque at Fattehpur-Sikri? It’s rather nice. +“The world is a looking-glass, wherein the image has come and is +gone--take as thine own nothing more than what thou lookest upon.”’ + +My daughter’s thoughtful gaze was, of course, fixed upon the speaker, +and in his own glance I saw a sudden ray of consciousness; but Cecily +transferred her eyes to the opposite wall, deeply considering, and while +Dacres and I smiled across the table, I saw that she had perceived no +reason for blushing. It was a singularly narrow escape. + +‘No,’ she said, ‘I didn’t; what a curious proverb for an emperor to +make! He couldn’t possibly have been able to see all his possessions at +once.’ + +‘If you have finished,’ Dacres addressed her, ‘do let me show you what +your plain and immediate duty is to the garden. The garden waits for +you--all the roses expectant--’ + +‘Why, there isn’t one!’ cried Cecily, pinning on her hat. It was +pleasing, and just a trifle pathetic, the way he hurried her out of the +scope of any little dart; he would not have her even within range of +amused observation. Would he continue, I wondered vaguely, as, with my +elbows on the table, I tore into strips the lemon-leaf that floated in +my finger-bowl--would he continue, through life, to shelter her from his +other clever friends as now he attempted to shelter her from her mother? +In that case he would have to domicile her, poor dear, behind the +curtain, like the native ladies--a good price to pay for a protection +of which, bless her heart! she would be all unaware. I had quite stopped +bemoaning the affair; perhaps the comments of my husband, who treated +it with broad approval and satisfaction, did something to soothe my +sensibilities. At all events, I had gradually come to occupy a high +fatalistic ground towards the pair. If it was written upon their +foreheads that they should marry, the inscription was none of mine; +and, of course, it was true, as John had indignantly stated, that +Dacres might do very much worse. One’s interest in Dacres Tottenham’s +problematical future had in no way diminished; but the young man was so +positive, so full of intention, so disinclined to discussion--he had +not reopened the subject since that morning in the saloon of the +Caledonia--that one’s feeling about it rather took the attenuated form +of a shrug. I am afraid, too, that the pleasurable excitement of such +an impending event had a little supervened; even at forty there is no +disallowing the natural interests of one’s sex. As I sat there pulling +my lemon-leaf to pieces, I should not have been surprised or in the +least put about if the two had returned radiant from the lawn to demand +my blessing. As to the test of quality that I had obligingly invented +for Dacres on the spur of the moment without his knowledge or +connivance, it had some time ago faded into what he apprehended it to +be--a mere idyllic opportunity, a charming background, a frame for his +project, of prettier sentiment than the funnels and the hand-rails of a +ship. + +Mr. Tottenham had ten days to spend with us. He knew the place well; +it belonged to the province to whose service he was dedicated, and he +claimed with impressive authority the privilege of showing it to Cecily +by degrees--the Hall of Audience today, the Jessamine Tower tomorrow, +the tomb of Akbar another, and the Deserted City yet another day. We +arranged the expeditions in conference, Dacres insisting only upon the +order of them, which I saw was to be cumulative, with the Taj at the +very end, on the night precisely of the full of the moon, with a better +chance of roses. I had no special views, but Cecily contributed some; +that we should do the Hall of Audience in the morning, so as not to +interfere with the club tennis in the afternoon, that we should bicycle +to Akbar’s tomb and take a cold luncheon--if we were sure there would +be no snakes--to the Deserted City, to all of which Dacres gave loyal +assent. I endorsed everything; I was the encouraging chorus, only +stipulating that my number should be swelled from day to day by the +addition of such persons as I should approve. Cecily, for instance, +wanted to invite the Bakewells because we had come out in the same ship +with them; but I could not endure the Bakewells, and it seemed to me +that our having made the voyage with them was the best possible reason +for declining to lay eyes on them for the rest of our natural lives. +‘Mamma has such strong prejudices,’ Cecily remarked, as she reluctantly +gave up the idea; and I waited to see whether the graceless Tottenham +would unmurmuringly take down the Bakewells. How strong must be the +sentiment that turns a man into a boa-constrictor without a pang of +transmigration! But no, this time he was faithful to the principles of +his pre-Cecilian existence. ‘They are rather Boojums,’ he declared. +‘You would think so, too, if you knew them better. It is that kind of +excellent person that makes the real burden of India.’ I could have +patted him on the back. + +Thanks to the rest of the chorus, which proved abundantly available, +I was no immediate witness to Cecily’s introduction to the glorious +fragments which sustain in Agra the memory of the moguls. I may as well +say that I arranged with care that if anybody must be standing by when +Dacres disclosed them, it should not be I. If Cecily had squinted, +I should have been sorry, but I would have found in it no personal +humiliation. There were other imperfections of vision, however, for +which I felt responsible and ashamed; and with Dacres, though the +situation, Heaven knows, was none of my seeking, I had a little the +feeling of a dealer who offers a defective bibelot to a connoisseur. My +charming daughter--I was fifty times congratulated upon her appearance +and her manners--had many excellent qualities and capacities which she +never inherited from me; but she could see no more than the bulk, no +further than the perspective; she could register exactly as much as a +camera. + +This was a curious thing, perhaps, to displease my maternal vanity, but +it did; I had really rather she squinted; and when there was anything to +look at I kept out of the way. I can not tell precisely, therefore, what +the incidents were that contributed to make Mr. Tottenham, on our return +from these expeditions, so thoughtful, with a thoughtfulness which +increased, towards the end of them, to a positive gravity. This would +disappear during dinner under the influence of food and drink. He +would talk nightly with new enthusiasm and fresh hope--or did I imagine +it?--of the loveliness he had arranged to reveal on the following day. +If again my imagination did not lead me astray, I fancied this occurred +later and later in the course of the meal as the week went on; as if +his state required more stimulus as time progressed. One evening, when +I expected it to flag altogether, I had a whim to order champagne and +observe the effect; but I am glad to say that I reproved myself, and +refrained. + +Cecily, meanwhile, was conducting herself in a manner which left nothing +to be desired. If, as I sometimes thought, she took Dacres very much for +granted, she took him calmly for granted; she seemed a prey to none of +those fluttering uncertainties, those suspended judgments and elaborate +indifferences which translate themselves so plainly in a young lady +receiving addresses. She turned herself out very freshly and very well; +she was always ready for everything, and I am sure that no glance of +Dacres Tottenham’s found aught but direct and decorous response. His +society on these occasions gave her solid pleasure; so did the drive and +the lunch; the satisfactions were apparently upon the same plane. She +was aware of the plum, if I may be permitted a brusque but irresistible +simile; and with her mouth open, her eyes modestly closed, and her head +in a convenient position, she waited, placidly, until it should fall in. +The Farnham ladies would have been delighted with the result of their +labours in the sweet reason and eminent propriety of this attitude. +Thinking of my idiotic sufferings when John began to fix himself upon my +horizon, I pondered profoundly the power of nature in differentiation. + +One evening, the last, I think, but one, I had occasion to go to my +daughter’s room, and found her writing in her commonplace-book. She had +a commonplace-book, as well as a Where Is It? an engagement-book, an +account-book, a diary, a Daily Sunshine, and others with purposes too +various to remember. ‘Dearest mamma,’ she said, as I was departing, +‘there is only one “p” in “opulence”, isn’t there?’ + +‘Yes,’ I replied, with my hand on the door-handle, and added curiously, +for it was an odd word in Cecily’s mouth, ‘Why?’ + +She hardly hesitated. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘I am just writing down one or two +things Mr. Tottenham said about Agra before I forget them. They seemed +so true.’ + +‘He has a descriptive touch,’ I remarked. + +‘I think he describes beautifully. Would you like to hear what he said +today?’ + +‘I would,’ I replied, sincerely. + +‘“Agra,”’ read this astonishing young lady, ‘“is India’s one pure idyll. +Elsewhere she offers other things, foolish opulence, tawdry pageant, +treachery of eunuchs and jealousies of harems, thefts of kings’ jewels +and barbaric retributions; but they are all actual, visualized, or +part of a past that shows to the backward glance hardly more relief +and vitality than a Persian painting”--I should like to see a Persian +painting--“but here the immortal tombs and pleasure-houses rise out of +colour delicate and subtle; the vision holds across three hundred years; +the print of the court is still in the dust of the city.”’ + +‘Did you really let him go on like that?’ I exclaimed. ‘It has the +license of a lecture!’ + +‘I encouraged him to. Of course he didn’t say it straight off. He said +it naturally; he stopped now and then to cough. I didn’t understand it +all; but I think I have remembered every word.’ + +‘You have a remarkable memory. I’m glad he stopped to cough. Is there +any more?’ + +‘One little bit. “Here the moguls wrought their passions into marble, +and held them up with great refrains from their religion, and set them +about with gardens; and here they stand in the twilight of the glory of +those kings and the noonday splendour of their own.”’ + +‘How clever of you!’ I exclaimed. ‘How wonderfully clever of you to +remember!’ + +‘I had to ask him to repeat one or two sentences. He didn’t like that. +But this is nothing. I used to learn pages letter-perfect for Aunt Emma. +She was very particular. I think it is worth preserving, don’t you?’ + +‘Dear Cecily,’ I responded, ‘you have a frugal mind.’ + +There was nothing else to respond. I could not tell her just how +practical I thought her, or how pathetic her little book. + + + +Chapter 1.VI. + +We drove together, after dinner, to the Taj. The moonlight lay in an +empty splendour over the broad sandy road, with the acacias pricking up +on each side of it and the gardens of the station bungalows stretching +back into clusters of crisp shadows. It was an exquisite February night, +very still. Nothing seemed abroad but two or three pariah dogs, upon +vague and errant business, and the Executive Engineer going swiftly home +from the club on his bicycle. Even the little shops of the bazaar were +dark and empty; only here and there a light showed barred behind +the carved balconies of the upper rooms, and there was hardly any +tom-tomming. The last long slope of the road showed us the river curving +to the left, through a silent white waste that stretched indefinitely +into the moonlight on one side, and was crowned by Akbar’s fort on the +other. His long high line of turrets and battlements still guarded a +hint of their evening rose, and dim and exquisite above them hovered +the three dome-bubbles of the Pearl Mosque. It was a night of perfect +illusion, and the illusion was mysterious, delicate, and faint. I sat +silent as we rolled along, twenty years nearer to the original joy of +things when John and I drove through the same old dream. + +Dacres, too, seemed preoccupied; only Cecily was, as they say, herself. +Cecily was really more than herself, she exhibited an unusual flow of +spirits. She talked continually, she pointed out this and that, she +asked who lived here and who lived there. At regular intervals of +about four minutes she demanded if it wasn’t simply too lovely. She +sat straight up with her vigorous profile and her smart hat; and the +silhouette of her personality sharply refused to mingle with the dust +of any dynasty. She was a contrast, a protest; positively she was +an indignity. ‘Do lean back, dear child,’ I exclaimed at last. ‘You +interfere with the landscape.’ + +She leaned back, but she went on interfering with it in terms of +sincerest enthusiasm. + +When we stopped at the great archway of entrance I begged to be left in +the carriage. What else could one do, when the golden moment had come, +but sit in the carriage and measure it? They climbed the broad stone +steps together and passed under the lofty gravures into the garden, and +I waited. I waited and remembered. I am not, as perhaps by this time is +evident, a person of overwhelming sentiment, but I think the smile upon +my lips was gentle. So plainly I could see, beyond the massive +archway and across a score of years, all that they saw at that +moment--Arjamand’s garden, and the long straight tank of marble cleaving +it full of sleeping water and the shadows of the marshaling cypresses; +her wide dark garden of roses and of pomegranates, and at the end the +Vision, marvellous, aerial, the soul of something--is it beauty? is it +sorrow?--that great white pride of love in mourning such as only here +in all the round of our little world lifts itself to the stars, the +unpaintable, indescribable Taj Mahal. A gentle breath stole out with a +scent of jessamine and such a memory! I closed my eyes and felt the warm +luxury of a tear. + +Thinking of the two in the garden, my mood was very kind, very +conniving. How foolish after all were my cherry-stone theories of taste +and temperament before that uncalculating thing which sways a world and +builds a Taj Mahal! Was it probable that Arjamand and her Emperor had +loved fastidiously, and yet how they had loved! I wandered away into +consideration of the blind forces which move the world, in which comely +young persons like my daughter Cecily had such a place; I speculated +vaguely upon the value of the subtler gifts of sympathy and insight +which seemed indeed, at that enveloping moment, to be mere flowers +strewn upon the tide of deeper emotions. The garden sent me a fragrance +of roses; the moon sailed higher and picked out the little kiosks set +along the wall. It was a charming, charming thing to wait, there at the +portal of the silvered, scented garden, for an idyll to come forth. + +When they reappeared, Dacres and my daughter, they came with casual +steps and cheerful voices. They might have been a couple of tourists. +The moonlight fell full upon them on the platform under the arch. +It showed Dacres measuring with his stick the length of the Sanskrit +letters which declared the stately texts, and Cecily’s expression of +polite, perfunctory interest. They looked up at the height above them; +they looked back at the vision behind. Then they sauntered towards +the carriage, he offering a formal hand to help her down the uncertain +steps, she gracefully accepting it. + +‘You--you have not been long,’ said I. ‘I hope you didn’t hurry on my +account.’ + +‘Miss Farnham found the marble a little cold under foot,’ replied +Dacres, putting Miss Farnham in. + +‘You see,’ explained Cecily, ‘I stupidly forgot to change into thicker +soles. I have only my slippers. But, mamma, how lovely it is! Do let us +come again in the daytime. I am dying to make a sketch of it.’ + +Mr. Tottenham was to leave us on the following day. In the morning, +after ‘little breakfast,’ as we say in India, he sought me in the room I +had set aside to be particularly my own. + +Again I was writing to John, but this time I waited for precisely his +interruption. I had got no further than ‘My dearest husband,’ and my +pen-handle was a fringe. + +‘Another fine day,’ I said, as if the old, old Indian joke could give +him ease, poor man! + +‘Yes,’ said he, ‘we are having lovely weather.’ + +He had forgotten that it was a joke. Then he lapsed into silence while I +renewed my attentions to my pen. + +‘I say,’ he said at last, with so strained a look about his mouth that +it was almost a contortion, ‘I haven’t done it, you know.’ + +‘No,’ I responded, cheerfully, ‘and you’re not going to. Is that it? +Well!’ + +‘Frankly--’ said he. + +‘Dear me, yes! Anything else between you and me would be grotesque,’ I +interrupted, ‘after all these years.’ + +‘I don’t think it would be a success,’ he said, looking at me resolutely +with his clear blue eyes, in which still lay, alas! the possibility of +many delusions. + +‘No,’ I said, ‘I never did, you know. But the prospect had begun to +impose upon me.’ + +‘To say how right you were would seem, under the circumstances, the most +hateful form of flattery.’ + +‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I think I can dispense with your verbal endorsement.’ +I felt a little bitter. It was, of course, better that the connoisseur +should have discovered the flaw before concluding the transaction; but +although I had pointed it out myself I was not entirely pleased to have +the article returned. + +‘I am infinitely ashamed that it should have taken me all these +days--day after day and each contributory--to discover what you saw so +easily and so completely.’ + +‘You forget that I am her mother,’ I could not resist the temptation of +saying. + +‘Oh, for God’s sake don’t jeer! Please be absolutely direct, and tell +me if you have reason to believe that to the extent of a thought, of a +breath--to any extent at all--she cares.’ + +He was, I could see, very deeply moved; he had not arrived at this point +without trouble and disorder not lightly to be put on or off. Yet I did +not hurry to his relief, I was still possessed by a vague feeling of +offense. I reflected that any mother would be, and I quite plumed myself +upon my annoyance. It was so satisfactory, when one had a daughter, to +know the sensations of even any mother. Nor was it soothing to remember +that the young man’s whole attitude towards Cecily had been based upon +criticism of me, even though he sat before me whipped with his own +lash. His temerity had been stupid and obstinate; I could not regret his +punishment. + +I kept him waiting long enough to think all this, and then I replied, ‘I +have not the least means of knowing.’ + +I can not say what he expected, but he squared his shoulders as if he +had received a blow and might receive another. Then he looked at me +with a flash of the old indignation. ‘You are not near enough to her for +that!’ he exclaimed. + +‘I am not near enough to her for that.’ + +Silence fell between us. A crow perched upon an opened venetian and +cawed lustily. For years afterward I never heard a crow caw without a +sense of vain, distressing experiment. Dacres got up and began to walk +about the room. I very soon put a stop to that. ‘I can’t talk to a +pendulum,’ I said, but I could not persuade him to sit down again. + +‘Candidly,’ he said at length, ‘do you think she would have me?’ + +‘I regret to say that I think she would. But you would not dream of +asking her.’ + +‘Why not? She is a dear girl,’ he responded inconsequently. + +‘You could not possibly stand it.’ + +Then Mr. Tottenham delivered himself of this remarkable phrase: ‘I could +stand it,’ he said, ‘as well as you can.’ + +There was far from being any joy in the irony with which I regarded him +and under which I saw him gather up his resolution to go; nevertheless +I did nothing to make it easy for him. I refrained from imparting +my private conviction that Cecily would accept the first presentable +substitute that appeared, although it was strong. I made no reference to +my daughter’s large fund of philosophy and small balance of sentiment. I +did not even--though this was reprehensible--confess the test, the test +of quality in these ten days with the marble archives of the Moguls, +which I had almost wantonly suggested, which he had so unconsciously +accepted, so disastrously applied. I gave him quite fifteen minutes of +his bad quarter of an hour, and when it was over I wrote truthfully but +furiously to John.... + +That was ten years ago. We have since attained the shades of retirement, +and our daughter is still with us when she is not with Aunt Emma and +Aunt Alice--grandmamma has passed away. Mr. Tottenham’s dumb departure +that day in February--it was the year John got his C.B.--was followed, +I am thankful to say, by none of the symptoms of unrequited affection on +Cecily’s part. Not for ten minutes, so far as I was aware, was she the +maid forlorn. I think her self-respect was of too robust a character, +thanks to the Misses Farnham. Still less, of course, had she any +reproaches to serve upon her mother, although for a long time I thought +I detected--or was it my guilty conscience?--a spark of shrewdness in +the glance she bent upon me when the talk was of Mr. Tottenham and +the probabilities of his return to Agra. So well did she sustain her +experience, or so little did she feel it, that I believe the impression +went abroad that Dacres had been sent disconsolate away. One astonishing +conversation I had with her some six months later, which turned upon +the point of a particularly desirable offer. She told me something then, +without any sort of embarrassment, but quite lucidly and directly, that +edified me much to hear. She said that while she was quite sure that Mr. +Tottenham thought of her only as a friend--she had never had the least +reason for any other impression--he had done her a service for which she +could not thank him enough--in showing her what a husband might be. He +had given her a standard; it might be high, but it was unalterable. +She didn’t know whether she could describe it, but Mr. Tottenham was +different from the kind of man you seemed to meet in India. He had his +own ways of looking at things, and he talked so well. He had given her +an ideal, and she intended to profit by it. To know that men like Mr. +Tottenham existed, and to marry any other kind would be an act of folly +which she did not intend to commit. No, Major the Hon. Hugh Taverel did +not come near it--very far short, indeed! He had talked to her during +the whole of dinner the night before about jackal-hunting with a bobbery +pack--not at all an elevated mind. Yes, he might be a very good +fellow, but as a companion for life she was sure he would not be at all +suitable. She would wait. + +And she has waited. I never thought she would, but she has. From time +to time men have wished to take her from us, but the standard has been +inexorable, and none of them have reached it. When Dacres married the +charming American whom he caught like a butterfly upon her Eastern tour, +Cecily sent them as a wedding present an alabaster model of the Taj, and +I let her do it--the gift was so exquisitely appropriate. I suppose +he never looks at it without being reminded that he didn’t marry Miss +Farnham, and I hope that he remembers that he owes it to Miss Farnham’s +mother. So much I think I might claim; it is really very little +considering what it stands for. Cecily is permanently with us--I believe +she considers herself an intimate. I am very reasonable about lending +her to her aunts, but she takes no sort of advantage of my liberality; +she says she knows her duty is at home. She is growing into a firm and +solid English maiden lady, with a good colour and great decision of +character. That she always had. + +I point out to John, when she takes our crumpets away from us, that she +gets it from him. I could never take away anybody’s crumpets, merely +because they were indigestible, least of all my own parents’. She +has acquired a distinct affection for us, by some means best known +to herself; but I should have no objection to that if she would not +rearrange my bonnet-strings. That is a fond liberty to which I take +exception; but it is one thing to take exception and another to express +it. + +Our daughter is with us, permanently with us. She declares that she +intends to be the prop of our declining years; she makes the statement +often, and always as if it were humorous. Nevertheless I sometimes +notice a spirit of inquiry, a note of investigation in her encounters +with the opposite sex that suggests an expectation not yet extinct +that another and perhaps a more appreciative Dacres Tottenham may flash +across her field of vision--alas, how improbable! Myself I can not +imagine why she should wish it; I have grown in my old age into a +perfect horror of cultivated young men; but if such a person should by +a miracle at any time appear, I think it is extremely improbable that I +will interfere on his behalf. + + + + +2. An Impossible Ideal. + + + +Chapter 2.I. + +To understand how we prized him, Dora Harris and I, it is necessary to +know Simla. I suppose people think of that place, if they ever do think +of it, as an agreeable retreat in the wilds of the Himalayas where +deodars and scandals grow, and where the Viceroy if he likes may take +off his decorations and go about in flannels. I know how useless it +would be to try to give a more faithful impression, and I will hold back +from the attempt as far as I can. Besides, my little story is itself +an explanation of Simla. Ingersoll Armour might have appeared almost +anywhere else without making social history. He came and bloomed among +us in the wilderness, and such and such things happened. It sounds too +rude a generalization to say that Simla is a wilderness; I hasten to +add that it is a waste as highly cultivated as you like, producing many +things more admirable than Ingersoll Armour. Still he bloomed there +conspicuously alone. Perhaps there would have been nothing to tell if we +had not tried to gather him. That was wrong; Nature in Simla expects you +to be content with cocked hats. + +There are artists almost everywhere and people who paint even in the +Himalayas, though Miss Harris and I in our superior way went yearly to +the Simla Fine Arts Exhibition chiefly to amuse ourselves by scoffing. +It was easy to say clever things about the poor little exhibits; and one +was grateful to the show on this account, for nothing is more depressing +east of Suez than the absence of provocation to say clever things. There +one afternoon in May as we marched about enjoying ourselves, we came +upon Ingersoll Armour, not in the flesh, but in half a dozen studies +hanging in the least conspicuous corner and quite the worst light in the +room. + +‘Eh, what?’ said I, and Dora exclaimed: + +‘I SAY!’ + +‘Sent out from home,’ I said, ever the oracle. + +‘Not at all,’ replied Dora. ‘Look, they are Indian subjects. SIMLA +subjects,’ she went on, with excitement. + +I turned up the catalogue. ‘Ninety-seven, “Kasumti Bazaar”; +ninety-eight, “Clouds on the Chor”; ninety-nine, “The House of a +Friend”--Lord, what apricot blossoms! Yes, they’re all Simla.’ + +‘For goodness’ sake,’ said Dora, ‘who painted them? You’ve got the +catalogue!’ + +‘“I. Armour,”’ I read. + +‘“I. Armour,”’ she repeated, and we looked at each other, saying in +plain silence that to the small world of Simla I. Armour was unknown. + +‘Not on Government House list, I venture to believe,’ said Dora. That +in itself may show to what depths we sink. Yet it was a trenchant and a +reasonable speculation. + +‘It may be a newcomer,’ I suggested, but she shook her head. ‘All +newcomers call upon us,’ she said. ‘There in the middle of the Mall we +escape none of them. He isn’t a calling person.’ + +‘Why do you say “he”? You are very confident with your pronouns. There’s +a delicacy of feeling--’ + +‘Which exactly does not suggest a women. We are undermined by delicacy +of feeling; we’re not strong enough to express it with brushes. A man +can make it a quality, a decorative characteristic, and so we see it. +With a woman it’s everything--all over the place--and of no effect. Oh, +I assure you, I. Armour is a man.’ + +‘Who shall stand against you! Let him be a man. He has taste.’ + +‘Taste!’ exclaimed Miss Harris, violently, and from the corners of her +mouth I gathered that I had said one of those things which she would +store up and produce to prove that I was not, for all my pretensions, a +person of the truest feeling. ‘He sees things.’ + +‘There’s an intensity,’ I ventured. + +‘That’s better. Yes, an intensity. A perfect passion of colour. Look at +that.’ She indicated a patch of hillsides perhaps six inches by four, in +which the light seemed to come and go as it does in a sapphire. + +We stood and gazed. It was a tremendous thing; only half a dozen studies +with feeling and knowledge in them, but there in that remote fastness +thrice barred against the arts a tremendous thing, a banquet for our +famished eyes. What they would have said to us in London is a different +matter, and how good they really were I do not find the courage to +pronounce, but they had merit enough to prick our sense of beauty +delightfully where we found them--oh, they were good! + +‘Heaven send it isn’t a Tommy,’ said Dora, with a falling countenance. +‘There is something absolutely inaccessible about a Tommy.’ + +‘How could it be?’ I asked. + +‘Oh, there are some inspired ones. But it isn’t--that’s French +technique. It’s an Englishman or an American who has worked in Paris. +What in the name of fortune is he doing here?’ + +‘Oh,’ I said, ‘we have had them, you know. Val Prinsep came out at the +time of the Prince of Wales’s visit.’ + +‘Do you remember that?’ + +‘It’s a matter of history,’ I said, evasively, ‘and Edwin Weeks +travelled through India not so many years ago. I saw his studio in Paris +afterward. Between his own canvases and Ahmedabad balconies and Delhi +embroideries and Burmese Buddhas and other things he seemed to have +carried off the whole place.’ + +‘But they don’t come up here ever. They come in the cold weather, and +as they can get plenty of snow and ice at home, they stay down in the +plains with the palm-trees.’ + +‘Precisely; they do,’ I said. + +‘And besides,’ Dora went on, with increasing excitement, ‘this isn’t +a master. You see, he doesn’t send a single picture--only these tiny +things. And there’s a certain tentativeness’--Miss Harris, her parasol +handle pressed against her lips, looked at me with an eagerness that was +a pleasure to look at in itself. + +‘A certain weakness, almost a lack of confidence, in the drawing,’ I +said. + +‘What does that signify?’ + +‘Why, immaturity, of course--not enough discipline.’ + +‘He’s a student. Not that it amounts to a defect, you know’--she was as +jealous already as if she possessed the things--‘only a sign to read +by. I should be grateful for more signs. Why should a student come to +Simla?’ + +‘To teach, perhaps,’ I suggested. Naturally one sought only among +reasons of utility. + +‘It’s the Kensington person who teaches. When they have worked in the +ateliers and learned as much as this they never do. They paint fans and +menu cards, and starve, but they don’t teach.’ + +Sir William Lamb, Member of Council for the Department of Finance, +was borne by the stream to our sides. The simile will hardly stand +conscientious examination, for the stream was a thin one and did no more +than trickle past, while Sir William weighed fifteen stone, and was +so eminent that it could never inconvenience him at its deepest. Dora +detached her gaze from the pictures and turned her back upon them; I +saw the measure of precaution. It was unavailing, however. ‘What have +we here?’ said Sir William. Dora removed her person from his line of +vision, and he saw what we had there. + +‘The work of a friend of yours?’ Sir William was spoken of as +a ‘cautious’ man. He had risen to his present distinction on +stepping-stones of mistakes he conspicuously had not made. + +‘No,’ said Dora, ‘we were wondering who the artist could be.’ + +Sir William looked at the studies, and had a happy thought. ‘If you ask +me, I should say a child of ten,’ he said. He was also known as a man of +humour. + +‘Miss Harris had just remarked a certain immaturity,’ I ventured. + +‘Oh, well,’ said Sir William, ‘this isn’t the Royal Academy, is it? I +always say it’s very good of people to send their things here at all. +And some of them are not half bad--I should call this year’s average +very high indeed.’ + +‘Are you pleased with the picture that has taken your prize, Sir +William?’ asked Dora. + +‘I have bought it.’ Sir William’s chest underwent before our eyes an +expansion of conscious virtue. Living is so expensive in Simla; the +purchase of a merely decorative object takes almost the proportion of an +act of religion, even by a Member of Council drawing four hundred pounds +a month. + +‘First-rate it is, first-rate. Have you seen it? “Our Camp in Tirah.” + Natives cooking in the foreground, fellows standing about smoking, and +a whole pile of tinned stores dumped down in one corner, exactly as they +would be, don’t you know! Oh, I think the Committee made a very good +choice indeed, a very good choice.’ + +Sir William moved on, and Dora was free to send me an expressive glance. +‘Isn’t that just LIKE this place?’ she demanded. ‘Let me see, the +Viceroy’s medal, the Society’s silver medal, five prizes from Members +of Council. Highly Commended’s as thick as blackberries, and these +perfectly fresh, original, admirable things completely ignored. What an +absurd, impossible corner of the earth it is!’ + +‘You look very cross, you two,’ said Mrs. Sinclair, trailing past. ‘Come +and see the crazy china exhibit, all made of little bits, you know. They +say the photograph frames are simply lovely.’ + +Mrs. Sinclair’s invitation was not sincere. Miss Harris was able to +answer it with a laugh and a wave. We remained beside the serious fact +of exhibits 97-103. + +‘Who are the judges this year?’ I asked, not that I did not know +precisely who they were likely to be. There is a custom in these +matters, and I had been part of Simla for eleven years. + +Dora took the catalogue from my hand and turned its pages over. + +‘Mr. Cathcart, of course; the Private Secretary to the Viceroy would be +on the Committee almost ex officio, wouldn’t he? Impossible to conceive +a Private Secretary to the Viceroy whose opinion would not be valuable +upon any head. The member for Public Works--I suppose he can build +bridges, or could once, therefore he can draw, or could once; besides, +look at his precedence and his pay! General Haycock--isn’t he head of +the Ordnance Department? I can’t think of any other reason for putting +him on. Oh yes--he’s a K.C.B., and he is inventing a way of taking +coloured photographs. Mr. Tilley, the old gentleman that teaches +elementary drawing to the little girls in the diocesan school, that’s +all right. And Mr. Jay, of course, because Mr. Jay’s water-colours +are the mainstay of the exhibition, and he must be given a chance of +expressing his opinion of them.’ She handed me back the catalogue. ‘I +have never been really angry with them before,’ she said. + +‘Are you really angry now?’ I asked. + +‘Furious,’ Dora replied, and indeed her face expressed indignation. Its +lines were quite tense, and a spark shone oddly in the middle of the +eyes. One could not credit her with beauty, but as her lady friends were +fond of saying, there was something ‘more’ in her face. I saw a good +deal more at this moment, and it gave me pleasure, as all her feelings +did when they came out like that. I hasten to add that she was not +unpleasing; her features had a symmetry and a mobility, and her eyes +could take any transient charm they chose to endow themselves with; +though there were moments when she compared very badly with the +other young ladies of Simla with their high spirits and their pretty +complexions, very badly indeed. Those were occasions when the gay +monotony of the place pressed, I imagine, a little heavily upon her, and +the dullness she felt translated itself in her expression. But she was +by no means unpleasing. + +‘I must go and see Lady Pilkey’s picture,’ I said. + +‘What is the use?’ said Dora. ‘It’s a landscape in oils--a view of the +Himalayas, near Narkanda. There are the snows in the background, very +thin and visionary through a gap in the trees, and two hills, one hill +on each side. Dark green trees, pine-trees, with a dead one in the +left foreground covered with a brilliant red creeper. Right foreground +occupied by a mountain path and a solitary native figure with its back +turned. Society’s silver medal.’ + +‘When did you see it?’ I asked. + +‘I haven’t seen it--this year. But I saw the one she sent last, and the +one the year before that. You can trust my memory, really.’ + +‘No,’ I said, ‘I can’t. I’m dining there tonight. I must have an +original impression.’ + +‘Congratulate her on the warm blaze of colour in the foreground. It’s +perfectly safe,’ urged Miss Harris, but I felt compelled to go myself to +see lady Pilkey’s landscape. When I returned I found her still sitting +in grave absorption before the studies that had taken us so by surprise. +Her face was full of a soft new light; I had never before seen the +spring touched in her that could flood it like that. + +‘You were very nearly right,’ I announced; ‘but the blaze of colour was +in the middle distance, and there was a torrent in the foreground that +quite put it out. And the picture does take the Society’s silver medal.’ + +‘I can not decide,’ she replied without looking at me, ‘between the +Kattiawar fair thing and those hills in the rain. I can only have +one--father won’t hear of more than one.’ + +‘You can have two,’ I said bluntly, so deeply interested I was in the +effect the things had on her. ‘And I will have a third for myself. I +can’t withstand those apricot-trees.’ + +I thought there was moisture in the eyes she turned upon me, an unusual +thing--a most unusual thing--in Dora Harris; but she winked it back, if +it was there, too quickly for any certainty. + +‘You are a dear,’ she said. Once or twice before she had called me +a dear. It reminded me, as nothing else ever did, that I was a +contemporary of her father’s. It is a feeble confession, but I have +known myself refrain from doing occasional agreeable things apprehending +that she might call me a dear. + + + +Chapter 2.II. + +Dora had been out three seasons when these things happened. I remember +sharing Edward Harris’s anxiety in no slight degree as to how the +situation would resolve itself when she came, the situation consisting +so considerably in his eyes of the second Mrs. Harris, who had +complicated it further with three little red-cheeked boys, all of the +age to be led about the station on very small ponies, and not under any +circumstances to be allowed in the drawing-room when one went to tea +with their mother. No one, except perhaps poor Ted himself, was more +interested than I to observe how the situation did resolve itself, in +the decision of Mrs. Harris that the boys, the two eldest at least, must +positively begin the race for the competitive examinations of the future +without further delay, and that she must as positively be domiciled in +England ‘to be near’ them, at all events until they had well made the +start. I should have been glad to see them ride their ponies up and down +the Mall a bit longer, poor little chaps; they were still very cherubic +to be invited to take a view of competitive examinations, however +distant; but Mrs. Harris’s conviction was not to be overcome. So they +went home to begin, and she went with them, leaving Dora in possession +of her father, her father’s house, his pay, his precedence, and all +that was his. Not that I would suggest any friction; I am convinced that +there was nothing like that--at least, nothing that met the eye, or the +ear. Dora adored the three little boys and was extremely kind to their +mother. She regarded this lady, I have reason to believe, with +the greatest indulgence, and behaved towards her with the greatest +consideration; I mean she had unerring intuitions as to just when, +on afternoons when Mrs. Harris was at home from dusk till dinner, she +should be dying for a walk. One could imagine her looking with her grey +eyes at dear mamma’s horizon and deciding that papa was certainly not +enough to fill it by himself, deciding at the same time that he was +never likely to be ousted there, only accompanied, in a less important +and entirely innocent degree. It may be surprising that any one should +fly from so broad-minded a step-daughter; but the happy family party +lasted a bare three months. I think Mrs. Harris had a perception--she +was the kind of woman who arrived obscurely at very correct +conclusions--that she was contributing to her step-daughter’s amusement +in a manner which her most benevolent intentions had not contemplated, +and she was not by any means the little person to go on doing that +indefinitely, perhaps increasingly. Besides, it was in the natural order +of things that Dora should marry, and Mrs. Harris doubtless foresaw a +comfortable return for herself in the course of a year or two, when the +usual promising junior in ‘the Department’ should gild his own +prospects and promote the general well-being by acquiring its head for a +father-in-law. Things always worked out if you gave them time. How much +time you ought to give them was doubtless by now a pretty constant +query with the little lady in her foggy exile; for two years had already +passed and Dora had found no connection with any young man of the +Department more permanent than those prescribed at dinners and at +dances. It is doubtful, indeed, if she had had the opportunity. There +was no absolute means of knowing; but if offers were made they never +transpired, and Mrs. Harris, far away in England, nourished a certainty +that they never were made. Speaking with her intimate knowledge of the +sex she declared that Dora frightened the men, that her cleverness was +of a kind to paralyze any sentiment of the sort that might be expected. +It depended upon Mrs. Harris’s humour whether this was Dora’s misfortune +or her crime. She, Dora, never frightened me, and by the time her +cleverness dawned upon me, my sentiment about her had become too robust +to be paralyzed. On the contrary, the agreeable stimulus it gave me +was one of the things I counted most valuable in my life out there. It +hardly mattered, however, that I should confess this; I was not a young +man in Harris’s department. I had a department of my own; and Dora, +though she frisked with me gloriously and bullied continually, must ever +have been aware of the formidable fact that I joined the Service two +years before Edward Harris did. The daughter of three generations of +bureaucrats was not likely to forget that at one time her father had +been junior to me in the same office, though in the course of time and +the march of opportunity he had his own show now, and we nodded to +each other on the Mall with an equal sense of the divine right of +secretaries. It may seem irrelevant, but I feel compelled to explain +here that I had remained a bachelor while Harris had married twice, and +that I had kept up my cricket, while Harris had let his figure take all +the soft curves of middle age. Nevertheless the fact remained. Sometimes +I fancied it gave a certain piquancy to my relations with his daughter, +but I could never believe that the laugh was on my side. + +If we met at dinner-parties, it would be sometimes Edward Harris and +sometimes myself who would take the dullest and stoutest woman down. If +she fell to him, the next in precedence was bestowed upon me, and there +might not be a pin to choose between them for phlegm and inflation. It +is a preposterous mistake to suppose that the married ladies of Simla +are in the majority brilliant and fascinating creatures, who say things +in French for greater convenience, and lead a man on. After fifteen +years I am ready to swear that I have been led on to nothing more +compromising than a subscription to the Young Women’s Christian +Association, though no one could have been more docile or more +intelligent. During one viceroyalty of happy memory half a dozen +clever and amusing men and women came together in Simla--it was a mere +fortuitous occurrence, aided by a joyous ruler who hated being bored +as none before or ever since have hated it--and the place has lived +socially upon the reputation of that meteoric term ever since. Whereas +the domestic virtues are no more deeply rooted anywhere than under the +deodars; nor could any one, I hasten to add, chronicle the fact with +more profound satisfaction than myself. A dinner-party, however, is not +a favourable setting for the domestic virtues; it does them so little +justice that one could sometimes almost wish them left at home, and I +was talking of Simla dinner-parties, where I have encountered so many. +How often have I been consulted as to the best school for boys in +England, or instructed as to how much I should let my man charge me for +shoe-blacking, or advised as to the most effectual way of preventing the +butler from stealing my cheroots, while Dora Harris, remote as a star, +talked to a cavalry subaltern about wind-galls and splints! At these +moments I felt my seniority bitterly; to give Dora to a cavalry +subaltern was such plain waste. + +It was an infinite pleasure to know any one as well as I seemed to know +Dora Harris. She, I believe, held no one else upon the same terms of +intimacy, though she found women, of course, with whom she fluttered and +embraced; and while there were, naturally, men with whom I exchanged the +time o’day in terms more or less cordial, I am certain that I kept all +my closest thoughts for her. It is necessary again to know Simla to +understand how our friendship was gilded by the consideration that it +was on both sides perfectly spontaneous. Social life in the poor little +place is almost a pure farce with the number of its dictated, prompted +intimacies, not controlled by general laws of expediency as at home, but +each on its own basis of hope and expectancy, broadly and ludicrously +obvious as a case by itself. There is a conspiracy of stupidity about +it, for we are all in the same hat, every one of us; there is none so +exalted that he does not urgently want a post that somebody else can +give him. So we continue to exchange our depreciated smiles, and only +privately admit that the person who most desires to be agreeable to us +is the person whom we regard with the greatest suspicion. As between +Dora Harris and myself there could be, naturally, no ax to grind. We +amused ourselves by looking on penetratingly but tolerantly at the +grinding of other people’s. + +That was a very principal bond between us, that uncompromising clearness +with which we looked at the place we lived in, and on the testimony of +which we were so certain that we didn’t like it. The women were nearly +all so much in heaven in Simla, the men so well satisfied to be there +too, at the top of the tree, that our dissatisfaction gave us to +one another the merit of originality, almost proved in one another a +superior mind. It was not that either of us would have preferred to +grill out our days in the plains; we always had a saving clause for the +climate, the altitude, the scenery; it was Simla intrinsic, Simla as its +other conditions made it, with which we found such liberal fault. Again +I should have to explain Simla, at the length of an essay at least, to +justify our condemnation. This difficulty confronts me everywhere. +I must ask you instead to imagine a small colony of superior--very +superior--officials, of British origin and traditions, set on the top of +a hill, years and miles away from literature, music, pictures, politics, +existing like a harem on the gossip of the Viceroy’s intentions, and +depending for amusement on tennis and bumble-puppy, and then consider, +you yourself, whether you are the sort of person to be unquestionably +happy there. If you see no reason to the contrary, pray do not go on. +There were times when Dora declared that she couldn’t breathe for want +of an atmosphere, and times when I looked round and groaned at the +cheerful congratulatory aridity in every man’s eye--men who had done +things at Oxford in my own year, and come out like me to be mummified +into a last state like this. Thank Heaven, there was never any cheerful +congratulation in my eye; one could always put there, when the thought +inspired it, a saving spark of rank ingratitude instead. + +It was as if we had the most desirable things--roses, cool airs, far +snowy ranges--to build what we like with, and we built Simla--altitude, +7,000, population 2,500, headquarters of the Government of India during +the summer months. An ark it was, of course; an ark of refuge from the +horrible heat that surged below, and I wondered as I climbed the steeps +of Summer Hill in search of I. Armour’s inaccessible address, whether he +was to be the dove bearing beautiful testimony of a world coming nearer. +I rejected the simile, however, as over-sanguine; we had been too long +abandoned on our Ararat. + + + +Chapter 2.III. + +A dog of no sort of caste stood in the veranda and barked at me +offensively. I picked up a stone, and he vanished like the dog of a +dream into the house. It was such a small house that it wasn’t on the +municipal map at all: it looked as if someone had built it for amusement +with anything that was lying about. Nevertheless, it had a name, it +was called Amy Villa, freshly painted in white letters on a shiny +black board, and nailed against the nearest tree in the orthodox Simla +fashion. It looked as if the owner of the place had named it as a +duty towards his tenant, the board was so new, and in that case the +reflection presented itself that the tenant might have cooperated to +call it something else. It was disconcerting somehow to find that our +dove had perched, even temporarily, in Amy Villa. Nor was it soothing +to discover that the small white object stuck in the corner of the board +was Mr. Ingersoll Armour’s card. + +In Simla we do not stick our cards about in that way at the mercy of the +wind and the weather; we paint our names neatly under the names of our +houses with ‘I.C.S.’ for Indian Civil Service, or ‘P.W.D.’ for Public +Works Department, or whatever designation we are entitled to immediately +after, so that there can be no mistake. This strikes newcomers sometimes +as a little professional, especially when a hand accompanies, pointing; +but it is the only possible way where there are no streets and no +numbers, but where houses are dropped about a hilltop as if they had +fallen from a pepper-pot. In sticking his card out like that Mr. Armour +seemed to imagine himself au quatrieme or au cinquieme somewhere on +the south side of the Seine; it betrayed rather a ridiculous lack of +conformity. He was high enough up, however, to give any illusion; I had +to stop to find the wind to announce myself. There was nobody else to do +it if I except the dog. + +I walked into the veranda and shouted. Then I saw that one end of it was +partly glazed off, and inside sat a young man in his shirt-sleeves with +his back to the door. + +In reply he called out, ‘That you, Rosario?’ and I stood silent, taken +somewhat aback. + +There was only one Rosario in Simla, and he was a subordinate in my own +office. Again the hateful need to explain. Between subordinate clerks +and officials in Simla there is a greater gulf fixed than was ever +imagined in parable. Besides, Rosario had a plain strain of what we +call ‘the country’ in him, a plain strain, that is, of the colour of the +country. It was certainly the first time in my official career that I +had been mistaken for Rosario. + +Armour turned round and saw me--that I was a stranger. + +He got up at once. ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘I thought it was Rosario. + +‘It isn’t,’ I replied, ‘my name is Philips. May I ask whether you were +expecting Mr. Rosario? I can come again, you know.’ + +‘Oh, it doesn’t matter. Sit down. He may drop in or he may not--I rather +thought he would today. It’s a pull up, isn’t it, from the Mall? Have a +whisky and soda.’ + +I stood on the threshold spellbound. It was just the smell that bound +me, the good old smell of oil paints and turpentine and mediums and +varnish and new canvas that you never by any chance put your nose into +in any part of Asia. It carried me back twenty years to old haunts, +old friends, old joys, ideals, theories. Ah, to be young and have a +temperament! For I had one then--that instant in Armour’s veranda proved +it to me forever. + +‘No thanks,’ I said. ‘If you don’t mind I’ll just have the smell.’ + +The young fellow knew at once that I liked the smell. ‘Well, have a +chair, anyhow,’ he said, and took one himself and sat down opposite me, +letting his lean brown hands fall between his knees. + +‘Do you mind,’ I said, ‘if for a minute I sit still and look round?’ + +He understood again. + +‘I haven’t brought much,’ he said, ‘I left pretty near everything in +Paris.’ + +‘You have brought a world.’ Then after a moment, ‘Did you do that?’ I +asked, nodding towards a canvas tacked against the wall. It was the head +of a half-veiled Arab woman turned away. + +The picture was in the turning away, and the shadow the head-covering +made over the cheek and lips. + +‘Lord, no! That’s Dagnan Bouveret. I used to take my things to him, +and one day he gave me that. You have an eye,’ he added, but without +patronage. ‘It’s the best thing I’ve got.’ + +I felt the warmth of an old thrill. + +‘Once upon a time,’ I said, ‘I was allowed to have an eye.’ The wine, +untasted all those years, went to my head. ‘That’s a vigorous bit +above,’ I continued. + +‘Oh, well! It isn’t really up to much, you know. It’s Rosario’s. He +photographs mostly, but he has a notion of colour.’ + +‘Really?’ said I, thinking with regard to my eye that the sun of that +atrocious country had put it out. ‘I expect I’ve lost it,’ I said aloud. + +‘Your eye? Oh, you’ll easily get a fresh one. Do you go home for the +exhibitions?’ + +‘I did once,’ I confessed. ‘My first leave. A kind of paralysis +overtakes one here. Last time I went for the grouse.’ + +He glanced at me with his light clear eyes as if for the first time he +encountered a difficulty. + +‘It’s a magnificent country for painting,’ he said. + +‘But not for pictures,’ I rejoined. He paid no attention, staring at the +ground and twisting one end of his moustache. + +‘The sun on those old marble tombs--broad sun and sand--’ + +‘You mean somewhere about Delhi.’ + +‘I couldn’t get anywhere near it.’ He was not at that moment anywhere +near me. ‘But I have thought out a trick or two--I mean to have another +go when it cools off again down there.’ He returned with a smile, and +I saw how delicate his face was. The smile turned down with a little +gentle mockery in its lines. I had seen that particular smile only on +the faces of one or two beautiful women. It had a borrowed air upon a +man, like a tiara or an earring. + +‘There’s plenty to paint,’ he said, looking at me with an air of +friendly speculation. + +‘Indeed, yes. And it has never been done. We are sure it has never been +done.’ + +‘“We”--you mean people generally?’ + +‘Not at all. I mean Miss Harris, Miss Harris and myself.’ + +‘Your daughter?’ + +‘My name is Philips,’ I reminded him pleasantly, remembering that the +intelligence of clever people is often limited to a single art. ‘Miss +Harris is the daughter of Mr. Edward Harris, Secretary of the Government +of India in the Legislative Department. She is fond of pictures. We have +a good many tastes in common. We have always suspected that India had +never been painted, and when we saw your things at the Town Hall we knew +it.’ + +His queer eyes dilated, and he blushed. + +‘Oh,’ he said, ‘it’s only one interpretation. It all depends on what a +fellow sees. No fellow can see everything.’ + +‘Till you came,’ I insisted, ‘nobody had seen anything.’ + +He shook his head, but I could read in his face that this was not news +to him. + +‘That is mainly what I came up to tell you,’ I continued, ‘to beg that +you will go on and on. To hope that you will stay a long time and do a +great deal. It is such an extraordinary chance that any one should turn +up who can say what the country really means.’ + +He stuck his hands in his pockets with a restive movement. ‘Oh, don’t +make me feel responsible,’ he said, ‘I hate that;’ and then suddenly he +remembered his manners. ‘But it’s certainly nice of you to think so,’ he +added. + +There was something a little unusual in his inflection which led me to +ask at this point whether he was an American, and to discover that he +came from somewhere in Wisconsin, not directly, but by way of a few +years in London and Paris. This accounted in a way for the effect of +freedom in any fortune about him for which I already liked him, and +perhaps partly for the look of unembarrassed inquiry and experiment +which sat so lightly in his unlined face. He came, one realized, out of +the fermentation of new conditions; he never could have been the product +of our limits and systems and classes in England. His surroundings, his +‘things,’ as he called them, were as old as the sense of beauty, but +he seemed simply to have put them where he could see them, there was no +pose in their arrangement. They were all good, and his delight in them +was plain; but he was evidently in no sense a connoisseur beyond that of +natural instinct. Some of those he had picked up in India I could tell +him about, but I had no impression that he would remember what I said. +There was one Bokhara tapestry I examined with a good deal of interest. + +‘Yes,’ he said, ‘they told me I shouldn’t get anything as good as that +out here, so I brought it,’ but I had to explain to him why it was +anomalous that this should be so. + +‘It came a good many miles over desert from somewhere,’ he remarked, as +I made a note of inquiry as to the present direction of trade in woven +goods from Persia, ‘I had to pound it for a week to get the dust out.’ + +We spent an hour looking over work he had done down in the plains, and +then I took my leave. It did not occur to me at the moment to ask +Armour to come to the club or to offer to do anything for him; all the +hospitality, all that was worth offering seemed so much more at his +disposition than at mine. I only asked if I might come again, mentioning +somewhat shyly that I must have the opportunity of adding, at my +leisure, to those of his pictures that were already mine by transaction +with the secretary of the Art Exhibition. I left him so astonished that +this had happened, so plainly pleased, that I was certain he had never +sold anything before in his life. This impression gave me the uplifted +joy of a discoverer to add to the satisfactions I had already drawn from +the afternoon; and I almost bounded down the hill to the Mall. I left +the pi dog barking in the veranda, and I met Mr. Rosario coming up, +but in my unusual elation I hardly paused to consider either of them +further. + +The mare and her groom were waiting on the Mall, and it was only when +I got on her back that the consciousness visited me of something +forgotten. It was my mission--to propose to take Armour, if he were +‘possible,’ to call upon the Harrises. Oh, well, he was possible enough; +I supposed he possessed a coat, though he hadn’t been wearing it; and +I could arrange it by letter. Meanwhile, as was only fair, I turned the +mare in the direction of the drawing-room where I had reason to believe +that Miss Dora Harris was quenching her impatience in tea. + + + +Chapter 2.IV. + +The very next morning I met Armour on my way to the office. He was +ambling along on the leanest and most ill-groomed of bazaar ponies, +and he wore a bowler. In Simla sun hats are admissible, straw hats are +presentable, and soft felt hats are superior, but you must not wear a +bowler. I might almost say that if one’s glance falls upon a bowler, one +hardly looks further; the expectation of finding an acquaintance under +it is so vain. In this instance, I did look further, fortunately, though +in doing so I was compelled to notice that the bowler was not lifted +in answer to my salutation. Of no importance in itself, of course, +but betraying in Armour a certain lack of observation. I felt the +Departmental Head crumble in me, however, as I recognized him, and I +pulled the mare up in a manner which she plainly resented. It was my +opportunity to do cautiously and delicately what I had omitted the +afternoon before; but my recollection is that I was very clumsy. + +I said something about the dust, and he said something about the glare, +and then I could think of nothing better than to ask him if he wouldn’t +like to meet a few Simla people. + +‘Oh, I know lots of people, thanks,’ he said. ‘It’s kind of you to think +of it, all the same, but I’ve got any amount of friends here.’ + +I thought of Mr. Rosario, and stood, or sat confounded. + +The mare fidgeted; I knocked a beast of a fly off her, and so gained +time. + +‘This is my second season up here, you know.’ + +‘Your second season!’ I exclaimed. ‘Where on earth have you been +hiding?’ + +‘Well, I didn’t exhibit last year, you see. I’d heard it was a kind of +a toy show, so I thought I wouldn’t. I think now that was foolish. But I +got to know quite a number of families.’ + +‘But I am sure there are numbers that you haven’t met,’ I urged,’ or I +should have heard of it.’ + +He glanced at me with a slight flush. ‘If you mean society people,’ +he said, ‘I don’t care about that kind of thing, Mr. Philips. I’m not +adapted to it, and I don’t want to be. If any one offered to introduce +me to the Viceroy, I would ask to be excused.’ + +‘Oh, the Viceroy,’ I responded, disrespectfully, ‘is neither here nor +there. But there are some people, friends of my own, who would like very +much to meet you.’ + +‘By the name of Harris?’ he asked. I was too amazed to do anything but +nod. By the name of Harris! The Secretary of the Government of India in +the Legislative Department! The expression, not used as an invocation, +was inexcusable. + +‘I remember you mentioned them yesterday.’ + +‘Yes,’ I said, ‘there’s a father and daughter. Miss Harris is very +artistic.’ + +His face clouded, as well it might, at the word. ‘Does she paint?’ he +asked, so apprehensively that I could not forbear a smile at Dora’s +expense. I could assure him that she did not paint, that she had not +painted, at all events, for years, and presently I found myself in +the ridiculous position of using argument to bring a young man to the +Harrises. In the end I prevailed, I know, out of sheer good nature on +Armour’s part; he was as innocent as a baby of any sense of opportunity. + +We arranged it for the following Friday, but as luck would have it, His +Excellency sent for me at the very hour; we met the messenger. I felt +myself unlucky, but there was nothing for it but that Armour should go +alone, which he did, with neither diffidence nor alacrity, but as if it +were all in the day’s work, and he had no reason to be disobliging. + +The files were very heavy during the succeeding fortnight, and the +Viceroy quite importunate in his demand for my valuable suggestions. +I was worked off my legs, and two or three times was obliged to deny +myself in replying to notes from Dora suggesting Sunday breakfast or +afternoon tea. Finally, I shook myself free; it was the day she wrote: + +‘You must come--I can’t keep it to myself any longer.’ + +I half thought Armour would be there, but he wasn’t; that is, he was +absent corporeally, but the spirit and expression of him littered +every convenient part. Some few things lay about that I had seen in +the studio, to call it so, but most of the little wooden panels looked +fresh, almost wet, and the air held strongly the fragrance of Armour’s +north veranda. In one corner there used to be a Madonna on a carved +easel; the Madonna stood on the floor, and the easel with working pegs +in it held an unfinished canvas. Dora sat in the midst with a distinct +flush--she was inclined to be sallow--and made me welcome in terms +touched with extravagance. She did not rush, however, upon the matter +that was dyeing her cheeks, and I showed myself as little impetuous. She +poured out the tea, and we sat there inhaling, as it were, the aroma of +the thing, while keeping it consciously in the background. + +I imagine there was no moment in the time I describe when we enjoyed +Ingersoll Armour so much as at this one, when he lay in his nimbus half +known and wholly suppressed, between us. There were later instances, +perhaps, of deeper satisfaction, but they were more or less perplexed, +and not unobscured by anxiety. That afternoon it was all to know and to +be experienced, with just a delicious foretaste. + +I said something presently about Lady Pilkey’s picnic on the morrow, to +which we had both been bidden. + +‘Shall I call for you?’ I asked. ‘You will ride, of course.’ + +‘Thanks, but I’ve cried off--I’m going sketching.’ Her eyes plainly +added, ‘with Ingersoll Armour,’ but she as obviously shrank from the +roughness of pitching him in that unconsidered way before us. For some +reason I refrained from taking the cue. I would not lug him in either. + +‘That is a new accomplishment,’ was as much as I felt I could say with +dignity, and she responded: + +‘Yes, isn’t it?’ + +I felt some slight indignation on Lady Pilkey’s account. ‘Do you really +think you ought to do things like that at the eleventh hour?’ I asked, +but Dora smiled at a glance, the hypocrisy out of my face. + +‘What does anything matter?’ she demanded. + +I knew perfectly well the standard by which nothing mattered, and there +was no use, of course, in going on pretending that I did not. + +‘I assured him that you didn’t paint,’ I said, accusingly. + +‘Oh, I had to--otherwise what was there to go upon? He would have been +found only to be lost again. You did not contemplate that?’ Miss Harris +inquired sweetly. + +‘I should have thought it was the surest way of losing him.’ + +‘I can’t think why you should be so rude. He observes progress already.’ + +‘With a view to claiming and holding him, would it be of any use,’ I +asked, ‘for me to start in oils?’ + +Miss Harris eyed me calmly. + +‘I don’t know,’ she said, ‘but it doesn’t seem the same thing somehow. I +think you had better leave it to me.’ + +‘Indeed, I won’t,’ I said; ‘there is too much in it,’ and we smiled +across the gulf of our friendly understanding. + +I crossed to the mantelpiece and picked up one of the little wet panels. +There was that in it which explained my friend’s exultation much more +plainly than words. + +‘That is what I am to show him tomorrow,’ she exclaimed; ‘I think I have +done as he told me. I think it’s pretty right.’ + +Whether it was pretty right or pretty wrong, she had taken in an +extraordinary way an essence out of him. It wasn’t of course good, +but his feeling was reflected in it, at once so brilliantly and so +profoundly that it was startling to see. + +‘Do you think he’ll be pleased?’ she asked, anxiously. + +‘I think he’ll be astounded,’ I said, reserving the rest, and she cried +in her pleasure, ‘Oh, you dear man!’ + +‘I see you have taken possession of him,’ I went on. + +‘Ah, body and soul,’ Dora rejoined, and it must have been something like +that. I could imagine how she did it; with what wiles of simplicity and +candid good-fellowship she had drawn him to forgetfulness and response, +and how presently his enthusiasm leaped up to answer hers and they had +been caught altogether out of the plane of common relations, and he had +gone away on that disgraceful bazaar pony with a ratified arrangement +to return next day which had been almost taken for granted from the +beginning. + +I confess, though I had helped to bring it about, the situation didn’t +altogether please me. I did not dream of foolish dangers, but it seemed +to take a little too much for granted; I found myself inwardly demanding +whether, after all, a vivid capacity to make colour conscious was a +sufficient basis on which to bring to Edward Harris’s house a young man +about whom we knew nothing whatever else. An instant’s regard showed +the scruple fraudulent, it fled before the rush of pleasure with which +I gazed at the tokens he had left behind him. I fell back on my wonder, +which was great, that Dora should have possessed the technique necessary +to take him at a point where he could give her so much that was +valuable. + +‘Oh, well,’ she said when I uttered it, ‘you know I made the experiment! +I found out in South Kensington--you can learn that much there--that I +never would be able to paint well enough to make it worth while. So I +dropped it and took a more general line towards life. But I find it very +easy to imagine myself dedicated to that particular one again.’ + +‘You never told me,’ I said. Why had I been shut out of that experience? + +‘I tell you now,’ Dora replied, absently, ‘when I am able to offer +you the fact with illustrations.’ She laughed and dropped a still +illuminated face in the palm of her hand. ‘He has wonderfully revived +me,’ she declared. ‘I could throw, honestly, the whole of Simla +overboard for this.’ + +‘Don’t,’ I urged, feeling, suddenly, an integral part of Simla. + +‘Oh, no--what end would be served? But I don’t care who knows,’ she went +on with a rush, ‘that in all life this is what I like best, and people +like Mr. Armour are the people I value most. Heavens, how few of them +there are! And wherever they go how the air clears up round them! It +makes me quite ill to think of the life we lead here--the poverty of it, +the preposterous dullness of it....’ + +‘For goodness’ sake,’ I said, obscurely irritated, ‘don’t quote the +bishop. The life holds whatever we put into it.’ + +‘For other people it does, and for us it holds what other people put +into it,’ she retorted. ‘I don’t know whether you think it’s adequately +filled with gold lace and truffles.’ + +‘Why should I defend it?’ I asked, not knowing indeed why. ‘But it has +perhaps a dignity, you know. Ah, you are too fresh from your baptism,’ +I continued, as she shook her head and went to the piano. The quality, +whatever it was, that the last fortnight had generated in her, leaped +from her fingers; she played with triumph, elation, intention. The notes +seemed an outlet for the sense of beauty and for power to make it. I had +never heard her play like that before. + +It occurred to me to ask when she had done, how far, after a fortnight, +she could throw light on Armour’s aims and history, where he had come +from, and the great query with which we first received him, what he +could be doing in Simla. I gathered that she had learned practically +nothing, and had hardly concerned herself to learn anything. What +difference did it make? she asked me. Why should we inquire? Why tack +a theory of origin to a phenomenon of joy? Let us say the wind brought +him, and build him a temple. She was very whimsical up to the furthest +stretch of what could possibly be considered tea-time. When I went +away I saw her go again and sit down at the piano. In the veranda I +remembered something, stopped, and went back. I had to go back. ‘You did +not tell me,’ I said, ‘when he was coming again.’ + +‘Oh, tomorrow--tomorrow, of course,’ Dora paused to reply. + +I resented, as I made my way to the Club, the weight of official duties +that made it so impossible for me to keep at all closely in touch with +this young man. + + + +Chapter 2.V. + +The art of the photographer usually arouses in me all that is splenetic, +and I had not submitted myself to him for years before Dora made such a +preposterous point of it--years in which, as I sadly explained to her, +I might have submitted to the ordeal with much more ‘pleasing’ results. +She had often insisted before, but I could never see that she made out +a particularly good case for the operation until one afternoon when +she showed me the bold counterfeit presentment of an Assistant +Adjutant-General or some such person, much flattered as to features +but singularly faithful in its reproduction of the straps and buttons +attached. To my post also there belongs a uniform and a cocked hat +sufficiently dramatic, but persons who serve the State primarily with +the intelligence are supposed to have a mind above buttons; and when +I decided that my photograph should compete with the Assistant +Adjutant-General’s, I gave him every sartorial advantage. I gathered +that the offer, cabinet size, of this gentleman had been a spontaneous +one; that certainly could not be said of mine. Most unwillingly I turned +one morning into Kauffer’s; and I can not now imagine why I did it, +for emulation of the Assistant Adjutant-General was really not motive +enough, unless it was with an instinct prepared to stumble upon matter +germane in an absurd degree to this little history. + +I had the honour to be subjected to the searching analysis of Mr. +Kauffer himself. It was he who placed the chair and arranged the screw, +he who fixed the angle of my chin and gently disposed my fingers on my +knee. He gave me, I remember, a recent portrait of the Viceroy to fix +my eye upon, doubtless with the purpose of inspiring my countenance +with the devotion which would sit suitably upon one of His Excellency’s +slaves, and when it was all over he conducted me into another apartment +in order that I might see the very latest viceregal group--a domestic +one, including the Staff. The walls of the room contained what is +usually there, the enlarged photograph, the coloured photograph, the +amateur theatrical group, the group of His Excellency’s Executive +Council, the native dignitary with a diamond-tipped aigrette in the +front of his turban. The copy in oils of some old Italian landscape, +very black and yellow, also held its invariable place, and above it, +very near the ceiling, a line of canvases which, had I not been led past +them to inspect our ruler and his family, who sat transfixed on an easel +in a resplendent frame, would probably have escaped my attention. I did +proper homage to the easel, and then turned to those pictures. It was +plain enough who had painted them. Armour’s broad brush stood out all +over them. They were mostly Indian sporting subjects, the incident +a trifle elliptical, the drawing unequal, but the verve and feeling +unmistakeable, and colour to send a quiver of glorious acquiescence +through you like a pang. What astonished me was the number of them; +there must have been at least a dozen, all the same size and shape, all +hanging in a line of dazzling repetition. Here then was the explanation +of Armour’s seeming curious lack of output, and plain denial of the +supposition that he spent the whole of his time in doing the little +wooden ‘pochade’ things whose sweetness and delicacy had so feasted our +eyes elsewhere. It was part, no doubt, of his absolutely uncommercial +nature--we had experienced together passages of the keenest +embarrassment over my purchase of some of his studies--that he had not +mentioned these more serious things exposed at Kauffer’s; one had the +feeling of coming unexpectedly on treasure left upon the wayside and +forgotten. + +‘Hullo!’ I said, at a standstill, ‘I see you’ve got some of Mr. Armour’s +work there.’ + +Mr. Kauffer, with his hands behind him, made the sound which has its +counterpart in a shrug. ‘Yass,’ he said, ‘I haf some of Mr. Armour’s +work there. This one, that one, all those remaining pictures--they are +all the work of Mr. Armour.’ + +‘I didn’t know that any of his things were to be seen outside his +studio,’ I observed. + +‘So? They are to be seen here. There is no objection.’ + +‘Why should there be any objection?’ I demanded, slightly nettled. +‘People must see them before they buy them.’ + +‘Buy them!’ Kauffer’s tone was distinctly exasperated. ‘Who will buy +these pictures? Nobody. They are all, every one of them to REfuse.’ + +‘If you know Mr. Armour well enough,’ I said, ‘you should advise him +to exhibit some of his local studies and sketches here. They might sell +better.’ + +My words seemed unfortunately chosen. Mr. Kauffer turned an honest angry +red. + +‘Do I not know Mr. Armour well enough--und better!’ he exclaimed. ‘What +this man wass doing when I in Paris find him oudt? Shtarving, mein +Gott! I see his work. I see he paint a very goot horse, very goot animal +subject. I bring him oudt on contract, five hundred rupees the monnth to +paint for me, for my firm. Sir, it is now nine monnth. I am yoost four +tousand five hundred rupees out of my pocket by this gentleman!’ + +To enable me to cope with this astonishing tale I asked Mr. Kauffer for +a chair, which he obligingly gave me, and begged that he also would be +seated. The files at my office were my business, and this was not, but +no matter of Imperial concern seemed at the moment half so urgently +to require probing. ‘Surely,’ I said, ‘that is an unusual piece of +enterprise for a photographic firm to employ an artist to paint on a +salary. I don’t know even a regular dealer who does it.’ + +Mr. Kauffer at once and frankly explained. It was unusual and entirely +out of the regular line of business. It was, in fact, one of the +exceptional forms of enterprise inspired in this country by the native +prince. We who had to treat with the native prince solely on lofty +political lines were hardly likely to remember how largely he bulked +in the humbler relations of trade; but there was more than one Calcutta +establishment, Mr. Kauffer declared, that would be obliged to put up its +shutters without this inconstant and difficult, but liberal customer. +I waited with impatience. I could not for the life of me see Armour’s +connection with the native prince, who is seldom a patron of the arts +for their own sakes. + +‘Surely,’ I said, ‘you could not depend on the Indian nobility to buy +landscapes. They never do. I know of only one distinguished exception, +and he lives a thousand miles from here, in Bengal.’ + +‘No, not landscape,’ returned Mr. Kauffer; ‘but that Indian nobleman +will buy his portrait. We send our own man--photographic artist--to his +State, and he photograph the Chief and his arab, the Chief and his Prime +Minister, the Chief in his durbar, palace, gardens, stables--everything. +Presently the Chief goes on a big shoot. He says he will not have a +plain photograph--besides, it is difficult. He will have a painting, and +he will pay.’ + +‘Ah,’ I said, ‘I begin to see.’ + +‘You see? Then I send this Armour. Look!’ Mr. Kauffer continued with +rising excitement, baited apparently by the unfortunate canvas to which +he pointed, ‘when Armour go to make that I say you go paint ze Maharajah +of Gridigurh spearing ze wild pig. You see what he make?’ + +‘Well,’ I said, ‘it is a wonderfully spirited, dashing thing, and the +treatment of all that cane-brake and jungle grass is superb.’ + +‘Ze treatment--pardon me, sir, I overboil--do you know which is ze +Maharajah?’ + +‘I can’t say I do.’ + +‘Neider does he. Ze Maharajah refuse zat picture; he is a good fellow, +too. He says it is a portrait of ze pig.’ + +‘But it is so good,’ I protested, ‘of the pig.’ + +‘But that does not interest the Maharajah, you onderstand, no. You see +this one? Nawab of Kandore on his State elephant.’ + +No doubt about it,’ I said. ‘I know the Nawab well, the young scoundrel. +How dignified he looks!’ + +There was a note of real sorrow in Kauffer’s voice. ‘Dignified? Oh, yes; +dignified, but, you observe, also black. The Nawab will not be painted +black. At once it is on my hands.’ + +‘But he is black,’ I remonstrated. ‘He’s the darkest native I’ve ever +seen among the nobility.’ + +‘No matter for that. He will not be black. When I photograph that +Nawab--any nawab--I do not him black make. But ziss ass of Armour--ach!’ + +It was a fascinating subject, and I could have pursued it all along the +line of poor Armour’s rejected canvases, but the need to get away from +Kauffer with his equal claim upon my sympathy was too great. To have +cracked my solemn mask by a single smile would have been to break down +irrepressibly, and never since I set foot in India had I felt a parallel +desire to laugh and to weep. There was a pang in it which I recognize +as impossible to convey, arising from the point of contact, almost +unimaginable yet so clear before me, of the uncompromising ideals of +the atelier and the naive demands of the Oriental, with an unhappy +photographer caught between and wriggling. The situation was really +monstrous, the fatuous rejection of all that fine scheming and exquisite +manipulation, and it did not grow less so as Mr. Kauffer continued to +unfold it. Armour had not, apparently, proceeded to the scene of his +labours without instructions. In the pig-sticking delineation he had +been specially told that the Maharajah and the pig were to be in the +middle, with the rest nowhere and nothing between. Other injunctions +were as clear, and as clearly disregarded. Armour, like the Maharajahs, +had simply ‘REfuse’ to abandon his premeditated conceptions of how the +thing should be done. And here was the result, for the laughter of the +gods and anybody else that might see. I asked Kauffer unguardedly if no +sort of pressure could be brought to bear upon these chaps to make them +pay up. His face beaming with hope and intelligence, he suggested that +I should approach the Foreign Office in his behalf; but this I could not +quite see my way to. The coercion of native rulers, I explained, was a +difficult and a dangerous art, and to insist, for example, that one +of them should recognize his own complexion might be to run up a +disproportionate little bill of our own. I did, however, compound +something with Kauffer; I hope it wasn’t a felony. ‘Look here,’ I said +to Kauffer, ‘this isn’t official, you know, in any way, but how would +it do to write that scamp Kandore a formal letter regretting that the +portrait does not suit him, and asking his permission to dispose of it +to me? Of course it is yours to do as you like with already, but that is +no reason why you shouldn’t ask. I should like it, but the Porcha tiger +beat will do as well.’ + +Kauffer nearly fell upon my neck. + +‘That Kandore will buy it to put in one bonfire first,’ he assured me, +and I sincerely hoped for his sake that it would be the case. + +‘Of course it’s understood,’ I bethought me to say, ‘that I get it, if I +do get it, at Mr. Armour’s price. I’m not a Maharajah, you know, and it +isn’t a portrait of me.’ + +‘Of course!’ said Kauffer, ‘but I sink I sell you that Porcha; it is ze +best of ze two.’ + + + +Chapter 2.VI. + +I ventured for a few days to keep the light which chance had shed for +me upon Armour’s affairs to myself. The whole thing considered in +connection with his rare and delicate talent, seemed too derogatory and +disastrous to impart without the sense of doing him some kind of injury +in the mere statement. But there came a point when I could no longer +listen to Dora Harris’s theories to account for him, wild idealizations +as most of them were of any man’s circumstances and intentions. ‘Why +don’t you ask him point-blank?’ I said, and she replied, frowning +slightly, ‘Oh, I couldn’t do that. It would destroy something--I don’t +know what, but something valuable--between us.’ This struck me as +an exaggeration, considering how far, by that time, they must have +progressed towards intimacy, and my mouth was opened. She heard me +without the exclamations I expected, her head bent over the pencil she +was sharpening, and her silence continued after I had finished. The +touch of comedy I gave the whole thing--surely I was justified in +that!--fell flat, and I extracted from her muteness a sense of rebuke; +one would think I had been taking advantage of the poor devil. + +At last, having broken the lead of her pencil three times, she turned a +calm, considering eye upon me. + + +‘You have known this for a fortnight?’ she asked. ‘That doesn’t seem +somehow quite fair.’ + +‘To whom?’ I asked, and her answer startled me. + +‘To either of us,’ she said. + +How she advised herself to that effect is more than I can imagine, but +the print of her words is indelible, that is what she said. + +‘Oh, confound it!’ I exclaimed. ‘I couldn’t help finding out, you know.’ + +‘But you could help keeping it to yourself in that--in that base way,’ +she replied, and almost--the evening light was beginning to glimmer +uncertainly through the deodars--I could swear I saw the flash of a tear +on her eyelid. + +‘I beg your pardon,’ she went on a moment later, ‘but I do hate having +to pity him. It’s intolerable--that.’ + +I picked up a dainty edition of Aucassin and Nicolette with the +intention of getting upon ground less emotional, and observed on the +flyleaf ‘D.H. from I.A. In memory of the Hill of Stars.’ I looked +appreciatively at the binding, and as soon as possible put it down. + +‘He was not bound to tell me,’ Dora asserted presently, in reply to my +statement that the mare had somehow picked up a nail in the stable, and +was laid up. + +‘You have been very good to him,’ I said. ‘I think he was.’ + +‘His reticence was due,’ she continued, as if defying contradiction, ‘to +a simple dislike to bore one with his personal affairs.’ + +‘Was it?’ I assented. My tone acknowledged with all humility that she +was likely to know, and I did not deserve her doubtful glance. + +‘He could not certainly,’ she went on, with firmer decision, ‘have been +in the least ashamed of his connection with Kauffer.’ + +‘He comes from a country where social distinctions are less sharp than +they are in this idiotic place,’ I observed. + +‘Oh, if you think it is from any lack of recognition! His sensitiveness +is beyond reason. He has met two or three men in the Military Department +here--he was aware of the nicest shade of their patronage. But he does +not care. To him life is more than a clerkship. He sees all round people +like that. They are only figures in the landscape.’ + +‘Then,’ I said, ‘he is not at all concerned that nobody in this Capua +of ours knows him, or cares anything about him, or has bought a scrap of +his work, except our two selves.’ + +‘That’s a different matter. I have tried to rouse in him the feeling +that it would be as well to be appreciated, even in Simla, and I think +I’ve succeeded. He said, after those two men had gone away on Sunday, +that he thought a certain reputation in the place where he lived would +help anybody in his work.’ + +‘On Sunday? Do you mean between twelve and two?’ + +‘Yes, he came and made a formal call. There was no reason why he +shouldn’t.’ + +‘Now that I think of it,’ I rejoined, ‘he shot a card on me too, at the +Club. I was a little surprised. We didn’t seem somehow to be on those +terms. One doesn’t readily associate him with any conventionality.’ + +‘There’s no reason why he shouldn’t,’ said Dora again, and with this +vague comment we spoke of something else, both of us, I think, a little +disquieted and dissatisfied that he had. + +‘I think,’ Dora said as I went away, ‘that you had better go up to the +studio and tell him what you have told me. Perhaps it doesn’t matter +much, but I can’t bear the thought of his not knowing.’ + +‘Come to Kauffer’s in the morning and see the pictures,’ I urged; but +she turned away, ‘Oh, not with you.’ + +I found my way almost at once to Amy Villa, not only because I had been +told to go there. I wanted, myself, certain satisfactions. Armour was +alone and smoking, but I had come prepared against the contingency of +one of his cigars. They were the cigars of the man who doesn’t know what +he eats. With sociable promptness I lighted one of my own. The little +enclosed veranda testified to a wave of fresh activity. The north light +streamed in upon two or three fresh canvases, the place seemed full of +enthusiasm, and you could see its source, at present quiescent under the +influence of tobacco, in Armour’s face. + +‘You have taken a new line,’ I said, pointing to a file of camels, still +half obscured by the dust of the day, coming along a mountain road +under a dim moon. They might have been walking through time and through +history. It was a queer, simple thing, with a world of early Aryanism in +it. + +‘Does that say anything? I’m glad. It was to me articulate, but I didn’t +know. Oh, things have been going well with me lately. Those two studies +over there simply did themselves. That camp scene on the left is almost +a picture. I think I’ll put a little more work on it and give it a +chance in Paris. I got in once, you know. Champ de Mars. With some +horses.’ + +‘Did you, indeed?’ I said. ‘Capital.’ I asked him if he didn’t +atrociously miss the life of the Quarter, and he surprised me by saying +that he never had lived it. He had been en pension instead with a dear +old professor of chemistry and his family at Puteaux, and used to go in +and out. A smile came into his eyes at the remembrance, and he told +me one after the other idyllic little stories of the old professor and +madame. Madame and the omelet--madame and the melon--M. Vibois and the +maire; I sat charmed. So long as we remained in France his humour was +like this, delicate and expansive, but an accidental allusion led us +across the Channel when he changed. He had no little stories of the +time he spent in England. Instead he let himself go in generalizations, +aimed, for they had a distinct animus, at English institutions and +character, particularly as these appear in English society. I could +not believe, from the little I had seen of him, that his experience of +English society of any degree had been intimate; what he said had the +flavour of Radical Sunday papers. The only original element was the +feeling behind, which was plainly part of him; speculation instantly +clamoured as to how far this was purely temperamental and how far the +result of painful contact. He himself, he said, though later of +the Western States, had been born under the British flag of British +parents--though his mother was an Irishwoman she came from loyal +Ulster--and he repeated the statement as if it in some way justified his +attitude towards his fellow countrymen and excused his truculence in the +ear of a servant of the empire which he had the humour to abuse. I heard +him, I confess, with impatience, it was all so shabby and shallow, but +I heard him out, and I was rewarded; he came for an illustration in +the end to Simla. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘at what they call their “Government +House list”; and look at Strobo, Signor Strobo. Isn’t Strobo a man of +intelligence, isn’t he a man of benevolence? He gave ten thousand rupees +last week to the famine fund. Is Strobo on Government House list? Is he +ever invited to dine with the Viceroy? No, because Strobo keeps a hotel! +Look at Rosario--where does Rosario come in? Nowhere, because Rosario is +a clerk, and a subordinate. Yet Rosario is a man of wide reading and a +very accomplished fellow!’ + +It became more or less necessary to argue then, and the commonplaces +with which I opposed him called forth a wealth of detail bearing most +picturesquely upon his stay among us. I began to think he had never +hated English rigidity and English snobbery until he came to Simla, +and that he and Strobo and Rosario had mingled their experiences in one +bitter cup. I gathered this by inference only, he was curiously watchful +and reticent as to anything that had happened to him personally; indeed, +he was careful to aver preferences for the society of ‘sincere’ +people like Strobo and Rosario, that seemed to declare him more than +indifferent to circles in which he would not meet them. In the end our +argument left me ridiculously irritated--it was simply distressing to +see the platform from which he obtained so wide and exquisite a view of +the world upheld by such flimsy pillars--and my nerves were not soothed +by his proposal to walk with me to the Club. I could hardly refuse it, +however, and he came along in excellent spirits, having effected the +demolition of British social ideals, root and branch. His mongrel dog +accompanied, keeping offensively near our heels. It was not even an +honest pi, but a dog of tawdry pretensions with a banner-like tail +dishonestly got from a spaniel. On one occasion I very nearly kicked the +dog. + + + +Chapter 2.VII. + +‘The fact is,’ I said to Dora as we rode down to the gymkhana, ‘his +personality takes possession of one. I constantly go to that little hut +of his with intentions, benevolent or otherwise, which I never carry +out.’ + +‘You mean,’ she answered, ‘that you completely forgot to reveal to him +your hateful knowledge about Kauffer.’ + +‘On the contrary, I didn’t forget it for a moment. But the conversation +took a turn that made it quite impossible to mention.’ + +‘I can understand,’ Miss Harris replied softly, ‘how that might be. And +it doesn’t in the least matter,’ she went on triumphantly, ‘because I’ve +told him myself.’ + +My nerves must have been a trifle strung up at the time, for this struck +me as a matter for offense. ‘You thought I would trample upon him,’ I +exclaimed. + +‘No, no really. I disliked his not knowing it was known--rien de plus,’ +she said lightly. + +‘What did he say?’ + +‘Oh, not much. What should he say?’ + +‘He might have expressed a decent regret on poor Kauffer’s account,’ I +growled. Dora did not reply, and a glance showed her frowning. + +‘I believe he apologized!’ I cried, pushing, as it were, my advantage. + +‘He explained.’ + +‘Oh!’ + +‘Of course he hasn’t relished the position, and of course he didn’t +realize it before he came. Shall we trot?’ + +I was compelled to negative the idea of trotting, since we were +descending quite the steepest pitch of the road down to Annandale. We +went on at a walk, and it occurred to me, as my contemplative gaze +fell on my own pig-skins, that we were, even for Simla, an uncommonly +well-turned-out pair. I had helped to pick Dora’s hack, and I allowed +myself to reflect that he did my judgment credit. She sat him perfectly +in her wrath--she was plainly angry--not a hair out of place. Why is it +that a lady out of temper with her escort always walks away from him? Is +her horse sympathetic? Ronald, at all events, was leading by a couple of +yards, when suddenly he shied, bounding well across the road. + +The mare, whose manners I can always answer for, simply stopped and +looked haughtily about for explanations. A path dropped into the road +from the hillside; something came scrambling and stumbling down. + +‘Oh!’ cried Dora, as it emerged and was Armour on his much enduring +white pony, ‘how you frightened us!’ + +‘Why don’t you stick to the road, man?’ I exclaimed. ‘It isn’t usual to +put ponies up and down these coolie tracks!’ + +He took no notice of this rather broad hint that I was annoyed, but +fixed his eager, light, luminous eyes upon Dora. + +‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and added, ‘I did not expect to see you today!’ + +‘Not till tomorrow,’ she returned. ‘You remember that we are sketching +tomorrow?’ + +He looked at her and smiled slightly; and then I remember noticing that +his full, arched upper lip seldom quite met its counterpart over his +teeth. This gave an unpremeditated casual effect to everything he found +to say, and made him look a dreamer at his busiest. His smile was at the +folly of her reminder. + +‘I’ve just been looking for something that you would like,’ he said, +‘but it isn’t much good hunting about alone. I see five times as much +when we go together.’ + +He and his pony barred the way; he had an air of leisure and of +felicity; one would think we had met at an afternoon party. + +‘We are on our way,’ I explained, ‘to the gymkhana. Miss Harris is in +one of the events. You did enter for the needle-threading race, didn’t +you, with Lord Arthur? I think we must get on.’ + +A slow, dull red mounted to Armour’s face and seemed to put out that +curious light in his eyes. + +‘Is it far?’ he asked, glancing down over the tree-tops. ‘I’ve never +been there.’ + +‘Why,’ cried Dora, suddenly, ‘you’ve been down!’ + +‘So you have,’ I confirmed her. ‘Your beast is damaged too.’ + +‘Oh, it was only a stumble,’ Armour replied; ‘I stuck on all right.’ + +‘Well,’ I said, ‘you had better get off now, as you didn’t then, +and look at your animal’s near fore. The swelling’s as big as a bun +already.’ + +Again he made me no answer, but looked intently and questioningly at +Dora. + +‘Get off, Mr. Armour,’ she said, sharply, ‘and lead your horse home. It +is not fit to be ridden. Goodbye.’ + +I have no doubt he did it, but neither of us were inclined to look back +to see. We pushed on under the deodars, and I was indulgent to a trot. +At the end of it Dora remarked that Mr. Armour naturally could not be +expected to know anything about riding, it was very plucky of him to get +on a horse at all, among these precipices; and I of course agreed. + +Lord Arthur was waiting when we arrived, on his chestnut polo pony, but +Dora immediately scratched for the brilliant event in which they were +paired. Ronald, she said, was simply cooked with the heat. Ronald had +come every yard of the way on his toes and was fit for anything, but +Lord Arthur did not insist. There were young ladies in Simla, I am glad +to say, who appealed more vividly to his imagination than Dora Harris +did, and one of them speedily replaced her, a fresh-coloured young +Amazon who was staying at the Chief’s. She wandered about restlessly +over the dry turf for a few minutes, and then went and sat down in a +corner of the little wooden Grand Stand and sent me for a cup of tea. + +‘Won’t you come to the tent?’ I asked a little ruefully, eyeing the +distance and the possible collisions between, but she shook her head. + +‘I simply couldn’t bear it,’ she said, and I went feeling somehow +chastened myself by the cloud that was upon her spirit. + +I found her on my return regarding the scene with a more than usually +critical eye, and a more than usually turned down lip. Yet it was +exactly the scene it always was, and always, probably, will be. I sat +down beside her and regarded it also, but more charitably than usual. +Perhaps it was rather trivial, just a lot of pretty dresses and excited +young men in white riding-breeches doing foolish things on ponies in +the shortest possible time, with one little crowd about the Club’s +refreshment tent and another about the Staff’s, while the hills sat +round in an indifferent circle; but it appealed to me with a kind of +family feeling that afternoon, and inspired me with tolerance, even +benevolence. + +‘After all,’ I said, ‘it’s mainly youth and high spirits--two good +things. And one knows them all.’ + +‘And who are they to know?’ complained Dora. + +‘Just decent young Englishmen and Englishwomen, out here on their +country’s business,’ I replied cheerfully; ‘with the marks of Oxford and +Cambridge and Sandhurst and Woolwich on the men. Well-set-up youngsters, +who know what to do and how to do it. Oh, I like the breed!’ + +‘I wonder,’ said she, in a tone of preposterous melancholy, ‘if +eventually I have to marry one of them.’ + +‘Not necessarily,’ I said. She looked at me with interest, as if I had +contributed importantly to the matter in hand, and resumed tapping her +boot with her riding-crop. We talked of indifferent things and had long +lapses. At the close of one effort Dora threw herself back with a deep, +tumultuous sigh. ‘The poverty of this little wretched resort ties up +one’s tongue!’ she cried. ‘It is the bottom of the cup; here one gets +the very dregs of Simla’s commonplace. Let us climb out of it.’ + +I thought for a moment that Ronald had been too much for her nerves +coming down, and offered to change saddles, but she would not. We took +it out of the horses all along the first upward slopes, and as we pulled +in to breathe them she turned to me paler than ever. + +‘I feel better now,’ she said. + +For myself I had got rid of Armour for the afternoon. I think my +irritation with him about his pony rose and delivered me from the +too insistent thought of him. With Dora it was otherwise; she had +dismissed him; but he had never left her for a moment the whole long +afternoon. + +She flung a searching look at me. With a reckless turn of her head, she +said, ‘Why didn’t we take him with us?’ + +‘Did we want him?’ I asked. + +‘I think I always want him.’ + +‘Ah!’ said I, and would have pondered this statement at some length in +silence, but that she plainly did not wish me to do so. + +‘We might perfectly well have sent his pony home with one of our own +servants--he would have been delighted to walk down.’ + +‘He wasn’t in proper kit,’ I remonstrated. + +‘Oh, I wish you would speak to him about that. Make him get some +tennis-flannels and riding-things.’ + +‘Do you propose to get him asked to places?’ I inquired. + +She gave me a charmingly unguarded smile. ‘I propose to induce you to +do so. I have done what I could. He has dined with us several times, and +met a few people who would, I thought, be kind to him.’ + +‘Oh, well,’ I said, ‘I have had him at the Club too, with old Lamb and +Colonel Hamilton. He made us all miserable with his shyness. Don’t ask +me to do it again, please.’ + +‘I’ve sent him to call on certain people,’ Dora continued, ‘and I’ve +shown his pictures to everybody, and praised him and talked about him, +but I can’t go on doing that indefinitely, can I?’ + +‘No,’ I said; ‘people might misunderstand.’ + +‘I don’t think they would MISunderstand,’ replied this astonishing girl, +without flinching. She even sought my eyes to show me that hers were +clear and full of purpose. + +‘Good God!’ I said to myself, but the words that fell from me were, ‘He +is outside all that life.’ + +‘What is the use of living a life that he is outside of?’ + +‘Oh, if you put it that way,’ I said, and set my teeth, ‘I will do what +I can.’ + +She held out her hand with an affectionate gesture, and I was +reluctantly compelled to press it. + +The horses broke into a trot, and we talked no more of Armour, or of +anything, until Ted Harris joined us on the Mall. + +I have rendered this conversation with Dora in detail because subsequent +events depend so closely upon it. Some may not agree that it was basis +enough for the action I thought well to take; I can only say that it was +all I was ever able to obtain. Dora was always particularly civil and +grateful about my efforts, but she gave me only one more glimpse, and +that enigmatic, of any special reason why they should be made. Perhaps +this was more than compensated for by the abounding views I had of the +situation as it lay with Ingersoll Armour, but of that, other persons, +approaching the subject without prejudice, will doubtless judge better +than I. + + + +Chapter 2.VIII. + +It was better not to inquire, so I never knew to what extent Kauffer +worked upon the vanity of ancient houses the sinful dodge I suggested to +him; but I heard before long that the line of Armour’s rejected efforts +had been considerably diminished. Armour told me himself that Kauffer’s +attitude had become almost conciliatory, that Kauffer had even hinted +at the acceptance of, and adhesion to, certain principles which he would +lay down as the basis of another year’s contract. In talking to me about +it, Armour dwelt on these absurd stipulations only as the reason why any +idea of renewal was impossible. It was his proud theory with me that to +work for a photographer was just as dignified as to produce under any +other conditions, provided you did not stoop to ideals which for lack +of a better word might be called photographic. How he represented it to +Dora, or permitted Dora to represent it to him, I am not so certain--I +imagine there may have been admissions and qualifications. Be that as +it may, however, the fact was imperative that only three months of the +hated bond remained, and that some working substitute for the hated bond +would have to be discovered at their expiration. Simla, in short, must +be made to buy Armour’s pictures, to appreciate them, if the days of +miracle were not entirely past, but to buy them any way. On one or two +occasions I had already made Simla buy things. I had cleared out young +Ludlow’s stables for him in a week--he had a string of ten--when he +played polo in a straw hat and had to go home with sunstroke; and I once +auctioned off all the property costumes of the Amateur Dramatic Society +at astonishing prices. Pictures presented difficulties which I have +hinted at in an earlier chapter, but I did not despair. I began by +hauling old Lamb, puffing and blowing like a grampus, up to Amy Villa, +filling him up all the way with denunciations of Simla’s philistinism +and suggestions that he alone redeemed it. + +It is a thing I am ashamed to think of, and it deserved its reward. + +Lamb criticized and patronized every blessed thing he saw, advised +Armour to beware of mannerisms and to be a little less liberal with his +colour, and heard absolutely unmoved of the horses Armour had got into +the Salon. ‘I understand,’ he said, with a benevolent wink, ‘that about +four thousand pictures are hung every year at the Salon, and I don’t +know how many thousand are rejected. Let Mr. Armour get a picture +accepted by the Academy. Then he will have something to talk about.’ + +Neither did Sir William Lamb buy anything at all. + +The experiment with Lady Pilkey was even more distressing. She gushed +with fair appropriateness and great liberality, and finally fixed upon +one scene to make her own. She winningly asked the price of it. She +had never known anybody who did not understand prices. Poor Armour, the +colour of a live coal, named one hundred rupees. + +‘One hundred rupees! Oh, my dear boy, I can never afford that! You must, +you must really give it to me for seventy-five. It will break my heart +if I can’t have it for seventy-five.’ + +‘Give me the pleasure,’ said Armour, ‘of making you a present of it. You +have been so kind about everything, and it’s so seldom one meets +anybody who really cares. So let me send it to you.’ It was honest +embarrassment; he did not mean to be impertinent. + +And she did. + +Blum, of the Geological Department--Herr Blum in his own country--came +up and honestly rejoiced, and at end of an interminable pipe did +purchase a little Breton bit that I hated to see go--it was one of +the things that gave the place its air; but Blum had a large family +undergoing education at Heidelberg, and exclaimed, to Armour’s keenest +anguish, that on this account he could not more do. + +Altogether, during the months of August and September, persons resident +in Simla drawing their income from Her Majesty, bought from the +eccentric young artist from nowhere, living on Summer Hill, canvases and +little wooden panels to the extent of two hundred and fifty rupees. Lady +Pilkey had asked him to lunch--she might well! and he had appeared at +three garden-parties and a picnic. It was not enough. + +It was not enough, and yet it was, in a manner, too much. Pitiful as +it was in substance, it had an extraordinary personal effect. Armour +suddenly began to turn himself out well--his apparel was of smarter cut +than mine, and his neckties in better taste. Little elegances appeared +in the studio--he offered you Scotch in a Venetian decanter and +Melachrinos from a chased silver box. The farouche element faded out of +his speech; his ideas remained as fresh and as simple as ever, but he +gave them a form, bless me! that might have been used at the Club. He +worked as hard as ever, but more variously; he tried his hand at several +new things. He said he was feeling about for something that would really +make his reputation. + +In spite of all this his little measure of success made him more +contemptuous than before of its scene and its elements. He declared that +he had a poorer idea than ever of society now that he saw the pattern +from the smart side. That his convictions on this head survived one of +the best Simla tailors shows that they must always have been strong. I +think he believed that he was doing all that he did do to make himself +socially possible with the purpose of pleasing Dora Harris. I would +not now venture to say how far Dora inspired and controlled him in +this direction, and how far the impulse was his own. The measure of +appreciation that began to seek his pictures, poor and small though it +was, gave him, on the other hand, the most unalloyed delight. He talked +of the advice of Sir William Lamb as if it were anything but that of a +pompous old ass, and he made a feast with champagne for Blum that must +have cost him quite as much as Blum paid for the Breton sketch. He +confirmed my guess that he had never in his life until he came to Simla +sold anything, so that even these small transactions were great things +to him, and the earnest of a future upon which he covered his eyes not +to gaze too raptly. He mentioned to me that Kauffer had been asked +for his address--who could it possibly be?--and looked so damped by my +humourous suggestion that it was a friend of Kauffer’s in some other +line who wanted a bill paid, that I felt I had been guilty of brutality. +And all the while the quality of his wonderful output never changed or +abated. Pure and firm and prismatic it remained. I found him one day at +the very end of October, with shining eyes and fingers blue with cold, +putting the last of the afternoon light on the snows into one of the +most dramatic hill pictures I ever knew him to do. He seemed intoxicated +with his skill, and hummed the ‘Marseillaise,’ I remember, all the way +to Amy Villa whither I accompanied him. + +It was the last day of Kauffer’s contract; and besides, all the world, +secretaries, establishments, hill captains, grass widows, shops, and +sundries, was trundling down the hill. I came to ask my young friend +what he meant to do. + +‘Do?’ he cried. ‘Why, eat, drink, and be merry! Kauffer has paid up, and +his yoke is at the bottom of the sea. Come back and dine with me!’ + +The hour we spent together in his little inner room before dinner was +served stands out among my strangest, loveliest memories of Armour. He +was divinely caught up, and absurd as it is to write, he seemed to carry +me with him. We drank each a glass of vermouth before dinner sitting +over a scented fire of deodar branches, while outside the little window +in front of me the lifted lines of the great empty Himalayan landscape +faded and fell into a blur. I remembered the solitary scarlet dahlia +that stood between us and the vast cold hills and held its colour when +all was grey but that. The hill world waited for the winter; down a +far valley we could hear a barking deer. Armour talked slowly, often +hesitating for a word, of the joy there was in beauty and the divinity +in the man who saw it with his own eyes. I have read notable pages that +brought conviction pale beside that which stole about the room from what +he said. The comment may seem fantastic, but it is a comment--I caressed +the dog. The servant clattered in with the plates, and at a shout +outside Armour left me. He came in radiant with Signor Strobo, also +radiant and carrying a violin, for hotel-keeping was not the Signor’s +only accomplishment. I knew Strobo well; many a special dish had he +ordered for my little parties; and we met at Armour’s fireside like the +genial old acquaintances we were. Another voice without and presently +I was nodding to Rosario and vaguely wondering why he looked +uncomfortable. + +‘I’m sorry,’ said Armour, as we sat down, ‘I’ve got nothing but beer. +If I had known you were all coming, no vintage that crawls up the hill +would have been good enough for me.’ He threw the bond of his wonderful +smile round us as we swallowed his stuff, and our hearts were lightened. +‘You fellows,’ he went on nodding at the other two, ‘might happen any +day, but my friend John Philips comes to me across aerial spaces; he is +a star I’ve trapped--you don’t do that often. Pilsener, John Philips, or +Black?’ He was helping his only servant by pouring out the beer himself, +and as I declared for Black he slapped me affectionately on the back and +said my choice was good. + +The last person who had slapped me on the back was Lord Dufferin, and +I smiled softly and privately at the remembrance, and what a difference +there was. I had resented Dufferin’s slap. + +We had spiced hump and jungle-fowl and a Normandy cheese, everybody will +understand that; but how shall I make plain with what exultation and +simplicity we ate and drank, how the four candid selves of us sat around +the table in a cloud of tobacco and cheered each other on, Armour always +far in front turning handsprings as he went. Scraps come back to me, but +the whole queer night has receded and taken its place among those dreams +that insist at times upon having been realities. Rosario told us stories +Kipling might have coveted of the under life of Port Said. Strobo talked +with glorious gusto of his uncle the brigand. They were liberated men; +we were all liberated men. ‘Let the direction go,’ cried Armour, ‘and +give the senses flight, taking the image as it comes, beating the air +with happy pinions.’ He must have been talking of his work, but I can +not now remember. And what made Strobo say, of life and art, ‘I have +waited for ten years and five thousand pounds--now my old violin says, +“Go, handle the ladle! Go, add up the account!”’ And did we really +discuss the chances of ultimate salvation for souls in the Secretariat? +I know I lifted my glass once and cried, ‘I, a slave, drink to freedom!’ +and Rosario clinked with me. And Strobo played wailing Hungarian airs +with sudden little shakes of hopeless laughter in them. I can not +even now hear Naches without being filled with the recollection of how +certain bare branches in me that night blossomed. + +I walked alone down the hill and along the three miles to the Club, and +at every step the tide sank in me till it cast me on my threshold at +three in the morning, just the middle-aged shell of a Secretary to the +Government of India that I was when I set forth. Next day when my head +clerk brought me the files we avoided one another’s glances; and it was +quite three weeks before I could bring myself to address him with the +dignity and distance prescribed for his station as ‘Mr.’ Rosario. + + + +Chapter 2.IX. + +I went of course to Calcutta for the four winter months. Harris and I +were together at the Club. It was the year, I remember, of the great +shindy as to whether foreign consuls should continue to be made +honourary members, in view of the sentiments some of them were freely +reflecting from Europe upon the subject of a war in South Africa which +was none of theirs. Certainly, feeling as they did, it would have been +better if they had swaggered less about a club that stood for British +Government; but I did not vote to withdraw the invitation. We can not, +after all, take notice of every idle word that drops from Latin or +Teutonic tongues; it isn’t our way; but it was a liverish cold weather +on various accounts, and the public temper was short. I heard from Dora +oftener, Harris declared, than he did. She was spending the winter +with friends in Agra, and Armour, of course, was there too, living at +Laurie’s Hotel, and painting, Dora assured me, with immense energy. +It was just the place for Armour, a sumptuous dynasty wrecked in white +marble and buried in desert sands for three hundred years; and I was +glad to hear that he was making the most of it. It was quite by the way, +but I had lent him the money to go there--somebody had to lend it to +him--and when he asked me to decide whether he should take his passage +for Marseilles or use it for this other purpose I could hardly hesitate, +believing in him, as I did, to urge him to paint a little more of India +before he went. I frankly despaired of his ever being able to pay his +way in Simla without Kauffer, but that was no reason why he should not +make a few more notes for further use at home, where I sometimes saw +for him, when his desultory and experimental days were over and some +definiteness and order had come into his work, a Bond Street exhibition. + +I have not said all this time what I thought of Ingersoll Armour and +Dora Harris together, because their connection seemed too vague and +fantastic and impossible to hold for an instant before a steady gaze. I +have no wish to justify myself when I write that I preferred to keep my +eyes averted, enjoying perhaps just such a measure of vision as would +enter at a corner of them. This may or may not have been immoral under +the circumstances--the event did not prove it so--but for urgent private +reasons I could not be the person to destroy the idyll, if indeed its +destruction were possible, that flourished there in the corner of +my eye. Besides, had not I myself planted and watered it? But it was +foolish to expect other people, people who are forever on the lookout +for trousseaux and wedding-bells, and who considered these two as mere +man and maid, and had no sight of them as engaging young spirits in +happy conjunction--it was foolish to expect such people to show equal +consideration. Christmas was barely over before the lady with whom Miss +Harris was staying found it her duty to communicate to Edward Harris the +fact that dear Dora’s charming friendship--she was sure it was nothing +more--with the young artist--Mrs. Poulton believed Mr. Harris would +understand who was meant--was exciting a good deal of comment in the +station, and WOULD dear Mr. Harris please write to Dora himself, as Mrs. +Poulton was beginning to feel so responsible? + +I saw the letter; Harris showed it to me when he sat down to breakfast +with the long face of a man in a domestic difficulty, and we settled +together whom we should ask to put his daughter up in Calcutta. It +should be the wife of a man in his own department of course; it is to +one’s Deputy Secretary that one looks for succour at times like this; +and naturally one never looks in vain. Mrs. Symons would be delighted. +I conjured up Dora’s rage on receipt of the telegram. She loathed the +Symonses. + +She came, but not at the jerk of a wire; she arrived a week later, with +a face of great propriety and a smile of great unconcern. Harris, having +got her effectually out of harm’s way, shirked further insistence, and +I have reason to believe that Armour was never even mentioned between +them. + +Dora applied herself to the gaieties of the season with the zest of +a debutante; she seemed really refreshed, revitalized. She had never +looked better, happier. I met her again for the first time at one of +the Thursday dances at Government House. In the glance she gave me I was +glad to detect no suspicion of collusion. She plainly could not dream +that Edward Harris in his nefarious exercise of parental authority had +acted upon any hint from me. It was rather sweet. + +Out in the veranda, away from the blare of the Viceroy’s band, she told +me very delicately and with the most charming ellipses how Armour had +been filling her life in Agra, how it had all been, for these two, a +dream and a vision. There is a place below the bridge there, where the +cattle come down from the waste pastures across the yellow sands to +drink and stand in the low water of the Jumna, to stand and switch their +tails while their herdsmen on the bank coax them back with ‘Ari!’ ‘Ari!’ +‘Ari!’ long and high, faint and musical; and the minarets of Akbar’s +fort rise beyond against the throbbing sky and the sun fills it all. +This place I shall never see more distinctly than I saw it that night on +the veranda at Government House, Calcutta, with the conviction, like a +margin for the picture, that its foreground had been very often occupied +by the woman I profoundly worshiped and Ingersoll Armour. She told me +that he had sent me a sketch of it, and I very much wished he hadn’t. +One felt that the gift would carry a trifle of irony. + +‘He has told me,’ she said once brusquely, ‘how good you have been to +him.’ + +‘Is he coming to Simla again?’ I asked. + +‘Oh yes! And please take it from me that this time he will conquer the +place. He has undertaken to do it.’ + +‘At your request?’ + +‘At my persuasion--at my long entreaty. They must recognize him--they +must be taught. I have set my heart on it.’ + +‘Does he himself very much care?’ I asked remembering the night of the +thirty-first of October. + +‘Yes, he does care. He despises it, of course, but in a way he cares. +I’ve been trying to make him care more. A human being isn’t an orchid; +he must draw something from the soil he grows in.’ + +‘If he were stable,’ I mused; ‘if he had a fixed ambition somewhere in +the firmament. But his purpose is a will-o’-the-wisp.’ + +‘I think he has an ambition,’ said Miss Harris, into the dark. + +‘Ah! Then we must continue,’ I said--‘continue to push from behind.’ + +Dora did not reply. She is a person of energy and determination, and +might have been expected to offer to cooperate gladly. But she didn’t. + +‘He is painting a large picture for next season’s exhibition,’ she +informed me. ‘I was not allowed to see it or to know anything about it, +but he declares it will bring Simla down.’ + +‘I hope not,’ I said, piously. + +‘Oh, I hope so. I have told him,’ Dora continued, slowly, ‘that a great +deal depends on it.’ + +‘Here is Mrs. Symons,’ I was able to return, ‘and I am afraid she is +looking for you.’ + +March came, and the city lay white under its own dust. The electric fans +began to purr in the Club, and Lent brought the flagging season to a +full stop. I had to go that year on tour through the famine district +with the Member, and we escaped, gasping, from the Plains about the +middle of April. Simla was crimson with rhododendron blossoms, and +seemed a spur of Arcady. There had been the usual number of flittings +from one house to another, and among them I heard with satisfaction +that Armour no longer occupied Amy Villa. I would not for the world have +blurred my recollections of that last evening--I could not have gone +there again. + +‘He is staying with Sir William Lamb,’ said Dora, handing me my cup of +tea. ‘And I am quite jealous. Sir William, only Sir William, has been +allowed to see the exhibition picture.’ + +‘What does that portend?’ I said, thoughtfully. + +‘I don’t know. Sir William was here yesterday simply swelling with his +impression of it. He says it’s the finest thing that has been done in +India. I told you he would conquer them.’ + +‘You did,’ and without thinking I added, ‘I hope you won’t be sorry that +you asked him to.’ It must have been an inspiration. + +Armour, those weeks before the exhibition, seemed invisible. Dora +reported him torn with the incapacity of the bazaar frame-maker to +follow a design, and otherwise excessively occupied, and there was no +lack of demands upon my own time. Besides, my ardour to be of assistance +to the young man found a slight damper in the fact that he was staying +with Sir William Lamb. What competence had I to be of use to the guest +of Sir William Lamb? + +‘I do not for a moment think he will be there,’ said Dora, on the day +of the private view as we went along the Mall towards the Town Hall +together. ‘He will not run with an open mouth to his success. He will +take it from us later.’ + +But he was there. We entered precisely at the dramatic moment of his +presentation by Sir William Lamb to the Viceroy. He stood embarrassed +and smiling in a little circle of compliments and congratulation. Behind +him and a little to the left hung his picture, large and predominant, +and in the corner of the frame was stuck the red ticket that signified +the Viceroy’s gold medal. We saw that, I think, before we saw anything +else. Then with as little haste as was decent, considering His +Excellency’s proximity, we walked within range of the picture. + +I am not particularly pleased, even now, to have the task of describing +the thing. Its subject was an old Mahomedan priest with a green turban +and a white beard exhorting a rabble of followers. I heard myself saying +to Dora that it was very well painted indeed, very conscientiously +painted, and that is certainly what struck me. The expression of the +fire-eater’s face was extremely characteristic; his arm was flung +out with a gesture that perfectly matched. The group of listeners was +carefully composed and most ‘naturally’; that is the only word that +would come to me. + +I glanced almost timidly at Dora. She was regarding it with a deep +vertical line between her handsome brows. + +‘What--on earth--has he done with himself?’ she demanded, but before I +could reply Armour was by our side. + +‘Well?’ he said, looking at Dora. + +‘It--it’s very nice,’ she stammered, ‘but I miss YOU.’ + +‘She only means, you know,’ I rushed in, ‘that you’ve put in everything +that was never there before. Accuracy of detail, you know, and so forth. +‘Pon my word, there’s some drawing in that!’ + +‘No,’ said Dora, calmly, ‘what I complain of is that he has left out +everything that was there before. But he has won the gold medal, and I +congratulate him.’ + +‘Well,’ I said, uneasily, ‘don’t congratulate me. I didn’t do it. +Positively I am not to blame.’ + +‘His Excellency says that it reminds him of an incident in one of Mrs. +Steel’s novels,’ said Armour, just turning his head to ascertain His +Excellency’s whereabouts. + +‘Dear me, so it does,’ I exclaimed, eagerly, ‘one couldn’t name the +chapter--it’s the general feeling.’ I went on to discourse of the +general feeling. Words came generously, questions with point, comments +with intelligence. I swamped the situation and so carried it off. + +‘The Viceroy has bought the thing,’ Armour went on, looking at Dora, +‘and has commissioned me to paint another. The only restriction he makes +is--’ + +‘That it shall be of the same size?’ asked Dora. + +‘That it must deal with some phase of native life.’ + +Miss Harris walked to a point behind us, and stood there with her eyes +fixed upon the picture. I glanced at her once; her gaze was steady, but +perfectly blank. Then she joined us again, and struck into the stream of +my volubility. + +‘I am delighted,’ she said, pleasantly, to Armour. ‘You have done +exactly what I wanted you to do. You have won the Viceroy’s medal, and +all the reputation there is to win in this place. Come and dine +tonight, and we will rejoice together. But wasn’t it--for you--a little +difficult?’ + +He looked at her as if she had offered him a cup, and then dashed it +from his lips; but the occasion was not one, of course, for crying out. + +‘Oh no,’ he said, putting on an excellent face. ‘But it took a hideous +time.’ + + + +Chapter 2.X. + +Within a fortnight I was surprised and a little irritated to receive +from Armour the amount of my loan in full. It was not in accordance +with my preconceived idea of him that he should return it at all. I had +arranged in my own mind that he should be governed by the most honest +impulses and the most approved intentions up to the point of departure, +but that he should never find it quite convenient to pay, and that in +order to effect his final shipment to other shores I should be compelled +to lend him some more money. In the far future, when he should be famous +and I an obscure pauper on pension, my generous imagination permitted me +to see the loan repaid; but not till then. These are perhaps stereotyped +and conventional lines to conceive him on, but I hardly think that +anybody who has followed my little account to this point will think them +unjustifiable. I looked at his cheque with disgust. That a man turns out +better than you expected is no reason why you such not be annoyed that +your conception of him is shattered. You may be gratified on general +grounds, but distinctly put out on personal ones, especially when your +conception pointed to his inevitable removal. That was the way I felt. + +The cheque stood for so much more than its money value. It stood for a +possible, nay, a probable capacity in Armour to take his place in the +stable body of society, to recognize and make demands, to become a +taxpayer, a churchgoer, a householder, a husband. As I gazed, the +signature changed from that of a gnome with luminous eyes who inhabited +an inaccessible crag among the rhododendrons to that of a prosperous +artist-bourgeois with a silk hat for Sundays. I have in some small +degree the psychological knack, I saw the possibilities of the situation +with immense clearness; and I cursed the cheque. + +Coincidence is odious, tells on the nerves. I never felt it more so than +a week later, when I read in the ‘Pioneer’ the announcement of the death +of my old friend Fry, Superintendent of the School of Art in Calcutta. +The paragraph in which the journal dismissed poor Fry to his reward was +not unkind, but it distinctly implied that the removal of Fry should +include the removal of his ideas and methods, and the substitution of +something rather more up to date. It remarked that the Bengali student +had been pinned down long enough to drawing plaster casts, and declared +that something should be done to awake within him the creative idea. I +remember the phrase, it seemed so directly to suggest that the person to +awake it should be Ingersoll Armour. + +I turned the matter over in my mind; indeed, for the best part of an +hour my brain revolved with little else. The billet was an excellent +one, with very decent pay and charming quarters. It carried a pension, +it was the completest sort of provision. There was a long vacation, with +opportunities for original effort, and I had heard Fry call the work +interesting. Fry was the kind of man to be interested in anything that +gave him a living, but there was no reason why a more captious spirit, +in view of the great advantages, should not accommodate itself to the +routine that might present itself. The post was in the gift of the +Government of Bengal, but that was no reason why the Government of +Bengal should not be grateful in the difficulty of making a choice for a +hint from us. The difficulty was really great. They would have to +write home and advertise in the ‘Athenaeum’--for some reason +Indian Governments always advertise educational appointments in +the ‘Athenaeum’; it is a habit which dates from the days of John +Company--and that would mean delay. And then the result might be a +disappointment. Might Armour not also be a disappointment? That I really +could not say. A new man is always a speculation, and departments, like +individuals, have got to take their luck. + +The Viceroy was so delighted--everybody was so delighted--with the medal +picture that the merest breath blown among them would secure Armour’s +nomination. Should I blow that breath? These happy thoughts must always +occur to somebody. This one had occurred to me. Ten to one it +would occur to nobody else, and last of all to Armour himself. The +advertisement might already be on its way home to the ‘Athenaeum’. + +It would make everything possible. It would throw a very different +complexion over the idyll. It would turn that interlacing wreath of +laurels and of poppies into the strongest bond in the world. + +I would simply have nothing to do with it. + +But there was no harm I asking Armour to dine with me; I sent the note +off by messenger after breakfast and told the steward to put a magnum +of Pommery to cool at seven precisely. I had some idea, I suppose, of +drinking with Armour to his eternal discomfiture. Then I went to the +office with a mind cleared of responsibility and comfortably pervaded +with the glow of good intentions. + +The moment I saw the young man, punctual and immediate and a little +uncomfortable about the cuffs, I regretted not having asked one or two +more fellows. It might have spoiled the occasion, but it would have +saved the situation. That single glance of my accustomed eye--alas! +that it was so well accustomed--revealed him anxious and screwed up, +as nervous as a cat, but determined, revealed--how well I knew the +signs!--that he had something confidential and important and highly +personal to communicate, a matter in which I could, if I only would, be +of the greatest possible assistance. From these appearances twenty years +had taught me to fly to any burrow, but your dinner-table offers no +retreat; you are hoist, so to speak, on your own carving-fork. There are +men, of course, and even women, who have scruples about taking advantage +of so intimate and unguarded an opportunity, but Armour, I rapidly +decided, was not one of these. His sophistication was progressing, but +it had not reached that point. He wanted something--I flew instantly to +the mad conclusion that he wanted Dora. I did not pause to inquire why +he should ask her of me. It had seemed for a long time eminently proper +that anybody who wanted Dora should ask her of me. The application was +impossible, but applications nearly always were impossible. Nobody knew +that better than the Secretary to the Government of India in the Home +Department. + +I squared my shoulders and we got through the soup. It was necessary to +apologize for the fish. ‘I suppose one must remember,’ I said, ‘that it +has to climb six thousand feet,’ when suddenly he burst out. + +‘Sir William Lamb tells me,’ he said, and stopped to swallow some wine, +‘that there is something very good going in Calcutta and that I should +ask you to help me to get it. May I?’ + +So the miserable idea--the happy thought--had occurred to somebody else. + +‘Is there?’ I said, with interest and attention. + +‘It’s something in the School of Art. A man named Fry has died.’ + +‘Ah!’ I said, ‘a man named Fry. He, I think was Director of that +institution.’ I looked at Armour in the considering, measuring way with +which we suggest to candidates for posts that their fitness to fill them +is not to be absolutely taken for granted. ‘Fry was a man of fifty-six,’ +I said. + +‘I am thirty.’ He certainly did not look it, but years often fall +lightly upon a temperament. + +‘It’s a vile climate.’ + +‘I know. Is it too vile, do you think,’ he said anxiously, ‘to ask a +lady to share?’ + +‘Lots of ladies do share it,’ I replied, with amazing calmness; ‘but I +must decline absolutely to enter into that.’ + +My frown was so forbidding that he couldn’t and didn’t dare to go on. +He looked dashed and disappointed; he was really a fool of an applicant, +quite ready to retire from the siege on the first intimation that the +gates were not to be thrown open at his approach. + +‘Do you think you would like teaching?’ I asked. + +‘I can teach. Miss--my only pupil here has made capital progress.’ + +‘I am afraid you must not measure the Bengali art student by the +standard of Miss Harris,’ I replied coldly. He WAS a fool. We talked of +other things. I led him on to betray his ludicrous lack of knowledge +of the world in various directions. At other times it had irritated +me, that night it gave me purest pleasure. I agreed with him about +everything. + +As he selected his smoke to go home with I said, ‘Send your application +in to the Director of Public Instruction, Bengal--Lamb will tell you +how--and I’ll see what I can do.’ + +They were only too thankful to get him. As a student it seemed he had +been diligent both in London and Paris; he possessed diplomas or +some such things bearing names which were bound to have weight with a +Department of Public Instruction anywhere. I felt particularly thankful +for this, for I was committed to him if he had not a rag to show. + +The matter was settled in three weeks, during which Armour became +more and more the fashion in Simla. He was given every opportunity of +experiment in the society of which he was about to become a permanent +item. He dined out four or five times a week, and learned exactly what +to talk about. He surprised me one day with a piece of news of my own +department, which was a liberty of a very serious kind, but I forgave +him upon finding that it was not true. He rode Lamb’s weight-carriers, +to cross which his short legs were barely adequate, and apart from +this disadvantage he did not ride them badly. Only one thing marred the +completeness of the transformation--he didn’t dismiss the dog. The dog, +fundamentally, was still and ever his companion. It was a suspicious +circumstance if we had known; but we saw in it only a kind heart, and +ignored it. + +I saw little of Dora Harris at this time. Making no doubt that she was +enjoying her triumph as she deserved, I took the liberty of +supposing that she would hardly wish to share so intimate a source of +satisfaction. I met them both several times at people’s houses--certain +things had apparently been taken for granted--but I was only one of +the little circle that wondered how soon it might venture upon open +congratulations. The rest of us knew as much, it seemed, as Edward +Harris did. Lady Pilkey asked him point-blank, and he said what his +daughter found to like in the fellow the Lord only knew, and he was glad +to say that at present he had no announcement to make. Lady Pilkey +told me she thought it very romantic--like marrying a newspaper +correspondent--but I pointed to a lifelong task, with a pension +attached, of teaching fat young Bengalis to draw, and asked her if she +saw extravagant romance in that. + +They wrote up from Calcutta that they would like to have a look at +Armour before making the final recommendation, and he left us, I +remember, by the mail tonga of the third of June. He dropped into my +office to say goodbye, but I was busy with the Member and could see +nobody, so he left a card with ‘P.P.C.’ on it. I kept the card +by accident, and I keep it still by design, for the sake of that +inscription. + +Strobo had given up his hotel in Simla to start one in Calcutta. It +never occurred to me that Armour might go to Strobo’s; but it was, of +course, the natural thing for him to do, especially as Strobo happened +to be in Calcutta himself at the time. He went and stayed with Strobo, +and every day he and the Signor, clad in bath-towels, lay in closed +rooms under punkahs and had iced drinks in the long tumblers of the +East, and smoked and talked away the burden of the hours. + +Strobo was in Calcutta to meet a friend, an Austrian, who was shortly +leaving India in the Messagerie Maritimes steamer Dupleix after +agreeable wanderings disguised as a fakir in Tibet; and to this friend +was attached, in what capacity I never thought well to inquire, a lady +who was a Pole, and played and sang as well as Strobo fiddled. I believe +they dined together every night, this precious quartet, and exchanged +in various tongues their impressions of India under British control. +‘A houri in stays,’ the lady who was a Pole described it. I believe she +herself was a houri without them. And at midnight, when the south wind +was cool and strong from the river, Strobo and Armour would walk up +Chowringhee Road and look at the red brick School of Art from the +outside in the light of the street lamps, as a preliminary to our +friend’s final acceptance of the task of superintending it from within. + +We in Simla, of course, knew nothing of all this at the time; the +details leaked out later when Strobo came up again. I began to feel some +joyful anxiety when in a letter dated a week after Armour’s arrival in +Calcutta, the Director of Public Instruction wrote to inquire whether he +had yet left Simla; but the sweet blow did not fall with any precision +or certainty until the newspaper arrived containing his name immediately +under that of Herr Vanrig and Mme. Dansky in the list of passengers who +had sailed per S.S. Dupleix on the fifteenth of June for Colombo. There +it was, ‘I. Armour,’ as significant as ever to two persons intimately +concerned with it, but no longer a wrapping of mystery, rather a +radiating centre of light. Its power of illumination was such that it +tried my eyes. I closed them to recall the outlines of the School of +Art--it had been built in a fit of economy--and the headings of the last +Director’s report, which I had kindly sent after Armour to Calcutta. +Perhaps that had been the last straw. + +The real meaning of the task of implanting Western ideals in the Eastern +mind rose before me when I thought of Armour’s doing it--how they would +dwindle in the process, and how he must go on handling them and looking +at them withered and shrunken for twenty-odd years. I understood--there +was enough left in me to understand--Armour’s terrified escape. I was +happy in the thought of him, sailing down the Bay. The possibilities +of marriage, social position, assured income, support in old age, the +strands in the bond that held him, the bond that holds us all, had been +untwisting, untwisting, from the third of June to the fifteenth. The +strand that stood for Dora doubtless was the last to break, but it did +not detract from my beatitude to know that even this consideration, +before the Dupleix and liberty, failed to hold. + +I kept out of Miss Harris’s way so studiously for the next week or two +that she was kind enough in the end to feel compelled to send for me. I +went with misgivings--I expected, as may be imagined, to be very deeply +distressed. She met me with a storm of gay reproaches. I had never seen +her in better health or spirits. My surprise must have been more evident +than I supposed or intended, for before I went away she told me the +whole story. By that time she had heard from Ceylon, a delicious letter +with a pen-and-ink sketch at the top. I have it still; it infallibly +brought the man back to me. But it was all over; she assured me +with shining eyes that it was. The reason of her plainly boundless +thankfulness that Armour had run away from the School of Art did not +come to the surface until I was just going. Then I gathered that if he +had taken the post she would have felt compelled, compelled by all she +had done for him, to share its honours with him; and this, ever since +at her bidding he had begun to gather such things up, was precisely what +she had lost all inclination to do. + +We were married the following October. We had a big, gorgeous official +wedding, which we both enjoyed enormously. I took furlough, and we went +home, but we found London very expensive and the country very slow; and +with my K.C.S.I. came the offer of the Membership, so we went back to +Simla for three perfectly unnecessary years, which we now look back upon +with pleasure and regret. I fear that we, no more than Ingersoll Armour, +were quite whole-hearted Bohemians; but I don’t know that we really ever +pretended to be. + + + + +3. The Hesitation of Miss Anderson. + + +Chapter 3.I. + +When it became known that Madeline Anderson had finally decided to go +abroad for two years, her little circle in New York naturally talked +a good deal, in review, about her curious reason for never having gone +before. So much that happened afterward, so much that I am going to +tell, depends upon this reason for not going before, that I also must +talk about it and explain it; I could never bring it out just as we went +along. It would have been a curious reason in connection with anybody, +but doubly so as explaining the behaviour of Miss Anderson, whose +profile gave you the impression that she was anything but the +shuttlecock of her emotions. Shortly, her reason was a convict, Number +1596, who, up to February in that year, had been working, or rather +waiting, out his sentence in the State penitentiary. So long as he +worked or waited, Madeline remained in New York, but when in February +death gave him his quittance, she took her freedom too, with wide +intentions and many coupons. + +Earlier in his career Number 1596 had been known in New York society +as Mr. Frederick Prendergast, and for a little while he was disapproved +there on the score of having engaged himself to a Miss Anderson, +Madeline Anderson, whom nobody knew anything about. There was her +own little circle, as I have said, and it lacked neither dignity nor +refinement, but I doubt whether any member of it was valeted from +London, or could imply, in conversation, a personal acquaintance with +Yvette Guilbert. There is no need, however, to insist that there are +many persons of comfortable income and much cultivation in New York, +who would not be met by strangers having what are called the ‘best’ +introductions there. The best so often fails to include the better. It +may be accepted that Madeline Anderson and her people were of these, and +that she wondered sometimes during the brief days of her engagement what +it would be like to belong to the brilliant little world about her +that had its visiting list in London, Paris, or St. Petersburg, and was +immensely entertained by the gaucheries of the great ones of the earth. + +Then came, with the most unexceptionable introductions, Miss Violet +Forde, from a Sloane Square address, London. She came leaning on the arm +of a brother, the only relative she had in the world, and so brilliant +was the form of these young people that it occurred to nobody to imagine +that it had the most precarious pecuniary foundation, must have faded +and shrivelled indeed, after another year or two of anything but +hospitality as generous as that of New York. Well-nourished and +undimmed, however, it concealed for them admirably the fact that it +was the hospitality they were after, and not the bracing climate or the +desire to see the fascinating Americans of London and Paris at home. +New York found them agreeable specimens of high-spirited young English +people, and played with them indefinitely. Miss Forde, when she sat +imperturbably on a cushion in the middle of the floor after dinner +and sang to a guitar the songs of Albert Chevalier, was an anomaly in +English decorum that was as pleasing to observe as it was amusing to +criticize. + +The Americans she met delighted in drawing her out--it was a pastime +that took the lead at dinner-parties, to an extent which her hostess +often thought preposterous--and she responded with naivete and vigour, +perfectly aware that she was scoring all along the line. Upon many +charming people she made the impression that she was a type of the most +finished class of what they called ‘English society girls,’ that she +represented the best they could do over there in this direction. As +a matter of fact she might have sat to any of those ‘black and white’ +artists, who draw townish young women of London, saying cynical things +to young men in the weekly papers. That was her type, and if you look +for her picture there, you will see that her face was very accurately +oval, with eyes that knew their value, and other features that didn’t +very much matter, except in so far as they expressed a very full +conception of the satisfactions of this life, and a wide philosophy as +to methods of obtaining them. + +Frederick Prendergast was unacquainted with the popular pictures I +have mentioned, having a very reasonable preference for the illustrated +papers of his own country; otherwise--there is no telling--he might +have observed the resemblance and escaped the State prison, whither he +assuredly never would have gone had he married Madeline Anderson--as +he fully intended to do when Miss Forde came over. He was worth at that +time a great deal of money, besides being more personable than any one +would have believed who knew him as ‘1596.’ His fiancee was never too +obtrusively in evidence, and if Miss Forde thought of Miss Anderson with +any scruple, it was probably to reflect that if she could not take care +of these things she did not deserve to have them. This at all events was +how her attitude expressed itself practically; and the upshot was that +Miss Anderson lost them. There came a day when Frederick Prendergast, +in much discomfort of mind, took to Violet the news that Madeline had +brought their engagement to an end. She, Violet, gave him some tea, and +they talked frankly of the absurd misconception of the relations between +them upon which his dismissal was founded; and Prendergast went away +much comforted and wholly disposed to respect Miss Anderson’s startling +wishes. She, with what both the others thought excellent taste, +persuaded her mother and sister to move to Brooklyn; and so far as the +thoroughfares and social theatres of New York were concerned, the city +over the river might have been a nunnery which had closed its gates upon +her. It was only in imagination that she heard Frederick Prendergast’s +wedding-bells when, two months later, he was united to Miss Forde in +Grace Church, and that after the fact, their melody being brought to her +inner sense next day by the marriage notice in the ‘Tribune’. + +It would be painful, in view of what we know of Frederick Prendergast, +to dwell upon what Madeline Anderson undeniably felt. Besides her +emotions were not destructively acute, they only lasted longer than +any one could have either expected or approved. She suffered for him as +well; she saw as plainly as he did the first sordid consequences of his +mistake the afternoon he came to solicit her friendship, having lost +other claims; and it was then perhaps, that her responsibility in +allowing Violet Forde to spoil his life for him began to suggest itself +to her. Up to that time she had thought of the matter differently, as +she would have said, selfishly. He was not permitted to come again; but +he went away lightened, inasmuch as he had added his burden to hers. + +When a year later the national credit involved that of Prendergast’s +firm, Madeline read financial articles in the newspapers with heavy +concern, surprising her family with views on ‘sound money’; and when, +shortly afterward, his partners brought that unhappy young man before +the criminal courts for an irregular use of the firm’s signature, which +further involved it beyond hope of extrication, there was no moment of +the day which did not find her, in spirit, beside him there. + +The case dragged on through appeal, and the decision of the lower courts +was not reversed. The day this became known the fact also transpired +that poor Prendergast would never live to complete his ten years’ term +of imprisonment. He went to prison with hardly more than one lung, and +in the most favourable physical condition to get rid of the other. Mrs. +Prendergast wept a little over the installation, and assured Frederick +that it was perfectly absurd; they were certain to get him out again; +people always got people out again in America. She took him grapes and +flowers once a week for about a month, and then she sailed for Europe. +She put it about that her stay was to be as brief as was consistent with +the transaction of certain necessary business in London; but she never +came back, and Madeline Anderson had taken her place, in so far as +the grapes and flowers were concerned, for many months, when the +announcement of his wife’s death reached Prendergast in an English +paper published in Paris. About a year after that it began to be thought +singular how he picked up in health, and Madeline’s mother and sister +occasionally romanced about the possibility of his recovering and +marrying her after all--they had an enormous opinion of the artistic +virtue of forgiveness--but it was not a contingency ever seriously +contemplated by Miss Anderson herself. Her affection, pricked on by +remorse, had long satisfied itself with the duties of her ministry. If +she would not leave him until he died, it was because there was no one +but herself to brighten the long day in the prison hospital for him, +because she had thrown him into the arms of the woman who had deserted +him, because he represented in her fancy her life’s only budding towards +the sun. Her patience lasted through six years, which was four years +longer than any doctor had given Frederick Prendergast to live; but when +one last morning she found an empty bed, and learned that Number 1596 +had been discharged in his coffin, she rose from the shock with the +sense of a task fully performed and a well-developed desire to see what +else there might be in the world. + +She announced her intention of travelling for a year or two with a maid, +and her family expressed the usual acquiescence. It would help her, they +said, to ‘shake it off’; but they said that to one another. They were +not aware--and it would have spoiled an ideal for them if they had +been--that she had shaken it off, quite completely, into Prendergast’s +grave. + +This was the curious reason why Miss Anderson’s travels were so long +postponed. + + + +Chapter 3.II. + +It was Madeline’s fancy to enjoy the contrast between West and East +in all its sharpness, so she and Brookes embarked at San Francisco for +Yokohama. Their wanderings in Japan were ideal, in spite of Brookes’s +ungrateful statement that she could have done with fewer eggs and more +bacon; and Madeline prolonged the appeal of the country to her sense +of humour and fantasy, putting off her departure for India from week to +week. She went at last in March; and found herself down with fever at +Benares in the middle of one particularly hot April, two months after +the last of her fellow travellers had sailed from Bombay, haunted on her +baking pillow by pictorial views of the burning ghat and the vultures. +The station doctor, using appalling language to her punkah-coolie, +ordered her to the hills; and thus it was that she went to Simla, where +she had no intention of going, and where this story really begins. + +Brookes has always declared that Providence in sending Miss Anderson to +Simla had it in mind to prevent a tragedy; but as to that there is +room for a difference of opinion: besides I can not be anticipated by +Brookes. + +‘It’s the oddest place imaginable, and in many ways the most +delightful,’ Madeline wrote to her sister Adele, ‘this microcosm of +Indian official society withdrawn from all the world, and playing at +being a municipality on three Himalayan mountaintops. You can’t imagine +its individuality, its airy, unsubstantial, superior poise. How can I +explain to you elderly gentlemen, whose faces express daily electric +communications with the Secretary of State, playing tennis violently +every single afternoon in striped flannels--writing letters of +admonition to the Amir all day long, and in the evening, with the +assistance of yellow wigs and make-up sticks from the Calcutta +hair-dresser, imagining that they produce things, poor dears, only a +LITTLE less well done than is done at the Lyceum? Nothing is beyond +them. I assure you they are contemplating at the moment ‘The Second Mrs. +Tanqueray’. The effect of remoteness from the world, I suppose, and +the enormous mutual appreciation of people who have watched each other +climb. For to arrive officially at Simla they have had to climb in more +ways than one...It is all so hilarious, so high-spirited, so young +and yet, my word! what a cult of official dignity underlying! I saw a +staff-officer in full uniform, red and white feathers and all, going +to the birthday dinner at the Viceroy’s the other evening in a +perambulator--rickshaw, you know, such as they have in Japan. That is +typical of the place. All the honours and dignities--and a perambulator +to put them in--or a ridiculous little white-washed house made of mud +and tin, and calling itself Warwick Castle, Blenheim, Abbotsford! They +haven’t a very good hold, these Simla residences, and sometimes they +slip fifty yards or so down the mountain-side, but the chimneys (bad pun +coming) are never any more out of drawing than they were before. + +‘Yet--never forget--the queer little place has a nobility, drawn I +suppose from high standards of conduct in essentials. + +‘...This matter of precedence is a bore for an outsider. I am very tired +of being taken in to dinner by subalterns, because I have no “official +position.” Something of the kind was offered me, by the way, the other +day, by a little gunner with red eyelids, in the Ordnance Department, +named McDermott--Captain McDermott. He took my declining very +cheerfully, said he knew Americans didn’t like Englishmen, who hadn’t +been taught to pronounce their “g’s,” but hoped I would change my mind +before the rains, when he was goin’ down. Of course I sha’n’t. The red +eyelids alone...I am living in a boarding-house precisely under the +deodars, and have “tiffin” with Mrs. Hauksbee every day when neither +of us are having it anywhere else. And I’ve been told the original of +“General Bangs,” “that most immoral man.” You remember, don’t you, the +heliograph incident--I needn’t quote it. It really happened! and the +General still lives, none the worse--perhaps rather greater. Quite half +the people seem materializations of Kipling, and it’s very interesting; +but one mustn’t say so if one wants to be popular. Talking of +materializations, I saw the original of Crawford’s Mr. Isaacs, too, the +other day. He used to be a diamond agent among the native princes when +Crawford knew him. When I saw him he was auctioning off his collection +of curios and things. These types of novelists look wonderfully little +impaired; I suppose it’s the dry air. + +‘P.S.--Brookes is also quite happy. She was much struck, on arriving, by +an apparent anomaly in nature. “Have you noticed, ma’am,” said she, “how +at this height all the birds are crows and monkeys?”’ + +Miss Anderson described Simla exhaustively in her letters to New +York. She touched upon almost every feature, from Mrs. Mickie and Mrs. +Gammidge, whose husbands were perspiring in the Plains, and nobody +telling them anything, to the much larger number of ladies interested in +the work of the Young Women’s Christian Association; from the ‘type’ of +the Military Secretary to the Viceroy to that of Ali Buksh, who sold raw +turquoises in a little carved shop in the bazaar. I should like to quote +more of her letters, but if I did I should find nothing about Colonel +Horace Innes, who represented--she often acknowledged to herself--her +only serious interest. Miss Anderson took the world at its own +light valuation as it came; but she had a scale of recognitions and +acceptances, which she kept apart for the very few, and Innes had +claimed a place in it the first time they met. It seems a trifle +ungrateful that she should have left him out, since it was he who gave +her a standard by which to measure the frivolity of Simla. He went to +gymkhanas--if he knew she was going--but he towered almost pictorially +above them; and when he talked to Madeline his shoulders expressed a +resentment of possible interruptions that isolated him still further. +I would not suggest that he was superior by conviction; he was only +intent, whereas most of the other people were extremely diffused, +and discriminating, while the intimacies of the rest were practically +coextensive with Government House list. Neither, for his part, would he +admit that the tone of Simla was as wholly flippant as I have implied. +They often talked about it; he recognized it as a feature likely to +compel the attention of people from other parts of the world; and +one afternoon he asked her, with some directness, if she could see no +tragedies underneath. + +‘Tragedies of the heart?’ she asked. ‘Oh, I can not take them seriously. +The emotion is so ephemeral! A woman came to tea with me three days +ago, and made me her confessor. It was unexpected; if it hadn’t been, I +wouldn’t have asked her to tea. She was so unhappy that she forgot about +the rouge, and it all came off on her handkerchief when she cried. The +man likes somebody else better this season. Well, I gave her nougat and +cheap cynicisms, and she allowed herself to be comforted! Why, the loves +of kitchen-maids are more dignified.’ + +They were riding on the broad four-mile road, blasted out of the rock, +that winds round Jakko. The deodars stood thick above them, with the +sunlight filtering through; a thousand feet below lay the little +square fields, yellow and green, of the King of Koti. The purple-brown +Himalayas shouldered the eye out to the horizon, and there the Snows +lifted themselves, hardly more palpable than the drifted clouds, except +for a gleam of ice in their whiteness. A low stone wall ran along the +verge of the precipice, and, looking down, they saw tangled patches +of the white wild rose of the Himalayas, waving and drooping over the +abyss. + +‘I am afraid,’ said Innes, ‘you are not even upon the fringe of the +situation.’ + +‘It’s the situation as I see it.’ + +‘Then--excuse me--you do not see deep enough. That poor lady suffered, +I suppose, to the extent of her capacity. You would not have have +increased it.’ + +‘I don’t know, I should have preferred not to measure it.’ + +‘Besides, that was not quite the sort of thing I had in mind. I was +thinking more of the--separations.’ + +‘Ah!’ said Madeline. + +‘It’s not fair to ask women to live much in India. Sometimes it’s the +children, sometimes it’s ill health, sometimes it’s natural antipathy to +the place; there’s always a reason to take them away.’ + +‘Yes,’ said Madeline, turning a glance of scrutiny on him. His face was +impassive; he was watching mechanically for a chance to slay a teasing +green spider-fly. + +‘That is the beginning of the tragedy I was thinking of. Time does the +rest, time and the aridity of separations. How many men and women +can hold themselves together with letters? I don’t mean aging or any +physical change. I don’t mean change at all.’ + +‘No,’ said Madeline, and this time, though her curiosity was greater, +she did not look at him. + +‘No. The mind could accustom itself to expect that, and so forestall +the blow, if it really would be a blow, which I doubt. For myself, I’m +pretty sure that nothing of that kind could have much effect upon one’s +feeling, if it were the real thing.’ He spoke practically to himself, as +if he had reasoned this out many times. + +‘Oh, no!’ said Madeline. + +‘But separation can do a worse thing than that. It can REINTRODUCE +people, having deprived them of their mutual illusion under which they +married. If they lived together the illusion would go, I suppose, but +custom and comfort would step in to prevent a jar. There never would be +that awful revelation of indifference.’ + +He stopped sharply, and the hope went through Madeline’s mind that her +face expressed no personal concern for him. There was a small red stain +in the brown of his cheek as he looked at her to find out, and he added, +‘I’ve known--in Bombay--one or two bad cases of that. But, of course, it +is the wife who suffers most. Shall we canter on?’ + +‘In a minute,’ said Madeline, and he drew his rein again. + +She could not let this be the last word; he must not imagine that she +had seen, through the simple crystal of his convictions, the personal +situation that gave them to him. + +‘Of course,’ she said, thoughtfully, ‘you know the Anglo-Indian world +and I don’t. You must have observed this that you speak of it; it sounds +only too probable. And I confess it makes my little impression very +vulgar and superficial.’ She turned her head and a candid smile to him. +‘All the same, I fancy that the people who are capable of suffering much +that way are the exceptions. And--I don’t care--I believe there is more +cheap sentiment in this place than the other kind. What do you think I +heard a woman say the other day at a tiffin-party? “No man has touched +my heart since I’ve been married,” she proclaimed, “except my husband!” + AT A TIFFIN-party!’ + +She heard the relief in Innes’s laugh and was satisfied. + +‘How does it happen,’ he said, ‘that women nowadays are critical of the +world so young?’ + +‘I shall be thirty in September, and we no longer look at society +through a tambour-frame,’ she said, hardily. + +‘And I shall be forty-three next month, but hitherto I have known it to +produce nothing like you,’ he returned, and if there was ambiguity in +his phrase there was none in his face. + +Miss Anderson made with her head her little smiling gesture--Simla +called it very American--which expressed that all chivalrous speech was +to be taken for granted and meant nothing whatever; and as they turned +into the Ladies’ Mile gave her horse his head, and herself a chance +for meditation. She thought of the matter again that evening before +her little fire of snapping deodar twigs, thought of it intently. +She remembered it all with perfect distinctness; she might have been +listening to a telephonic reproduction. + +It was the almost intimate glimpse Innes had given her of himself, and +it brought her an excitement which she did not think of analyzing. She +wrung from every sentence its last possibility of unconscious meaning, +and she found when she had finished that it was eleven o’clock. + +Then she went to bed, preferring not to call Brookes, with the somewhat +foolish feeling of being unable to account for her evening. Her last +reflection before she slept shaped itself in her mind in definite words. + +‘There are no children,’ it ran, ‘and her health has always been good, +he says. She must have left him after that first six months in Lucknow, +because of a natural antipathy to the country--and when she condescended +to come out again for a winter he met the different lady he thinks +about. With little hard lines around the mouth and common conventional +habits of thought, full of subservience to his official superiors, and +perfectly uninterested in him except as the source of supplies. But I +don’t know why I should WANT her to be so disagreeable. + +As a matter of fact, Mrs. Innes, travelling at the moment with the +mails from London to Bombay, was hastening to present to Miss Anderson +features astonishingly different. + + + +Chapter 3.III. + +The lady guests at Peliti’s--Mrs. Jack Owen and the rest--were giving +a tea in the hotel pavilion. They had the band, the wife of the +Commander-in-Chief, the governess from Viceregal Lodge and one +little Viceregal girl, three A.D.C.’s, one member of council, and the +Archdeacon. These were the main features, moving among a hundred or so +of people more miscellaneous, who, like the ladies at Peliti’s, had come +up out of the seething Plains to the Paradise of the summer capital. The +Pavilion overhung the Mall; looking down one could see the coming +and going of leisurely Government peons in scarlet and gold, Cashmiri +vendors of great bales of embroideries and skins, big-turbaned Pahari +horse-dealers, chaffering in groups, and here and there a mounted +Secretary-sahib trotting to the Club. Beyond, the hills dipped blue +and bluer to the plains, and against them hung a single waving yellow +laburnum, a note of imagination. Madeline Anderson was looking at +it when Mrs. Mickie and Mrs. Gammidge came up with an affectionate +observation upon the cut of her skirt, after which Mrs. Mickie harked +back to what they had been talking about before. + +‘She’s straight enough now, I suppose,’ this lady said. + +‘She goes down. But she gives people a good deal of latitude for +speculation.’ + +‘Who is this?’ asked Madeline. ‘I ask for information, to keep out of +her way. I find I am developing the most shocking curiosity. I must be +in a position to check it.’ + +The ladies exchanged hardly perceptible glances. Then Mrs. Gammidge +said, ‘Mrs. Innes,’ and looked as if, for the moment, at any rate, she +would withhold further judgment. + +‘But you mustn’t avoid the poor lady,’ put in Mrs. Mickie, ‘simply +because of her past. It wouldn’t be fair. Besides--’ + +‘Her past?’ Madeline made one little effort to look indifferent, and +then let the question leap up in her. + +‘My dear,’ said Mrs. Gammidge, with brief impatience, ‘he married her in +Cairo, and she was--dancing there. Case of chivalry, I believe, though +there are different versions. Awful row in the regiment--he had to take +a year’s leave. Then he succeeded to the command, and the Twenty-third +were ordered out here. She came with him to Lucknow--and made slaves +of every one of them. They’ll swear to you now that she was staying +at Shepheard’s with an invalid mother when he met her. And now she’s +accepted like everybody else; and that’s all there is about it.’ + +‘There’s nothing in that,’ said Madeline, determinedly, ‘to prove that +she wasn’t--respectable.’ + +‘N--no. Of course not,’ and again the eye of Mrs. Gammidge met that of +Mrs. Mickie. + +‘Though, you see love,’ added the latter lady, ‘it would have been +nicer for his people--they’ve never spoken to him since--if she had been +making her living otherwise in Cairo.’ + +‘As a barmaid, for instance,’ said Madeline, sarcastically. + +‘As a barmaid, for instance,’ repeated Mrs. Gammidge, calmly. + +‘But Simla isn’t related to him--Simla doesn’t care!’ Mrs. Mickie +exclaimed. ‘Everybody will be as polite as possible when she turns +up. You’ll see. You knew, didn’t you, that she was coming out in the +Caledonia?’ + +‘No,’ said Madeline. She looked carefully where she was going to put her +coffee-cup, and then she glanced out again at the laburnum hanging over +the plains. ‘I--I am glad to hear it. These separations you take so +lightly out here are miserable, tragic.’ + +The other ladies did not exchange glances this time. Miss Anderson’s +change of tone was too marked for comment which she might have detected. + +‘Colonel Innes got the telegram this morning. She wired from Brindisi,’ +Mrs. Gammidge said. + +‘Does he seem pleased?’ asked Mrs. Mickie, demurely. + +‘He said he was afraid she would find it very hot coming up here from +Bombay. And, of course, he is worried about a house. When a man has been +living for months at the Club--’ + +‘Of course, poor fellow! I do love that dear old Colonel Innes, though I +can’t say I know him a bit. He won’t take the trouble to be nice to me, +but I am perfectly certain he must be the dearest old thing inside +of him. Worth any dozen of these little bow-wows that run round after +rickshaws,’ said Mrs. Mickie, with candour. + +‘I think he’s a ridiculous old glacier,’ Mrs. Gammidge remarked, and +Mrs. Mickie looked at Madeline and said, ‘Slap her!’ + +‘What for?’ asked Miss Anderson, with composure. ‘I dare say he +is--occasionally. It isn’t a bad thing to be, I should think, in Indian +temperatures.’ + +‘I guess you got it that time, dear lady,’ said Mrs. Mickie to Mrs. +Gammidge, as Madeline slipped toward the door. + +‘Meant to be cross, did she? How silly of her! If she gives her little +heart away like that often, people will begin to make remarks.’ + +‘The worst of that girl is,’ Mrs. Mickie continued, ‘that you never can +depend upon her. For days together she’ll be just as giddy and jolly as +anybody and then suddenly she’ll give you a nasty superior bit of +ice down the back of your neck like that. I’ve got her coming to tea +tomorrow afternoon,’ Mrs. Mickie added, with sudden gloom, ‘and little +Lord Billy and all that set are coming. They’ll throw buns at each +other--I know they will. What, in heaven’s name, made me ask her?’ + +‘Oh, she’ll have recovered by then. You must make allowance for the +shock we gave her, poor dear. Consider how you would feel if Lady +Worsley suddenly appeared upon the scene, and demanded devotion from Sir +Frank.’ + +‘She wouldn’t get it,’ Mrs. Mickie dimpled candidly. ‘Frank always loses +his heart and his conscience at the same time. But you don’t suppose +there’s anything serious in this affair? Pure pretty platonics, I should +call it.’ + +Mrs. Gammidge lifted her eyebrows. ‘I dare say that is what they imagine +it. Well, they’re never in the same room for two minutes without being +aware of it, and their absorption when they get in a corner--I saw her +keep the Viceroy waiting, the other night after dinner, while Colonel +Innes finished a sentence. And then she was annoyed at the interruption. +Here’s Kitty Vesey, lookin’ SUCH a dog! Hello, Kitty! where did you get +that hat, where did you get that tile? But that wasn’t the colour of +your hair last week, Kitty!’ + +‘Don’t feel any kind of a dog’--Mrs. Vesey’s pout, though becoming, was +genuine. ‘I’m in a perfectly furious rage, my dears, and I’m coming home +to cry, just as soon as I’ve had an ice. What do you think--they won’t +let me have Val for Captain Wynne’s part in ‘The Outcast Pearl’--they +say he’s been tried before, and he’s a stick. Did you ever hear of such +brutes? They want me to act with Major Dalton, and he’s MUCH too old for +the part.’ + +‘Kitten,’ said Mrs. Mickie, with conviction, ‘Valentine Drake on the +stage would be fatal to your affection for him.’ + +‘I don’t care, I won’t act with anybody else--I’ll throw up the part. +Haven’t I got to make love to the man? How am I to play up to such an +unkissable-looking animal as Major Dalton? I shall CERTAINLY throw up +the part.’ + +‘Don’t do anything rash, Kitty. If you do, they’ll probably offer it to +me, and I warn you I won’t give it back to you.’ + +‘Oh, refuse it, like a dear! I am dying to put them in a hole. It’s +jealousy, that’s what it is. Goodbye, Mrs. Jack, I’ve had a lovely time. +Val and I have been explaining our affection to the Archdeacon, and he +says it’s perfectly innocent. We’re going to get him to put it on paper +to produce when Jimmy sues for a divorce, aren’t we, Val?’ + +‘You’re not going?’ said Mrs. Jack Owen. + +‘Oh, yes, I must. But I’ve enjoyed myself awfully, and so has everybody +I’ve been talking to. I say, Mickie, dear--about tomorrow afternoon--I +suppose I may bring Val?’ + +‘Oh, dear, yes,’ Mrs. Mickie replied. ‘But you must let me hold his +hand.’ + +‘I don’t know which of you is the most ridiculous,’ Mrs. Owen remarked; +‘I shall write to both your husbands this very night,’ but as the group +shifted and left her alone with Mrs. Gammidge, she said she didn’t know +whether Mrs. Vesey would be quite so chirpy three weeks hence. ‘When +Mrs. Innes comes out,’ she added in explanation. ‘Oh, yes, Valentine +Drake is quite her property. My own idea is that Kitty won’t be in it.’ + +Where the road past Peliti’s dips to the Mall Madeline met Horace Innes. +When she appeared in her rickshaw he dismounted, and gave the reins to +his syce. She saw in his eyes the look of a person who has been all +day lapsing into meditation and rousing himself from it. ‘You are very +late,’ she said as he came up. + +‘Oh, I’m not going; at least, you are just coming away, aren’t you? I +think it is too late. I’ll turn back with you.’ + +‘Do,’ she said, and looked at his capable, sensitive hand as he laid +it on the side of her little carriage. Miss Anderson had not the +accomplishment of palm-reading, but she took general manual impressions. +She had observed Colonel Innes’s hand before, but it had never offered +itself so intimately to her inspection. That, perhaps, was why the +conviction seemed new to her, as she thought ‘He is admirable--and it is +all there.’ + +When they got to the level Mall he kept his hold, which was a perfectly +natural and proper thing for him to do, walking alongside; but she still +looked at it. + +‘I have heard your good news,’ she said, smiling congratulation at him. + +‘My good news? Oh, about my wife, of course. Yes, she ought to be here +by the end of the month. I thought of writing to tell you when the +telegram came, and then I--didn’t. The files drove it out of my head, I +fancy.’ + +‘Heavy day?’ + +‘Yes,’ he said, absently. They went along together in an intimacy of +silence, and Madeline was quite aware of the effort with which she said: + +‘I shall look forward to meeting Mrs. Innes.’ + +It was plain that his smile was perfunctory, but he put it on with +creditable alacrity. + +‘She will be delighted. My wife is a clever woman,’ he went on, ‘very +bright and attractive. She keeps people well amused.’ + +‘She must be a great success in India, then.’ + +‘I think she is liked. She has a tremendous fund of humour and spirits. +A fellow feels terribly dull beside her sometimes.’ + +Madeline cast a quick glance at him, but he was only occupied to find +other matters with which he might commend his wife. + +‘She is very fond of animals,’ he said, ‘and she sings and plays +well--really extremely well.’ + +‘That must be charming,’ murmured Madeline, privately iterating, ‘He +doesn’t mean to damn her--he doesn’t mean to damn her.’ ‘Have you a +photograph of her?’ + +‘Quantities of them,’ he said, with simplicity. + +‘You have never shown me one. But how could you?’ she added in haste; +‘a photograph is always about the size of a door nowadays. It is simply +impossible to keep one’s friends and relations in a pocketbook as one +used to do.’ + +They might have stopped there, but some demon of persistence drove +Madeline on. She besought help from her imagination; she was not for the +moment honest. It was an impulse--an equivocal impulse--born doubtless +of the equivocal situation, and it ended badly. + +‘She will bring something of the spring out to you,’ said Madeline--‘the +spring in England. How many years is it since you have seen it? There +will be a breath of the cowslips about her, and in her eyes the soft wet +of the English sky. Oh, you will be very glad to see her.’ The girl was +well aware of her insincerity, but only dimly of her cruelty. She was +drawn on by something stronger than her sense of honesty and humanity, a +determination to see, to know, that swept these things away. + +Innes’s hand tightened on the rickshaw, and he made at first no answer. +Then he said: + +‘She has been staying in town, you know.’ + +There was just a quiver of Madeline’s eyelid; it said nothing of the +natural rapacity behind. This man’s testimony was coming out in throes, +and yet--it must be said--again she probed. + +‘Then she will put you in touch again,’ she cried; ‘you will remember +when you see her all the vigour of great issues and the fascination of +great personalities. For a little while, anyway, after she comes, you +will be in a world--far away from here--where people talk and think and +live.’ + +He looked at her in wonder, not understanding, as indeed how could he? + +‘Why,’ he said, ‘you speak of what YOU have done’; and before the truth +of this she cast down her eyes and turned a hot, deep red, and had +nothing to say. + +‘No,’ he said, ‘my wife is not like that.’ + +He walked along in absorption, from which he roused himself with +resentment in his voice. + +‘I can not leave such a fabric of illusion in your mind. It irritates me +that it should be there--about anybody belonging to me. My wife is not +in the least what you imagine her. She has her virtues, but she is--like +the rest. I can not hope that you will take to her, and she won’t +like you either--we never care about the same people. And we shall see +nothing of you--nothing. I can hardly believe that I am saying this of +my own wife, but--I wish that she had stayed in England.’ + +‘Mrs. Mickie!’ cried Madeline to a passing rickshaw, ‘what are you +rushing on like that for? Just go quietly and peaceably along with us, +please, and tell us what Mrs. Vesey decided to do about her part in ‘The +Outcast Pearl’. I’m dining out tonight--I must know.’ And Mrs. Mickie +was kind enough to accompany them all the rest of the way. + +Miss Anderson dined out, and preferred to suppose that she had no time +to think until she was on her way home along the empty road round Jakko +at eleven o’clock that night. Then it pleased her to get out of her +rickshaw and walk. There was an opulent moon, the vast hills curving +down to the plains were all grey and silvery, and the deodars overhead +fretted the road with dramatic shadows. About her hung the great +stillness in a mighty loneliness in which little Simla is set, and it +freed her from what had happened, so that she could look at it and cry +out. She actually did speak, pausing in the little pavilion on the road +where the nursemaids gather in the daytime, but very low, so that her +words fell round her even in that silence, and hardly a deodar was +aware. ‘I will not go now,’ she said. ‘I will stay and realize that he +is another woman’s husband. That should cure me if anything will--to see +him surrounded by the commonplaces of married life, that kind of married +life. I will stay till she comes and a fortnight after. Besides, I want +to see her--I want to see how far she comes short.’ She was silent for +a moment, and the moonlight played upon her smile of quiet triumph. +‘He cares too,’ she said; ‘he cares too, but he doesn’t know it, and +I promise you one thing, Madeline Anderson, you won’t help him to find +out. And in five weeks I will go away and leave my love where I found +it--on a mountaintop in the middle of Asia!’ + + + +Chapter 3.IV. + +Madeline did her best to make certain changes delicately, imperceptibly, +so that Innes would not, above all things, be perplexed into seeking for +their reason. The walks and rides came to a vague conclusion, and Miss +Anderson no longer kept the Viceroy or anybody else waiting, while Innes +finished what he had to say to her in public, since his opportunities +for talking to her seemed to become gradually more and more like +everybody else’s. So long as she had been mistress of herself she was +indifferent to the very tolerant and good-natured gossip of the hill +capital; but as soon as she found her citadel undermined, the lightest +kind of comment became a contingency unbearable. In arranging to make +it impossible, she was really over-considerate and over-careful. Her +soldier never thought of analyzing his bad luck or searching for motive +in it. To him the combinations of circumstances that seemed always to +deprive him of former pleasures were simply among the things that might +happen. Grieving, she left him under that impression for the sake of its +expediency, and tried to make it by being more than ever agreeable on +the occasions when he came and demanded a cup of tea, and would not be +denied. After all, she consoled herself, no situation was improved by +being turned too suddenly upside down. + +She did not wholly withdraw his privilege of taking counsel with her, +and he continued to go away freshened and calmed, leaving her to toss +little sad reflections into the fire, and tremulously wonder whether the +jewel of her love had flashed ever so little behind the eyes. They both +saw it a conspicuous thing that as those three weeks went on, neither he +nor she alluded even remotely to Mrs. Innes, but the fact remained, and +they allowed it to remain. + +Nevertheless, Madeline knew precisely when that lady was expected, and +as she sauntered in the bazaar one morning, and heard Innes’s steps and +voice behind her, her mind became one acute surmise as to whether he +could possibly postpone the announcement any longer. But he immediately +made it plain that this was his business in stopping to speak to her. +‘Good morning,’ he said, and then, ‘My wife comes tomorrow.’ He had +not told her a bit of personal news, he had made her an official +communication, as briefly as it could be done, and he would have raised +his hat and gone on without more words if Madeline had not thwarted him. +‘What a stupidity for him to be haunted by afterward!’ was the essence +of the thought that visited her; and she put out a detaining hand. + +‘Really! By the Bombay mail, I suppose--no, an hour or so later; private +tongas are always as much as that behind the mail.’ + +‘About eleven, I fancy. You--you are not inclined for a canter round +Summer Hill before breakfast?’ + +‘I am terrified of Summer Hill. The Turk always misbehaves there. +Yesterday he got one leg well over the khud--I WAS thankful he had four. +Tell me, are you ready for Mrs. Innes--everything in the house? Is there +anything I can do? + +‘Oh, thanks very much! I don’t think so. The house isn’t ready, as a +matter of fact, but two or three people have offered to put us up for a +day or so until it is. I’ve left it open till my wife comes, as I dare +say she has already arranged to go to somebody. What are you buying? +Country tobacco, upon my word! For your men? That’s subversive of all +discipline!’ + +The lines on his face relaxed; he looked at her with fond recognition of +another delightful thing in her. + +‘You give sugar-cane to your horses,’ she declared; ‘why shouldn’t I +give tobacco to mine? Goodbye; I hope Mrs. Innes will like “Two Gables”. +There are roses waiting for her in the garden, at all events.’ + +‘Are there?’ he said. ‘I didn’t notice. Goodbye, then.’ + +He went on to his office thinking of the roses, and that they were in +his garden, and that Madeline had seen them there. He thought that if +they were good roses--in fact, any kind of roses--they should be taken +care of, and he asked a Deputy Assistant Inspector-General of Ordnance +whether he knew of a gardener that was worth anything. + +‘Most of them are mere coolies,’ said Colonel Innes, ‘and I’ve got some +roses in this little place I’ve taken that I want to look after.’ + +Next day Madeline took Brookes, and ‘The Amazing Marriage’, and a +lunch-basket, and went out to Mashobra, where the deodars shadow hardly +any scandal at all, and the Snows come, with perceptible confidence, a +little nearer. + +‘They almost step,’ she said to Brookes, looking at them, ‘out of the +realm of the imagination.’ + +Brookes said that they did indeed, and hoped that she hadn’t by any +chance forgotten the mustard. + +‘The wind is keen off the glaciers over there--anybody would think of a +condiment,’ Miss Anderson remarked in deprecation, and to this Brookes +made no response. It was a liberty she often felt compelled to take. + +The Snows appealed to Madeline even more than did Carintha, Countess +of Fleetwood, to whose fortunes she gave long pauses while she looked +across their summits at renunciation, and fancied her spirit made strong +and equal to its task. She was glad of their sanctuary; she did not know +where she should find such another. Perhaps the spectacle was more than +ever sublime in its alternative to the one she had come away to postpone +the sight of; at all events it drove the reunion of the Inneses from her +mind several times for five minutes together, during which she thought +of Horace by himself, and went over, by way of preparation for her +departure, all that had come and gone between them. There had been +luminous moments, especially as they irradiated him, and she dwelt on +these. There was no reason why she should not preserve in London or in +New York a careful memory of them. + +So the lights were twinkling all up and down and round about Simla +when she cantered back to it and it was late when she started for the +Worsleys, where she was dining. One little lighted house looked much +like another perched on the mountainside, and the wooden board painted +‘Branksome Hall, Maj.-Gen. T.P. Worsley, R.E.,’ nailed to the most +conspicuous tree from the main road, was invisible in the darkness. +Madeline arrived in consequence at the wrong dinner-party, and was +acclaimed and redirected with much gaiety, which gave her a further +agreeable impression of the insouciance of Simla, but made her later +still at the Worsleys. So that half the people were already seated when +she at last appeared, and her hostess had just time to cry, ‘My dear, +we thought the langurs must have eaten you! Captain Gordon, you are not +abandoned after all. You know Miss Anderson?’ when she found herself +before her soup. + +Captain Gordon heard her account of herself with complacence, and +declared, wiping his moustache, that a similar experience had befallen +him only a fortnight before. + +‘Did you ever hear the story of that absent-minded chap, Sir James +Jackson, who went to the RIGHT dinner-party by mistake?’ he asked, ‘and +apologized like mad, by Jove! and insisted he couldn’t stay. The people +nearly had to tie him down in his--’ Captain Gordon stopped, arrested by +his companion’s sudden and complete inattention. + +‘I see a lady,’ interrupted Madeline, with odd distinctness, ‘curiously +like somebody I have known before.’ Her eyes convinced themselves, and +then refused to be convinced of the inconceivable fact that they were +resting on Violet Prendergast. It was at first too amazing, too amazing +only. Then an old forgotten feeling rose in her bosom; the hand on +the stem of her wine-glass grew tense. The sensation fell away; she +remembered her emancipation, the years arose and reassured her during +which Violet Prendergast, living or dead, had been to her of absolutely +no importance. Yet there was a little aroused tremour in her voice as +she went on, ‘She is on the General’s right--he must have taken her in. +Can you see from where you are sitting?’ + +‘These narrow oval tables are a nuisance that way, aren’t they? You +don’t know who you’re dining with till the end of the function. Oh! I +see--that’s Mrs. Innes, just out, and fresh as paint, isn’t she? The +Colonel’--Captain Gordon craned his head again--‘is sitting fourth from +me on this side.’ + +‘Mrs. Innes! Really!’ said Madeline. ‘Then--then of course I must be +mistaken.’ + +She removed her eyes almost stealthily from the other woman’s face +and fixed them on the pattern of the table-cloth. Her brain guided her +clearly through the tumult of her perception, and no emotion could be +observed in the smiling attention which she gave to Captain Gordon’s +account of the afternoon’s tandem racing; but there was a furious +beating in her breast, and she thought she could never draw a breath +long enough to control it. It helped her that there was food to swallow, +wine to drink, and Captain Gordon to listen to; and under cover of these +things she gradually, consciously, prepared herself for the shock of +encounter which should be conclusive. Presently she leaned a little +forward and let her glance, in which no outsider could see the steady +recognition, rest upon the lady on the General’s right, until that +person’s agreeable blue eyes wandered down the table and met it. +Perhaps Madeline’s own eyelids fluttered a little as she saw the sudden +stricture in the face that received her message, and the grimace with +which it uttered, pallid with apprehension, its response to a pleasantry +of General Worsley’s. She was not consummate in her self-control, but +she was able at all events to send the glance travelling prettily on +with a casual smile for an intervening friend, and bring it back to her +dinner-roll without mischief. It did not adventure again; she knew, and +she set herself to hold her knowledge, to look at it and understand it, +while the mechanical part of her made up its mind about the entrees, and +sympathized with Captain Gordon on his hard luck in having three ponies +laid up at once. She did not look again, although she felt the watching +of the other woman, and was quite aware of the moment at which Mrs. +Innes allowed herself the reprieve of believing that at the Worsley’s +dinner-party at least there would be no scandal. The belief had +its reflex action, doing something to calm her. How could there +be--scandal--she asked herself, and dismissed with relief the +denunciations which crowded vague but insistent in her brain. Even then +she had not grasped the salient points of the situation; she was +too much occupied with its irony as it affected her personally; her +impressions circled steadily round the word ‘twice’ and the unimaginable +coincidence. Her resentment filled her, and her indignation was like +a clear flame behind her smiling face. Robbed twice, once in New York +and--oh! preposterous--the second time in Simla! Robbed of the same +things by the same hand! She perceived in the shock of it only a +monstrous fatality, a ludicrously wicked chance. This may have been due +to the necessity of listening to Captain Gordon. + +At all events it was only as she passed Colonel Innes on her way to the +drawing-room and saw ahead of her the very modish receding back of Mrs. +Innes that she realized other things--crime and freedom. + +It was the reversion of power; it brought her a great exultation. She +sat down under it in a corner, hoping to be left alone, with a white +face and shining eyes. Power and opportunity and purpose--righteous +purpose! + +The circumstances had come to her in a flash; she brought them up again +steadily and scrutinized them. The case was absolutely clear. Frank +Prendergast had been dead just seven months. Colonel Innes imagined +himself married four years. Violet Prendergast was a bigamist, and +Horace Innes had no wife. + +That was the marvellous transcendent fact; that was what lifted her and +carried her on great pulsing waves that rolled beyond the walls of the +little fripperied drawing-room and its collection of low-necked women, +out into her life, which had not these boundaries. She lived again in a +possible world. There was no stone wall between herself and joy. + +The old Mussulman butler who offered her coffee looked at her with +aroused curiosity--here was certainly a memsahib under the favour of +God--and as she stirred it, the shadow that Violet Prendergast had +thrown upon her life faded out of her mind in the light that was there. +Then she looked up and met that lady’s vivid blue eyes. Mrs. Innes’s +colour had not returned, but there was a recklessness in the lines of +her mouth. In the way she held her chin, expressing that she had been +reflecting on old scores, and anticipated the worst. Meeting this +vigilance Miss Anderson experienced a slight recoil. Her happiness, she +realized, had been brought to her in the hands of ugly circumstance. + +‘And so melodramatic,’ she told herself. ‘It is really almost vulgar. In +a story I should have no patience with it.’ But she went on stirring her +coffee with a little uncontrollable smile. + +A moment later she had to contemplate the circumstance that her hostess +was addressing her. Mrs. Innes wished to be introduced. Mrs. Innes, +incarnate, conscious sensation, was smiling at her, saying that she must +know so great a friend of her husband’s. He made so few friends, and she +was so grateful to anybody who was good to him. Eyes and voice tolerably +in rein, aware of the situation at every point, she had a meretricious +daring; and it occurred to Madeline, looking at her, that she was after +all a fairly competent second-class adventuress. She would not refuse +the cue. It would make so little difference. + +‘On the contrary, I am tremendously indebted to Colonel Innes. He has +been so very kind about ponies and jhampanies and things. Simla is +full of pitfalls for a stranger, don’t you think?’ And Miss Anderson, +unclosing her fan, turned her reposeful head a little in the direction +of three married schoolgirls voluble on her left. + +‘Not when you get to know the language. You must learn the language; +it’s indispensable. But of course it depends on how long you mean to +stay.’ + +‘I think I will learn the language,’ said Madeline. + +‘But General Worsley told me you were leaving Simla in a fortnight.’ + +‘Oh no. My plans are very indefinite; but I shall stay much longer than +that.’ + +‘It is Miss Anderson, isn’t it?--Miss Madeline Anderson, of New +York--no, Brooklyn?’ + +Madeline looked at her. ‘Did not the General say so?’ she asked. + +‘Yes, he did. But one looks to make quite sure.’ + +‘I can understand that.’ + +Mrs. Innes leaned forward with one elbow on her knee. + +It was not a graceful attitude, but it gave the casual air to the +conversation which was desirable. + +‘What are you going to do?’ she said. + +‘My plans are as indefinite as possible, really,’ Madeline returned. +‘I may spend the cold weather in Calcutta, or go into camp with the +Dovedells--I should like that.’ + +‘Mrs. Innes,’ cried the nearest schoolgirl, ‘we are coming tomorrow to +see all the lovely things in your boxes, may we?’ + +‘Do, duckies. But mind, no copying of them by durzies in the veranda. +They’re all Paris things--Coulter’s--and you know he doesn’t copy well, +does he? Oh, dear! here are the men--they always come too soon, don’t +they? So glad to have had even a little chat, Miss Anderson. I’ll come +and see you tomorrow. You know newcomers in India always make the first +calls. I shall find you at home, sha’n’t I?’ + +‘By all means,’ Madeline said. + +Mrs. Innes crossed the room, crying out that the heat was perfectly +absurd for Simla, it must be cooler outside; and as Captain Valentine +Drake followed her into the semi-darkness of the veranda, the three +married schoolgirls looked at each other and smiled. + +‘Don’t be naughty,’ said Captain Gordon, leaning over the sofa from +behind. ‘They’re very dear friends, and they’ve been separated for two +years.’ + +Madeline heard this as plainly as they did. She noted disdainfully how +it all fell in. + +‘How absent you are tonight!’ Horace Innes exclaimed, when Miss Anderson +had asked him a trivial question for the third time. + +‘Hush!’ she said. ‘Mrs. Scallepa is going to sing;’ and as Mrs. Scallepa +sang she let her eyes play over him with a light in them so tender, that +once catching it the felt a sudden answering throb, and looked again; +but after that her eyes were on the floor. + +‘We are staying here,’ he said a quarter of an hour later, as he saw her +into her rickshaw; ‘and I think I must see you to your quarters. It’s +very dark, and there is an ugly little slip half-way between this and +the Mall. + +He ran upstairs to get his coat and stick, and a white face like an +apparition suddenly hung itself on the edge of Madeline’s rickshaw-hood. + +‘Don’t tell him tonight,’ it said, hoarsely. + +‘Are you ready, Colonel Innes? Then good night, everybody,’ cried +Madeline. + +She was not at all sure that she would not tell Horace Innes ‘tonight’. + + + +Chapter 3.V. + +‘My wife,’ said Colonel Innes, ‘is looking extremely well.’ + +‘She seems so, indeed,’ Madeline replied. + +‘She is delighted with “Two Gables”. Likes it better, she says, than any +other house we could have got.’ + +‘What a good thing!’ + +‘It was a record trip for the Caledonia, thirteen days from Brindisi to +Bombay. Was she telling you about the voyage?’ + +‘No,’ said Madeline impatiently, ‘she didn’t mention it. How shall I +tell the men to put down the hood, please? A rickshaw is detestable with +the hood up--stifling! Thanks. I beg your pardon. The Caledonia made a +good run?’ + +‘Thirteen days. Wonderful weather, of course, which was luck for Violet. +She is an atrocious sailor.’ + +Madeline fancied she heard repose and reassurance in his voice. +Her thought cried, ‘It is not so bad as he expected!’ We can not be +surprised that she failed to see in herself the alleviation of that +first evening. + +‘She has brought quantities of things for the house with her,’ Innes +went on, ‘as well as three dachshund puppies,’ and he laughed. ‘Wouldn’t +you like one? What can we do with three--and the terrier, and Brutus?’ + +‘Oh, thank you, no.’ + +How could he laugh? How could he speak pleasantly of these intimate +details of his bondage? How could he conceive that she would accept-- + +‘Already she has arranged four dinner-parties! It will be a relief not +to have to think of that sort of thing--to be able to leave it to her.’ + +‘Mrs. Innes must have great energy. To drive all the way up from Kalka +by noon and appear at a dinner-party at night--wonderful!’ + +‘Oh, great energy,’ Horace said. + +‘She will take you everywhere--to all the functions. She will insist on +your duty to society.’ + +Madeline felt that she must get him somehow back into his slough of +despond. His freedom paralyzed her. And he returned with a pathetic +change of tone. + +‘I suppose there is no alternative. Violet is very good about being +willing to go alone, or with somebody else; but I never think it quite +fair on one’s wife to impose on her the necessity of going about with +other men.’ + +‘Mrs. Worsley introduced us after dinner,’ said Madeline. + +She kept disparagement out of her mind, but he could not help perceiving +aloofness. + +‘Yes?’ + +The monosyllable told her sensitive ear that while he admitted her +consideration in going on with the subject, he was willing to recognize +that there was no more to say, and have done with it. She gathered up +her scruples and repugnances in a firm grasp. She would not let him +throw his own shadow, as an effectual obstacle, between himself and +liberty. + +‘I am going to ask you something,’ she said; it might come naturally +enough from another man with whom your friendship was as candid as it +is with me; but there is an awkwardness in it from a woman. You must +believe I have a good reason. Will you tell me about your first meeting +with Mrs. Innes, when--when you became engaged?’ + +She knew she was daring a good deal; but when a man’s prison is to be +brought down about his ears, one might as well begin, she thought, at +the foundation. + +For a moment Innes did not speak, and then his words came slowly. + +I find it difficult,’ he said, ‘to answer you. How can it matter--it is +impossible. I suppose you have heard some story, and it is like you to +want to be in a position to negative it. Ignore it instead. She has very +successfully championed herself. Believe nothing to her disadvantage +that may be said about that--that time. I was pleased to marry her, and +she was pleased to marry me. But for God’s sake don’t let us talk about +it!’ + +As he spoke Madeline saw the vivid clearness of the situation grow +blurred and confused. It was as if her point of view had suddenly +changed and her eyes failed her. Her eager impulse had beat less and +less strongly from the Worsley’s door; now it seemed to shrink away in +fetters. Her eyes filled with vaguely resentful tears, which sprang, +if she could have traced them, from the fact that the man she loved was +loyal to his own mistake, and the formless premonition that he might +continue to be. She contorted her lip to keep her emotion back, and +deliberately turned away from a matter in which she was not mistress, +and which contained ugly possibilities of buffeting. She would wait a +little, and though consideration for Violet Prendergast had nothing to +do with it, she would not tell him tonight. + +‘I am sorry,’ she said; and, after a moment, ‘Did I tell you that I have +changed my plans?’ + +‘You are not going so soon?’ she took all the comfort there was in his +eagerness. + +‘I am not going at all for the present. I have abandoned my intentions +and my dates. I mean to drift for a little while. I have been too--too +conscientious.’ + +‘Are you quite serious--do you mean it?’ + +‘Indeed I do.’ + +‘And in less than a fortnight you will not go out of one’s life. You +will stay on--you summer day! It’s hard to believe in luck like that. I +sent a poor devil of a sepoy a reprieve last week--one knows now how he +must have felt about it.’ + +‘Does it make all that difference?’ Madeline asked, softly. + +‘It makes a difference,’ he answered, controlling his words, ‘that I am +glad you can not conceive, since that would mean that your life has been +as barren as mine.’ He seemed to refrain from saying more, and then he +added, ‘You must be careful when you plant your friendship that you mean +it to stay, and blossom. It will not come easily up by the roots, and it +will leave an ugly hole.’ + +He was helping her out of her rickshaw, and as they followed the servant +who carried her wraps the few yards to the door, she left her hand +lightly on his arm. It was the seal, he thought, of her unwritten bond +that there should be no uprooting of the single flower he cherished; and +he went back almost buoyantly because of it to the woman who had been +sitting in the sackcloth and ashes of misfortune, turning over the +expedients for which his step might make occasion. + +By the time the monkeys began to scramble about the roof in the early +creeping of the dawn among the deodars, Madeline had groped her way to +a tolerably clear conception of what might happen. The impeding +circumstance everywhere, it must be acknowledged, was Frederick +Prendergast’s coffin. The case, had convict No. 1596 been still alive +and working out his debt to society, would have been transcendentally +simple, she told herself. Even a convict has a right--a prospective +right--to his wife, and no honest man should be compelled to retain a +criminal’s property. This was an odd reflection, perhaps, to be made by +Madeline Anderson, but the situation as a whole might be described as +curious. And there was no doubt about the coffin. + + + +Chapter 3.VI. + +The veranda of which Miss Anderson’s little sitting-room claimed its +section hung over the road, and it seemed to her that she heard the +sound of Mrs. Innes’s arrival about ten minutes after breakfast. + +On the contrary, she had spent two whole hours contemplating, with very +fixed attention, first the domestic circumstances of Colonel Horace +Innes and their possible development, and then, with a pang of +profoundest acknowledgment, the moral qualities which he would bring to +bear upon them. She was further from knowing what course she personally +intended to pursue than ever, when she heard the wheels roll up +underneath; and she had worked herself into a state of sufficient +detachment from the whole problem to reflect upon the absurdity of a +bigamist rattling forth to discuss her probable ruin in the fanciful +gaiety of a rickshaw. The circumstances had its value though; it +lightened all responsibility for the lady concerned. As Madeline +heard her jump out and give pronounced orders for the securing of an +accompanying dachshund, it did not seem to matter so particularly what +became of Violet Prendergast. + +Mrs. Innes’s footsteps came briskly along the veranda. Madeline noted +that there was no lagging. ‘Number seven,’ she said aloud; as she passed +other doors, ‘Number eight--number nine! Ah! there you are.’ The +door was open. ‘I wouldn’t let them bring up my card for fear of some +mistake. How do you do? Now please don’t get up--you look so comfortable +with your book. What is it? Oh, yes, of course, THAT. People were +talking about it a good deal when I left London, but I haven’t read it. +Is it good?’ + +‘I like it,’ said Madeline. She half rose as Mrs. Innes entered; but as +the lady did not seem to miss the ceremony of greeting, she was glad to +sink back in her chair. + +‘And how do you like Simla? Charming in many ways, isn’t it? A little +too flippant, I always say--rather TOO much champagne and silliness. But +awfully bracing.’ + +‘The Snows are magnificent,’ Madeline said, ‘when you can see them. And +there’s a lot of good work done here.’ + +‘Aren’t they divine? I did nothing, absolutely nothing, my first season +but paint them. And the shops--they’re not bad, are they, for the size +of the place? Though today, upon my soul, there doesn’t seem to be a +yard of white spotted veiling among them.’ + +‘That is annoying,’ said Madeline, ‘if you want spotted veiling.’ + +‘Isn’t it? Well’--Mrs. Innes take a deep breath--‘you DIDN’T tell him +last night?’ + +‘N--no,’ said Madeline, with deliberation. + +‘I WAS grateful. I knew I could rely upon you not to. It would have been +too cruel when we have only just been reunited--dear Horace would have +had to sleep in the--’ + +‘Pray--’ + +‘Well, Horace is the soul of honour. Is your ayah in there?’ Mrs. Innes +nodded towards the bedroom door. ‘You can not imagine what long ears she +has.’ + +‘I have no ayah. There is only Brookes;’ and as that excellent woman +passed through the room with a towel over her arm, Madeline said, ‘You +can go now, Brookes, and see about that alpaca. Take the rickshaw; it +looks very threatening.’ + +‘Maid! You ARE a swell! There are only four genuine maids in Simla that +I know of--the rest are really nurse-girls. What a comfort she must be! +THE luxury of all others that I long for; but alas! army pay, you know. +I did once bring a dear thing out with me from Nice--you should have +seen Horace’s face.’ + +‘I couldn’t very well go about quite alone; it would be uncomfortable.’ + +‘Except that you Americans are so perfectly independent.’ + +‘On the contrary. If I could order about a servant the way an +Englishwoman does--’ + +‘Say you are not going to tell him! I’ve got such a lot of other calls +to make,’ exclaimed Mrs. Innes. ‘Dear Lady Bloomfield won’t understand +it if I don’t call today, especially after the baby. What people in +that position want with more babies I can not comprehend. Of course you +haven’t noticed it, but a baby is such a shock to Simla.’ + +‘Don’t let me keep you,’ Madeline said, rising. + +‘But you haven’t promised. Do promise, Miss Anderson. You gain nothing +by telling him, except your revenge; and I should think by this time +you would have forgiven me for taking Frederick away from you. He didn’t +turn out so well! You can’t still bear me malice over that convict in +Sing Sing.’ + +‘For his sake, poor fellow, I might.’ + +‘Coming along I said to myself, “She CAN score off me badly, but surely +she doesn’t want to so much as all that.” Besides, I really only took +your leavings, you know. You threw poor Fred Prendergast over.’ + +‘I am not prepared to discuss that,’ Madeline said, at no pains to +smooth the curve out of her lip. + +‘Then I thought, “Perhaps--you never can tell with people--she will +think it her DUTY to make a fuss.”’ + +‘That is a possible point of view.’ + +‘I know. You think I’m an imposter on society and I ought to be exposed, +and I suppose you could shut every door in Simla against me if you +liked. But you are a friend of my husband’s, Miss Anderson. You would +not turn his whole married life into a scandal and ruin his career?’ + +‘Ruin his career?’ + +‘Of course. Government is awfully particular. It mayn’t be his fault +in the least, but no man is likely to get any big position with a cloud +over his domestic affairs. Horace would resign, naturally.’ + +‘Or take long leave,’ Mrs. Innes added to herself, but she did not give +Madeline this alternative. A line or two of nervous irritation marked +themselves about her eyes, and her colour had faded. Her hat was less +becoming than it had been, and she had pulled a button off her glove. + +‘Besides,’ she went on quickly, ‘it isn’t as if you could do any good, +you know. The harm was done once for all when I let him think he’d +married me. I thought then--well, I had to take it or leave it--and +every week I expected to hear of Frederick’s death. Then I meant to tell +Horace myself, and have the ceremony over again. He couldn’t refuse. +And all these years it’s been like living on a volcano, in the fear of +meeting New York people. Out here there never are any, but in England I +dye my hair, and alter my complexion.’ + +‘Why did you change your mind,’ Madeline asked, ‘about telling Colonel +Innes?’ + +‘I haven’t! Why should I change my mind? For my own protection, I mean +to get things put straight instantly--when the time comes.’ + +‘When the time comes,’ Madeline repeated; and her eyes, as she fixed +them on Mrs. Innes, were suddenly so lightened with a new idea that she +dropped the lids over them as she waited for the answer. + +‘When poor Frederick does pass away,’ Mrs. Innes said, with an air of +observing the proprieties. ‘When they put him in prison it was a matter +of months, the doctors said. That was one reason why I went abroad. I +couldn’t bear to stay there and see him dying by inches, poor fellow.’ + +‘Couldn’t you?’ + +‘Oh, I couldn’t. And the idea of the hard labour made me SICK. But +it seems to have improved his health, and now--there is no telling! I +sometimes believe he will live out his sentence. Should you think that +possible in the case of a man with half a lung?’ + +‘I have no knowledge of pulmonary disease,’ Madeline said. She forced +the words from her lips and carefully looked away, taking this second +key to the situation mechanically, and for a moment groping with it. + +‘What arrangement did you make to be informed about--about him?’ she +asked, and instantly regretted having gone so perilously near provoking +a direct question. + +‘I subscribe to the “New York World”. I used to see lots of things in +it--about the shock the news of my death gave him--’ + +A flash of hysterical amusement shot into Mrs. Innes’s eyes, and she +questioned Madeline’s face to see whether it responded to her humour. +Then she put her own features straight behind her handkerchief and went +on. + +‘And about his failing health, and then about his being so much better. +But nothing now for ages.’ + +‘Did the “World” tell you,’ asked Miss Anderson, with sudden interest, +‘that Mr. Prendergast came into a considerable fortune before--about two +years ago?’ + +Mrs. Innes’s face turned suddenly blank. ‘How much?’ she exclaimed. + +‘About five hundred thousand dollars, I believe. Left him by a cousin. +Then you didn’t know?’ + +‘That must have been Gordon Prendergast--the engineer!’ Mrs. Innes said, +with excitement. ‘Fancy that! Leaving money to a relation in Sing Sing! +Hadn’t altered his will, I suppose. Who could possibly,’ and her face +fell visibly, ‘have foreseen such a thing?’ + +‘No one, I think,’ said Madeline, through a little edged smile. ‘On that +point you will hardly be criticized.’ + +Mrs. Innes, with clasped hands, was sunk in thought. She raised her eyes +with a conviction in them which she evidently felt to be pathetic. + +‘After all,’ she said, ‘there is something in what the padres say +about our reaping the reward of our misdeeds in this world--some of us, +anyway. If I had stayed in New York--’ + +‘Yes?’ said Madeline. ‘I shall wake up presently,’ she reflected, ‘and +find that I have been dreaming melodrama.’ But that was a fantastic +underscoring of her experience. She knew very well she was making it. + +Mrs. Innes, again wrapped in astonished contemplation, did not reply. +Then she jumped to her feet with a gesture that cast fortunes back into +the lap of fate. + +‘One thing is certain,’ she said; ‘I can’t do anything NOW, can I?’ + +Madeline laid hold of silence and made armour with it. At all events, +she must have time to think. + +‘I decline to advise you,’ she said, and she spoke with a barely +perceptive movement of her lips only. The rest of her face was stone. + +‘How unkind and unforgiving you are! Must people would think the loss of +a hundred thousand pounds about punishment enough for what I have done. +You don’t seem to see it. But on top of that you won’t refuse to promise +not to tell Horace?’ + +‘I will not bind myself in any way whatever.’ + +‘Not even when you know that the moment I hear of the--death I intend +to--to--’ + +‘Make an honest man of him? Not even when I know that.’ + +‘Do you want me to go down on my knees to you?’ + +Madeline glanced at the flowered fabric involved and said, ‘I wouldn’t, +I think.’ + +‘And this is to hang over me the whole season? I shall enjoy +nothing--absolutely NOTHING.’ The blue eyes were suddenly eclipsed +by angry tears, which the advent of a servant with cards checked as +suddenly. + +‘Goodbye, then, dear,’ cried Mrs. Innes, as if in response to the +advancing rustle of skirts in the veranda. ‘So glad to have found you +at home. Dear me, has Trilby made her way up--and I gave such particular +orders! Oh, you NAUGHTY dog!’ + + + +Chapter 3.VII. + +From the complication that surged round Miss Anderson’s waking hours +one point emerged, and gave her a perch for congratulation. That was +the determination she had shown in refusing to let Frederick Prendergast +leave her his money, or any part of it. + +It has been said that he had outlived her tenderness, if not her care, +and this fact, which she never found it necessary to communicate to +poor Frederick himself, naturally made his desire in the matter sharply +distasteful. She was even unaware of the disposition he had made of his +ironical fortune, a reflection which brought her thankfulness that there +was something she did not know. ‘If I had let him do it,’ she thought, +‘I should have felt compelled to tell her everything, instantly. And +think of discussing it with her!’ This was quite a fortnight later, and +Mrs. Innes still occupied her remarkable position only in her own mind +and Madeline’s, still knowing herself the wife of 1596 and of 1596 only, +and still unaware that 1596 was in his grave. Simla had gone on with its +dances and dinners and gymkhanas quite as if no crucial experience were +hanging over the heads of three of the people one met ‘everywhere,’ and +the three people continued to be met everywhere, although only one +of them was unconscious. The women tried to avoid each other without +accenting it, exchanging light words only as occasion demanded, but they +were not clever enough for Mrs. Gammidge and Mrs. Mickie, who went +about saying that Mrs. Innes’s treatment of Madeline Anderson was as +ridiculous as it was inexplicable. ‘Did you ever know her to be jealous +of anybody before?’ demanded Mrs. Mickie, to which Mrs. Gammidge +responded, with her customary humour, that the Colonel had never, in the +memory of the oldest inhabitant, been known to give her occasion. + +‘Well,’ declared Mrs. Mickie, ‘if friendships--UNSENTIMENTAL +friendships--between men and women are not understood in Simla, I’d like +to be told what is understood.’ + +Between them they gave Madeline a noble support, for which--although she +did not particularly require it, and they did not venture to offer it in +so many words--she was grateful. A breath of public criticism from +any point of view would have blown over the toppling structure she was +defending against her conscience. The siege was severe and obstinate, +with an undermining conviction ever at work that in the end she would +yield; in the end she would go away, at least as far as Bombay or +Calcutta, and from there send to Mrs. Innes the news of her liberation. +It would not be necessary, after all, or even excusable, to tell Horace. +His wife would do that quickly enough--at least, she had said she +would. If she didn’t--well, if she didn’t, nothing would be possible but +another letter, giving HIM the simple facts, she, Madeline, carefully +out of the way of his path of duty--at all events, at Calcutta or +Bombay. But there was no danger that Mrs. Innes would lose the advantage +of confession, of throwing herself on his generosity--and at this +point Madeline usually felt her defenses against her better nature +considerably strengthened, and the date of her sacrifice grow vague +again. + +Meanwhile, she was astonished to observe that, in spite of her threat +to the contrary, Mrs. Innes appeared to be enjoying herself particularly +well. Madeline had frequent occasion for private comment on the +advantages of a temperament that could find satisfaction in dancing +through whole programmes at the very door, so to speak, of the criminal +courts; and it can not be denied that this capacity of Mrs. Innes’s went +far to increase the vacillation with which Miss Anderson considered +her duty towards that lady. If she had shown traces of a single hour +of genuine suffering, there would have been an end to Madeline’s +hesitation. But beyond an occasional watchful glance at conversations in +which she might be figuring dramatically, and upon which she instantly +turned her back as soon as she was perceived, Mrs. Innes gave no sign +even of preoccupation. If she had bad half-hours, they occurred between +the teas and tennises, the picnics, riding-parties, luncheons, and other +entertainments, at which you could always count upon meeting her; and in +that case they must have been short. She looked extremely well, and +her admirable frocks gave an accent even to ‘Birthday’ functions at +Viceregal Lodge, which were quite hopelessly general. If any one +could have compelled a revelation of her mind, I think it would have +transpired that her anxieties about Capt. Valentine Drake and Mrs. Vesey +gave her no leisure for lesser ones. These for a few days had been keen +and indignant--Captain Drake had so far forgotten himself as to ride +with Mrs. Vesey twice since Mrs. Innes’s arrival--and any display of +poverty of spirit was naturally impossible under the circumstances. The +moment was a critical one; Captain Drake seemed inclined to place her +in the category of old, unexacting friends--ladies who looked on and +smiled, content to give him tea on rainy days, and call him by his +Christian name, with perhaps the privilege of a tapping finger on his +shoulder, and an occasional order about a rickshaw. Mrs. Violet was not +an introspective person, or she might have discovered here that the most +stable part of her self-respect was her EXIGENCE with Captain Drake. + +She found out quickly enough, however, that she did not mean to discard +it. She threw herself, therefore--her fine shoulders and arms, her +pretty clothes, her hilarity, her complexion, her eyelashes, and all +that appertained to her--into the critical task of making other men +believe, at Captain Drake’s expense, that they were quite as fond of her +as he was. Mrs. Vesey took opposite measures, and the Club laid bets on +the result. + +The Club was not prepossessed by Captain Drake. He said too little and +he implied too much. He had magnificent shoulders, which he bent a great +deal over secluded sofas, and a very languid interest in matters over +which ordinary men were enthusiastic. He seemed to believe that if he +smiled all the way across his face, he would damage a conventionality. +His clothes were unexceptionable, and he always did the right thing, +though bored by the necessity. He was good-looking in an ugly way, which +gave him an air of restrained capacity for melodrama, and made women +think him interesting. Somebody with a knack of disparagement said that +he was too much expressed. It rather added to his unpopularity that he +was a man whom women usually took with preposterous seriousness--all but +Kitty Vesey, who charmed and held him by her outrageous liberties. +When Mrs. Vesey chaffed him, he felt picturesque. He was also aware of +inspiring entertainment for the lookers-on, with the feeling at such +times that he, too, was an amused spectator. This was, of course, their +public attitude. In private there was sentiment, and they talked about +the tyranny of society, or delivered themselves of ideas suggested by +works of fiction which everybody simply HAD to read. + +For a week Mrs. Innes looked on, apparently indifferent, rather +apparently not observing; and an Assistant Secretary in the Home +Department began to fancy that his patience in teaching the three +dachshund puppies tricks was really appreciated. He was an on-coming +Assistant Secretary, with other conspicuous parts, and hitherto his time +had been too valuable to spend upon ladies’ dachshunds. Mrs. Innes +had selected him well. There came an evening when, at a dance at the +Lieutenant-Governor’s, Mrs. Innes was so absorbed in what the Assistant +Secretary was saying to her, as she passed on his arm, that she did +not see Captain Drake in the corridor at all, although he had carefully +broken an engagement to walk with Kitty Vesey that very afternoon, +as the beginning of gradual and painless reform in her direction. His +unrewarded virtue rose up and surprised him with the distinctness of +its resentment; and while his expression was successfully amused, +his shoulders and the back of his neck, as well as the hand on +his moustache, spoke of discipline which promised to be efficient. +Reflection assured him that discipline was after all deserved, and a +quarter of an hour later found him wagging his tail, so to speak, over +Mrs. Innes’s programme in a corner pleasantly isolated. The other chair +was occupied by the Assistant Secretary. Captain Drake represented an +interruption, and was obliged to take a step towards the nearest lamp to +read the card. Three dances were rather ostentatiously left, and Drake +initialled them all. He brought back the card with a bow, which spoke +of dignity under bitter usage, together with the inflexible intention of +courteous self-control, and turned away. + +‘Oh, if you please, Captain Drake--let me see what you’ve done. All +those? But--’ + +‘Isn’t it after eleven, Mrs. Innes?’ asked the Assistant Secretary, with +a timid smile. He was enjoying himself, but he had a respect for vested +interests, and those of Captain Drake were so well known that he felt a +little like a buccaneer. + +‘Dear me, so it is!’ Mrs. Innes glanced at one of her bracelets. +‘Then, Captain Drake, I’m sorry’--she carefully crossed out the three +‘V.D.’s’--‘I promised all the dances I had left after ten to Mr. +Holmcroft. Most of the others I gave away at the gymkhana--really. Why +weren’t you there? That Persian tutor again! I’m afraid you are working +too hard. And what did the Rani do, Mr. Holmcroft? It’s like the Arabian +Nights, only with real jewels--’ + +‘Oh, I say, Holmcroft, this is too much luck, you know. Regular +sweepstakes, by Jove!’ And Captain Drake lingered on the fringe of the +situation. + +‘Perhaps I have been greedy,’ said the Assistant Secretary, +deprecatingly. ‘I’ll--’ + +‘Not in the very least! That is,’ exclaimed Mrs. Violet, pouting, ‘if +I’M to be considered. We’ll sit out all but the waltzes, and you shall +tell me official secrets about the Rani. She put us up once, she’s a +delicious old thing. Gave us string beds to sleep on and gold plate to +eat from, and swore about every other word. She had been investing in +Government paper, and it had dropped three points. “Just my damn luck!” + she said. Wasn’t it exquisite? Captain Drake--’ + +‘Mrs. Innes--’ + +‘I don’t want to be rude, but you’re a dreadful embarrassment. Mr. +Holmcroft won’t tell you official secrets!’ + +‘If she would only behave!’ thought Madeline, looking on, ‘I would tell +her--indeed I would--at once.’ + +Colonel Innes detached himself from a group of men in mess dress as she +appeared with the Worsleys, and let himself drift with the tide that +brought them always together. + +‘You are looking tired--ill,’ she said, seriously, as they sought +the unconfessed solace of each other’s eyes. ‘Last night it was the +Commander-in-Chief’s, and the night before the dance at Peliti’s. +And again tonight. And you are not like those of us who can rest +next morning--you have always your heavy office work!’ She spoke with +indignant, tender reproach, and he gave himself up to hearing it. ‘You +will have to take leave and go away,’ she insisted, foolishly. + +‘Leave! Good heavens, no! I wish all our fellows were as fit as I am. +And--’ + +‘Yes?’ she said. + +‘Don’t pity me, dear friend. I don’t think it’s good for me. The world +really uses me very well.’ + +‘Then it’s all right, I suppose,’ Madeline said, with sudden depression. + +‘Of course it is. You are dining with us on the eighth?’ + +‘I’m afraid not, I’m engaged.’ + +‘Engaged again? Don’t you WANT to break bread in my house, Miss +Anderson?’ She was silent, and he insisted, ‘Tell me,’ he said. + +She gave him instead a kind, mysterious smile. + +‘I will explain to you what I feel about that some day,’ she said; +‘some day soon. I can’t accept Mrs. Innes’s invitation for the eighth, +but--Brookes and I are going to take tea with the fakir’s monkeys on the +top of Jakko tomorrow afternoon.’ + +‘Anybody else, or only Brookes?’ + +‘Only Brookes.’ And she thought she had abandoned coquetry! + +‘Then may I come?’ + +‘Indeed you may.’ + +‘I really don’t know,’ reflected Madeline, as she caught another glimpse +of Mrs. Innes vigorously dancing the reel opposite little Lord Billy in +his Highland uniform, with her hands on her flowered-satin hips, ‘that I +am behaving very well myself.’ + + + +Chapter 3.VIII. + +Horace Innes looked round his wife’s drawing-room as if he were making +an inventory of it, carefully giving each article its value, which +happened, however, to have nothing to do with rupees. Madeline Anderson +had been saying something the day before about the intimacy and accuracy +with which people’s walls expressed them, and though the commonplace was +not new to him, this was the first time it had ever led him to scan his +wife’s. What he saw may be imagined, but his only distinct reflection +was that he had no idea that she had been photographed so variously or +had so many friends who wore resplendent Staff uniforms. The relation of +cheapness in porcelain ornaments to the lady’s individuality was beyond +him, and he could not analyze his feelings of sitting in the midst of +her poverty of spirit. Indeed, thinking of his ordinary unsusceptibility +to such things, he told himself sharply that he was adding an +affectation of discomfort to the others that he had to bear; and that +if Madeline had not given him the idea it would never have entered his +mind. The less, he mused, that one had to do with finicking feelings +in this world the better. They were well enough for people who were +tolerably conditioned in essentials--he preferred this vagueness, even +with himself, in connection with his marriage--otherwise they added +pricks. Besides he had that other matter to think of. + +He thought of the other matter with such obvious irritation that the +butler coming in to say that the ‘English water’ was finished, and how +many dozen should he order, put a chair in its place instead, closed +the door softly again, and went away. It was not good for the dignity of +butlers to ask questions of any sort with a look of that kind under the +eyebrows of the sahib. The matter was not serious, Colonel Innes told +himself, but he would prefer by comparison to deal with matters that +were serious. He knew Simla well enough to attach no overwhelming +importance to things said about women at the Club, where the broadest +charity prevailed underneath, and the idle comment of the moment had +an intrinsic value as a distraction rather than a reflective one as +a criticism. This consideration, however, was more philosophical +in connection with other men’s wives. He found very little in it to +palliate what he had overheard, submerged in the ‘Times of India’, that +afternoon. And to put an edge on it, the thing had been said by one of +his own juniors. Luckily the boy had left the room without discovering +who was behind the ‘Times of India’. Innes felt that he should be +grateful for having been spared the exigency of defending his wife +against a flippant word to which she had very probably laid herself +open. He was very angry, and it is perhaps not surprising that he did +not pause to consider how far his anger was due to the humiliating +necessity of speaking to her about it. She was coming at last though; +she was in the hall. He would get it over quickly. + +‘Goodbye!’ said Mrs. Innes at the door. ‘No, I can’t possibly let you +come in to tea. I don’t know how you have the conscience after drinking +three cups at Mrs. Mickie’s, where I had no business to take you! +Tomorrow? Oh, all right if you want to VERY badly. But I won’t promise +you strawberries--they’re nearly all gone.’ + +There was the sound of a departing pony’s trot, and Mrs. Innes came into +the drawing-room. + +‘Good heavens, Horace! what are you sitting there for like a--like a +ghost? Why didn’t you make a noise or something, and why aren’t you at +office? I can’t tell you how you startled me.’ + +‘It is early,’ Colonel Innes said. ‘We are neither of us in the house, +as a rule, at this hour.’ + +‘Coincidence!’ Violet turned a cool, searching glance on her husband, +and held herself ready. ‘I came home early because I want to alter the +lace on my yellow bodice for tonight. It’s too disgusting as it is. But +I was rather glad to get away from Mrs. Mickie’s lot. So rowdy!’ + +‘And I came because I had a special reason for wanting to speak to you.’ + +Mrs. Violet’s lips parted, and her breath, in spite of herself, came a +little faster. + +‘As we are dining out tonight, I thought that if I didn’t catch you now +I might not have another opportunity--till tomorrow morning.’ + +‘And it’s always a pity to spoil one’s breakfast. I can tell from your +manner, mon ami, it’s something disagreeable. What have I been and gone +and done?’ + +She was dancing, poor thing, in her little vulgar way, on hot iron. But +her eyes kept their inconsistent coolness. + +‘I heard something today which you are not in the way of hearing. You +have--probably--no conception that it could be said.’ + +‘Then she has been telling other people. ABSOLUTELY the worst thing she +could do!’ Mrs. Innes exclaimed privately, sitting unmoved, her face a +little too expectant. + +‘You won’t be prepared for it--you may be shocked and hurt by it. +Indeed, I think there is no need to repeat it to you. But I must put you +on your guard. Men are coarser, you know, than women; they are apt to +put their own interpretation--’ + +‘What is it?’ + +There was a physical gasp, a sharpness in her voice that brought Innes’s +eyes from the floor to her face. + +‘I am sorry,’ he said, ‘but--don’t overestimate it, don’t let it worry +you. It was simply a very impertinent--a very disagreeable reference +to you and Mr. Holmcroft, I think, in connection with the Dovedell’s +picnic. It was a particularly silly thing as well, and I am sure no one +would attach any importance to it, but it was said openly at the Club, +and--’ + +‘Who said it?’ Mrs. Innes demanded. + +A flood of colour rushed over her face. Horace marked that she blushed. + +‘I don’t know whether I ought to tell you, Violet. It certainly was not +meant for your ears.’ + +‘If I’m not to know who said it, I don’t see why I should pay any +attention to it. Mere idle rumour--’ + +Innes bit his lip. + +‘Captain Gordon said it,’ he replied. + +‘Bobby Gordon! DO tell me what he said! I’m dying to know. Was he very +disagreeable? I DID give his dance away on Thursday night.’ + +Innes looked at her with the curious distrust which she often inspired +in him. He had a feeling that he would like to put her out of the room +into a place by herself, and keep her there. + +‘I won’t repeat what he said.’ Colonel Innes took up the ‘Saturday +Review’. + +‘Oh, do, Horace! I particularly want to know.’ + +Innes said nothing. + +‘Horace! Was it--was it anything about Mr. Holmcroft being my +Secretariat baa-lamb?’ + +‘If you adorn your guess with a little profanity,’ said Innes, acidly, +‘you won’t be far wrong.’ + +Mrs. Violet burst into a peal of laughter. + +‘Why, you old goose!’ she articulated, behind her handkerchief; ‘he said +that to ME.’ + +Innes laid down the ‘Saturday Review’. + +‘To you!’ he repeated; ‘Gordon said it to you!’ + +‘Rather!’ Mrs. Violet was still mirthful. ‘I’m not sure that he didn’t +call poor little Homie something worse than that. It’s the purest +jealousy on his part--nothing to make a fuss about.’ + +The fourth skin which enables so many of us to be callous to all but the +relative meaning of careless phrases had not been given to Innes, and +her words fell upon his bare sense of propriety. + +‘Jealous,’ he said, ‘of a married woman? I find that difficult to +understand.’ + +Violet’s face straightened out. + +‘Don’t be absurd, Horace. These boys are always jealous of somebody or +other--it’s the occupation of their lives! I really don’t see how one +can prevent it.’ + +‘It seems to me that a self-respecting woman should see how. Your point +of view in these matters is incomprehensible.’ + +‘Perhaps,’ Violet was driven by righteous anger to say, ‘you find Miss +Anderson’s easier to understand.’ + +Colonel Innes’s face took its regimental disciplinary look, and, though +his eyes were aroused, his words were quiet with repression. + +‘I see no reason to discuss Miss Anderson with you,’ he said. ‘She has +nothing to do with what we are talking about.’ + +‘Oh, don’t you, really! Hasn’t she, indeed! I take it you are trying to +make me believe that compromising things are said about Mr. Holmcroft +and me at the Club. Well, I advise you to keep your ears open a little +more, and listen to the things said about you and Madeline Anderson +there. But I don’t suppose you would be in such a hurry to repeat them +to HER.’ + +Innes turned very white, and the rigidity of his face gave place to +heavy dismay. His look was that of a man upon whom misfortune had fallen +out of a clear sky. For an instant he stared at his wife. When he spoke +his voice was altered. + +‘For God’s sake!’ he said, ‘let us have done with this pitiful +wrangling. I dare say you can take care of yourself; at all events, I +only meant to warn you. But now you must tell me exactly what you mean +by this that you have said--this--about--’ + +‘The fat’s in the fire,’ was Mrs. Innes’s reflection. + +‘Certainly, I’ll tell you--’ + +‘Don’t shout, please!’ + +‘I mean simply that all Simla is talking about your affair with Miss +Anderson. You may imagine that because you are fifteen years older than +she is things won’t be thought of, but they are, and I hear it’s been +spoken about at Viceregal Lodge. I KNOW Lady Bloomfield has noticed it, +for she herself mentioned it to me. I told her I hadn’t the slightest +objection, and neither have I, but there’s an old proverb about people +in glass houses. What are you going to do?’ + +Colonel Innes’s expression was certainly alarming, and he had made a +step toward her that had menace in it. + +‘I am going out,’ he said, and turned and left her to her triumph. + + + +Chapter 3.IX. + +She--Violet--had unspeakably vulgarized it, but it must be true--it must +be, to some extent, true. She may even have lied about it, but the truth +was there, fundamentally, in the mere fact that it had been suggested +to her imagination. Madeline’s name, which had come to be for him an +epitome of what was finest and most valuable, most to be lived for, +was dropping from men’s lips into a kind of an abyss of dishonourable +suggestion. There was no way out of it or around it. It was a cloud +which encompassed them, suddenly blackening down. + +There was nothing that he could do--nothing. Except, yes, of +course--that was obvious, as obvious as any other plain duty. Through +his selfishness it had a beginning; in spite of his selfishness it +should have an end. That went without saying. No more walks or rides. In +a conventional way, perhaps--but nothing deliberate, designed--and never +alone together. Gossip about flippant married women was bad enough, but +that it should concern itself with an unprotected creature like Madeline +was monstrous, incredible. He strode fiercely into the road round Jakko, +and no little harmless snake, if it had crawled across his path, +would have failed to suffer a quick fate under the guidance of his +imagination. But there was nothing for him to kill, and he turned upon +himself. + +The sun went down into the Punjab and left great blue-and-purple hill +worlds barring the passage behind him. The deodars sank waist deep into +filmy shadow, and the yellow afterlight lay silently among the branches. +A pink-haunched monkey lopading across the road with a great show of +prudence seemed to have strayed into an unfamiliar country, and +the rustling twigs behind him made an episode of sound. The road in +perpetual curve between its little stone parapet and the broad flank of +the hill rose and fell under the deodars; Innes took its slopes and its +steepnesses with even, unslackened stride, aware of no difference, aware +of little indeed except the physical necessity of movement, spurred on +by a futile instinct that the end of his walk would be the end of his +trouble--his amazing, black, menacing trouble. A pony’s trot behind him +struck through the silence like percussion-caps; all Jakko seemed to +echo with it; and it came nearer--insistent, purposeful--but he +was hardly aware of it until the creature pulled up beside him, and +Madeline, slipping quickly off, said-- + +‘I’m coming too.’ + +He took off his hat and stared at her. She seemed to represent a climax. + +‘I’m coming too,’ she said. ‘I’m tired of picking flies off the Turk, +and he’s really unbearable about them tonight. Here, syce.’ She threw +the reins to the man and turned to Innes with a smile of relief. ‘I +would much rather do a walk. Why--you want me to come too, don’t you?’ + +His face was all one negative, and under the unexpectedness of it and +the amazement of it her questioning eyes slowly filled with sudden, +uncontrollable tears, so that she had to lower them, and look steadily +at the hoof-marks in the road while she waited for his answer. + +‘You know how I feel about seeing you--how glad I always am,’ he +stammered. ‘But there are reasons--’ + +‘Reasons?’ she repeated, half audibly. + +‘I don’t know how to tell you. I will write. But let me put you up +again--’ + +‘I will not,’ Madeline said, with a sob, ‘I won’t be sent home like +a child. I am going to walk, but--but I can quite well go alone.’ She +started forward, and her foot caught in her habit so that she made an +awkward stumble and came down on her knee. In rising she stumbled again, +and his quick arm was necessary. Looking down at her, he saw that she +was crying bitterly. The tension had lasted long, and the snap had come +when she least expected it. + +‘Stop,’ Innes said, firmly, hardly daring to turn his head and ascertain +the blessed fact that they were still alone. ‘Stop instantly. You +shall not go by yourself.’ He flicked the dust off her habit with +his pocket-handkerchief. ‘Come, please; we will go on together.’ Her +distress seemed to make things simple again. It was as if the cloud that +hung over them had melted as she wept, and lifted, and drifted a little +further on. For the moment, naturally, nothing mattered except that she +should be comforted. As she walked by his side shaken with her effort +at self-control, he had to resist the impulse to touch her. His hand +tingled to do its part in soothing her, his arm ached to protect her, +while he vaguely felt an element of right, of justice, in her tears; +they were in a manner his own. What he did was to turn and ask the syce +following if he had loosened the Turk’s saddle-girths. + +‘I shall be better--in a moment,’ Madeline said, and he answered, ‘Of +course’; but they walked on and said nothing more until the road ran out +from under the last deodar and round the first bare boulder that marked +the beginning of the Ladies’ Mile. It lay rolled out before them, the +Ladies’ Mile, sinuous and grey and empty, along the face of the cliff; +they could see from one end of it to the other. It was the bleak side of +Jakko; even tonight there was a fresh springing coldness in it blowing +over from the hidden snows behind the rims of the nearer hills. Madeline +held up her face to it, and gave herself a moment of its grateful +discipline. + +‘I have been as foolish as possible,’ she said, ‘as foolish as possible. +I have distressed you. Well, I couldn’t help it--that is all there is to +be said. Now if you will tell me--what is in your mind--what you spoke +of writing--I will mount again and go home. It doesn’t matter--I know +you didn’t mean to be unkind.’ Her lip was trembling again, and he knew +it, and dared not look at it. + +‘How can you ask me to tell you--miserable things!’ he exclaimed. ‘How +can I find the words? And I have only just been told--I can hardly +myself conceive it--’ + +‘I am not a child in her teens that my ears should be guarded from +miserable things. I have come of age, I have entered into my inheritance +of the world’s bitterness with the rest. I can listen,’ Madeline said. +‘Why not?’ + +He looked to her with grave tenderness. ‘You think yourself very old, +and very wise about the world,’ he said; ‘but you are a woman, and you +will be hurt. And when I think that a little ordinary forethought on my +part would have protected you, I feel like the criminal I am.’ + +‘Don’t make too much of it,’ she said, simply. ‘I have a presentiment--’ + +‘I’ll tell you,’ Innes said, slowly; ‘I won’t niggle about it. The +people of this place--idiots!--are unable to believe that a man and a +woman can be to each other what we are.’ + +‘Yes?’ said Madeline. She paused beside the parapet and looked down at +the indistinct little fields below, and the blurred masses of white wild +roses waving midway against the precipice. + +‘They can not understand that there can be any higher plane of +intercourse between us than the one they know. They won’t see--they +can’t see--that the satisfaction we find in being together is of a +different nature.’ + +‘I see,’ said Madeline. She had raised her eyes, and they sought +the solemn lines of the horizon. She looked as if she saw something +infinitely lifted above the pettiness he retailed to her. + +‘So they say--good God, why should I tell you what they say!’ It +suddenly flashed upon him that the embodiment of it in words would be at +once, from him, sacrilegious and ludicrous. It flashed upon him that her +natural anger would bring him pain, and that if she laughed--it was so +hard to tell when she would laugh--it would be as if she struck him. +He cast about him dumb and helpless while she kept her invincibly +quiet gaze upon the farther hills. She was thinking that this breath of +gossip, now that it had blown, was a very slight affair compared with +Horace Innes’s misery--which he did not seem to understand. Then her +soul rose up in her, brushing everything aside, and forgetting, alas! +the vow it had once made to her. + +‘I think I know,’ she said. ‘They are indeed foolish. They say that +we--love each other. Is not that what they say?’ + +He looked in amazement into her tender eyes and caught at the little +mocking smile about her lips. Suddenly the world grew light about him, +the shadows fled away. Somewhere down in the valley, he remembered +afterward, a hill-flute made music. When he spoke it was almost in a +whisper, lest he should disturb some newly perceived lovely thing that +had wings, and might leave him. ‘Oh, Madeline,’ he said, ‘is it true?’ +She only smiled on in gladness that took no heed of any apprehension, +any fear or scruple, and he himself keeping his eyes upon her face, +said, ‘It is true.’ + +So they stood for a little time in silence while she resisted her great +opportunity. She resisted it to the end, and presently beckoned to the +syce, who came up leading the pony. Innes mounted her mechanically and +said, ‘Is that all right?’ as she put her foot in the stirrup, without +knowing that he had spoken. + +‘Goodbye,’ she said; ‘I am going away--immediately. It will be better. +And listen--I have known this for weeks--and I have gone on seeing you. +And I hope I am not any more wicked than I feel. Goodbye.’ + +‘Goodbye,’ he said, taking his hand from the pony’s neck, and she rode +buoyantly away. He, turning to breast the road again, saw darkness +gathering over the end of it, and drawing nearer. + +At eleven o’clock next morning Brookes rose from her packing to take +a note addressed to her mistress from the hand of a messenger in the +Imperial red and gold. It ran: + +‘Dear Miss Anderson--I write to tell you that I have obtained three +weeks’ leave, and I am going into the interior to shoot, starting this +afternoon. You spoke yesterday of leaving Simla almost immediately. I +trust you will not do this, as it would be extremely risky to venture +down to the Plains just now. In ten days the rains will have broken, +when it will be safe. Pray wait till then. + +‘Yours sincerely, + +‘Horace Innes.’ + +Involuntarily the letter found its way to Madeline’s lips, and remained +there until she saw the maid observing her with intelligence. + +‘Brookes,’ she said, ‘I am strongly advised not to start until the rains +break. I think, on the whole, that we won’t.’ + +‘Indeed, miss,’ returned Brookes, ‘Mrs. Sergeant Simmons told me that +it was courting cholera to go--and nothing short of it. I must say I’m +thankful.’ + + + +Chapter 3.X. + +A week later Colonel Innes had got his leave, and had left Simla for the +snow-line by what is facetiously known as ‘the carriage road to Tibet.’ +Madeline had done as she was bidden, and was waiting for the rains to +break. Another day had come without them. To write and tell Innes, to +write to tell Violet, to go away and leave the situation as she +found it; she had lived and moved and slept and awakened to these +alternatives. At the moment she slept. + +It was early, very early in the morning. The hills all about seemed +still unaware of it, standing in the greyness, compact, silent, +immutable, as if they slept with their eyes open. Nothing spoke of the +oncoming sun, nothing was yet surprised. The hill world lifted itself +unconscious in a pale solution of daylight, and only on the sky-line, +very far away, it rippled into a cloud. The flimsy town clinging steeply +roof above roof to the slope, mounting to the saddle and slipping over +on the other side, cut the dawn with innumerable little lines and angles +all in one tone like a pencil drawing. + +There was no feeling in it, no expression. It had a temporary air in +that light, like trampled snow, and even the big Secretariat buildings +that raised themselves here and there out of the huddling bazaar looked +trivial, childish enterprises in the simple revelation of the morning. +A cold silence was abroad, which a crow now and then vainly tried to +disturb with a note of tentative enterprise, forced, premature. It +announced that the sun would probably rise, but nothing more. In the +little dark shops of the wood-carvers an occasional indefinite figure +moved, groping among last night’s tools, or an old woman in a red sari +washed a brass dish over the shallow open drain that ran past her door. +At the tonga terminus, below the Mall, a couple of coughing syces, +muffled in their blankets, pulled one of these vehicles out of the +shed. They pushed it about sleepily, with clumsy futility; nothing else +stirred or spoke at all in Simla. Nothing disturbed Miss Anderson asleep +in her hotel. + +A brown figure in a loin-cloth, with a burden, appeared where the road +turned down from the Mall, and then another, and several following. They +were coolies, and they carried luggage. + +The first to arrive beside the tonga bent and loosed the trunk he +brought, which slipped from his back to the ground. The syces looked at +him, saying nothing, and he straightened himself against the wall of the +hillside, also in silence. It was too early for conversation. Thus did +all the others. + +When the last portmanteau had been deposited, a khaki-coloured heap on +the shed floor rose up as a broad-shouldered Punjabi driver, and walked +round the luggage, looking at it. + +‘And you, owls’ brethren,’ he said, with sarcasm, addressing the first +coolie, ‘you have undertaken to carry these matter fifty-eight kos to +Kalka, have you?’ + +‘Na,’ replied the coolie, stolidly, and spat. + +‘How else, then, is it to be taken?’ the driver cried, with anger in +his argument. ‘Behold the memsahib has ordered but one tonga, and a +fool-thing of an ekka. Here is work for six tongas! What reason is there +in this?’ + +The coolie folded his naked arms, and dug in the dust with an +unconcerned toe. + +‘I, what can I do?’ he said, ‘It is the order of the memsahib.’ + +Ram Singh grunted and said no more. A rickshaw was coming down from the +Mall, and the memsahib was in it. + +Ten minutes later the ponies stood in their traces under the iron bar, +and the lady sat in the tonga behind Ram Singh. Her runners, in uniform, +waited beside the empty rickshaw with a puzzled look, at which she +laughed, and threw a rupee to the head man. + +The luggage was piled and corded on three ekkas behind, and their +cross-legged drivers, too, were ready. + +‘Chellao!’ she cried, crisply, and Ram Singh imperturbably lifted the +reins. The little procession clanked and jingled along the hillside, +always tending down, and broke upon the early grey melancholy with a +forced and futile cheerfulness, too early, like everything else. As +it passed the last of Simla’s little gardens, spread like a +pocket-handkerchief on the side of the hill, the lady leaned forward and +looked back as if she wished to impress the place upon her memory. Her +expression was that of a person going forth without demur into the +day’s hazards, ready to cope with them, yet there was some regret in the +backward look. + +‘It’s a place,’ she said aloud, ‘where EVERYBODY has a good time!’ + +Then the Amusement Club went out of sight behind a curve; and she +settled herself more comfortably among her cushions, and drew a wrap +round her to meet the chill wind of the valley. It was all behind +her. The lady looked out as the ponies galloped up to the first +changing-place, and, seeing a saddled horse held by a syce, cramped +herself a little into one corner to make room. The seat would just hold +two. + +Ram Singh salaamed, getting down to harness the fresh pair, and a man +put his face in at the side of the tonga and took off his hat. + +‘Are you all right?’ he said. His smile was as conscious as his words +were casual. + +‘Quite right. The ayah was silly about coming--didn’t want to leave her +babies or something--so I had to leave her behind. Everything else is +either here or in the ekkas.’ + +‘The brute! Never mind--they’re not much use in a railway journey. You +can pick up another at Bombay. Then I suppose I’d better get in.’ + +‘I suppose you better had. Unless you think of walking,’ she laughed, +and he took the place beside her. + +Ram Singh again unquestioningly took up the reins. + +‘Nobody else going down?’ + +‘Not another soul. We might just as well have started together.’ + +‘Oh, well, we couldn’t tell. Beastly awkward if there had been anybody.’ + +‘Yes,’ she said, but thrust up her under lip indifferently. + +Then, with the effect of turning to the business in hand, she bent her +eyes upon him understandingly and smiled in frank reference to something +that had not been mentioned. ‘It’s goodbye Simla, isn’t it?’ she +said. He smiled in response and put his hand upon her firm, round arm, +possessively, and they began to talk. + +Ram Singh, all unaware, kept his horses at their steady clanking +downward gallop, and Simla, clinging to the hilltops, was brushed by the +first rays of the sun. + +It came a gloriously clear morning; early riders round Jakko saw the +real India lying beyond the outer ranges, flat and blue and pictured +with forests and rivers like a map. The plains were pretty and +interesting in this aspect, but nobody found them attractive. Sensitive +people liked it better when the heat mist veiled them and it was +possible to look abroad without a sudden painful thought of contrasting +temperatures. We may suppose that the inhabitants of Paradise sometimes +grieve over their luck. Even Madeline Anderson, whose heart knew no +constriction at the remembrance of brother or husband at some cruel +point in the blue expanse, had come to turn her head more willingly the +other way, towards the hills rolling up to the snows, being a woman who +suffered by proxy, and by observation, and by Rudyard Kipling. + +On this particular morning, however, she had not elected to do either. +She slept late instead, and was glad to sleep. I might as well say at +once that on the night before she had made up her mind, had brought +herself to the point, and had written to Mrs. Innes, at ‘Two Gables’, +all the facts, in so far as she was acquainted with them, connected with +Frederick Prendergast’s death. She was very much ashamed of herself, +poor girl; she was aware that, through her postponement, Horace Innes +would now see his problem in all its bitterness, make his choice with +his eyes wide open. If it had only happened before he knew--anything +about her! + +She charged herself with having deliberately waited, and then spent an +exhausting hour trying to believe that she had drifted unconsciously to +the point of their mutual confession. Whatever the truth was, she did +not hesitate to recognize a new voice in her private counsels from that +hour, urging her in one way or another to bring matters to an end. +It was a strong instinct; looking at the facts, she saw it was the +gambler’s. When she tried to think of the ethical considerations +involved she saw only the chances. The air seemed to throb with them all +night; she had to count them finally to get rid of them. + +Brookes was up betimes, however, and sent off the letter. It went duly, +by Surnoo, to Mrs. Innes at ‘Two Gables’. Madeline woke at seven with a +start, and asked if it had gone, then slept again contentedly. So far +as she was concerned the thing was finished. The breakfast gong had +sounded, and the English mail had arrived before she opened her +eyes again upon the day’s issues; she gave it her somewhat desultory +attention while Brookes did her hair. There was only one scrap of news. +Adele mentioned in a postscript that poor Mr. Prendergast’s money was +likely to go to a distant relative, it having transpired that he died +without leaving a will. + +‘She is sure, absolutely sure,’ Madeline mused, ‘to answer my letter in +person. She will be here within an hour. I shall have this to tell her, +too. How pleased she will be! She will come into it all, I suppose--if +she is allowed. Though she won’t be allowed, that is if--’ But there +speculation began, and Madeline had forbidden herself speculation, if +not once and for all, at least many times and for fifteen minutes. + +No reasonable purpose would be served by Mrs. Innes’s visit, Madeline +reflected, as she sat waiting in the little room opening on the veranda; +but she would come, of course she would come. She would require the +satisfaction of the verbal assurance; she would hope to extract more +details; she would want the objectionable gratification of talking if +over. + +In spite of any assurance, she would believe that Madeline had not told +her before in order to make her miserable a little longer than she +need be; but, after all, her impression about that did not particularly +matter. It couldn’t possibly be a pleasant interview, yet Madeline found +herself impatient for it. + +‘Surnoo,’ she said of her messenger, ‘must be idling on his way back +in the bazaar. I must try to remember to fine him two pice. Surnoo is +incorrigible.’ + +She forgot, however, to fine Surnoo. The pad of his bare feet sounded +along the veranda almost immediately, and the look in his Pahari eyes +was that of expected reproach, and ability to defend himself against it. + +He held out two letters at arm’s-length, for as he was expected to bring +only one there was a fault in this; and all his domestic traditions told +him that he might be chastened. One was addressed to Madeline in Mrs. +Innes’s handwriting; the other, she saw with astonishment, was her own +communication to that lady, her own letter returned. Surnoo explained +volubly all the way along the veranda, and in the flood of his unknown +tongue Madeline caught a sentence or two. + +‘The memsahib was not,’ said Surnoo. Clearly he could not deliver a +letter to a memsahib who was not. ‘Therefore,’ Surnoo continued, ‘I have +brought back your honour’s letter, and the other I had from the hand of +the memsahib’s runner, the runner with one eye, who was on the road to +bring it here. More I do not know, but it appears that the memsahib has +gone to her father and mother in Belaat, being very sorrowful because +the Colonel-sahib has left her to shoot.’ + +‘The letter will tell me,’ said Madeline to herself, fingering it. +‘Enough, Surnoo.’ + +The man went away, and Madeline closed and locked the door of her +sitting-room. The letter would tell her--what? She glanced about her +with dissatisfaction, and sought the greater privacy of her bedroom, +where also she locked the door and drew the muslin curtain across the +window. She laid the letter on the dressing-table and kept her eyes upon +it while she unfastened, with trembling hands, the brooch at her neck +and the belt at her waist. She did one or two other meaningless things, +as if she wanted to gain time, to fortify her nerves even against an +exhibition before herself. + +Then she sat down with her back towards the light and opened the letter. +It had a pink look and a scented air. Even in her beating suspense +Madeline held it a little farther away from her, as she unfolded it, and +it ran: + +‘Dear Miss Anderson--What will you say, I wonder, and what will Simla +say, when you know that Captain Drake and I have determined to DISREGARD +CONVENTIONALITIES, and live henceforward only for one another! I am all +packed up, and long before this meets your eye we shall have taken +the step which society condemns, but which I have a feeling that +you, knowing my storm-tossed history, will be broad-minded enough +to sympathize with, at least to some extent. That is the reason I am +writing to you rather than to any of my own chums, and also of course to +have the satisfaction of telling you that I no longer care what you do +about letting out the secret of my marriage to Frederick Prendergast. I +am now ABOVE AND BEYOND IT. Any way you look at it, I do not see that I +am much to blame. As I never have been Colonel Innes’s wife there can +be no harm in leaving him, though if he had ever been sympathetic, or +understood me the LEAST LITTLE BIT, I might have felt bound to him. But +he has never been able to evoke the finer parts of my nature, and when +this is the case marriage is a mere miserable fleshly failure. You +may say, “Why try it a third time?”--but my union with Val will be +different. I have never been fond of the opposite sex--so far as that +goes I should have made a very good nun--but for a long time Valentine +Drake has been the only man I cared to have come within a mile of me, +and lately we have discovered that we are absolutely necessary to each +other’s existence on the higher plane. I don’t care much what +Simla thinks, but if you happen to be talking about it to dear Lady +Bloomfield, you might just mention this. Val has eight hundred a year of +his own, so it is perfectly practicable. Of course, he will send in his +papers. WHATEVER HAPPENS, Val and I will never bind ourselves in any +way. We both think it wrong and enslaving. I have nothing more to add, +except that I am depending on you to explain to Simla that I never was +Mrs. Innes. + +‘Yours sincerely, + +‘Violet Prendergast. + +‘P.S.--I have written to Horace, telling him everything about +everything, and sent my letter off to him in the wilds by a runner. If +you see him you might try and smooth him down. I don’t want him coming +after Val with a revolver.’ + +Madeline read this communication through twice. Then quietly and +deliberately she lay down upon the bed, and drew herself out of the +control of her heart by the hard labour of thought. When she rose, she +had decided that there were only two things for her to do, and she +began at once to do them, continuing her refuge in action. She threw her +little rooms open again, and walked methodically round the outer one, +collecting the odds and ends of Indian fabrics with which she had +garnished it. + +As the maid came in, she looked up from folding them. + +‘I have news, Brookes,’ she said, ‘that necessitates my going home at +once. No, it is not bad news, but--important. I will go now and see +about the tonga. We must start tomorrow morning.’ + +Brookes called Surnoo, and the rickshaw came round. + +Madeline looked at her watch. + +‘The telegraph office,’ she said; ‘and as quickly as may be.’ + +As the runners panted over the Mall, up and down and on, Madeline said +to herself, ‘She shall have her chance. She shall choose.’ + +The four reeking Paharis pulled up at the telegraph office, and Madeline +sped up the steps. There was a table, with forms printed ‘Indian +Telegraphs,’ and the usual bottle of thickened ink and pair of rusty +pens. She sat down to her intention as if she dared not let it cool; she +wrote her message swiftly, she had worded it on the way. + +‘To Mrs. Innes, Dak Bungalow, Solon. + +‘From M. Anderson, Simla. + +‘Frederick Prendergast died on January 7th, at Sing Sing. Your letter +considered confidential if you return. Prendergast left no will. + +‘M. Anderson.’ + +‘Send this “urgent,” Babu,’ she said to the clerk, ‘and repeat it to the +railway station, Kalka. Shall I fill up another form? No? Very well.’ + +At the door she turned and came back. + +‘It is now eleven o’clock,’ she said. ‘The person I am telegraphing to +is on her way down to get tonight’s train at Kalka. I am hoping to catch +her half-way at Solon. Do you think I can?’ + +‘I think so, madam. Oyess! It is the custom to stop at Solon for tiffin. +The telegram can arrive there. All urgent telegram going very quick.’ + +‘And in any case,’ said Madeline, ‘it can not fail to reach her at +Kalka?’ + +‘Not possible to fail, madam.’ + +‘She will have her chance,’ she said to herself, on her way to the post +office to order her tonga. And with a little nauseated shudder at the +thought of the letter in her pocket, she added, ‘It is amazing. I +should have thought her too good a woman of business!’ After which she +concentrated her whole attention upon the necessities of departure. Her +single immediate apprehension was that Horace Innes might, by some magic +of circumstances, be transported back into Simla before she could get +out of it. That such a contingency was physically impossible made no +difference to her nerves, and to the last Brookes was the hurrying +victim of unnecessary promptings. + +The little rambling hotel of Kalka, where the railway spreads out over +the plains, raises its white-washed shelter under the very walls of the +Himalayas. Madeline, just arrived, lay back in a long wicker chair on +the veranda, and looked up at them as they mounted green and grey and +silent under the beating of the first of the rains. Everywhere was a +luxury of silence, the place was steeped in it, drowned in it. A feeding +cow flicked an automatic tail under a tree. Near the low mud wall that +strolled irresolutely between the house and the hills leaned a bush +with a few single pink roses; their petals were floating down under +the battering drops. A draggled bee tried to climb to a dry place on a +pillar of the veranda. Above all, the hills, immediate, towering, all +grey and green, solidly ideal, with phantasies of mist. Everything +drippingly soft and silent. Suddenly the venetian blind that hung before +the door of a bedroom farther on swayed out before a hand variously +ringed to emit a lady in a pink lawn dress with apt embroideries. +Madeline’s half-closed eyes opened very wide, and for an instant she and +the lady, to whom I must once more refer as Mrs. Innes, confronted each +other. Then Mrs. Innes’s countenance expanded, and she took three or +four light steps forward. + +‘Oh, you dear thing!’ she exclaimed. ‘I thought you were in Simla! +Imagine you being here! Do you know you have SAVED me!’ + +Madeline regarded her in silence, while a pallor spread over her face +and lips, and her features grew sharp with a presage of pain. + +‘Have I?’ she stammered. She could not think. + +‘Indeed you have. I don’t know how to be grateful enough to you. Your +telegram of yesterday reached me at Solon. We had just sat down to +tiffin. Nothing will ever shake my faith in providence again! My dear, +THINK of it--after all I’ve been through, my darling Val--and one +hundred thousand pounds!’ + +‘Well?’ + +‘Well--I stayed behind there last night, and Val came on here and made +the necessary arrangement, and--’ + +‘Yes?’ + +‘And we were married this morning. Good heavens! What’s the matter with +you! Here--oh, Brookes! Water, salts--anything!’ + +Brookes, I know, would think that I should dwell at greater length upon +Miss Anderson’s attack of faintness in Kalka, and the various measures +which were resorted to for her succour, but perhaps the feelings and +expedients of any really capable lady’s-maid under the circumstances may +be taken for granted. I feel more seriously called upon to explain that +Colonel Horace Innes, shortly after these last events, took two years’ +furlough to England, during which he made a very interesting tour in +the United States with the lady with now bears his name by inalienable +right. Captain and Mrs. Valentine Drake are getting the most that is to +be had out of Frederick Prendergast’s fortune with courage in London and +the European capitals, where Mrs. Drake is sometimes mentioned as a +lady with a romantic past. They have not returned to Simla, where the +situation has never been properly understood. People always supposed +that Mrs. Drake ran away that June morning with her present husband, who +must have been tremendously fond of her to have married her ‘after the +divorce.’ She is also occasionally mentioned in undertones as ‘the +first Mrs. Innes.’ All of which we know to be quite erroneous, like most +scandal. + +Mrs. Mickie and Mrs. Gammidge, in retirement, are superintending the +education of their children in Bedford, where it is cheap and practical. +They converse when they meet about the iniquitous prices of dressmakers +and the degeneracy of the kind of cook obtainable in England at +eighteen pounds a year. Mrs. Gammidge has grown rather portly and +very ritualistic. They seldom speak of Simla, and when they do, if too +reminiscent a spark appears in Mrs. Mickie’s eye, Mrs. Gammidge changes +the subject. Kitty Vesey still fills her dance cards at Viceregal +functions, though people do not quote her as they used to, and +subalterns imagine themselves vastly witty about her colour, which is +unimpaired. People often commend her, however, for her good nature to +debutantes, and it is admitted that she may still ride with credit in +‘affinity stakes’--and occasionally win them. + + + + +4. The Pool in the Desert. + +I knew Anna Chichele and Judy Harbottle so well, and they figured so +vividly at one time against the rather empty landscape of life in a +frontier station, that my affection for one of them used to seem little +more, or less, than a variant upon my affection for the other. That +recollection, however, bears examination badly; Judy was much the better +sort, and it is Judy’s part in it that draws me into telling the story. +Conveying Judy is what I tremble at: her part was simple. Looking +back--and not so very far--her part has the relief of high comedy with +the proximity of tears; but looking closely, I find that it is mostly +Judy, and what she did is entirely second, in my untarnished picture, to +what she was. Still I do not think I can dissuade myself from putting it +down. + +They would, of course, inevitably have found each other sooner or later, +Mrs. Harbottle and Mrs. Chichele, but it was I who actually introduced +them; my palmy veranda in Rawul Pindi; where the teacups used to +assemble, was the scene of it. I presided behind my samovar over +the early formalities that were almost at once to drop from their +friendship, like the sheath of some bursting flower. I deliberately +brought them together, so the birth was not accidental, and my interest +in it quite legitimately maternal. We always had tea in the veranda in +Rawul Pindi, the drawing-room was painted blue, blue for thirty feet up +to the whitewashed cotton ceiling; nothing of any value in the way of a +human relation, I am sure, could have originated there. The veranda +was spacious and open, their mutual observation had room and freedom; +I watched it to and fro. I had not long to wait for my reward; the +beautiful candour I expected between them was not ten minutes in coming. +For the sake of it I had taken some trouble, but when I perceived it +revealing I went and sat down beside Judy’s husband, Robert Harbottle, +and talked about Pharaoh’s split hoof. It was only fair; and when next +day I got their impressions of one another, I felt single-minded and +deserving. + +I knew it would be a satisfactory sort of thing to do, but perhaps it +was rather more for Judy’s sake than for Anna’s that I did it. Mrs. +Harbottle was only twenty-seven then and Robert a major, but he had +brought her to India out of an episode too colour-flushed to tone with +English hedges; their marriage had come, in short, of his divorce, and +as too natural a consequence. In India it is well known that the eye +becomes accustomed to primitive pigments and high lights; the aesthetic +consideration, if nothing else, demanded Robert’s exchange. He was lucky +to get a Piffer regiment, and the Twelfth were lucky to get him; we were +all lucky, I thought, to get Judy. It was an opinion, of course, a good +deal challenged, even in Rawul Pindi, where it was thought, especially +in the beginning, that acquiescence was the most the Harbottles could +hope for. That is not enough in India; cordiality is the common right. +I could not have Judy preserving her atmosphere at our tea-parties and +gymkhanas. Not that there were two minds among us about ‘the case’; it +was a preposterous case, sentimentally undignified, from some points of +view deplorable. I chose to reserve my point of view, from which I saw +it, on Judy’s behalf, merely quixotic, preferring on Robert’s just to +close my eyes. There is no doubt that his first wife was odious to a +degree which it is simply pleasanter not to recount, but her malignity +must almost have amounted to a sense of humour. Her detestation of her +cousin Judy Thynne dated much further back than Robert’s attachment. +That began in Paris, where Judy, a young widow, was developing a real +vein at Julian’s. I am entirely convinced that there was nothing, as +people say, ‘in it,’ Judy had not a thought at that time that was not +based on Chinese white and permeated with good-fellowship; but there was +a good deal of it, and no doubt the turgid imagination of the first +Mrs. Harbottle dealt with it honestly enough. At all events, she saw +her opportunity, and the depths of her indifference to Robert bubbled +up venomously into the suit. That it was undefended was the senseless +mystery; decency ordained that he and Judy should have made a fight, +even in the hope that it would be a losing one. The reason it had to +be a losing one--the reason so immensely criticized--was that the +petitioning lady obstinately refused to bring her action against any +other set of circumstances than those to which, I have no doubt, Judy +contributed every indiscretion. It is hard to imagine Robert Harbottle +refusing her any sort of justification that the law demands short of +beating her, but her malice would accept nothing of which the account +did not go for final settlement to Judy Thynne. If her husband wanted +his liberty, he should have it, she declared, at that price and no +other. Major Harbottle did indeed deeply long for his liberty, and his +interesting friend, Mrs. Thynne, had, one can only say, the most vivid +commiseration for his bondage. Whatever chance they had of winning, to +win would be, for the end they had at heart, to lose, so they simply +abstained, as it were, from comment upon the detestable procedure which +terminated in the rule absolute. I have often wondered whether the whole +business would not have been more defensible if there had been on Judy’s +part any emotional spring for the leap they made. I offer my conviction +that there was none, that she was only extravagantly affected by the +ideals of the Quarter--it is a transporting atmosphere--and held a view +of comradeship which permitted the reversal of the modern situation +filled by a blameless correspondent. Robert, of course, was tremendously +in love with her; but my theory is that she married him as the logical +outcome of her sacrifice and by no means the smallest part of it. + +It was all quite unimaginable, as so many things are, but the upshot of +it brought Judy to Rawul Pindi, as I have said, where I for one thought +her mistake insignificant compared with her value. It would have +been great, her value, anywhere; in the middle of the Punjab it was +incalculable. To explain why would be to explain British India, but +I hope it will appear; and I am quite willing, remember, to take the +responsibility if it does not. + +Somers Chichele, Anna’s son, it is absurd to think, must have been about +fifteen then, reflecting at Winchester with the other ‘men’ upon the +comparative merits of tinned sardines and jam roll, and whether a packet +of real Egyptians was not worth the sacrifice of either. His father was +colonel of the Twelfth; his mother was still charming. It was the year +before Dick Forsyth came down from the neighbourhood of Sheikhbudin with +a brevet and a good deal of personal damage. I mention him because he +proved Anna’s charm in the only conclusive way before the eyes of us +all; and the station, I remember, was edified to observe that if Mrs. +Chichele came out of the matter ‘straight’--one relapses so easily into +the simple definitions of those parts--which she undoubtedly did, she +owed it in no small degree to Judy Harbottle. This one feels to be +hardly a legitimate reference, but it is something tangible to lay hold +upon in trying to describe the web of volitions which began to weave +itself between the two that afternoon on my veranda and which afterward +became so strong a bond. I was delighted with the thing; its simplicity +and sincerity stood out among our conventional little compromises at +friendship like an ideal. She and Judy had the assurance of one another; +they made upon one another the finest and often the most unconscionable +demands. One met them walking at odd hours in queer places, of which I +imagine they were not much aware. They would turn deliberately off the +Maidan and away from the bandstand to be rid of our irrelevant bows; +they did their duty by the rest of us, but the most egregious among us, +the Deputy-Commissioner for selection, could see that he hardly counted. +I thought I understood, but that may have been my fatuity; certainly +when their husbands inquired what on earth they had been talking of, it +usually transpired that they had found an infinite amount to say about +nothing. It was a little worrying to hear Colonel Chichele and Major +Harbottle describe their wives as ‘pals,’ but the fact could not be +denied, and after all we were in the Punjab. They were pals too, but the +terms were different. + +People discussed it according to their lights, and girls said in pretty +wonderment that Mrs. Harbottle and Mrs. Chichele were like men, they +never kissed each other. I think Judy prescribed these conditions. Anna +was far more a person who did as the world told her. But it was a poor +negation to describe all that they never did; there was no common little +convention of attachment that did not seem to be tacitly omitted between +them. I hope one did not too cynically observe that they offered these +to their husbands instead; the redeeming observation was their husbands’ +complete satisfaction. This they maintained to the end. In the +natural order of things Robert Harbottle should have paid heavily for +interfering as he did in Paris between a woman and what she was entitled +to live for. As a matter of fact he never paid anything at all; I doubt +whether he ever knew himself a debtor. Judy kept her temperament under +like a current and swam with the tides of the surface, taking refreshing +dips only now and then which one traced in her eyes and her hair when +she and Robert came back from leave. That sort of thing is lost in the +sands of India, but it makes an oasis as it travels, and it sometimes +seemed to me a curious pity that she and Anna should sit in the shade of +it together, while Robert and Peter Chichele, their titular companions, +blundered on in the desert. But after all, if you are born blind--and +the men were both immensely liked, and the shooting was good. + +Ten years later Somers joined. The Twelfth were at Peshawur. Robert +Harbottle was Lieutenant-Colonel by that time and had the regiment. +Distinction had incrusted, in the Indian way, upon Peter Chichele, its +former colonel; he was General Commanding the District and K.C.B. So +we were all still together in Peshawur. It was great luck for the +Chicheles, Sir Peter’s having the district, though his father’s old +regiment would have made it pleasant enough for the boy in any case. He +came to us, I mean, of course, to two or three of us, with the interest +that hangs about a victim of circumstances; we understood that he +wasn’t a ‘born soldier.’ Anna had told me on the contrary that he was +a sacrifice to family tradition made inevitable by the General’s +unfortunate investments. Bellona’s bridegroom was not a role he fancied, +though he would make a kind of compromise as best man; he would agree, +she said, to be a war correspondent and write picturesque specials +for the London halfpenny press. There was the humour of the poor boy’s +despair in it, but she conveyed it, I remember, in exactly the same tone +with which she had said to me years before that he wanted to drive a +milk-cart. She carried quite her half of the family tradition, though +she could talk of sacrifice and make her eyes wistful, contemplating +for Somers the limitations of the drill-book and the camp of exercise, +proclaiming and insisting upon what she would have done if she could +only have chosen for him. Anna Chichele saw things that way. With more +than a passable sense of all that was involved, if she could have made +her son an artist in life or a commander-in-chief, if she could have +given him the seeing eye or Order of the Star of India, she would not +have hesitated for an instant. Judy, with her single mind, cried out, +almost at sight of him, upon them both, I mean both Anna and Sir Peter. +Not that the boy carried his condemnation badly, or even obviously; I +venture that no one noticed it in the mess; but it was naturally plain +to those of us who were under the same. He had put in his two years with +a British regiment at Meerut--they nurse subalterns that way for the +Indian army--and his eyes no longer played with the tinsel vision +of India; they looked instead into the arid stretch beyond. This +preoccupation conveyed to the Surgeon-Major’s wife the suggestion that +Mr. Chichele was the victim of a hopeless attachment. Mrs. Harbottle +made no such mistake; she saw simply, I imagine, the beginnings of +her own hunger and thirst in him, looking back as she told us across a +decade of dusty sunsets to remember them. The decade was there, close to +the memory of all of us; we put, from Judy herself downward, an absurd +amount of confidence in it. + +She looked so well the night she met him. It was English mail day; +she depended a great deal upon her letters, and I suppose somebody had +written her a word that brought her that happy, still excitement that +is the inner mystery of words. He went straight to her with some speech +about his mother having given him leave, and for twenty minutes she +patronized him on a sofa as his mother would not have dreamed of doing. + +Anna Chichele, from the other side of the room, smiled on the pair. + +‘I depend on you and Judy to be good to him while we are away,’ she +said. She and Sir Peter were going on leave at the end of the week to +Scotland, as usual, for the shooting. + +Following her glance I felt incapable of the proportion she assigned me. +‘I will see after his socks with pleasure,’ I said. ‘I think, don’t you, +we may leave the rest to Judy?’ + +Her eyes remained upon the boy, and I saw the passion rise in them, +at which I turned mine elsewhere. Who can look unperturbed upon such a +privacy of nature as that? + +‘Poor old Judy!’ she went on. ‘She never would be bothered with him +in all his dear hobble-dehoy time; she resented his claims, the +unreasonable creature, used to limit me to three anecdotes a week; +and now she has him on her hands, if you like. See the pretty air +of deference in the way he listens to her! He has nice manners, the +villain, if he is a Chichele!’ + +‘Oh, you have improved Sir Peter’s,’ I said kindly. + +‘I do hope Judy will think him worth while. I can’t quite expect that he +will be up to her, bless him, she is so much cleverer, isn’t she, than +any of us? But if she will just be herself with him it will make such a +difference.’ + +The other two crossed the room to us at that, and Judy gaily made Somers +over to his mother, trailing off to find Robert in the billiard-room. + +‘Well, what has Mrs. Harbottle been telling you?’ Anna asked him. + +The young man’s eye followed Judy, his hand went musingly to his +moustache. + +‘She was telling me,’ he said, ‘that people in India were sepulchers of +themselves, but that now and then one came who could roll away another’s +stone.’ + +‘It sounds promising,’ said Lady Chichele to me. + +‘It sounds cryptic,’ I laughed to Somers, but I saw that he had the key. + +I can not say that I attended diligently to Mr. Chichele’s socks, but +the part corresponding was freely assigned me. After his people went I +saw him often. He pretended to find qualities in my tea, implied that he +found them in my talk. As a matter of fact it was my inquiring attitude +that he loved, the knowledge that there was no detail that he could give +me about himself, his impressions and experiences, that was unlikely to +interest me. I would not for the world imply that he was egotistical or +complacent, absolutely the reverse, but he possessed an articulate soul +which found its happiness in expression, and I liked to listen. I feel +that these are complicated words to explain a very simple relation, +and I pause to wonder what is left to me if I wished to describe his +commerce with Mrs. Harbottle. Luckily there is an alternative; one +needn’t do it. I wish I had somewhere on paper Judy’s own account of it +at this period, however. It is a thing she would have enjoyed writing +and more enjoyed communicating, at this period. + +There was a grave reticence in his talk about her which amused me in the +beginning. Mrs. Harbottle had been for ten years important enough to us +all, but her serious significance, the light and the beauty in her, +had plainly been reserved for the discovery of this sensitive and +intelligent person not very long from Sandhurst and exactly twenty-six. +I was barely allowed a familiar reference, and anything approaching a +flippancy was met with penetrating silence. I was almost rebuked for +lightly suggesting that she must occasionally find herself bored in +Peshawur. + +‘I think not anywhere,’ said Mr. Chichele; ‘Mrs. Harbottle is one of the +few people who sound the privilege of living.’ + +This to me, who had counted Mrs. Harbottle’s yawns on so many occasions! +It became presently necessary to be careful, tactful, in one’s +implications about Mrs. Harbottle, and to recognize a certain +distinction in the fact that one was the only person with whom Mr. +Chichele discussed her at all. + +The day came when we talked of Robert; it was bound to come in the +progress of any understanding and affectionate colloquy which had his +wife for inspiration. I was familiar, of course, with Somers’s opinion +that the Colonel was an awfully good sort; that had been among the +preliminaries and become understood as the base of all references. And I +liked Robert Harbottle very well myself. When his adjutant called him a +born leader of men, however, I felt compelled to look at the statement +consideringly. + +‘In a tight place,’ I said--dear me, what expressions had the freedom of +our little frontier drawing-rooms!--‘I would as soon depend on him as on +anybody. But as for leadership--’ + +‘He is such a good fellow that nobody here does justice to his soldierly +qualities,’ said Mr. Chichele, ‘except Mrs. Harbottle.’ + +‘Has she been telling you about them?’ I inquired. + +‘Well,’ he hesitated, ‘she told me about the Mulla Nulla affair. She is +rather proud of that. Any woman would be.’ + +‘Poor dear Judy!’ I mused. + +Somers said nothing, but looked at me, removing his cigarette, as if my +words would be the better of explanation. + +‘She has taken refuge in them--in Bob Harbottle’s soldierly +qualities--ever since she married him,’ I continued. + +‘Taken refuge,’ he repeated, coldly, but at my uncompromising glance his +eyes fell. + +‘Well?’ I said. + +‘You mean--’ + +‘Oh, I mean what I say,’ I laughed. ‘Your cigarette has gone out--have +another.’ + +‘I think her devotion to him splendid.’ + +‘Quite splendid. Have you seen the things he brought her from the Simla +Art Exhibition? He said they were nice bits of colour, and she has hung +them in the drawing-room, where she will have to look at them every day. +Let us admire her--dear Judy.’ + +‘Oh,’ he said, with a fine air of detachment, ‘do you think they are so +necessary, those agreements?’ + +‘Well,’ I replied, ‘we see that they are not indispensable. More sugar? +I have only given you one lump. And we know, at all events,’ I added, +unguardedly, ‘that she could never have had an illusion about him.’ + +The young man looked up quickly. ‘Is that story true?’ he asked. + +‘There was a story, but most of us have forgotten it. Who told you?’ + +‘The doctor.’ + +‘The Surgeon-Major,’ I said, ‘has an accurate memory and a sense of +proportion. As I suppose you were bound to get it from somebody, I am +glad you got it from him.’ + +I was not prepared to go on, and saw with some relief that Somers was +not either. His silence, as he smoked, seemed to me deliberate; and I +had oddly enough at this moment for the first time the impression that +he was a man and not a boy. Then the Harbottles themselves joined us, +very cheery after a gallop from the Wazir-Bagh. We talked of old times, +old friendships, good swords that were broken, names that had carried +far, and Somers effaced himself in the perfect manner of the British +subaltern. It was a long, pleasant gossip, and I thought Judy seemed +rather glad to let her husband dictate its level, which, of course, he +did. I noticed when the three rode away together that the Colonel was +beginning to sit down rather solidly on his big New Zealander; and I +watched the dusk come over from the foothills for a long time thinking +more kindly than I had spoken of Robert Harbottle. + +I have often wondered how far happiness is contributed to a temperament +like Judy Harbottle’s, and how far it creates its own; but I doubt +whether, on either count, she found as much in any other winter of her +life except perhaps the remote ones by the Seine. Those ardent hours +of hers, when everything she said was touched with the flame of her +individuality, came oftener; she suddenly cleaned up her palate and +began to translate in one study after another the language of the +frontier country, that spoke only in stones and in shadows under the +stones and in sunlight over them. There is nothing in the Academy of +this year, at all events, that I would exchange for the one she gave me. +She lived her physical life at a pace which carried us all along +with her; she hunted and drove and danced and dined with such sincere +intention as convinced us all that in hunting and driving and dancing +and dining there were satisfactions that had been somehow overlooked. +The Surgeon-Major’s wife said it was delightful to meet Mrs. Harbottle, +she seemed to enjoy everything so thoroughly; the Surgeon-Major looked +at her critically and asked her if she were quite sure she hadn’t a +night temperature. He was a Scotchman. One night Colonel Harbottle, +hearing her give away the last extra, charged her with renewing her +youth. + +‘No, Bob,’ she said, ‘only imitating it.’ + +Ah, that question of her youth. It was so near her--still, she told +me once, she heard the beat of its flying, and the pulse in her veins +answered the false signal. That was afterward, when she told the truth. +She was not so happy when she indulged herself otherwise. As when she +asked one to remember that she was a middle-aged woman, with middle-aged +thoughts and satisfactions. + +‘I am now really happiest,’ she declared, ‘when the Commissioner takes +me in to dinner, when the General Commanding leads me to the dance.’ + +She did her best to make it an honest conviction. I offered her a recent +success not crowned by the Academy, and she put it down on the table. +‘By and by,’ she said. ‘At present I am reading Pascal and Bossuet.’ +Well, she was reading Pascal and Bossuet. She grieved aloud that most +of our activities in India were so indomitably youthful, owing to the +accident that most of us were always so young. ‘There is no dignified +distraction in this country,’ she complained, ‘for respectable ladies +nearing forty.’ She seemed to like to make these declarations in the +presence of Somers Chichele, who would look at her with a little queer +smile--a bad translation, I imagine, of what he felt. + +She gave herself so generously to her seniors that somebody said Mrs. +Harbottle’s girdle was hung with brass hats. It seems flippant to add +that her complexion was as honest as the day, but the fact is that the +year before Judy had felt compelled, like the rest of us, to repair just +a little the ravages of the climate. If she had never done it one would +not have looked twice at the absurdity when she said of the powder-puff +in the dressing-room, ‘I have raised that thing to the level of an +immorality,’ and sailed in to dance with an uncompromising expression +and a face uncompromised. I have not spoken of her beauty; for one +thing it was not always there, and there were people who would deny +it altogether, or whose considered comment was, ‘I wouldn’t call +her plain.’ They, of course, were people in whom she declined to be +interested, but even for those of us who could evoke some demonstration +of her vivid self her face would not always light in correspondence. +When it did there was none that I liked better to look at; and I envied +Somers Chichele his way to make it the pale, shining thing that would +hold him lifted, in return, for hours together, with I know not what +mystic power of a moon upon the tide. And he? Oh, he was dark and +delicate, by nature simple, sincere, delightfully intelligent. His +common title to charm was the rather sweet seriousness that rested on +his upper lip, and a certain winning gratification in his attention; +but he had a subtler one in his eyes, which must be always seeking and +smiling over what they found; those eyes of perpetual inquiry for the +exquisite which ask so little help to create it. A personality to button +up in a uniform, good heavens! + +As I begin to think of them together I remember how the maternal note +appeared in her talk about him. + +‘His youth is pathetic,’ she told me, ‘but there is nothing that he does +not understand.’ + +‘Don’t apologize, Judy,’ I said. We were so brusque on the frontier. +Besides, the matter still suffered a jocular presentment. Mrs. Harbottle +and Mr. Chichele were still ‘great friends’; we could still put them +next each other at our dinner-parties without the feeling that it would +be ‘marked.’ There was still nothing unusual in the fact that when Mrs. +Harbottle was there Mr. Chichele might be taken for granted. We were so +broad-minded also, on the frontier. + +It grew more obvious, the maternal note. I began positively to dread it, +almost as much, I imagine, as Somers did. She took her privileges all in +Anna’s name, she exercised her authority quite as Lady Chichele’s proxy. +She went to the very limit. ‘Anna Chichele,’ she said actually in his +presence, ‘is a fortunate woman. She has all kinds of cleverness, and +she has her tall son. I have only one little talent, and I have no tall +son.’ Now it was not in nature that she could have had a son as tall as +Somers, nor was that desire in her eyes. All civilization implies a good +deal of farce, but this was a poor refuge, a cheap device; I was glad +when it fell away from her sincerity, when the day came on which she +looked into my fire and said simply, ‘An attachment like ours has no +terms.’ + +‘I wonder,’ I said. + +‘For what comes and goes,’ she went on dreamily, ‘how could there be a +formula?’ + +‘Look here, Judy,’ I said, ‘you know me very well. What if the flesh +leaps with the spirit?’ + +She looked at me, very white. ‘Oh no,’ she said, ‘no.’ + +I waited, but there seemed nothing more that she could say; and in the +silence the futile negative seemed to wander round the room repeating +itself like an echo, ‘Oh no, no.’ I poked the fire presently to drown +the sound of it. Judy sat still, with her feet crossed and her hands +thrust into the pockets of her coat, staring into the coals. + +‘Can you live independently, satisfied with your interests and +occupations?’ she demanded at last. ‘Yes, I know you can. I can’t. I +must exist more than half in other people. It is what they think and +feel that matters to me, just as much as what I think and feel. The best +of life is in that communication.’ + +‘It has always been a passion with you, Judy,’ I replied. ‘I can imagine +how much you must miss--’ + +‘Whom?’ + +‘Anna Chichele,’ I said softly. + +She got up and walked about the room, fixing here and there an intent +regard upon things which she did not see. ‘Oh, I do,’ she said at one +point, with the effect of pulling herself together. She took another +turn or two, and then finding herself near the door she went out. I felt +as profoundly humiliated for her as if she had staggered. + +The next night was one of those that stand out so vividly, for no +reason that one can identify, in one’s memory. We were dining with the +Harbottles, a small party, for a tourist they had with them. Judy and I +and Somers and the traveller had drifted out into the veranda, where the +scent of Japanese lilies came and went on the spring wind to trouble the +souls of any taken unawares. There was a brightness beyond the foothills +where the moon was coming, and I remember how one tall clump swayed +out against it, and seemed in passionate perfume to lay a burden on the +breast. Judy moved away from it and sat clasping her knees on the edge +of the veranda. Somers, when his eyes were not upon her, looked always +at the lily. + +Even the spirit of the globe-trotter was stirred, and he said, ‘I think +you Anglo-Indians live in a kind of little paradise.’ + +There was an instant’s silence, and then Judy turned her face into the +lamplight from the drawing-room. ‘With everything but the essentials,’ +she said. + +We stayed late; Mr. Chichele and ourselves were the last to go. +Judy walked with us along the moonlit drive to the gate, which is so +unnecessary a luxury in India that the servants always leave it open. +She swung the stiff halves together. + +‘Now,’ she said, ‘it is shut.’ + +‘And I,’ said Somers Chichele, softly and quickly, ‘am on the other +side.’ + +Even over that depth she could flash him a smile. ‘It is the business of +my life,’ she gave him in return, ‘to keep this gate shut.’ I felt as +if they had forgotten us. Somers mounted and rode off without a word. We +were walking in a different direction. Looking back, I saw Judy leaning +immovable on the gate, while Somers turned in his saddle, apparently +to repeat the form of lifting his hat. And all about them stretched +the stones of Kabul valley, vague and formless in the tide of the +moonlight... + +Next day a note from Mrs. Harbottle informed me that she had gone to +Bombay for a fortnight. In a postscript she wrote, ‘I shall wait for the +Chicheles there, and come back with them.’ I remember reflecting that +if she could not induce herself to take a passage to England in the ship +that brought them, it seemed the right thing to do. + +She did come back with them. I met the party at the station. I knew +Somers would meet them, and it seemed to me, so imminent did disaster +loom, that someone else should be there, someone to offer a covering +movement or a flank support wherever it might be most needed. And among +all our smiling faces disaster did come, or the cold premonition of it. +We were all perfect, but Somers’s lip trembled. Deprived for a fortnight +he was eager for the draft, and he was only twenty-six. His lip +trembled, and there, under the flickering station-lamps, suddenly stood +that of which there never could be again any denial, for those of us who +saw. + +Did we make, I wonder, even a pretense of disguising the consternation +that sprang up among us, like an armed thing, ready to kill any further +suggestion of the truth? I don’t know. Anna Chichele’s unfinished +sentence dropped as if someone had given her a blow upon the mouth. +Coolies were piling the luggage into a hired carriage at the edge of the +platform. She walked mechanically after them, and would have stepped in +with it but for the sight of her own gleaming landau drawn up within a +yard or two, and the General waiting. We all got home somehow, taking it +with us, and I gave Lady Chichele twenty-four hours to come to me +with her face all one question and her heart all one fear. She came in +twelve. + +‘Have you seen it--long?’ Prepared as I was her directness was +demoralizing. + +‘It isn’t a mortal disease.’ + +‘Oh, for Heaven’s sake--’ + +‘Well, not with certainty, for more than a month.’ + +She made a little spasmodic movement with her hands, then dropped them +pitifully. ‘Couldn’t you do ANYthing?’ + +I looked at her, and she said at once, ‘No, of course you couldn’t.’ + +For a moment or two I took my share of the heavy sense of it, my trivial +share, which yet was an experience sufficiently exciting. ‘I am afraid +it will have to be faced,’ I said. + +‘What will happen?’ Anna cried. ‘Oh, what will happen?’ + +‘Why not the usual thing?’ Lady Chichele looked up quickly as if at a +reminder. ‘The ambiguous attachment of the country,’ I went on, limping +but courageous, ‘half declared, half admitted, that leads vaguely +nowhere, and finally perishes as the man’s life enriches itself--the +thing we have seen so often.’ + +‘Whatever Judy is capable of it won’t be the usual thing. You know +that.’ + +I had to confess in silence that I did. + +‘It flashed at me--the difference in her--in Bombay.’ She pressed her +lips together and then went on unsteadily. ‘In her eyes, her voice. She +was mannered, extravagant, elaborate. With me! All the way up I wondered +and worried. But I never thought--’ She stopped; her voice simply shook +itself into silence. I called a servant. + +‘I am going to give you a good stiff peg,’ I said. I apologize for +the ‘peg,’ but not for the whisky and soda. It is a beverage on the +frontier, of which the vulgarity is lost in the value. While it was +coming I tried to talk of other things, but she would only nod absently +in the pauses. + +‘Last night we dined with him, it was guest night at the mess, and she +was there. I watched her, and she knew it. I don’t know whether she +tried, but anyway, she failed. The covenant between them was written +on her forehead whenever she looked at him, though that was seldom. She +dared not look at him. And the little conversation that they had--you +would have laughed--it was a comedy of stutters. The facile Mrs. +Harbottle!’ + +‘You do well to be angry, naturally,’ I said; ‘but it would be fatal to +let yourself go, Anna.’ + +‘Angry?’ Oh, I am SICK. The misery of it! The terror of it! If it were +anybody but Judy! Can’t you imagine the passion of a temperament like +that in a woman who has all these years been feeding on herself? I tell +you she will take him from my very arms. And he will go--to I dare not +imagine what catastrophe! Who can prevent it? Who can prevent it?’ + +‘There is you,’ I said. + +Lady Chichele laughed hysterically. ‘I think you ought to say, “There +are you.” I--what can I do? Do you realize that it’s JUDY? My friend--my +other self? Do you think we can drag all that out of it? Do you think a +tie like that can be broken by an accident--by a misfortune? With it +all I ADORE Judy Harbottle. I love her, as I have always loved her, +and--it’s damnable, but I don’t know whether, whatever happened, I +wouldn’t go on loving her.’ + +‘Finish your peg,’ I said. She was sobbing. + +‘Where I blame myself most,’ she went on, ‘is for not seeing in him +all that makes him mature to her--that makes her forget the absurd +difference between them, and take him simply and sincerely as I know she +does, as the contemporary of her soul if not of her body. I saw none of +that. Could I, as his mother? Would he show it to me? I thought him just +a charming boy, clever, too, of course, with nice instincts and well +plucked; we were always proud of that, with his delicate physique. Just +a boy! I haven’t yet stopped thinking how different he looks without his +curls. And I thought she would be just kind and gracious and delightful +to him because he was my son.’ + +‘There, of course,’ I said, ‘is the only chance.’ + +‘Where--what?’ + +‘He is your son.’ + +‘Would you have me appeal to her? Do you know I don’t think I could?’ + +‘Dear me, no. Your case must present itself. It must spring upon her +and grow before her out of your silence, and if you can manage it, your +confidence. There is a great deal, after all, remember, to hold her in +that. I can’t somehow imagine her failing you. Otherwise--’ + +Lady Chichele and I exchanged a glance of candid admission. + +‘Otherwise she would be capable of sacrificing everything--everything. +Of gathering her life into an hour. I know. And do you know if the thing +were less impossible, less grotesque, I should not be so much afraid? +I mean that the ABSOLUTE indefensibility of it might bring her a +recklessness and a momentum which might--’ + +‘Send her over the verge,’ I said. ‘Well, go home and ask her to +dinner.’ + +There was a good deal more to say, of course, than I have thought proper +to put down here, but before Anna went I saw that she was keyed up to +the heroic part. This was none the less to her credit because it was the +only part, the dictation of a sense of expediency that despaired while +it dictated. The noble thing was her capacity to take it, and, amid +all that warred in her, to carry it out on the brave high lines of her +inspiration. It seemed a literal inspiration, so perfectly calculated +that it was hard not to think sometimes, when one saw them together, +that Anna had been lulled into a simple resumption of the old relation. +Then from the least thing possible--the lift of an eyelid--it flashed +upon one that between these two every moment was dramatic, and one took +up the word with a curious sense of detachment and futility, but with +one’s heart beating like a trip-hammer with the mad excitement of it. +The acute thing was the splendid sincerity of Judy Harbottle’s response. +For days she was profoundly on her guard, then suddenly she seemed to +become practically, vividly aware of what I must go on calling the great +chance, and passionately to fling herself upon it. It was the strangest +cooperation without a word or a sign to show it conscious--a playing +together for stakes that could not be admitted, a thing to hang upon +breathless. It was there between them--the tenable ground of what they +were to each other: they occupied it with almost an equal eye upon +the tide that threatened, while I from my mainland tower also made an +anguished calculation of the chances. I think in spite of the menace, +they found real beatitudes; so keenly did they set about the business +that it brought them moments finer than any they could count in the +years that were behind them, the flat and colourless years that were +gone. Once or twice the wild idea even visited me that it was, after +all, the projection of his mother in Somers that had so seized Judy +Harbottle, and that the original was all that was needed to help the +happy process of detachment. Somers himself at the time was a good deal +away on escort duty: they had a clear field. + +I can not tell exactly when--between Mrs. Harbottle and myself--it +became a matter for reference more or less overt, I mean her defined +problem, the thing that went about between her and the sun. It will be +imagined that it did not come up like the weather; indeed, it was hardly +ever to be envisaged and never to be held; but it was always there, and +out of our joint consciousness it would sometimes leap and pass, without +shape or face. It might slip between two sentences, or it might remain, +a dogging shadow, for an hour. Or a week would go by while, with +a strong hand, she held it out of sight altogether and talked of +Anna--always of Anna. Her eyes shone with the things she told me then: +she seemed to keep herself under the influence of them as if they had +the power of narcotics. At the end of a time like this she turned to me +in the door as she was going and stood silent, as if she could neither +go nor stay. I had been able to make nothing of her that afternoon: she +had seemed preoccupied with the pattern of the carpet which she traced +continually with her riding crop, and finally I, too, had relapsed. She +sat haggard, with the fight forever in her eyes, and the day seemed to +sombre about her in her corner. When she turned in the door, I looked up +with sudden prescience of a crisis. + +‘Don’t jump,’ she said, ‘it was only to tell you that I have persuaded +Robert to apply for furlough. Eighteen months. From the first of April. +Don’t touch me.’ I suppose I made a movement towards her. Certainly +I wanted to throw my arms about her; with the instinct, I suppose, to +steady her in her great resolution. + +‘At the end of that time, as you know, he will be retired. I had some +trouble, he is so keen on the regiment, but I think--I have succeeded. +You might mention it to Anna.’ + +‘Haven’t you?’ sprang past my lips. + +‘I can’t. It would be like taking an oath to tell her, and--I can’t take +an oath to go. But I mean to.’ + +‘There is nothing to be said,’ I brought out, feeling indeed that there +was not. ‘But I congratulate you, Judy.’ + +‘No, there is nothing to be said. And you congratulate me, no doubt!’ + +She stood for a moment quivering in the isolation she made for herself; +and I felt a primitive angry revolt against the delicate trafficking +of souls that could end in such ravage and disaster. The price was too +heavy; I would have denuded her, at the moment, of all that had led +her into this, and turned her out a clod with fine shoulders like fifty +other women in Peshawur. Then, perhaps, because I held myself silent and +remote and she had no emotion of fear from me, she did not immediately +go. + +‘It will beat itself away, I suppose, like the rest of the unreasonable +pain of the world,’ she said at last; and that, of course, brought me to +her side. ‘Things will go back to their proportions. This,’ she +touched an open rose, ‘will claim its beauty again. And life will +become--perhaps--what it was before.’ Still I found nothing to say, +I could only put my arm in hers and walk with her to the edge of the +veranda where the syce was holding her horse. She stroked the animal’s +neck. ‘Everything in me answered him,’ she informed me, with the grave +intelligence of a patient who relates a symptom past. As she took the +reins she turned to me again. ‘His spirit came to mine like a homing +bird,’ she said, and in her smile even the pale reflection of happiness +was sweet and stirring. It left me hanging in imagination over the +source and the stream, a little blessed in the mere understanding. + +Too much blessed for confidence, or any safe feeling that the source +was bound. Rather I saw it leaping over every obstacle, flashing to its +destiny. As I drove to the Club next day I decided that I would not +tell Anna Chichele of Colonel Harbottle’s projected furlough. If to Judy +telling her would be like taking an oath that they would go, to me it +would at least be like assuming sponsorship for their intention. That +would be heavy indeed. From the first of April--we were then in March. +Anna would hear it soon enough from the General, would see it soon +enough, almost, in the ‘Gazette’, when it would have passed into +irrecoverable fact. So I went by her with locked lips, kept out of the +way of those eyes of the mother that asked and asked, and would have +seen clear to any depth, any hiding-place of knowledge like that. As I +pulled up at the Club I saw Colonel Harbottle talking concernedly to the +wife of our Second-in-Command, and was reminded that I had not heard +for some days how Major Watkins was going on. So I, too, approached Mrs. +Watkins in her victoria to ask. Robert Harbottle kindly forestalled her +reply. ‘Hard luck, isn’t it? Watkins has been ordered home at once. Just +settled into their new house, too--last of the kit came up from Calcutta +yesterday, didn’t it, Mrs. Watkins? But it’s sound to go--Peshawur is +the worst hole in Asia to shake off dysentery in.’ + +We agreed upon this and discussed the sale-list of her new furniture +that Mrs. Watkins would have to send round the station, and considered +the chances of a trooper--to the Watkinses with two children and not +a penny but his pay it did make it easier not to have to go by a +liner--and Colonel Harbottle and I were halfway to the reading-room +before the significance of Major Watkins’s sick-leave flashed upon me. + +‘But this,’ I cried, ‘will make a difference to your plans. You won’t--’ + +‘Be able to ask for that furlough Judy wants. Rather not. I’m afraid +she’s disappointed--she was tremendously set on going--but it doesn’t +matter tuppence to me.’ + +I sought out Mrs. Harbottle, at the end of the room. She looked radiant; +she sat on the edge of the table and swung a light-hearted heel. She +was talking to people who in themselves were a witness to high spirits, +Captain the Hon. Freddy Gisborne, Mrs. Flamboys. + +At sight of me her face clouded, fell suddenly into the old weary lines. +It made me feel somehow a little sick; I went back to my cart and drove +home. + +For more than a week I did not see her except when I met her riding +with Somers Chichele along the peach-bordered road that leads to the +Wazir-Bagh. The trees were all in blossom and made a picture that might +well catch dreaming hearts into a beatitude that would correspond. +The air was full of spring and the scent of violets, those wonderful +Peshawur violets that grow in great clumps, tall and double. Gracious +clouds came and trailed across the frontier barrier; blue as an idyll it +rose about us; the city smiled in her gardens. + +She had it all in her face, poor Judy, all the spring softness and more, +the morning she came, intensely controlled, to announce her defeat. I +was in the drawing-room doing the flowers; I put them down to look at +her. The wonderful telegram from Simla arrived--that was the wonderful +part--at the same time; I remembered how the red, white, and blue turban +of the telegraph peon bobbed up behind her shoulder in the veranda. I +signed and laid it on the table; I suppose it seemed hardly likely that +anything could be important enough to interfere at the moment with my +impression of what love, unbound and victorious, could do with a face I +thought I knew. Love sat there careless of the issue, full of delight. +Love proclaimed that between him and Judith Harbottle it was all +over--she had met him, alas, in too narrow a place--and I marvelled +at the paradox with which he softened every curve and underlined every +vivid note of personality in token that it had just begun. He sat there +in great serenity, and though I knew that somewhere behind lurked a +vanquished woman, I saw her through such a radiance that I could not be +sure of seeing her at all... + +She went back to the very first of it; she seemed herself intensely +interested in the facts; and there is no use in pretending that, while +she talked, the moral consideration was at all present with me either; +it wasn’t. Her extremity was the thing that absorbed us; she even, +in tender thoughtfulness, diagnosed it from its definite beautiful +beginning. + +‘It was there, in my heart, when I woke one morning, exquisite and +strange, the assurance of a gift. How had it come there, while I slept? +I assure you when I closed my eyes it did not exist for me... Yes, of +course, I had seen him, but only somewhere at dinner... As the day went +on it changed--it turned into a clear pool, into a flower. And I--think +of my not understanding! I was pleased with it! For a long time, for +days, I never dreamed that it could be anything but a little secret joy. +Then, suddenly--oh, I had not been perceiving enough!--it was in all my +veins, a tide, an efflorescence, a thing of my very life. + +‘Then--it was a little late--I understood, and since-- + +‘I began by hating it--being furious, furious--and afraid, too. +Sometimes it was like a low cloud, hovering and travelling always with +me, sometimes like a beast of prey that went a little way off and sat +looking at me.... + +‘I have--done my best. But there is nothing to do, to kill, to abolish. +How can I say, “I will not let you in,” when it is already there? How +can I assume indifference when this thing is imposed upon every moment +of my day? And it has grown so sweet--the longing--that--isn’t it +strange?--I could more willingly give him up than the desire of him. +That seems as impossible to part with as life itself.’ + +She sat reflective for a moment, and I saw her eyes slowly fill. + +Don’t--don’t CRY, Judy,’ I faltered, wanting to horribly, myself. + +She smiled them dry. + +‘Not now. But I am giving myself, I suppose, to many tears.’ + +‘God help you,’ I said. What else was there to say? + +‘There is no such person,’ she replied, gaily. ‘There is only a blessed +devil.’ + +‘Then you go all the way--to the logical conclusion?’ + +She hardly hesitated. ‘To the logical conclusion. What poor words!’ + +‘May I ask--when?’ + +‘I should like to tell you that quite definitely, and I think I can. The +English mail leaves tonight.’ + +‘And you have arranged to take it?’ + +‘We have arranged nothing. Do you know’--she smiled as if at the fresh +colours of an idyll--‘we have not even come to the admission? There has +been between us no word, no vision. Ah, we have gone in bonds, and dumb! +Hours we have had, exquisite hours of the spirit, but never a moment of +the heart, a moment confessed. It was mine to give--that moment, and he +has waited--I know--wondering whether perhaps it would ever come. And +today--we are going for a ride today, and I do not think we shall come +back.’ + +‘O Judy,’ I cried, catching at her sleeve, ‘he is only a boy!’ + +‘There were times when I thought that conclusive. Now the misery of it +has gone to sleep; don’t waken it. It pleases me to believe that the +years are a convention. I never had any dignity, you know, and I seem +to have missed the moral deliverance. I only want--oh, you know what I +want. Why don’t you open your telegram?’ + +I had been folding and fingering the brown envelope as if it had been a +scrap of waste paper. + +‘It is probably from Mrs. Watkins about the victoria,’ I said, +feeling its profound irrelevance. ‘I wired an offer to her in Bombay. +However’--and I read the telegram, the little solving telegram from +Army Headquarters. I turned my back on her to read it again, and then I +replaced it very carefully and put it in my pocket. It was a moment to +take hold of with both hands, crying on all one’s gods for steadiness. + +‘How white you look!’ said Mrs. Harbottle, with concern. ‘Not bad news?’ + +‘On the contrary, excellent news. Judy, will you stay to lunch?’ + +She looked at me, hesitating. ‘Won’t it seem rather a compromise on your +part? When you ought to be rousing the city--’ + +‘I don’t intend to rouse the city,’ I said. + +‘I have given you the chance.’ + +‘Thank you,’ I said, grimly, ‘but the only real favour you can do me is +to stay to lunch.’ It was then just on one. + +‘I’ll stay,’ she said, ‘if you will promise not to make any sort of +effort. I shouldn’t mind, but it would distress you.’ + +‘I promise absolutely,’ I said, and ironical joy rose up in me, and the +telegram burned in my pocket. + +She would talk of it, though I found it hard to let her go on, knowing +and knowing and knowing as I did that for that day at least it could not +be. There was very little about herself that she wanted to tell me; she +was there confessed a woman whom joy had overcome; it was understood +that we both accepted that situation. But in the details which she asked +me to take charge of it was plain that she also kept a watchful eye upon +fate--matters of business. + +We were in the drawing-room. The little round clock in its Armritsar +case marked half-past three. Judy put down her coffee cup and rose to +go. As she glanced at the clock the light deepened in her eyes, and I, +with her hand in mine, felt like an agent of the Destroyer--for it was +half-past three--consumed myself with fear lest the blow had miscarried. +Then as we stood, suddenly, the sound of hoofs at a gallop on the drive, +and my husband threw himself off at the door and tore through the hall +to his room; and in the certainty that overwhelmed me even Judy, for an +instant, stood dim and remote. + +‘Major Jim seems to be in a hurry,’ said Mrs. Harbottle, lightly. ‘I +have always liked your husband. I wonder whether he will say tomorrow +that he always liked me.’ + +‘Dear Judy, I don’t think he will be occupied with you tomorrow.’ + +‘Oh, surely, just a little, if I go tonight.’ + +‘You won’t go tonight.’ + +She looked at me helplessly. I felt as if I were insisting upon her +abasement instead of her salvation. ‘I wish--’ + +‘You’re not going--you’re not! You can’t! Look!’ + +I pulled it out of my pocket and thrust it at her--the telegram. +It came, against every regulation, from my good friend the Deputy +Adjutant-General, in Simla, and it read, ‘Row Khurram 12th probably +ordered front three hours’ time.’ + +Her face changed--how my heart leaped to see it change!--and that took +command there which will command trampling, even in the women of the +camp, at news like this. + +‘What luck that Bob couldn’t take his furlough!’ she exclaimed, +single-thoughted. ‘But you have known this for hours’--there was even +something of the Colonel’s wife, authority, incisiveness. ‘Why didn’t +you tell me? Ah--I see.’ + +I stood before her abashed, and that was ridiculous, while she measured +me as if I presented in myself the woman I took her to be. ‘It wasn’t +like that,’ she said. I had to defend myself. ‘Judy,’ I said, ‘if you +weren’t in honour bound to Anna, how could I know that you would be in +honour bound to the regiment? There was a train at three.’ + +‘I beg to assure you that you have overcalculated,’ said Mrs. Harbottle. +Her eyes were hard and proud. ‘And I am not sure’--a deep red swept over +her face, a man’s blush--‘in the light of this I am not sure that I am +not in honour bound to Anna.’ + +We had reached the veranda, and at her signal her coachman drove quickly +up. ‘You have kept me here three hours when there was the whole of +Bob’s kit to see to,’ she said, as she flung herself in; ‘you might have +thought of that.’ + +It was a more than usually tedious campaign, and Colonel Robert +Harbottle was ambushed and shot in a place where one must believe pure +boredom induced him to take his men. The incident was relieved, the +newspapers said--and they are seldom so clever in finding relief for +such incidents--by the dash and courage shown by Lieutenant Chichele, +who, in one of those feats which it has lately been the fashion to +criticize, carried the mortally wounded body of his Colonel out of range +at conspicuous risk of depriving the Queen of another officer. I helped +Judy with her silent packing; she had forgiven me long before that; and +she settled almost at once into the flat in Chelsea which has since been +credited with so delightful an atmosphere, went back straight into her +own world. I have always kept her first letters about it, always shall. +For months after, while the expedition still raged after snipers and +rifle-thieves, I discussed with Lady Chichele the probable outcome of it +all. I have sometimes felt ashamed of leaping as straight as I did with +Anna to what we thought the inevitable. I based no calculation on all +Mrs. Harbottle had gone back to, just as I had based no calculation +on her ten years’ companionship in arms when I kept her from the three +o’clock train. This last was a retrospection in which Anna naturally +could not join me; she never knew, poor dear, how fortunate as to its +moment was the campaign she deplored, and nothing to this day can have +disturbed her conviction that the bond she was at such magnificent pains +to strengthen, held against the strain, as long, happily, as the supreme +need existed. ‘How right you were!’ she often said. ‘She did, after +all, love me best, dear, wonderful Judy!’ Her distress about poor +Robert Harbottle was genuine enough, but one could not be surprised at +a certain ambiguity; one tear for Robert, so to speak, and two for her +boy. It could hardly be, for him, a marriage after his mother’s heart. +And she laid down with some emphasis that Somers was brilliantly +entitled to all he was likely to get--which was natural, too... + +I had been from the beginning so much ‘in it’ that Anna showed me, a +year later, though I don’t believe she liked doing it, the letter in +part of which Mrs. Harbottle shall finally excuse herself. + +‘Somers will give you this,’ I read, ‘and with it take back your son. +You will not find, I know, anything grotesque in the charming enthusiasm +with which he has offered his life to me; you understand too well, you +are too kind. And if you wonder that I can so render up a dear thing +which I might keep and would once have taken, think how sweet in the +desert is the pool, and how barren was the prospect from Balclutha.’ + +It was like her to abandon in pride a happiness that asked so much less +humiliation; I don’t know why, but it was like her. And of course, when +one thought of it, she had consulted all sorts of high expediencies. But +I sat silent with remembrance, quieting a pang in my heart, trying not +to calculate how much it had cost Judy Harbottle to take her second +chance. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s The Pool in the Desert, by Sara Jeanette Duncan + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POOL IN THE DESERT *** + +***** This file should be named 1168-0.txt or 1168-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/6/1168/ + +Produced by Sue Asscher + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/1168-0.zip b/old/1168-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bcdc4de --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1168-0.zip diff --git a/old/1168-h.zip b/old/1168-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2ca69de --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1168-h.zip diff --git a/old/1168-h/1168-h.htm b/old/1168-h/1168-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..657e3bf --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1168-h/1168-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9224 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Pool in the Desert, by Sara Jeanette Duncan + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +Project Gutenberg's The Pool in the Desert, by Sara Jeanette Duncan + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Pool in the Desert + +Author: Sara Jeanette Duncan + +Release Date: August 26, 2008 [EBook #1168] +Last Updated: November 4, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POOL IN THE DESERT *** + + + + +Produced by Sue Asscher, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE POOL IN THE DESERT + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Sara Jeanette Duncan + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>1. A Mother in India</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> Chapter 1.I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> Chapter 1.II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> Chapter 1.III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> Chapter 1.IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> Chapter 1.V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> Chapter 1.VI. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> <b>2. An Impossible Ideal.</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> Chapter 2.I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> Chapter 2.II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> Chapter 2.III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> Chapter 2.IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> Chapter 2.V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> Chapter 2.VI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> Chapter 2.VII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> Chapter 2.VIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> Chapter 2.IX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> Chapter 2.X. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> <b>3. The Hesitation of Miss Anderson.</b> + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> Chapter 3.I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> Chapter 3.II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> Chapter 3.III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> Chapter 3.IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> Chapter 3.V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> Chapter 3.VI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> Chapter 3.VII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> Chapter 3.VIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> Chapter 3.IX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> Chapter 3.X. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> <b>4. The Pool in the Desert.</b> </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + 1. A Mother in India + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 1.I + </h2> + <p> + There were times when we had to go without puddings to pay John’s uniform + bills, and always I did the facings myself with a cloth-ball to save + getting new ones. I would have polished his sword, too, if I had been + allowed; I adored his sword. And once, I remember, we painted and + varnished our own dog-cart, and very smart it looked, to save fifty + rupees. We had nothing but our pay—John had his company when we were + married, but what is that?—and life was made up of small knowing + economies, much more amusing in recollection than in practise. We were + sodden poor, and that is a fact, poor and conscientious, which was worse. + A big fat spider of a money-lender came one day into the veranda and + tempted us—we lived in a hut, but it had a veranda—and John + threatened to report him to the police. Poor when everybody else had + enough to live in the open-handed Indian fashion, that was what made it so + hard; we were alone in our sordid little ways. When the expectation of + Cecily came to us we made out to be delighted, knowing that the whole + station pitied us, and when Cecily came herself, with a swamping burst of + expense, we kept up the pretense splendidly. She was peevish, poor little + thing, and she threatened convulsions from the beginning, but we both knew + that it was abnormal not to love her a great deal, more than life, + immediately and increasingly; and we applied ourselves honestly to do it, + with the thermometer at a hundred and two, and the nurse leaving at the + end of a fortnight because she discovered that I had only six of + everything for the table. To find out a husband’s virtues, you must marry + a poor man. The regiment was under-officered as usual, and John had to + take parade at daylight quite three times a week; but he walked up and + down the veranda with Cecily constantly till two in the morning, when a + little coolness came. I usually lay awake the rest of the night in fear + that a scorpion would drop from the ceiling on her. Nevertheless, we were + of excellent mind towards Cecily; we were in such terror, not so much of + failing in our duty towards her as towards the ideal standard of mankind. + We were very anxious indeed not to come short. To be found too small for + one’s place in nature would have been odious. We would talk about her for + an hour at a time, even when John’s charger was threatening glanders and I + could see his mind perpetually wandering to the stable. I would say to + John that she had brought a new element into our lives—she had + indeed!—and John would reply, ‘I know what you mean,’ and go on to + prophesy that she would ‘bind us together.’ We didn’t need binding + together; we were more to each other, there in the desolation of that arid + frontier outpost, than most husbands and wives; but it seemed a proper and + hopeful thing to believe, so we believed it. Of course, the real + experience would have come, we weren’t monsters; but fate curtailed the + opportunity. She was just five weeks old when the doctor told us that we + must either pack her home immediately or lose her, and the very next day + John went down with enteric. So Cecily was sent to England with a + sergeant’s wife who had lost her twins, and I settled down under the + direction of a native doctor, to fight for my husband’s life, without ice + or proper food, or sickroom comforts of any sort. Ah! Fort Samila, with + the sun glaring up from the sand!—however, it is a long time ago + now. I trusted the baby willingly to Mrs. Berry and to Providence, and did + not fret; my capacity for worry, I suppose, was completely absorbed. Mrs. + Berry’s letter, describing the child’s improvement on the voyage and safe + arrival came, I remember, the day on which John was allowed his first + solid mouthful; it had been a long siege. ‘Poor little wretch!’ he said + when I read it aloud; and after that Cecily became an episode. + </p> + <p> + She had gone to my husband’s people; it was the best arrangement. We were + lucky that it was possible; so many children had to be sent to strangers + and hirelings. Since an unfortunate infant must be brought into the world + and set adrift, the haven of its grandmother and its Aunt Emma and its + Aunt Alice certainly seemed providential. I had absolutely no cause for + anxiety, as I often told people, wondering that I did not feel a little + all the same. Nothing, I knew, could exceed the conscientious devotion of + all three Farnham ladies to the child. She would appear upon their + somewhat barren horizon as a new and interesting duty, and the small + additional income she also represented would be almost nominal + compensation for the care she would receive. They were excellent persons + of the kind that talk about matins and vespers, and attend both. They + helped little charities and gave little teas, and wrote little notes, and + made deprecating allowance for the eccentricities of their titled or + moneyed acquaintances. They were the subdued, smiling, unimaginatively + dressed women on a small definite income that you meet at every rectory + garden-party in the country, a little snobbish, a little priggish, wholly + conventional, but apart from these weaknesses, sound and simple and + dignified, managing their two small servants with a display of the most + exact traditions, and keeping a somewhat vague and belated but constant + eye upon the doings of their country as chronicled in a bi-weekly paper. + They were all immensely interested in royalty, and would read paragraphs + aloud to each other about how the Princess Beatrice or the Princess Maud + had opened a fancy bazaar, looking remarkably well in plain grey poplin + trimmed with Irish lace—an industry which, as is well known, the + Royal Family has set its heart on rehabilitating. Upon which Mrs. + Farnham’s comment invariably would be, ‘How thoughtful of them, dear!’ and + Alice would usually say, ‘Well, if I were a princess, I should like + something nicer than plain grey poplin.’ Alice, being the youngest, was + not always expected to think before she spoke. Alice painted in + water-colours, but Emma was supposed to have the most common sense. + </p> + <p> + They took turns in writing to us with the greatest regularity about + Cecily; only once, I think, did they miss the weekly mail, and that was + when she threatened diphtheria and they thought we had better be kept in + ignorance. The kind and affectionate terms of these letters never altered + except with the facts they described—teething, creeping, measles, + cheeks growing round and rosy, all were conveyed in the same smooth, pat, + and proper phrases, so absolutely empty of any glimpse of the child’s + personality that after the first few months it was like reading about a + somewhat uninteresting infant in a book. I was sure Cecily was not + uninteresting, but her chroniclers were. We used to wade through the long, + thin sheets and saw how much more satisfactory it would be when Cecily + could write to us herself. Meanwhile we noted her weekly progress with + much the feeling one would have about a far-away little bit of property + that was giving no trouble and coming on exceedingly well. We would take + possession of Cecily at our convenience; till then, it was gratifying to + hear of our unearned increment in dear little dimples and sweet little + curls. + </p> + <p> + She was nearly four when I saw her again. We were home on three months’ + leave; John had just got his first brevet for doing something which he + does not allow me to talk about in the Black Mountain country; and we were + fearfully pleased with ourselves. I remember that excitement lasted well + up to Port Said. As far as the Canal, Cecily was only one of the pleasures + and interests we were going home to: John’s majority was the thing that + really gave savour to life. But the first faint line of Europe brought my + child to my horizon; and all the rest of the way she kept her place, + holding out her little arms to me, beckoning me on. Her four motherless + years brought compunction to my heart and tears to my eyes; she should + have all the compensation that could be. I suddenly realized how ready I + was—how ready!—to have her back. I rebelled fiercely against + John’s decision that we must not take her with us on our return to the + frontier; privately, I resolved to dispute it, and, if necessary, I saw + myself abducting the child—my own child. My days and nights as the + ship crept on were full of a long ache to possess her; the defrauded + tenderness of the last four years rose up in me and sometimes caught at my + throat. I could think and talk and dream of nothing else. John indulged me + as much as was reasonable, and only once betrayed by a yawn that the + subject was not for him endlessly absorbing. Then I cried and he + apologized. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘it isn’t exactly the same thing. I’m not + her mother.’ At which I dried my tears and expanded, proud and pacified. I + was her mother! + </p> + <p> + Then the rainy little station and Alice, all-embracing in a damp + waterproof, and the drive in the fly, and John’s mother at the gate and a + necessary pause while I kissed John’s mother. Dear thing, she wanted to + hold our hands and look into our faces and tell us how little we had + changed for all our hardships; and on the way to the house she actually + stopped to point out some alterations in the flower-borders. At last the + drawing-room door and the smiling housemaid turning the handle and the + unforgettable picture of a little girl, a little girl unlike anything we + had imagined, starting bravely to trot across the room with the little + speech that had been taught her. Half-way she came; I suppose our regards + were too fixed, too absorbed, for there she stopped with a wail of terror + at the strange faces, and ran straight back to the outstretched arms of + her Aunt Emma. The most natural thing in the world, no doubt. I walked + over to a chair opposite with my hand-bag and umbrella and sat down—a + spectator, aloof and silent. Aunt Emma fondled and quieted the child, + apologizing for her to me, coaxing her to look up, but the little figure + still shook with sobs, hiding its face in the bosom that it knew. I smiled + politely, like any other stranger, at Emma’s deprecations, and sat + impassive, looking at my alleged baby breaking her heart at the sight of + her mother. It is not amusing even now to remember the anger that I felt. + I did not touch her or speak to her; I simply sat observing my alien + possession, in the frock I had not made and the sash I had not chosen, + being coaxed and kissed and protected and petted by its Aunt Emma. + Presently I asked to be taken to my room, and there I locked myself in for + two atrocious hours. Just once my heart beat high, when a tiny knock came + and a timid, docile little voice said that tea was ready. But I heard the + rustle of a skirt, and guessed the directing angel in Aunt Emma, and + responded, ‘Thank you, dear, run away and say that I am coming,’ with a + pleasant visitor’s inflection which I was able to sustain for the rest of + afternoon. + </p> + <p> + ‘She goes to bed at seven,’ said Emma. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, does she?’ said I. ‘A very good hour, I should think.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She sleeps in my room,’ said Mrs. Farnham. + </p> + <p> + ‘We give her mutton broth very often, but seldom stock soup,’ said Aunt + Emma. ‘Mamma thinks it is too stimulating.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed?’ said I, to all of it. + </p> + <p> + They took me up to see her in her crib, and pointed out, as she lay + asleep, that though she had ‘a general look’ of me, her features were + distinctively Farnham. + </p> + <p> + ‘Won’t you kiss her?’ asked Alice. ‘You haven’t kissed her yet, and she is + used to so much affection.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t think I could take such an advantage of her,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + They looked at each other, and Mrs. Farnham said that I was plainly worn + out. I mustn’t sit up to prayers. + </p> + <p> + If I had been given anything like reasonable time I might have made a + fight for it, but four weeks—it took a month each way in those days—was + too absurdly little; I could do nothing. But I would not stay at mamma’s. + It was more than I would ask of myself, that daily disappointment under + the mask of gratified discovery, for long. + </p> + <p> + I spent an approving, unnatural week, in my farcical character, bridling + my resentment and hiding my mortification with pretty phrases; and then I + went up to town and drowned my sorrows in the summer sales. I took John + with me. I may have been Cecily’s mother in theory, but I was John’s wife + in fact. + </p> + <p> + We went back to the frontier, and the regiment saw a lot of service. That + meant medals and fun for my husband, but economy and anxiety for me, + though I managed to be allowed as close to the firing line as any woman. + </p> + <p> + Once the Colonel’s wife and I, sitting in Fort Samila, actually heard the + rifles of a punitive expedition cracking on the other side of the river—that + was a bad moment. My man came in after fifteen hours’ fighting, and went + sound asleep, sitting before his food with his knife and fork in his + hands. But service makes heavy demands besides those on your wife’s + nerves. We had saved two thousand rupees, I remember, against another run + home, and it all went like powder, in the Mirzai expedition; and the run + home diminished to a month in a boarding-house in the hills. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, however, we had begun to correspond with our daughter, in large + round words of one syllable, behind which, of course, was plain the + patient guiding hand of Aunt Emma. One could hear Aunt Emma suggesting + what would be nice to say, trying to instil a little pale affection for + the far-off papa and mamma. There was so little Cecily and so much Emma—of + course, it could not be otherwise—that I used to take, I fear, but a + perfunctory joy in these letters. When we went home again I stipulated + absolutely that she was to write to us without any sort of supervision—the + child was ten. + </p> + <p> + ‘But the spelling!’ cried Aunt Emma, with lifted eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + ‘Her letters aren’t exercises,’ I was obliged to retort; ‘she will do the + best she can.’ + </p> + <p> + We found her a docile little girl, with nice manners, a thoroughly + unobjectionable child. I saw quite clearly that I could not have brought + her up so well; indeed, there were moments when I fancied that Cecily, + contrasting me with her aunts, wondered a little what my bringing up could + have been like. With this reserve of criticism on Cecily’s part, however, + we got on very tolerably, largely because I found it impossible to assume + any responsibility towards her, and in moments of doubt or discipline + referred her to her aunts. We spent a pleasant summer with a little girl + in the house whose interest in us was amusing, and whose outings it was + gratifying to arrange; but when we went back, I had no desire to take her + with us. I thought her very much better where she was. + </p> + <p> + Then came the period which is filled, in a subordinate degree, with + Cecily’s letters. I do not wish to claim more than I ought; they were not + my only or even my principal interest in life. It was a long period; it + lasted till she was twenty-one. John had had promotion in the meantime, + and there was rather more money, but he had earned his second brevet with + a bullet through one lung, and the doctors ordered our leave to be spent + in South Africa. We had photographs, we knew she had grown tall and + athletic and comely, and the letters were always very creditable. I had + the unusual and qualified privilege of watching my daughter’s development + from ten to twenty-one, at a distance of four thousand miles, by means of + the written word. I wrote myself as provocatively as possible; I sought + for every string, but the vibration that came back across the seas to me + was always other than the one I looked for, and sometimes there was none. + Nevertheless, Mrs. Farnham wrote me that Cecily very much valued my + communications. Once when I had described an unusual excursion in a native + state, I learned that she had read my letter aloud to the sewing circle. + After that I abandoned description, and confined myself to such intimate + personal details as no sewing circle could find amusing. The child’s own + letters were simply a mirror of the ideas of the Farnham ladies; that must + have been so, it was not altogether my jaundiced eye. Alice and Emma and + grandmamma paraded the pages in turn. I very early gave up hope of + discoveries in my daughter, though as much of the original as I could + detect was satisfactorily simple and sturdy. I found little things to + criticize, of course, tendencies to correct; and by return post I + criticized and corrected, but the distance and the deliberation seemed to + touch my maxims with a kind of arid frivolity, and sometimes I tore them + up. One quick, warm-blooded scolding would have been worth a sheaf of + them. My studied little phrases could only inoculate her with a dislike + for me without protecting her from anything under the sun. + </p> + <p> + However, I found she didn’t dislike me, when John and I went home at last + to bring her out. She received me with just a hint of kindness, perhaps, + but on the whole very well. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 1.II + </h2> + <p> + John was recalled, of course, before the end of our furlough, which + knocked various things on the head; but that is the sort of thing one + learned to take with philosophy in any lengthened term of Her Majesty’s + service. Besides, there is usually sugar for the pill; and in this case it + was a Staff command bigger than anything we expected for at least five + years to come. The excitement of it when it was explained to her gave + Cecily a charming colour. She took a good deal of interest in the General, + her papa; I think she had an idea that his distinction would alleviate the + situation in India, however it might present itself. She accepted that + prospective situation calmly; it had been placed before her all her life. + There would always be a time when she should go and live with papa and + mamma in India, and so long as she was of an age to receive the idea with + rebel tears she was assured that papa and mamma would give her a pony. The + pony was no longer added to the prospect; it was absorbed no doubt in the + general list of attractions calculated to reconcile a young lady to a + parental roof with which she had no practical acquaintance. At all events, + when I feared the embarrassment and dismay of a pathetic parting with + darling grandmamma and the aunties, and the sweet cat and the dear vicar + and all the other objects of affection, I found an agreeable unexpected + philosophy. + </p> + <p> + I may add that while I anticipated such broken-hearted farewells I was + quite prepared to take them easily. Time, I imagined, had brought + philosophy to me also, equally agreeable and equally unexpected. + </p> + <p> + It was a Bombay ship, full of returning Anglo-Indians. I looked up and + down the long saloon tables with a sense of relief and of solace; I was + again among my own people. They belonged to Bengal and to Burma, to Madras + and to the Punjab, but they were all my people. I could pick out a score + that I knew in fact, and there were none that in imagination I didn’t + know. The look of wider seas and skies, the casual experienced glance, the + touch of irony and of tolerance, how well I knew it and how well I liked + it! Dear old England, sitting in our wake, seemed to hold by comparison a + great many soft, unsophisticated people, immensely occupied about very + particular trifles. How difficult it had been, all the summer, to be + interested! These of my long acquaintance belonged to my country’s + Executive, acute, alert, with the marks of travail on them. Gladly I went + in and out of the women’s cabins and listened to the argot of the men; my + own ruling, administering, soldiering little lot. + </p> + <p> + Cecily looked at them askance. To her the atmosphere was alien, and I + perceived that gently and privately she registered objections. She cast a + disapproving eye upon the wife of a Conservator of Forests, who scanned + with interest a distant funnel and laid a small wager that it belonged to + the Messageries Maritimes. She looked with a straightened lip at the + crisply stepping women who walked the deck in short and rather shabby + skirts with their hands in their jacket-pockets talking transfers and + promotions; and having got up at six to make a water-colour sketch of the + sunrise, she came to me in profound indignation to say that she had met a + man in his pyjamas; no doubt; poor wretch, on his way to be shaved. I was + unable to convince her he was not expected to visit the barber in all his + clothes. + </p> + <p> + At the end of the third day she told me that she wished these people + wouldn’t talk to her; she didn’t like them. I had turned in the hour we + left the Channel and had not left my berth since, so possibly I was not in + the most amiable mood to receive a douche of cold water. ‘I must try to + remember, dear,’ I said, ‘that you have been brought up altogether in the + society of pussies and vicars and elderly ladies, and of course you miss + them. But you must have a little patience. I shall be up tomorrow, if this + beastly sea continues to go down; and then we will try to find somebody + suitable to introduce to you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you, mamma,’ said my daughter, without a ray of suspicion. Then she + added consideringly, ‘Aunt Emma and Aunt Alice do seem quite elderly + ladies beside you, and yet you are older than either of them aren’t you? I + wonder how that is.’ + </p> + <p> + It was so innocent, so admirable, that I laughed at my own expense; while + Cecily, doing her hair, considered me gravely. ‘I wish you would tell me + why you laugh, mamma,’ quoth she; ‘you laugh so often.’ + </p> + <p> + We had not to wait after all for my good offices of the next morning. + Cecily came down at ten o’clock that night quite happy and excited; she + had been talking to a bishop, such a dear bishop. The bishop had been + showing her his collection of photographs, and she had promised to play + the harmonium for him at the eleven-o’clock service in the morning. ‘Bless + me!’ said I, ‘is it Sunday?’ It seemed she had got on very well indeed + with the bishop, who knew the married sister, at Tunbridge, of her very + greatest friend. Cecily herself did not know the married sister, but that + didn’t matter—it was a link. The bishop was charming. ‘Well, my + love,’ said I—I was teaching myself to use these forms of address + for fear she would feel an unkind lack of them, but it was difficult—‘I + am glad that somebody from my part of the world has impressed you + favourably at last. I wish we had more bishops.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, but my bishop doesn’t belong to your part of the world,’ responded my + daughter sleepily. ‘He is travelling for his health.’ + </p> + <p> + It was the most unexpected and delightful thing to be packed into one’s + chair next morning by Dacres Tottenham. As I emerged from the music saloon + after breakfast—Cecily had stayed below to look over her hymns and + consider with her bishop the possibility of an anthem—Dacres’s face + was the first I saw; it simply illuminated, for me, that portion of the + deck. I noticed with pleasure the quick toss of the cigar overboard as he + recognized and bore down upon me. We were immense friends; John liked him + too. He was one of those people who make a tremendous difference; in all + our three hundred passengers there could be no one like him, certainly no + one whom I could be more glad to see. We plunged at once into immediate + personal affairs, we would get at the heart of them later. He gave his + vivid word to everything he had seen and done; we laughed and exclaimed + and were silent in a concert of admirable understanding. We were still + unravelling, still demanding and explaining when the ship’s bell began to + ring for church, and almost simultaneously Cecily advanced towards us. She + had a proper Sunday hat on, with flowers under the brim, and a + church-going frock; she wore gloves and clasped a prayer-book. Most of the + women who filed past to the summons of the bell were going down as they + were, in cotton blouses and serge skirts, in tweed caps or anything, as to + a kind of family prayers. I knew exactly how they would lean against the + pillars of the saloon during the psalms. This young lady would be little + less than a rebuke to them. I surveyed her approach; she positively walked + as if it were Sunday. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear,’ I said, ‘how endimanchee you look! The bishop will be very + pleased with you. This gentleman is Mr. Tottenham, who administers Her + Majesty’s pleasure in parts of India about Allahabad. My daughter, + Dacres.’ She was certainly looking very fresh, and her calm grey eyes had + the repose in them that has never known itself to be disturbed about + anything. I wondered whether she bowed so distantly also because it was + Sunday, and then I remembered that Dacres was a young man, and that the + Farnham ladies had probably taught her that it was right to be very + distant with young men. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is almost eleven, mamma.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, dear. I see you are going to church.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you not coming, mamma?’ + </p> + <p> + I was well wrapped up in an extremely comfortable corner. I had ‘La + Duchesse Bleue’ uncut in my lap, and an agreeable person to talk to. I + fear that in any case I should not been inclined to attend the service, + but there was something in my daughter’s intonation that made me + distinctly hostile to the idea. I am putting things down as they were, + extenuating nothing. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think not, dear.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve turned up two such nice seats.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Stay, Miss Farnham, and keep us in countenance,’ said Dacres, with his + charming smile. The smile displaced a look of discreet and amused + observation. Dacres had an eye always for a situation, and this one was + even newer to him than to me. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no. She must run away and not bully her mamma,’ I said. ‘When she + comes back we will see how much she remembers of the sermon;’ and as the + flat tinkle from the companion began to show signs of diminishing, Cecily, + with one grieved glance, hastened down. + </p> + <p> + ‘You amazing lady!’ said Dacres. ‘A daughter—and such a tall + daughter! I somehow never—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You knew we had one?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There was theory of that kind, I remember, about ten years ago. Since + then—excuse me—I don’t think you’ve mentioned her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You talk as if she were a skeleton in the closet!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You DIDN’T talk—as if she were.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think she was, in a way, poor child. But the resurrection day hasn’t + confounded me as I deserved. She’s a very good girl.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you had asked me to pick out your daughter—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She would have been the last you would indicate! Quite so,’ I said. ‘She + is like her father’s people. I can’t help that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shouldn’t think you would if you could,’ Dacres remarked absently; but + the sea air, perhaps, enabled me to digest his thoughtlessness with a + smile. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ I said, ‘I am just as well pleased. I think a resemblance to me + would confuse me, often.’ + </p> + <p> + There was a trace of scrutiny in Dacres’s glance. ‘Don’t you find yourself + in sympathy with her?’ he asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear boy, I have seen her just twice in twenty-one years! You see, + I’ve always stuck to John.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But between mother and daughter—I may be old-fashioned, but I had + an idea that there was an instinct that might be depended on.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am depending on it,’ I said, and let my eyes follow the little blue + waves that chased past the hand-rail. ‘We are making very good speed, + aren’t we? Thirty-five knots since last night at ten. Are you in the + sweep?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I never bet on the way out—can’t afford it. Am I old-fashioned?’ he + insisted. + </p> + <p> + ‘Probably. Men are very slow in changing their philosophy about women. I + fancy their idea of the maternal relation is firmest fixed of all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We see it a beatitude!’ he cried. + </p> + <p> + ‘I know,’ I said wearily, ‘and you never modify the view.’ + </p> + <p> + Dacres contemplated the portion of the deck that lay between us. His eyes + were discreetly lowered, but I saw embarrassment and speculation and a + hint of criticism in them. + </p> + <p> + ‘Tell me more about it,’ said he. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake don’t be sympathetic!’ I exclaimed. ‘Lend me a + little philosophy instead. There is nothing to tell. There she is and + there I am, in the most intimate relation in the world, constituted when + she is twenty-one and I am forty.’ Dacres started slightly at the ominous + word; so little do men realize that the women they like can ever pass out + of the constated years of attraction. ‘I find the young lady very + tolerable, very creditable, very nice. I find the relation atrocious. + There you have it. I would like to break the relation into pieces,’ I went + on recklessly, ‘and throw it into the sea. Such things should be tempered + to one. I should feel it much less if she occupied another cabin, and + would consent to call me Elizabeth or Jane. It is not as if I had been her + mother always. One grows fastidious at forty—new intimacies are only + possible then on a basis of temperament—’ + </p> + <p> + I paused; it seemed to me that I was making excuses, and I had not the + least desire in the world to do that. + </p> + <p> + ‘How awfully rough on the girl!’ said Dacres Tottenham. + </p> + <p> + ‘That consideration has also occurred to me,’ I said candidly, ‘though I + have perhaps been even more struck by its converse.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You had no earthly business to be her mother,’ said my friend, with + irritation. + </p> + <p> + I shrugged my shoulders—what would you have done?—and opened + ‘La Duchesse Bleue’. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 1.III + </h2> + <p> + Mrs. Morgan, wife of a judge of the High Court of Bombay, and I sat + amidships on the cool side in the Suez Canal. She was outlining ‘Soiled + Linen’ in chain-stitch on a green canvas bag; I was admiring the Egyptian + sands. ‘How charming,’ said I, ‘is this solitary desert in the endless + oasis we are compelled to cross!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oasis in the desert, you mean,’ said Mrs. Morgan; ‘I haven’t noticed any, + but I happened to look up this morning as I was putting on my stockings, + and I saw through my port-hole the most lovely mirage.’ + </p> + <p> + I had been at school with Mrs. Morgan more than twenty years agone, but + she had come to the special enjoyment of the dignities of life while I + still liked doing things. Mrs. Morgan was the kind of person to make one + realize how distressing a medium is middle age. Contemplating her + precipitous lap, to which conventional attitudes were certainly more + becoming, I crossed my own knees with energy, and once more resolved to be + young until I was old. + </p> + <p> + ‘How perfectly delightful for you to be taking Cecily out!’ said Mrs. + Morgan placidly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Isn’t it?’ I responded, watching the gliding sands. + </p> + <p> + ‘But she was born in sixty-nine—that makes her twenty-one. Quite + time, I should say.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, we couldn’t put it off any longer. I mean—her father has such a + horror of early debuts. He simply would not hear of her coming before.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Doesn’t want her to marry in India, I dare say—the only one,’ + purred Mrs. Morgan. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I don’t know. It isn’t such a bad place. I was brought out there to + marry, and I married. I’ve found it very satisfactory.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You always did say exactly what you thought, Helena,’ said Mrs. Morgan + excusingly. + </p> + <p> + ‘I haven’t much patience with people who bring their daughters out to give + them the chance they never would have in England, and then go about + devoutly hoping they won’t marry in India,’ I said. ‘I shall be very + pleased if Cecily does as well as your girls have done.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mary in the Indian Civil and Jessie in the Imperial Service Troops,’ + sighed Mrs. Morgan complacently. ‘And both, my dear, within a year. It WAS + a blow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, it must have been!’ I said civilly. + </p> + <p> + There was no use in bandying words with Emily Morgan. + </p> + <p> + ‘There is nothing in the world like the satisfaction and pleasure one + takes in one’s daughters,’ Mrs. Morgan went on limpidly. ‘And one can be + in such CLOSE sympathy with one’s girls. I have never regretted having no + sons.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear me, yes. To watch oneself growing up again—call back the + lovely April of one’s prime, etcetera—to read every thought and + anticipate every wish—there is no more golden privilege in life, + dear Emily. Such a direct and natural avenue for affection, such a wide + field for interest!’ + </p> + <p> + I paused, lost in the volume of my admirable sentiments. + </p> + <p> + ‘How beautifully you talk, Helena! I wish I had the gift.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It doesn’t mean very much,’ I said truthfully. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I think it’s everything! And how companionable a girl is! I quite + envy you, this season, having Cecily constantly with you and taking her + about everywhere. Something quite new for you, isn’t it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Absolutely,’ said I; ‘I am looking forward to it immensely. But it is + likely she will make her own friends, don’t you think?’ I added anxiously. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hardly the first season. My girls didn’t. I was practically their only + intimate for months. Don’t be afraid; you won’t be obliged to go shares in + Cecily with anybody for a good long while,’ added Mrs. Morgan kindly. ‘I + know just how you feel about THAT.’ + </p> + <p> + The muddy water of the Ditch chafed up from under us against its banks + with a smell that enabled me to hide the emotions Mrs. Morgan evoked + behind my handkerchief. The pale desert was pictorial with the drifting, + deepening purple shadows of clouds, and in the midst a blue glimmer of the + Bitter Lakes, with a white sail on them. A little frantic Arab boy ran + alongside keeping pace with the ship. Except for the smell, it was like a + dream, we moved so quietly; on, gently on and on between the ridgy clay + banks and the rows of piles. Peace was on the ship; you could hear what + the Fourth in his white ducks said to the quartermaster in his blue + denims; you could count the strokes of the electric bell in the + wheel-house; peace was on the ship as she pushed on, an ever-venturing, + double-funneled impertinence, through the sands of the ages. My eyes + wandered along a plank-line in the deck till they were arrested by a + petticoat I knew, when they returned of their own accord. I seemed to be + always seeing that petticoat. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think,’ resumed Mrs. Morgan, whose glance had wandered in the same + direction, ‘that Cecily is a very fine type of our English girls. With + those dark grey eyes, a LITTLE prominent possibly, and that good colour—it’s + rather high now perhaps, but she will lose quite enough of it in India—and + those regular features, she would make a splendid Britannia. Do you know, + I fancy she must have a great deal of character. Has she?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Any amount. And all of it good,’ I responded, with private dejection. + </p> + <p> + ‘No faults at all?’ chaffed Mrs. Morgan. + </p> + <p> + I shook my head. ‘Nothing,’ I said sadly, ‘that I can put my finger on. + But I hope to discover a few later. The sun may bring them out.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Like freckles. Well, you are a lucky woman. Mine had plenty, I assure + you. Untidiness was no name for Jessie, and Mary—I’m SORRY to say + that Mary sometimes fibbed.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How lovable of her! Cecily’s neatness is a painful example to me, and I + don’t believe she would tell a fib to save my life.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Tell me,’ said Mrs. Morgan, as the lunch-bell rang and she gathered her + occupation into her work-basket, ‘who is that talking to her?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, an old friend,’ I replied easily; ‘Dacres Tottenham, a dear fellow, + and most benevolent. He is trying on my behalf to reconcile her to the + life she’ll have to lead in India.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She won’t need much reconciling, if she’s like most girls,’ observed Mrs. + Morgan, ‘but he seems to be trying very hard.’ + </p> + <p> + That was quite the way I took it—on my behalf—for several + days. When people have understood you very adequately for ten years you do + not expect them to boggle at any problem you may present at the end of the + decade. I thought Dacres was moved by a fine sense of compassion. I + thought that with his admirable perception he had put a finger on the + little comedy of fruitfulness in my life that laughed so bitterly at the + tragedy of the barren woman, and was attempting, by delicate manipulation, + to make it easier. I really thought so. Then I observed that myself had + preposterously deceived me, that it wasn’t like that at all. When Mr. + Tottenham joined us, Cecily and me, I saw that he listened more than he + talked, with an ear specially cocked to register any small irony which + might appear in my remarks to my daughter. Naturally he registered more + than there were, to make up perhaps for dear Cecily’s obviously not + registering any. I could see, too, that he was suspicious of any flavour + of kindness; finally, to avoid the strictures of his upper lip, which + really, dear fellow, began to bore me, I talked exclusively about the + distant sails and the Red Sea littoral. When he no longer joined us as we + sat or walked together, I perceived that his hostility was fixed and his + parti pris. He was brimful of compassion, but it was all for Cecily, none + for the situation or for me. (She would have marvelled, placidly, why he + pitied her. I am glad I can say that.) The primitive man in him rose up as + Pope of nature and excommunicated me as a creature recusant to her + functions. Then deliberately Dacres undertook an office of consolation; + and I fell to wondering, while Mrs. Morgan spoke her convictions plainly + out, how far an impulse of reparation for a misfortune with which he had + nothing to do might carry a man. + </p> + <p> + I began to watch the affair with an interest which even to me seemed + queer. It was not detached, but it was semi-detached, and, of course, on + the side for which I seem, in this history, to be perpetually apologizing. + With certain limitations it didn’t matter an atom whom Cecily married. So + that he was sound and decent, with reasonable prospects, her simple + requirements and ours for her would be quite met. There was the ghost of a + consolation in that; one needn’t be anxious or exacting. + </p> + <p> + I could predict with a certain amount of confidence that in her first + season she would probably receive three or four proposals, any one of + which she might accept with as much propriety and satisfaction as any + other one. For Cecily it was so simple; prearranged by nature like her + digestion, one could not see any logical basis for difficulties. A nice + upstanding sapper, a dashing Bengal Lancer—oh, I could think of half + a dozen types that would answer excellently. She was the kind of young + person, and that was the summing up of it, to marry a type and be + typically happy. I hoped and expected that she would. But Dacres! + </p> + <p> + Dacres should exercise the greatest possible discretion. He was not a + person who could throw the dice indifferently with fate. He could respond + to so much, and he would inevitably, sooner or later, demand so much + response! He was governed by a preposterously exacting temperament, and he + wore his nerves outside. And what vision he had! How he explored the world + he lived in and drew out of it all there was, all there was! I could see + him in the years to come ranging alone the fields that were sweet and the + horizons that lifted for him, and ever returning to pace the common dusty + mortal road by the side of a purblind wife. On general principles, as a + case to point at, it would be a conspicuous pity. Nor would it lack the + aspect of a particular, a personal misfortune. Dacres was occupied in + quite the natural normal degree with his charming self; he would pass his + misery on, and who would deserve to escape it less than his mother-in-law? + </p> + <p> + I listened to Emily Morgan, who gleaned in the ship more information about + Dacres Tottenham’s people, pay, and prospects than I had ever acquired, + and I kept an eye upon the pair which was, I flattered myself, quite + maternal. I watched them without acute anxiety, deploring the threatening + destiny, but hardly nearer to it than one is in the stalls to the stage. + My moments of real concern for Dacres were mingled more with anger than + with sorrow—it seemed inexcusable that he, with his infallible + divining-rod for temperament, should be on the point of making such an ass + of himself. Though I talk of the stage there was nothing at all dramatic + to reward my attention, mine and Emily Morgan’s. To my imagination, + excited by its idea of what Dacres Tottenham’s courtship ought to be, the + attentions he paid to Cecily were most humdrum. He threw rings into + buckets with her—she was good at that—and quoits upon the + ‘bull’ board; he found her chair after the decks were swabbed in the + morning and established her in it; he paced the deck with her at + convenient times and seasons. They were humdrum, but they were constant + and cumulative. Cecily took them with an even breath that perfectly + matched. There was hardly anything, on her part, to note—a little + discreet observation of his comings and goings, eyes scarcely lifted from + her book, and later just a hint of proprietorship, as the evening she came + up to me on deck, our first night in the Indian Ocean. I was lying in my + long chair looking at the thick, low stars and thinking it was a long time + since I had seen John. + </p> + <p> + ‘Dearest mamma, out here and nothing over your shoulders! You ARE + imprudent. Where is your wrap? Mr. Tottenham, will you please fetch + mamma’s wrap for her?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If mamma so instructs me,’ he said audaciously. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do as Cecily tells you,’ I laughed, and he went and did it, while I by + the light of a quartermaster’s lantern distinctly saw my daughter blush. + </p> + <p> + Another time, when Cecily came down to undress, she bent over me as I lay + in the lower berth with unusual solicitude. I had been dozing, and I + jumped. + </p> + <p> + ‘What is it, child?’ I said. ‘Is the ship on fire?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, mamma, the ship is not on fire. There is nothing wrong. I’m so sorry + I startled you. But Mr. Tottenham has been telling me all about what you + did for the soldiers the time plague broke out in the lines at Mian-Mir. I + think it was splendid, mamma, and so does he.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, Lord!’ I groaned. ‘Good night.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 1.IV. + </h2> + <p> + It remained in my mind, that little thing that Dacres had taken the + trouble to tell my daughter; I thought about it a good deal. It seemed to + me the most serious and convincing circumstances that had yet offered + itself to my consideration. Dacres was no longer content to bring solace + and support to the more appealing figure of the situation; he must set to + work, bless him! to improve the situation itself. He must try to induce + Miss Farnham, by telling her everything he could remember to my credit, to + think as well of her mother as possible, in spite of the strange and + secret blows which that mother might be supposed to sit up at night to + deliver to her. Cecily thought very well of me already; indeed, with + private reservations as to my manners and—no, NOT my morals, I + believe I exceeded her expectations of what a perfectly new and untrained + mother would be likely to prove. It was my theory that she found me all + she could understand me to be. The maternal virtues of the outside were + certainly mine; I put them on with care every morning and wore them with + patience all day. Dacres, I assured myself, must have allowed his + preconception to lead him absurdly by the nose not to see that the girl + was satisfied, that my impatience, my impotence, did not at all make her + miserable. Evidently, however, he had created our relations differently; + evidently he had set himself to their amelioration. There was portent in + it; things seemed to be closing in. I bit off a quarter of an inch of + wooden pen-handle in considering whether or not I should mention it in my + letter to John, and decided that it would be better just perhaps to drop a + hint. Though I could not expect John to receive it with any sort of + perturbation. Men are different; he would probably think Tottenham well + enough able to look after himself. + </p> + <p> + I had embarked on my letter, there at the end of a corner-table of the + saloon, when I saw Dacres saunter through. He wore a very conscious and + elaborately purposeless air; and it jumped with my mood that he had + nothing less than the crisis of his life in his pocket, and was looking + for me. As he advanced towards me between the long tables doubt left me + and alarm assailed me. ‘I’m glad to find you in a quiet corner,’ said he, + seating himself, and confirmed my worst anticipations. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m writing to John,’ I said, and again applied myself to my pen-handle. + It is a trick Cecily has since done her best in vain to cure me of. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am going to interrupt you,’ he said. ‘I have not had an opportunity of + talking to you for some time.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I like that!’ I exclaimed derisively. + </p> + <p> + ‘And I want to tell you that I am very much charmed with Cecily.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ I said, ‘I am not going to gratify you by saying anything against + her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You don’t deserve her, you know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I won’t dispute that. But, if you don’t mind—I’m not sure that I’ll + stand being abused, dear boy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I quite see it isn’t any use. Though one spoke with the tongues of men + and of angels—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And had not charity,’ I continued for him. ‘Precisely. I won’t go on, but + your quotation is very apt.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I so bow down before her simplicity. It makes a wide and beautiful margin + for the rest of her character. She is a girl Ruskin would have loved.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wonder,’ said I. ‘He did seem fond of the simple type, didn’t he?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Her mind is so clear, so transparent. The motive spring of everything she + says and does is so direct. Don’t you find you can most completely depend + upon her?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh yes,’ I said; ‘certainly. I nearly always know what she is going to + say before she says it, and under given circumstances I can tell precisely + what she will do.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I fancy her sense of duty is very beautifully developed.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is,’ I said. ‘There is hardly a day when I do not come in contact with + it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, that is surely a good thing. And I find that calm poise of hers + very restful.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I would not have believed that so many virtues could reside in one young + lady,’ I said, taking refuge in flippancy, ‘and to think that she should + be my daughter!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘As I believe you know, that seems to me rather a cruel stroke of destiny, + Mrs. Farnham.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh yes, I know! You have a constructive imagination, Dacres. You don’t + seem to see that the girl is protected by her limitations, like a + tortoise. She lives within them quite secure and happy and content. How + determined you are to be sorry for her!’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. Tottenham looked at the end of this lively exchange as though he + sought for a polite way of conveying to me that I rather was the limited + person. He looked as if he wished he could say things. The first of them + would be, I saw, that he had quite a different conception of Cecily, that + it was illuminated by many trifles, nuances of feeling and expression, + which he had noticed in his talks with her whenever they had skirted the + subject of her adoption by her mother. He knew her, he was longing to say, + better than I did; when it would have been natural to reply that one could + not hope to compete in such a direction with an intelligent young man, and + we should at once have been upon delicate and difficult ground. So it was + as well perhaps that he kept silence until he said, as he had come + prepared to say, ‘Well, I want to put that beyond a doubt—her + happiness—if I’m good enough. I want her, please, and I only hope + that she will be half as willing to come as you are likely to be to let + her go.’ + </p> + <p> + It was a shock when it came, plump, like that; and I was horrified to feel + how completely every other consideration was lost for the instant in the + immense relief that it prefigured. To be my whole complete self again, + without the feeling that a fraction of me was masquerading about in + Cecily! To be freed at once, or almost, from an exacting condition and an + impossible ideal! ‘Oh!’ I exclaimed, and my eyes positively filled. ‘You + ARE good, Dacres, but I couldn’t let you do that.’ + </p> + <p> + His undisguised stare brought me back to a sense of the proportion of + things. I saw that in the combination of influences that had brought Mr. + Tottenham to the point of proposing to marry my daughter consideration for + me, if it had a place, would be fantastic. Inwardly I laughed at the + egotism of raw nerves that had conjured it up, even for an instant, as a + reason for gratitude. The situation was not so peculiar, not so + interesting, as that. But I answered his stare with a smile; what I had + said might very well stand. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you imagine,’ he said, seeing that I did not mean to amplify it, ‘that + I want to marry her out of any sort of GOODness?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Benevolence is your weakness, Dacres.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I see. You think one’s motive is to withdraw her from a relation which + ought to be the most natural in the world, but which is, in her particular + and painful case, the most equivocal.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, come,’ I remonstrated. ‘You have dropped one or two things, you + know, in the heat of your indignation, not badly calculated to give one + that idea. The eloquent statement you have just made, for instance—it + carries all the patness of old conviction. How often have you rehearsed + it?’ + </p> + <p> + I am a fairly long-suffering person, but I began to feel a little annoyed + with my would-be son-in-law. If the relation were achieved it would give + him no prescriptive right to bully me; and we were still in very early + anticipation of that. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah!’ he said disarmingly. ‘Don’t let us quarrel. I’m sorry you think + that; because it isn’t likely to bring your favour to my project, and I + want you friendly and helpful. Oh, confound it!’ he exclaimed, with sudden + temper. ‘You ought to be. I don’t understand this aloofness. I half + suspect it’s pose. You undervalue Cecily—well, you have no business + to undervalue me. You know me better than anybody in the world. Now are + you going to help me to marry your daughter?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t think so,’ I said slowly, after a moment’s silence, which he sat + through like a mutinous schoolboy. ‘I might tell you that I don’t care a + button whom you marry, but that would not be true. I do care more or less. + As you say, I know you pretty well. I’d a little rather you didn’t make a + mess of it; and if you must I should distinctly prefer not to have the + spectacle under my nose for the rest of my life. I can’t hinder you, but I + won’t help you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And what possesses you to imagine that in marrying Cecily I should make a + mess of it? Shouldn’t your first consideration be whether SHE would?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps it should, but, you see, it isn’t. Cecily would be happy with + anybody who made her comfortable. You would ask a good deal more than + that, you know.’ + </p> + <p> + Dacres, at this, took me up promptly. Life, he said, the heart of life, + had particularly little to say to temperament. By the heart of life I + suppose he meant married love. He explained that its roots asked other + sustenance, and that it throve best of all on simple elemental goodness. + So long as a man sought in women mere casual companionship, perhaps the + most exquisite thing to be experienced was the stimulus of some spiritual + feminine counterpart; but when he desired of one woman that she should be + always and intimately with him, the background of his life, the mother of + his children, he was better advised to avoid nerves and sensibilities, and + try for the repose of the common—the uncommon—domestic + virtues. Ah, he said, they were sweet, like lavender. (Already, I told + him, he smelled the housekeeper’s linen-chest.) But I did not interrupt + him much; I couldn’t, he was too absorbed. To temperamental pairing, he + declared, the century owed its breed of decadents. I asked him if he had + ever really recognized one; and he retorted that if he hadn’t he didn’t + wish to make a beginning in his own family. In a quarter of an hour he + repudiated the theories of a lifetime, a gratifying triumph for simple + elemental goodness. Having denied the value of the subtler pretensions to + charm in woman as you marry her, he went artlessly on to endow Cecily with + as many of them as could possibly be desirable. He actually persuaded + himself to say that it was lovely to see the reflections of life in her + tranquil spirit; and when I looked at him incredulously he grew angry, and + hinted that Cecily’s sensitiveness to reflections and other things might + be a trifle beyond her mother’s ken. ‘She responds instantly, intimately, + to the beautiful everywhere,’ he declared. + </p> + <p> + ‘Aren’t the opportunities of life on board ship rather limited to + demonstrate that?’ I inquired. ‘I know—you mean sunsets. Cecily is + very fond of sunsets. She is always asking me to come and look at them.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I was thinking of last night’s sunset,’ he confessed. ‘We looked at it + together.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What did she say?’ I asked idly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nothing very much. That’s just the point. Another girl would have raved + and gushed.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, well, Cecily never does that,’ I responded. ‘Nevertheless she is a + very ordinary human instrument. I hope I shall have no temptation ten + years hence to remind you that I warned you of her quality.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish, not in the least for my own profit, for I am well convinced + already, but simply to win your cordiality and your approval—never + did an unexceptional wooer receive such niggard encouragement!—I + wish there were some sort of test for her quality. I would be proud to + stand by it, and you would be convinced. I can’t find words to describe my + objection to your state of mind.’ + </p> + <p> + The thing seemed to me to be a foregone conclusion. I saw it accomplished, + with all its possibilities of disastrous commonplace. I saw all that I + have here taken the trouble to foreshadow. So far as I was concerned, + Dacres’s burden would add itself to my philosophies, voila tout. I should + always be a little uncomfortable about it, because it had been taken from + my back; but it would not be a matter for the wringing of hands. And yet—the + hatefulness of the mistake! Dacres’s bold talk of a test made no + suggestion. Should my invention be more fertile? I thought of something. + </p> + <p> + ‘You have said nothing to her yet?’ I asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nothing. I don’t think she suspects for a moment. She treats me as if no + such fell design were possible. I’m none too confident, you know,’ he + added, with longer face. + </p> + <p> + ‘We go straight to Agra. Could you come to Agra?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ideal!’ he cried. ‘The memory of Mumtaz! The garden of the Taj! I’ve + always wanted to love under the same moon as Shah Jehan. How thoughtful of + you!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You must spend a few days with us in Agra,’ I continued. ‘And as you say, + it is the very place to shrine your happiness, if it comes to pass there.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I am glad to have extracted a word of kindness from you at last,’ + said Dacres, as the stewards came to lay the table. ‘But I wish,’ he added + regretfully, ‘you could have thought of a test.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 1.V. + </h2> + <p> + Four days later we were in Agra. A time there was when the name would have + been the key of dreams to me; now it stood for John’s headquarters. I was + rejoiced to think I would look again upon the Taj; and the prospect of + living with it was a real enchantment; but I pondered most the kind of + house that would be provided for the General Commanding the District, how + many the dining-room would seat, and whether it would have a roof of + thatch or of corrugated iron—I prayed against corrugated iron. I + confess these my preoccupations. I was forty, and at forty the practical + considerations of life hold their own even against domes of marble, + world-renowned, and set about with gardens where the bulbul sings to the + rose. I smiled across the years at the raptures of my first vision of the + place at twenty-one, just Cecily’s age. Would I now sit under Arjamand’s + cypresses till two o’clock in the morning to see the wonder of her tomb at + a particular angle of the moon? Would I climb one of her tall white + ministering minarets to see anything whatever? I very greatly feared that + I would not. Alas for the aging of sentiment, of interest! Keep your touch + with life and your seat in the saddle as long as you will, the world is no + new toy at forty. But Cecily was twenty-one, Cecily who sat stolidly + finishing her lunch while Dacres Tottenham talked about Akbar and his + philosophy. ‘The sort of man,’ he said, ‘that Carlyle might have smoked a + pipe with.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But surely,’ said Cecily reflectively, ‘tobacco was not discovered in + England then. Akbar came to the throne in 1526.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nor Carlyle either for that matter,’ I hastened to observe. + ‘Nevertheless, I think Mr. Tottenham’s proposition must stand.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thanks, Mrs. Farnham,’ said Dacres. ‘But imagine Miss Farnham’s + remembering Akbar’s date! I’m sure you didn’t!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Let us hope she doesn’t know too much about him,’ I cried gaily, ‘or + there will be nothing to tell!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, really and truly very little!’ said Cecily, ‘but as soon as we heard + papa would be stationed here Aunt Emma made me read up about those old + Moguls and people. I think I remember the dynasty. Baber, wasn’t he the + first? And then Humayon, and after him Akbar, and then Jehangir, and then + Shah Jehan. But I’ve forgotten every date but Akbar’s.’ + </p> + <p> + She smiled her smile of brilliant health and even spirits as she made the + damaging admission, and she was so good to look at, sitting there simple + and wholesome and fresh, peeling her banana with her well-shaped fingers, + that we swallowed the dynasty as it were whole, and smiled back upon her. + John, I may say, was extremely pleased with Cecily; he said she was a very + satisfactory human accomplishment. One would have thought, positively, the + way he plumed himself over his handsome daughter, that he alone was + responsible for her. But John, having received his family, straightway set + off with his Staff on a tour of inspection, and thereby takes himself out + of this history. I sometimes think that if he had stayed—but there + has never been the lightest recrimination between us about it, and I am + not going to hint one now. + </p> + <p> + ‘Did you read,’ asked Dacres, ‘what he and the Court poet wrote over the + entrance gate to the big mosque at Fattehpur-Sikri? It’s rather nice. “The + world is a looking-glass, wherein the image has come and is gone—take + as thine own nothing more than what thou lookest upon.”’ + </p> + <p> + My daughter’s thoughtful gaze was, of course, fixed upon the speaker, and + in his own glance I saw a sudden ray of consciousness; but Cecily + transferred her eyes to the opposite wall, deeply considering, and while + Dacres and I smiled across the table, I saw that she had perceived no + reason for blushing. It was a singularly narrow escape. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ she said, ‘I didn’t; what a curious proverb for an emperor to make! + He couldn’t possibly have been able to see all his possessions at once.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you have finished,’ Dacres addressed her, ‘do let me show you what + your plain and immediate duty is to the garden. The garden waits for you—all + the roses expectant—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, there isn’t one!’ cried Cecily, pinning on her hat. It was pleasing, + and just a trifle pathetic, the way he hurried her out of the scope of any + little dart; he would not have her even within range of amused + observation. Would he continue, I wondered vaguely, as, with my elbows on + the table, I tore into strips the lemon-leaf that floated in my + finger-bowl—would he continue, through life, to shelter her from his + other clever friends as now he attempted to shelter her from her mother? + In that case he would have to domicile her, poor dear, behind the curtain, + like the native ladies—a good price to pay for a protection of + which, bless her heart! she would be all unaware. I had quite stopped + bemoaning the affair; perhaps the comments of my husband, who treated it + with broad approval and satisfaction, did something to soothe my + sensibilities. At all events, I had gradually come to occupy a high + fatalistic ground towards the pair. If it was written upon their foreheads + that they should marry, the inscription was none of mine; and, of course, + it was true, as John had indignantly stated, that Dacres might do very + much worse. One’s interest in Dacres Tottenham’s problematical future had + in no way diminished; but the young man was so positive, so full of + intention, so disinclined to discussion—he had not reopened the + subject since that morning in the saloon of the Caledonia—that one’s + feeling about it rather took the attenuated form of a shrug. I am afraid, + too, that the pleasurable excitement of such an impending event had a + little supervened; even at forty there is no disallowing the natural + interests of one’s sex. As I sat there pulling my lemon-leaf to pieces, I + should not have been surprised or in the least put about if the two had + returned radiant from the lawn to demand my blessing. As to the test of + quality that I had obligingly invented for Dacres on the spur of the + moment without his knowledge or connivance, it had some time ago faded + into what he apprehended it to be—a mere idyllic opportunity, a + charming background, a frame for his project, of prettier sentiment than + the funnels and the hand-rails of a ship. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Tottenham had ten days to spend with us. He knew the place well; it + belonged to the province to whose service he was dedicated, and he claimed + with impressive authority the privilege of showing it to Cecily by degrees—the + Hall of Audience today, the Jessamine Tower tomorrow, the tomb of Akbar + another, and the Deserted City yet another day. We arranged the + expeditions in conference, Dacres insisting only upon the order of them, + which I saw was to be cumulative, with the Taj at the very end, on the + night precisely of the full of the moon, with a better chance of roses. I + had no special views, but Cecily contributed some; that we should do the + Hall of Audience in the morning, so as not to interfere with the club + tennis in the afternoon, that we should bicycle to Akbar’s tomb and take a + cold luncheon—if we were sure there would be no snakes—to the + Deserted City, to all of which Dacres gave loyal assent. I endorsed + everything; I was the encouraging chorus, only stipulating that my number + should be swelled from day to day by the addition of such persons as I + should approve. Cecily, for instance, wanted to invite the Bakewells + because we had come out in the same ship with them; but I could not endure + the Bakewells, and it seemed to me that our having made the voyage with + them was the best possible reason for declining to lay eyes on them for + the rest of our natural lives. ‘Mamma has such strong prejudices,’ Cecily + remarked, as she reluctantly gave up the idea; and I waited to see whether + the graceless Tottenham would unmurmuringly take down the Bakewells. How + strong must be the sentiment that turns a man into a boa-constrictor + without a pang of transmigration! But no, this time he was faithful to the + principles of his pre-Cecilian existence. ‘They are rather Boojums,’ he + declared. ‘You would think so, too, if you knew them better. It is that + kind of excellent person that makes the real burden of India.’ I could + have patted him on the back. + </p> + <p> + Thanks to the rest of the chorus, which proved abundantly available, I was + no immediate witness to Cecily’s introduction to the glorious fragments + which sustain in Agra the memory of the moguls. I may as well say that I + arranged with care that if anybody must be standing by when Dacres + disclosed them, it should not be I. If Cecily had squinted, I should have + been sorry, but I would have found in it no personal humiliation. There + were other imperfections of vision, however, for which I felt responsible + and ashamed; and with Dacres, though the situation, Heaven knows, was none + of my seeking, I had a little the feeling of a dealer who offers a + defective bibelot to a connoisseur. My charming daughter—I was fifty + times congratulated upon her appearance and her manners—had many + excellent qualities and capacities which she never inherited from me; but + she could see no more than the bulk, no further than the perspective; she + could register exactly as much as a camera. + </p> + <p> + This was a curious thing, perhaps, to displease my maternal vanity, but it + did; I had really rather she squinted; and when there was anything to look + at I kept out of the way. I can not tell precisely, therefore, what the + incidents were that contributed to make Mr. Tottenham, on our return from + these expeditions, so thoughtful, with a thoughtfulness which increased, + towards the end of them, to a positive gravity. This would disappear + during dinner under the influence of food and drink. He would talk nightly + with new enthusiasm and fresh hope—or did I imagine it?—of the + loveliness he had arranged to reveal on the following day. If again my + imagination did not lead me astray, I fancied this occurred later and + later in the course of the meal as the week went on; as if his state + required more stimulus as time progressed. One evening, when I expected it + to flag altogether, I had a whim to order champagne and observe the + effect; but I am glad to say that I reproved myself, and refrained. + </p> + <p> + Cecily, meanwhile, was conducting herself in a manner which left nothing + to be desired. If, as I sometimes thought, she took Dacres very much for + granted, she took him calmly for granted; she seemed a prey to none of + those fluttering uncertainties, those suspended judgments and elaborate + indifferences which translate themselves so plainly in a young lady + receiving addresses. She turned herself out very freshly and very well; + she was always ready for everything, and I am sure that no glance of + Dacres Tottenham’s found aught but direct and decorous response. His + society on these occasions gave her solid pleasure; so did the drive and + the lunch; the satisfactions were apparently upon the same plane. She was + aware of the plum, if I may be permitted a brusque but irresistible + simile; and with her mouth open, her eyes modestly closed, and her head in + a convenient position, she waited, placidly, until it should fall in. The + Farnham ladies would have been delighted with the result of their labours + in the sweet reason and eminent propriety of this attitude. Thinking of my + idiotic sufferings when John began to fix himself upon my horizon, I + pondered profoundly the power of nature in differentiation. + </p> + <p> + One evening, the last, I think, but one, I had occasion to go to my + daughter’s room, and found her writing in her commonplace-book. She had a + commonplace-book, as well as a Where Is It? an engagement-book, an + account-book, a diary, a Daily Sunshine, and others with purposes too + various to remember. ‘Dearest mamma,’ she said, as I was departing, ‘there + is only one “p” in “opulence”, isn’t there?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ I replied, with my hand on the door-handle, and added curiously, + for it was an odd word in Cecily’s mouth, ‘Why?’ + </p> + <p> + She hardly hesitated. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘I am just writing down one or two + things Mr. Tottenham said about Agra before I forget them. They seemed so + true.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He has a descriptive touch,’ I remarked. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think he describes beautifully. Would you like to hear what he said + today?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I would,’ I replied, sincerely. + </p> + <p> + ‘“Agra,”’ read this astonishing young lady, ‘“is India’s one pure idyll. + Elsewhere she offers other things, foolish opulence, tawdry pageant, + treachery of eunuchs and jealousies of harems, thefts of kings’ jewels and + barbaric retributions; but they are all actual, visualized, or part of a + past that shows to the backward glance hardly more relief and vitality + than a Persian painting”—I should like to see a Persian painting—“but + here the immortal tombs and pleasure-houses rise out of colour delicate + and subtle; the vision holds across three hundred years; the print of the + court is still in the dust of the city.”’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Did you really let him go on like that?’ I exclaimed. ‘It has the license + of a lecture!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I encouraged him to. Of course he didn’t say it straight off. He said it + naturally; he stopped now and then to cough. I didn’t understand it all; + but I think I have remembered every word.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You have a remarkable memory. I’m glad he stopped to cough. Is there any + more?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘One little bit. “Here the moguls wrought their passions into marble, and + held them up with great refrains from their religion, and set them about + with gardens; and here they stand in the twilight of the glory of those + kings and the noonday splendour of their own.”’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How clever of you!’ I exclaimed. ‘How wonderfully clever of you to + remember!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I had to ask him to repeat one or two sentences. He didn’t like that. But + this is nothing. I used to learn pages letter-perfect for Aunt Emma. She + was very particular. I think it is worth preserving, don’t you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear Cecily,’ I responded, ‘you have a frugal mind.’ + </p> + <p> + There was nothing else to respond. I could not tell her just how practical + I thought her, or how pathetic her little book. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 1.VI. + </h2> + <p> + We drove together, after dinner, to the Taj. The moonlight lay in an empty + splendour over the broad sandy road, with the acacias pricking up on each + side of it and the gardens of the station bungalows stretching back into + clusters of crisp shadows. It was an exquisite February night, very still. + Nothing seemed abroad but two or three pariah dogs, upon vague and errant + business, and the Executive Engineer going swiftly home from the club on + his bicycle. Even the little shops of the bazaar were dark and empty; only + here and there a light showed barred behind the carved balconies of the + upper rooms, and there was hardly any tom-tomming. The last long slope of + the road showed us the river curving to the left, through a silent white + waste that stretched indefinitely into the moonlight on one side, and was + crowned by Akbar’s fort on the other. His long high line of turrets and + battlements still guarded a hint of their evening rose, and dim and + exquisite above them hovered the three dome-bubbles of the Pearl Mosque. + It was a night of perfect illusion, and the illusion was mysterious, + delicate, and faint. I sat silent as we rolled along, twenty years nearer + to the original joy of things when John and I drove through the same old + dream. + </p> + <p> + Dacres, too, seemed preoccupied; only Cecily was, as they say, herself. + Cecily was really more than herself, she exhibited an unusual flow of + spirits. She talked continually, she pointed out this and that, she asked + who lived here and who lived there. At regular intervals of about four + minutes she demanded if it wasn’t simply too lovely. She sat straight up + with her vigorous profile and her smart hat; and the silhouette of her + personality sharply refused to mingle with the dust of any dynasty. She + was a contrast, a protest; positively she was an indignity. ‘Do lean back, + dear child,’ I exclaimed at last. ‘You interfere with the landscape.’ + </p> + <p> + She leaned back, but she went on interfering with it in terms of sincerest + enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + When we stopped at the great archway of entrance I begged to be left in + the carriage. What else could one do, when the golden moment had come, but + sit in the carriage and measure it? They climbed the broad stone steps + together and passed under the lofty gravures into the garden, and I + waited. I waited and remembered. I am not, as perhaps by this time is + evident, a person of overwhelming sentiment, but I think the smile upon my + lips was gentle. So plainly I could see, beyond the massive archway and + across a score of years, all that they saw at that moment—Arjamand’s + garden, and the long straight tank of marble cleaving it full of sleeping + water and the shadows of the marshaling cypresses; her wide dark garden of + roses and of pomegranates, and at the end the Vision, marvellous, aerial, + the soul of something—is it beauty? is it sorrow?—that great + white pride of love in mourning such as only here in all the round of our + little world lifts itself to the stars, the unpaintable, indescribable Taj + Mahal. A gentle breath stole out with a scent of jessamine and such a + memory! I closed my eyes and felt the warm luxury of a tear. + </p> + <p> + Thinking of the two in the garden, my mood was very kind, very conniving. + How foolish after all were my cherry-stone theories of taste and + temperament before that uncalculating thing which sways a world and builds + a Taj Mahal! Was it probable that Arjamand and her Emperor had loved + fastidiously, and yet how they had loved! I wandered away into + consideration of the blind forces which move the world, in which comely + young persons like my daughter Cecily had such a place; I speculated + vaguely upon the value of the subtler gifts of sympathy and insight which + seemed indeed, at that enveloping moment, to be mere flowers strewn upon + the tide of deeper emotions. The garden sent me a fragrance of roses; the + moon sailed higher and picked out the little kiosks set along the wall. It + was a charming, charming thing to wait, there at the portal of the + silvered, scented garden, for an idyll to come forth. + </p> + <p> + When they reappeared, Dacres and my daughter, they came with casual steps + and cheerful voices. They might have been a couple of tourists. The + moonlight fell full upon them on the platform under the arch. It showed + Dacres measuring with his stick the length of the Sanskrit letters which + declared the stately texts, and Cecily’s expression of polite, perfunctory + interest. They looked up at the height above them; they looked back at the + vision behind. Then they sauntered towards the carriage, he offering a + formal hand to help her down the uncertain steps, she gracefully accepting + it. + </p> + <p> + ‘You—you have not been long,’ said I. ‘I hope you didn’t hurry on my + account.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Miss Farnham found the marble a little cold under foot,’ replied Dacres, + putting Miss Farnham in. + </p> + <p> + ‘You see,’ explained Cecily, ‘I stupidly forgot to change into thicker + soles. I have only my slippers. But, mamma, how lovely it is! Do let us + come again in the daytime. I am dying to make a sketch of it.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. Tottenham was to leave us on the following day. In the morning, after + ‘little breakfast,’ as we say in India, he sought me in the room I had set + aside to be particularly my own. + </p> + <p> + Again I was writing to John, but this time I waited for precisely his + interruption. I had got no further than ‘My dearest husband,’ and my + pen-handle was a fringe. + </p> + <p> + ‘Another fine day,’ I said, as if the old, old Indian joke could give him + ease, poor man! + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said he, ‘we are having lovely weather.’ + </p> + <p> + He had forgotten that it was a joke. Then he lapsed into silence while I + renewed my attentions to my pen. + </p> + <p> + ‘I say,’ he said at last, with so strained a look about his mouth that it + was almost a contortion, ‘I haven’t done it, you know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ I responded, cheerfully, ‘and you’re not going to. Is that it? + Well!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Frankly—’ said he. + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear me, yes! Anything else between you and me would be grotesque,’ I + interrupted, ‘after all these years.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t think it would be a success,’ he said, looking at me resolutely + with his clear blue eyes, in which still lay, alas! the possibility of + many delusions. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ I said, ‘I never did, you know. But the prospect had begun to impose + upon me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘To say how right you were would seem, under the circumstances, the most + hateful form of flattery.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I think I can dispense with your verbal endorsement.’ I + felt a little bitter. It was, of course, better that the connoisseur + should have discovered the flaw before concluding the transaction; but + although I had pointed it out myself I was not entirely pleased to have + the article returned. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am infinitely ashamed that it should have taken me all these days—day + after day and each contributory—to discover what you saw so easily + and so completely.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You forget that I am her mother,’ I could not resist the temptation of + saying. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, for God’s sake don’t jeer! Please be absolutely direct, and tell me + if you have reason to believe that to the extent of a thought, of a breath—to + any extent at all—she cares.’ + </p> + <p> + He was, I could see, very deeply moved; he had not arrived at this point + without trouble and disorder not lightly to be put on or off. Yet I did + not hurry to his relief, I was still possessed by a vague feeling of + offense. I reflected that any mother would be, and I quite plumed myself + upon my annoyance. It was so satisfactory, when one had a daughter, to + know the sensations of even any mother. Nor was it soothing to remember + that the young man’s whole attitude towards Cecily had been based upon + criticism of me, even though he sat before me whipped with his own lash. + His temerity had been stupid and obstinate; I could not regret his + punishment. + </p> + <p> + I kept him waiting long enough to think all this, and then I replied, ‘I + have not the least means of knowing.’ + </p> + <p> + I can not say what he expected, but he squared his shoulders as if he had + received a blow and might receive another. Then he looked at me with a + flash of the old indignation. ‘You are not near enough to her for that!’ + he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am not near enough to her for that.’ + </p> + <p> + Silence fell between us. A crow perched upon an opened venetian and cawed + lustily. For years afterward I never heard a crow caw without a sense of + vain, distressing experiment. Dacres got up and began to walk about the + room. I very soon put a stop to that. ‘I can’t talk to a pendulum,’ I + said, but I could not persuade him to sit down again. + </p> + <p> + ‘Candidly,’ he said at length, ‘do you think she would have me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I regret to say that I think she would. But you would not dream of asking + her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why not? She is a dear girl,’ he responded inconsequently. + </p> + <p> + ‘You could not possibly stand it.’ + </p> + <p> + Then Mr. Tottenham delivered himself of this remarkable phrase: ‘I could + stand it,’ he said, ‘as well as you can.’ + </p> + <p> + There was far from being any joy in the irony with which I regarded him + and under which I saw him gather up his resolution to go; nevertheless I + did nothing to make it easy for him. I refrained from imparting my private + conviction that Cecily would accept the first presentable substitute that + appeared, although it was strong. I made no reference to my daughter’s + large fund of philosophy and small balance of sentiment. I did not even—though + this was reprehensible—confess the test, the test of quality in + these ten days with the marble archives of the Moguls, which I had almost + wantonly suggested, which he had so unconsciously accepted, so + disastrously applied. I gave him quite fifteen minutes of his bad quarter + of an hour, and when it was over I wrote truthfully but furiously to + John.... + </p> + <p> + That was ten years ago. We have since attained the shades of retirement, + and our daughter is still with us when she is not with Aunt Emma and Aunt + Alice—grandmamma has passed away. Mr. Tottenham’s dumb departure + that day in February—it was the year John got his C.B.—was + followed, I am thankful to say, by none of the symptoms of unrequited + affection on Cecily’s part. Not for ten minutes, so far as I was aware, + was she the maid forlorn. I think her self-respect was of too robust a + character, thanks to the Misses Farnham. Still less, of course, had she + any reproaches to serve upon her mother, although for a long time I + thought I detected—or was it my guilty conscience?—a spark of + shrewdness in the glance she bent upon me when the talk was of Mr. + Tottenham and the probabilities of his return to Agra. So well did she + sustain her experience, or so little did she feel it, that I believe the + impression went abroad that Dacres had been sent disconsolate away. One + astonishing conversation I had with her some six months later, which + turned upon the point of a particularly desirable offer. She told me + something then, without any sort of embarrassment, but quite lucidly and + directly, that edified me much to hear. She said that while she was quite + sure that Mr. Tottenham thought of her only as a friend—she had + never had the least reason for any other impression—he had done her + a service for which she could not thank him enough—in showing her + what a husband might be. He had given her a standard; it might be high, + but it was unalterable. She didn’t know whether she could describe it, but + Mr. Tottenham was different from the kind of man you seemed to meet in + India. He had his own ways of looking at things, and he talked so well. He + had given her an ideal, and she intended to profit by it. To know that men + like Mr. Tottenham existed, and to marry any other kind would be an act of + folly which she did not intend to commit. No, Major the Hon. Hugh Taverel + did not come near it—very far short, indeed! He had talked to her + during the whole of dinner the night before about jackal-hunting with a + bobbery pack—not at all an elevated mind. Yes, he might be a very + good fellow, but as a companion for life she was sure he would not be at + all suitable. She would wait. + </p> + <p> + And she has waited. I never thought she would, but she has. From time to + time men have wished to take her from us, but the standard has been + inexorable, and none of them have reached it. When Dacres married the + charming American whom he caught like a butterfly upon her Eastern tour, + Cecily sent them as a wedding present an alabaster model of the Taj, and I + let her do it—the gift was so exquisitely appropriate. I suppose he + never looks at it without being reminded that he didn’t marry Miss + Farnham, and I hope that he remembers that he owes it to Miss Farnham’s + mother. So much I think I might claim; it is really very little + considering what it stands for. Cecily is permanently with us—I + believe she considers herself an intimate. I am very reasonable about + lending her to her aunts, but she takes no sort of advantage of my + liberality; she says she knows her duty is at home. She is growing into a + firm and solid English maiden lady, with a good colour and great decision + of character. That she always had. + </p> + <p> + I point out to John, when she takes our crumpets away from us, that she + gets it from him. I could never take away anybody’s crumpets, merely + because they were indigestible, least of all my own parents’. She has + acquired a distinct affection for us, by some means best known to herself; + but I should have no objection to that if she would not rearrange my + bonnet-strings. That is a fond liberty to which I take exception; but it + is one thing to take exception and another to express it. + </p> + <p> + Our daughter is with us, permanently with us. She declares that she + intends to be the prop of our declining years; she makes the statement + often, and always as if it were humorous. Nevertheless I sometimes notice + a spirit of inquiry, a note of investigation in her encounters with the + opposite sex that suggests an expectation not yet extinct that another and + perhaps a more appreciative Dacres Tottenham may flash across her field of + vision—alas, how improbable! Myself I can not imagine why she should + wish it; I have grown in my old age into a perfect horror of cultivated + young men; but if such a person should by a miracle at any time appear, I + think it is extremely improbable that I will interfere on his behalf. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 2. An Impossible Ideal. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 2.I. + </h2> + <p> + To understand how we prized him, Dora Harris and I, it is necessary to + know Simla. I suppose people think of that place, if they ever do think of + it, as an agreeable retreat in the wilds of the Himalayas where deodars + and scandals grow, and where the Viceroy if he likes may take off his + decorations and go about in flannels. I know how useless it would be to + try to give a more faithful impression, and I will hold back from the + attempt as far as I can. Besides, my little story is itself an explanation + of Simla. Ingersoll Armour might have appeared almost anywhere else + without making social history. He came and bloomed among us in the + wilderness, and such and such things happened. It sounds too rude a + generalization to say that Simla is a wilderness; I hasten to add that it + is a waste as highly cultivated as you like, producing many things more + admirable than Ingersoll Armour. Still he bloomed there conspicuously + alone. Perhaps there would have been nothing to tell if we had not tried + to gather him. That was wrong; Nature in Simla expects you to be content + with cocked hats. + </p> + <p> + There are artists almost everywhere and people who paint even in the + Himalayas, though Miss Harris and I in our superior way went yearly to the + Simla Fine Arts Exhibition chiefly to amuse ourselves by scoffing. It was + easy to say clever things about the poor little exhibits; and one was + grateful to the show on this account, for nothing is more depressing east + of Suez than the absence of provocation to say clever things. There one + afternoon in May as we marched about enjoying ourselves, we came upon + Ingersoll Armour, not in the flesh, but in half a dozen studies hanging in + the least conspicuous corner and quite the worst light in the room. + </p> + <p> + ‘Eh, what?’ said I, and Dora exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + ‘I SAY!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Sent out from home,’ I said, ever the oracle. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not at all,’ replied Dora. ‘Look, they are Indian subjects. SIMLA + subjects,’ she went on, with excitement. + </p> + <p> + I turned up the catalogue. ‘Ninety-seven, “Kasumti Bazaar”; ninety-eight, + “Clouds on the Chor”; ninety-nine, “The House of a Friend”—Lord, + what apricot blossoms! Yes, they’re all Simla.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘For goodness’ sake,’ said Dora, ‘who painted them? You’ve got the + catalogue!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘“I. Armour,”’ I read. + </p> + <p> + ‘“I. Armour,”’ she repeated, and we looked at each other, saying in plain + silence that to the small world of Simla I. Armour was unknown. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not on Government House list, I venture to believe,’ said Dora. That in + itself may show to what depths we sink. Yet it was a trenchant and a + reasonable speculation. + </p> + <p> + ‘It may be a newcomer,’ I suggested, but she shook her head. ‘All + newcomers call upon us,’ she said. ‘There in the middle of the Mall we + escape none of them. He isn’t a calling person.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why do you say “he”? You are very confident with your pronouns. There’s a + delicacy of feeling—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Which exactly does not suggest a women. We are undermined by delicacy of + feeling; we’re not strong enough to express it with brushes. A man can + make it a quality, a decorative characteristic, and so we see it. With a + woman it’s everything—all over the place—and of no effect. Oh, + I assure you, I. Armour is a man.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Who shall stand against you! Let him be a man. He has taste.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Taste!’ exclaimed Miss Harris, violently, and from the corners of her + mouth I gathered that I had said one of those things which she would store + up and produce to prove that I was not, for all my pretensions, a person + of the truest feeling. ‘He sees things.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s an intensity,’ I ventured. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s better. Yes, an intensity. A perfect passion of colour. Look at + that.’ She indicated a patch of hillsides perhaps six inches by four, in + which the light seemed to come and go as it does in a sapphire. + </p> + <p> + We stood and gazed. It was a tremendous thing; only half a dozen studies + with feeling and knowledge in them, but there in that remote fastness + thrice barred against the arts a tremendous thing, a banquet for our + famished eyes. What they would have said to us in London is a different + matter, and how good they really were I do not find the courage to + pronounce, but they had merit enough to prick our sense of beauty + delightfully where we found them—oh, they were good! + </p> + <p> + ‘Heaven send it isn’t a Tommy,’ said Dora, with a falling countenance. + ‘There is something absolutely inaccessible about a Tommy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How could it be?’ I asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, there are some inspired ones. But it isn’t—that’s French + technique. It’s an Englishman or an American who has worked in Paris. What + in the name of fortune is he doing here?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh,’ I said, ‘we have had them, you know. Val Prinsep came out at the + time of the Prince of Wales’s visit.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you remember that?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a matter of history,’ I said, evasively, ‘and Edwin Weeks travelled + through India not so many years ago. I saw his studio in Paris afterward. + Between his own canvases and Ahmedabad balconies and Delhi embroideries + and Burmese Buddhas and other things he seemed to have carried off the + whole place.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But they don’t come up here ever. They come in the cold weather, and as + they can get plenty of snow and ice at home, they stay down in the plains + with the palm-trees.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Precisely; they do,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + ‘And besides,’ Dora went on, with increasing excitement, ‘this isn’t a + master. You see, he doesn’t send a single picture—only these tiny + things. And there’s a certain tentativeness’—Miss Harris, her + parasol handle pressed against her lips, looked at me with an eagerness + that was a pleasure to look at in itself. + </p> + <p> + ‘A certain weakness, almost a lack of confidence, in the drawing,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + ‘What does that signify?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, immaturity, of course—not enough discipline.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He’s a student. Not that it amounts to a defect, you know’—she was + as jealous already as if she possessed the things—‘only a sign to + read by. I should be grateful for more signs. Why should a student come to + Simla?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘To teach, perhaps,’ I suggested. Naturally one sought only among reasons + of utility. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s the Kensington person who teaches. When they have worked in the + ateliers and learned as much as this they never do. They paint fans and + menu cards, and starve, but they don’t teach.’ + </p> + <p> + Sir William Lamb, Member of Council for the Department of Finance, was + borne by the stream to our sides. The simile will hardly stand + conscientious examination, for the stream was a thin one and did no more + than trickle past, while Sir William weighed fifteen stone, and was so + eminent that it could never inconvenience him at its deepest. Dora + detached her gaze from the pictures and turned her back upon them; I saw + the measure of precaution. It was unavailing, however. ‘What have we + here?’ said Sir William. Dora removed her person from his line of vision, + and he saw what we had there. + </p> + <p> + ‘The work of a friend of yours?’ Sir William was spoken of as a ‘cautious’ + man. He had risen to his present distinction on stepping-stones of + mistakes he conspicuously had not made. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Dora, ‘we were wondering who the artist could be.’ + </p> + <p> + Sir William looked at the studies, and had a happy thought. ‘If you ask + me, I should say a child of ten,’ he said. He was also known as a man of + humour. + </p> + <p> + ‘Miss Harris had just remarked a certain immaturity,’ I ventured. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, well,’ said Sir William, ‘this isn’t the Royal Academy, is it? I + always say it’s very good of people to send their things here at all. And + some of them are not half bad—I should call this year’s average very + high indeed.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you pleased with the picture that has taken your prize, Sir William?’ + asked Dora. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have bought it.’ Sir William’s chest underwent before our eyes an + expansion of conscious virtue. Living is so expensive in Simla; the + purchase of a merely decorative object takes almost the proportion of an + act of religion, even by a Member of Council drawing four hundred pounds a + month. + </p> + <p> + ‘First-rate it is, first-rate. Have you seen it? “Our Camp in Tirah.” + Natives cooking in the foreground, fellows standing about smoking, and a + whole pile of tinned stores dumped down in one corner, exactly as they + would be, don’t you know! Oh, I think the Committee made a very good + choice indeed, a very good choice.’ + </p> + <p> + Sir William moved on, and Dora was free to send me an expressive glance. + ‘Isn’t that just LIKE this place?’ she demanded. ‘Let me see, the + Viceroy’s medal, the Society’s silver medal, five prizes from Members of + Council. Highly Commended’s as thick as blackberries, and these perfectly + fresh, original, admirable things completely ignored. What an absurd, + impossible corner of the earth it is!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You look very cross, you two,’ said Mrs. Sinclair, trailing past. ‘Come + and see the crazy china exhibit, all made of little bits, you know. They + say the photograph frames are simply lovely.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sinclair’s invitation was not sincere. Miss Harris was able to answer + it with a laugh and a wave. We remained beside the serious fact of + exhibits 97-103. + </p> + <p> + ‘Who are the judges this year?’ I asked, not that I did not know precisely + who they were likely to be. There is a custom in these matters, and I had + been part of Simla for eleven years. + </p> + <p> + Dora took the catalogue from my hand and turned its pages over. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr. Cathcart, of course; the Private Secretary to the Viceroy would be on + the Committee almost ex officio, wouldn’t he? Impossible to conceive a + Private Secretary to the Viceroy whose opinion would not be valuable upon + any head. The member for Public Works—I suppose he can build + bridges, or could once, therefore he can draw, or could once; besides, + look at his precedence and his pay! General Haycock—isn’t he head of + the Ordnance Department? I can’t think of any other reason for putting him + on. Oh yes—he’s a K.C.B., and he is inventing a way of taking + coloured photographs. Mr. Tilley, the old gentleman that teaches + elementary drawing to the little girls in the diocesan school, that’s all + right. And Mr. Jay, of course, because Mr. Jay’s water-colours are the + mainstay of the exhibition, and he must be given a chance of expressing + his opinion of them.’ She handed me back the catalogue. ‘I have never been + really angry with them before,’ she said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you really angry now?’ I asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Furious,’ Dora replied, and indeed her face expressed indignation. Its + lines were quite tense, and a spark shone oddly in the middle of the eyes. + One could not credit her with beauty, but as her lady friends were fond of + saying, there was something ‘more’ in her face. I saw a good deal more at + this moment, and it gave me pleasure, as all her feelings did when they + came out like that. I hasten to add that she was not unpleasing; her + features had a symmetry and a mobility, and her eyes could take any + transient charm they chose to endow themselves with; though there were + moments when she compared very badly with the other young ladies of Simla + with their high spirits and their pretty complexions, very badly indeed. + Those were occasions when the gay monotony of the place pressed, I + imagine, a little heavily upon her, and the dullness she felt translated + itself in her expression. But she was by no means unpleasing. + </p> + <p> + ‘I must go and see Lady Pilkey’s picture,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + ‘What is the use?’ said Dora. ‘It’s a landscape in oils—a view of + the Himalayas, near Narkanda. There are the snows in the background, very + thin and visionary through a gap in the trees, and two hills, one hill on + each side. Dark green trees, pine-trees, with a dead one in the left + foreground covered with a brilliant red creeper. Right foreground occupied + by a mountain path and a solitary native figure with its back turned. + Society’s silver medal.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘When did you see it?’ I asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘I haven’t seen it—this year. But I saw the one she sent last, and + the one the year before that. You can trust my memory, really.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ I said, ‘I can’t. I’m dining there tonight. I must have an original + impression.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Congratulate her on the warm blaze of colour in the foreground. It’s + perfectly safe,’ urged Miss Harris, but I felt compelled to go myself to + see lady Pilkey’s landscape. When I returned I found her still sitting in + grave absorption before the studies that had taken us so by surprise. Her + face was full of a soft new light; I had never before seen the spring + touched in her that could flood it like that. + </p> + <p> + ‘You were very nearly right,’ I announced; ‘but the blaze of colour was in + the middle distance, and there was a torrent in the foreground that quite + put it out. And the picture does take the Society’s silver medal.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I can not decide,’ she replied without looking at me, ‘between the + Kattiawar fair thing and those hills in the rain. I can only have one—father + won’t hear of more than one.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You can have two,’ I said bluntly, so deeply interested I was in the + effect the things had on her. ‘And I will have a third for myself. I can’t + withstand those apricot-trees.’ + </p> + <p> + I thought there was moisture in the eyes she turned upon me, an unusual + thing—a most unusual thing—in Dora Harris; but she winked it + back, if it was there, too quickly for any certainty. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are a dear,’ she said. Once or twice before she had called me a dear. + It reminded me, as nothing else ever did, that I was a contemporary of her + father’s. It is a feeble confession, but I have known myself refrain from + doing occasional agreeable things apprehending that she might call me a + dear. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 2.II. + </h2> + <p> + Dora had been out three seasons when these things happened. I remember + sharing Edward Harris’s anxiety in no slight degree as to how the + situation would resolve itself when she came, the situation consisting so + considerably in his eyes of the second Mrs. Harris, who had complicated it + further with three little red-cheeked boys, all of the age to be led about + the station on very small ponies, and not under any circumstances to be + allowed in the drawing-room when one went to tea with their mother. No + one, except perhaps poor Ted himself, was more interested than I to + observe how the situation did resolve itself, in the decision of Mrs. + Harris that the boys, the two eldest at least, must positively begin the + race for the competitive examinations of the future without further delay, + and that she must as positively be domiciled in England ‘to be near’ them, + at all events until they had well made the start. I should have been glad + to see them ride their ponies up and down the Mall a bit longer, poor + little chaps; they were still very cherubic to be invited to take a view + of competitive examinations, however distant; but Mrs. Harris’s conviction + was not to be overcome. So they went home to begin, and she went with + them, leaving Dora in possession of her father, her father’s house, his + pay, his precedence, and all that was his. Not that I would suggest any + friction; I am convinced that there was nothing like that—at least, + nothing that met the eye, or the ear. Dora adored the three little boys + and was extremely kind to their mother. She regarded this lady, I have + reason to believe, with the greatest indulgence, and behaved towards her + with the greatest consideration; I mean she had unerring intuitions as to + just when, on afternoons when Mrs. Harris was at home from dusk till + dinner, she should be dying for a walk. One could imagine her looking with + her grey eyes at dear mamma’s horizon and deciding that papa was certainly + not enough to fill it by himself, deciding at the same time that he was + never likely to be ousted there, only accompanied, in a less important and + entirely innocent degree. It may be surprising that any one should fly + from so broad-minded a step-daughter; but the happy family party lasted a + bare three months. I think Mrs. Harris had a perception—she was the + kind of woman who arrived obscurely at very correct conclusions—that + she was contributing to her step-daughter’s amusement in a manner which + her most benevolent intentions had not contemplated, and she was not by + any means the little person to go on doing that indefinitely, perhaps + increasingly. Besides, it was in the natural order of things that Dora + should marry, and Mrs. Harris doubtless foresaw a comfortable return for + herself in the course of a year or two, when the usual promising junior in + ‘the Department’ should gild his own prospects and promote the general + well-being by acquiring its head for a father-in-law. Things always worked + out if you gave them time. How much time you ought to give them was + doubtless by now a pretty constant query with the little lady in her foggy + exile; for two years had already passed and Dora had found no connection + with any young man of the Department more permanent than those prescribed + at dinners and at dances. It is doubtful, indeed, if she had had the + opportunity. There was no absolute means of knowing; but if offers were + made they never transpired, and Mrs. Harris, far away in England, + nourished a certainty that they never were made. Speaking with her + intimate knowledge of the sex she declared that Dora frightened the men, + that her cleverness was of a kind to paralyze any sentiment of the sort + that might be expected. It depended upon Mrs. Harris’s humour whether this + was Dora’s misfortune or her crime. She, Dora, never frightened me, and by + the time her cleverness dawned upon me, my sentiment about her had become + too robust to be paralyzed. On the contrary, the agreeable stimulus it + gave me was one of the things I counted most valuable in my life out + there. It hardly mattered, however, that I should confess this; I was not + a young man in Harris’s department. I had a department of my own; and + Dora, though she frisked with me gloriously and bullied continually, must + ever have been aware of the formidable fact that I joined the Service two + years before Edward Harris did. The daughter of three generations of + bureaucrats was not likely to forget that at one time her father had been + junior to me in the same office, though in the course of time and the + march of opportunity he had his own show now, and we nodded to each other + on the Mall with an equal sense of the divine right of secretaries. It may + seem irrelevant, but I feel compelled to explain here that I had remained + a bachelor while Harris had married twice, and that I had kept up my + cricket, while Harris had let his figure take all the soft curves of + middle age. Nevertheless the fact remained. Sometimes I fancied it gave a + certain piquancy to my relations with his daughter, but I could never + believe that the laugh was on my side. + </p> + <p> + If we met at dinner-parties, it would be sometimes Edward Harris and + sometimes myself who would take the dullest and stoutest woman down. If + she fell to him, the next in precedence was bestowed upon me, and there + might not be a pin to choose between them for phlegm and inflation. It is + a preposterous mistake to suppose that the married ladies of Simla are in + the majority brilliant and fascinating creatures, who say things in French + for greater convenience, and lead a man on. After fifteen years I am ready + to swear that I have been led on to nothing more compromising than a + subscription to the Young Women’s Christian Association, though no one + could have been more docile or more intelligent. During one viceroyalty of + happy memory half a dozen clever and amusing men and women came together + in Simla—it was a mere fortuitous occurrence, aided by a joyous + ruler who hated being bored as none before or ever since have hated it—and + the place has lived socially upon the reputation of that meteoric term + ever since. Whereas the domestic virtues are no more deeply rooted + anywhere than under the deodars; nor could any one, I hasten to add, + chronicle the fact with more profound satisfaction than myself. A + dinner-party, however, is not a favourable setting for the domestic + virtues; it does them so little justice that one could sometimes almost + wish them left at home, and I was talking of Simla dinner-parties, where I + have encountered so many. How often have I been consulted as to the best + school for boys in England, or instructed as to how much I should let my + man charge me for shoe-blacking, or advised as to the most effectual way + of preventing the butler from stealing my cheroots, while Dora Harris, + remote as a star, talked to a cavalry subaltern about wind-galls and + splints! At these moments I felt my seniority bitterly; to give Dora to a + cavalry subaltern was such plain waste. + </p> + <p> + It was an infinite pleasure to know any one as well as I seemed to know + Dora Harris. She, I believe, held no one else upon the same terms of + intimacy, though she found women, of course, with whom she fluttered and + embraced; and while there were, naturally, men with whom I exchanged the + time o’day in terms more or less cordial, I am certain that I kept all my + closest thoughts for her. It is necessary again to know Simla to + understand how our friendship was gilded by the consideration that it was + on both sides perfectly spontaneous. Social life in the poor little place + is almost a pure farce with the number of its dictated, prompted + intimacies, not controlled by general laws of expediency as at home, but + each on its own basis of hope and expectancy, broadly and ludicrously + obvious as a case by itself. There is a conspiracy of stupidity about it, + for we are all in the same hat, every one of us; there is none so exalted + that he does not urgently want a post that somebody else can give him. So + we continue to exchange our depreciated smiles, and only privately admit + that the person who most desires to be agreeable to us is the person whom + we regard with the greatest suspicion. As between Dora Harris and myself + there could be, naturally, no ax to grind. We amused ourselves by looking + on penetratingly but tolerantly at the grinding of other people’s. + </p> + <p> + That was a very principal bond between us, that uncompromising clearness + with which we looked at the place we lived in, and on the testimony of + which we were so certain that we didn’t like it. The women were nearly all + so much in heaven in Simla, the men so well satisfied to be there too, at + the top of the tree, that our dissatisfaction gave us to one another the + merit of originality, almost proved in one another a superior mind. It was + not that either of us would have preferred to grill out our days in the + plains; we always had a saving clause for the climate, the altitude, the + scenery; it was Simla intrinsic, Simla as its other conditions made it, + with which we found such liberal fault. Again I should have to explain + Simla, at the length of an essay at least, to justify our condemnation. + This difficulty confronts me everywhere. I must ask you instead to imagine + a small colony of superior—very superior—officials, of British + origin and traditions, set on the top of a hill, years and miles away from + literature, music, pictures, politics, existing like a harem on the gossip + of the Viceroy’s intentions, and depending for amusement on tennis and + bumble-puppy, and then consider, you yourself, whether you are the sort of + person to be unquestionably happy there. If you see no reason to the + contrary, pray do not go on. There were times when Dora declared that she + couldn’t breathe for want of an atmosphere, and times when I looked round + and groaned at the cheerful congratulatory aridity in every man’s eye—men + who had done things at Oxford in my own year, and come out like me to be + mummified into a last state like this. Thank Heaven, there was never any + cheerful congratulation in my eye; one could always put there, when the + thought inspired it, a saving spark of rank ingratitude instead. + </p> + <p> + It was as if we had the most desirable things—roses, cool airs, far + snowy ranges—to build what we like with, and we built Simla—altitude, + 7,000, population 2,500, headquarters of the Government of India during + the summer months. An ark it was, of course; an ark of refuge from the + horrible heat that surged below, and I wondered as I climbed the steeps of + Summer Hill in search of I. Armour’s inaccessible address, whether he was + to be the dove bearing beautiful testimony of a world coming nearer. I + rejected the simile, however, as over-sanguine; we had been too long + abandoned on our Ararat. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 2.III. + </h2> + <p> + A dog of no sort of caste stood in the veranda and barked at me + offensively. I picked up a stone, and he vanished like the dog of a dream + into the house. It was such a small house that it wasn’t on the municipal + map at all: it looked as if someone had built it for amusement with + anything that was lying about. Nevertheless, it had a name, it was called + Amy Villa, freshly painted in white letters on a shiny black board, and + nailed against the nearest tree in the orthodox Simla fashion. It looked + as if the owner of the place had named it as a duty towards his tenant, + the board was so new, and in that case the reflection presented itself + that the tenant might have cooperated to call it something else. It was + disconcerting somehow to find that our dove had perched, even temporarily, + in Amy Villa. Nor was it soothing to discover that the small white object + stuck in the corner of the board was Mr. Ingersoll Armour’s card. + </p> + <p> + In Simla we do not stick our cards about in that way at the mercy of the + wind and the weather; we paint our names neatly under the names of our + houses with ‘I.C.S.’ for Indian Civil Service, or ‘P.W.D.’ for Public + Works Department, or whatever designation we are entitled to immediately + after, so that there can be no mistake. This strikes newcomers sometimes + as a little professional, especially when a hand accompanies, pointing; + but it is the only possible way where there are no streets and no numbers, + but where houses are dropped about a hilltop as if they had fallen from a + pepper-pot. In sticking his card out like that Mr. Armour seemed to + imagine himself au quatrieme or au cinquieme somewhere on the south side + of the Seine; it betrayed rather a ridiculous lack of conformity. He was + high enough up, however, to give any illusion; I had to stop to find the + wind to announce myself. There was nobody else to do it if I except the + dog. + </p> + <p> + I walked into the veranda and shouted. Then I saw that one end of it was + partly glazed off, and inside sat a young man in his shirt-sleeves with + his back to the door. + </p> + <p> + In reply he called out, ‘That you, Rosario?’ and I stood silent, taken + somewhat aback. + </p> + <p> + There was only one Rosario in Simla, and he was a subordinate in my own + office. Again the hateful need to explain. Between subordinate clerks and + officials in Simla there is a greater gulf fixed than was ever imagined in + parable. Besides, Rosario had a plain strain of what we call ‘the country’ + in him, a plain strain, that is, of the colour of the country. It was + certainly the first time in my official career that I had been mistaken + for Rosario. + </p> + <p> + Armour turned round and saw me—that I was a stranger. + </p> + <p> + He got up at once. ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘I thought it was Rosario. + </p> + <p> + ‘It isn’t,’ I replied, ‘my name is Philips. May I ask whether you were + expecting Mr. Rosario? I can come again, you know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, it doesn’t matter. Sit down. He may drop in or he may not—I + rather thought he would today. It’s a pull up, isn’t it, from the Mall? + Have a whisky and soda.’ + </p> + <p> + I stood on the threshold spellbound. It was just the smell that bound me, + the good old smell of oil paints and turpentine and mediums and varnish + and new canvas that you never by any chance put your nose into in any part + of Asia. It carried me back twenty years to old haunts, old friends, old + joys, ideals, theories. Ah, to be young and have a temperament! For I had + one then—that instant in Armour’s veranda proved it to me forever. + </p> + <p> + ‘No thanks,’ I said. ‘If you don’t mind I’ll just have the smell.’ + </p> + <p> + The young fellow knew at once that I liked the smell. ‘Well, have a chair, + anyhow,’ he said, and took one himself and sat down opposite me, letting + his lean brown hands fall between his knees. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you mind,’ I said, ‘if for a minute I sit still and look round?’ + </p> + <p> + He understood again. + </p> + <p> + ‘I haven’t brought much,’ he said, ‘I left pretty near everything in + Paris.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You have brought a world.’ Then after a moment, ‘Did you do that?’ I + asked, nodding towards a canvas tacked against the wall. It was the head + of a half-veiled Arab woman turned away. + </p> + <p> + The picture was in the turning away, and the shadow the head-covering made + over the cheek and lips. + </p> + <p> + ‘Lord, no! That’s Dagnan Bouveret. I used to take my things to him, and + one day he gave me that. You have an eye,’ he added, but without + patronage. ‘It’s the best thing I’ve got.’ + </p> + <p> + I felt the warmth of an old thrill. + </p> + <p> + ‘Once upon a time,’ I said, ‘I was allowed to have an eye.’ The wine, + untasted all those years, went to my head. ‘That’s a vigorous bit above,’ + I continued. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, well! It isn’t really up to much, you know. It’s Rosario’s. He + photographs mostly, but he has a notion of colour.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Really?’ said I, thinking with regard to my eye that the sun of that + atrocious country had put it out. ‘I expect I’ve lost it,’ I said aloud. + </p> + <p> + ‘Your eye? Oh, you’ll easily get a fresh one. Do you go home for the + exhibitions?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I did once,’ I confessed. ‘My first leave. A kind of paralysis overtakes + one here. Last time I went for the grouse.’ + </p> + <p> + He glanced at me with his light clear eyes as if for the first time he + encountered a difficulty. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a magnificent country for painting,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + ‘But not for pictures,’ I rejoined. He paid no attention, staring at the + ground and twisting one end of his moustache. + </p> + <p> + ‘The sun on those old marble tombs—broad sun and sand—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You mean somewhere about Delhi.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I couldn’t get anywhere near it.’ He was not at that moment anywhere near + me. ‘But I have thought out a trick or two—I mean to have another go + when it cools off again down there.’ He returned with a smile, and I saw + how delicate his face was. The smile turned down with a little gentle + mockery in its lines. I had seen that particular smile only on the faces + of one or two beautiful women. It had a borrowed air upon a man, like a + tiara or an earring. + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s plenty to paint,’ he said, looking at me with an air of friendly + speculation. + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed, yes. And it has never been done. We are sure it has never been + done.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘“We”—you mean people generally?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not at all. I mean Miss Harris, Miss Harris and myself.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Your daughter?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My name is Philips,’ I reminded him pleasantly, remembering that the + intelligence of clever people is often limited to a single art. ‘Miss + Harris is the daughter of Mr. Edward Harris, Secretary of the Government + of India in the Legislative Department. She is fond of pictures. We have a + good many tastes in common. We have always suspected that India had never + been painted, and when we saw your things at the Town Hall we knew it.’ + </p> + <p> + His queer eyes dilated, and he blushed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘it’s only one interpretation. It all depends on what a + fellow sees. No fellow can see everything.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Till you came,’ I insisted, ‘nobody had seen anything.’ + </p> + <p> + He shook his head, but I could read in his face that this was not news to + him. + </p> + <p> + ‘That is mainly what I came up to tell you,’ I continued, ‘to beg that you + will go on and on. To hope that you will stay a long time and do a great + deal. It is such an extraordinary chance that any one should turn up who + can say what the country really means.’ + </p> + <p> + He stuck his hands in his pockets with a restive movement. ‘Oh, don’t make + me feel responsible,’ he said, ‘I hate that;’ and then suddenly he + remembered his manners. ‘But it’s certainly nice of you to think so,’ he + added. + </p> + <p> + There was something a little unusual in his inflection which led me to ask + at this point whether he was an American, and to discover that he came + from somewhere in Wisconsin, not directly, but by way of a few years in + London and Paris. This accounted in a way for the effect of freedom in any + fortune about him for which I already liked him, and perhaps partly for + the look of unembarrassed inquiry and experiment which sat so lightly in + his unlined face. He came, one realized, out of the fermentation of new + conditions; he never could have been the product of our limits and systems + and classes in England. His surroundings, his ‘things,’ as he called them, + were as old as the sense of beauty, but he seemed simply to have put them + where he could see them, there was no pose in their arrangement. They were + all good, and his delight in them was plain; but he was evidently in no + sense a connoisseur beyond that of natural instinct. Some of those he had + picked up in India I could tell him about, but I had no impression that he + would remember what I said. There was one Bokhara tapestry I examined with + a good deal of interest. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘they told me I shouldn’t get anything as good as that out + here, so I brought it,’ but I had to explain to him why it was anomalous + that this should be so. + </p> + <p> + ‘It came a good many miles over desert from somewhere,’ he remarked, as I + made a note of inquiry as to the present direction of trade in woven goods + from Persia, ‘I had to pound it for a week to get the dust out.’ + </p> + <p> + We spent an hour looking over work he had done down in the plains, and + then I took my leave. It did not occur to me at the moment to ask Armour + to come to the club or to offer to do anything for him; all the + hospitality, all that was worth offering seemed so much more at his + disposition than at mine. I only asked if I might come again, mentioning + somewhat shyly that I must have the opportunity of adding, at my leisure, + to those of his pictures that were already mine by transaction with the + secretary of the Art Exhibition. I left him so astonished that this had + happened, so plainly pleased, that I was certain he had never sold + anything before in his life. This impression gave me the uplifted joy of a + discoverer to add to the satisfactions I had already drawn from the + afternoon; and I almost bounded down the hill to the Mall. I left the pi + dog barking in the veranda, and I met Mr. Rosario coming up, but in my + unusual elation I hardly paused to consider either of them further. + </p> + <p> + The mare and her groom were waiting on the Mall, and it was only when I + got on her back that the consciousness visited me of something forgotten. + It was my mission—to propose to take Armour, if he were ‘possible,’ + to call upon the Harrises. Oh, well, he was possible enough; I supposed he + possessed a coat, though he hadn’t been wearing it; and I could arrange it + by letter. Meanwhile, as was only fair, I turned the mare in the direction + of the drawing-room where I had reason to believe that Miss Dora Harris + was quenching her impatience in tea. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 2.IV. + </h2> + <p> + The very next morning I met Armour on my way to the office. He was ambling + along on the leanest and most ill-groomed of bazaar ponies, and he wore a + bowler. In Simla sun hats are admissible, straw hats are presentable, and + soft felt hats are superior, but you must not wear a bowler. I might + almost say that if one’s glance falls upon a bowler, one hardly looks + further; the expectation of finding an acquaintance under it is so vain. + In this instance, I did look further, fortunately, though in doing so I + was compelled to notice that the bowler was not lifted in answer to my + salutation. Of no importance in itself, of course, but betraying in Armour + a certain lack of observation. I felt the Departmental Head crumble in me, + however, as I recognized him, and I pulled the mare up in a manner which + she plainly resented. It was my opportunity to do cautiously and + delicately what I had omitted the afternoon before; but my recollection is + that I was very clumsy. + </p> + <p> + I said something about the dust, and he said something about the glare, + and then I could think of nothing better than to ask him if he wouldn’t + like to meet a few Simla people. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I know lots of people, thanks,’ he said. ‘It’s kind of you to think + of it, all the same, but I’ve got any amount of friends here.’ + </p> + <p> + I thought of Mr. Rosario, and stood, or sat confounded. + </p> + <p> + The mare fidgeted; I knocked a beast of a fly off her, and so gained time. + </p> + <p> + ‘This is my second season up here, you know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Your second season!’ I exclaimed. ‘Where on earth have you been hiding?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I didn’t exhibit last year, you see. I’d heard it was a kind of a + toy show, so I thought I wouldn’t. I think now that was foolish. But I got + to know quite a number of families.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But I am sure there are numbers that you haven’t met,’ I urged,’ or I + should have heard of it.’ + </p> + <p> + He glanced at me with a slight flush. ‘If you mean society people,’ he + said, ‘I don’t care about that kind of thing, Mr. Philips. I’m not adapted + to it, and I don’t want to be. If any one offered to introduce me to the + Viceroy, I would ask to be excused.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, the Viceroy,’ I responded, disrespectfully, ‘is neither here nor + there. But there are some people, friends of my own, who would like very + much to meet you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘By the name of Harris?’ he asked. I was too amazed to do anything but + nod. By the name of Harris! The Secretary of the Government of India in + the Legislative Department! The expression, not used as an invocation, was + inexcusable. + </p> + <p> + ‘I remember you mentioned them yesterday.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘there’s a father and daughter. Miss Harris is very + artistic.’ + </p> + <p> + His face clouded, as well it might, at the word. ‘Does she paint?’ he + asked, so apprehensively that I could not forbear a smile at Dora’s + expense. I could assure him that she did not paint, that she had not + painted, at all events, for years, and presently I found myself in the + ridiculous position of using argument to bring a young man to the + Harrises. In the end I prevailed, I know, out of sheer good nature on + Armour’s part; he was as innocent as a baby of any sense of opportunity. + </p> + <p> + We arranged it for the following Friday, but as luck would have it, His + Excellency sent for me at the very hour; we met the messenger. I felt + myself unlucky, but there was nothing for it but that Armour should go + alone, which he did, with neither diffidence nor alacrity, but as if it + were all in the day’s work, and he had no reason to be disobliging. + </p> + <p> + The files were very heavy during the succeeding fortnight, and the Viceroy + quite importunate in his demand for my valuable suggestions. I was worked + off my legs, and two or three times was obliged to deny myself in replying + to notes from Dora suggesting Sunday breakfast or afternoon tea. Finally, + I shook myself free; it was the day she wrote: + </p> + <p> + ‘You must come—I can’t keep it to myself any longer.’ + </p> + <p> + I half thought Armour would be there, but he wasn’t; that is, he was + absent corporeally, but the spirit and expression of him littered every + convenient part. Some few things lay about that I had seen in the studio, + to call it so, but most of the little wooden panels looked fresh, almost + wet, and the air held strongly the fragrance of Armour’s north veranda. In + one corner there used to be a Madonna on a carved easel; the Madonna stood + on the floor, and the easel with working pegs in it held an unfinished + canvas. Dora sat in the midst with a distinct flush—she was inclined + to be sallow—and made me welcome in terms touched with extravagance. + She did not rush, however, upon the matter that was dyeing her cheeks, and + I showed myself as little impetuous. She poured out the tea, and we sat + there inhaling, as it were, the aroma of the thing, while keeping it + consciously in the background. + </p> + <p> + I imagine there was no moment in the time I describe when we enjoyed + Ingersoll Armour so much as at this one, when he lay in his nimbus half + known and wholly suppressed, between us. There were later instances, + perhaps, of deeper satisfaction, but they were more or less perplexed, and + not unobscured by anxiety. That afternoon it was all to know and to be + experienced, with just a delicious foretaste. + </p> + <p> + I said something presently about Lady Pilkey’s picnic on the morrow, to + which we had both been bidden. + </p> + <p> + ‘Shall I call for you?’ I asked. ‘You will ride, of course.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thanks, but I’ve cried off—I’m going sketching.’ Her eyes plainly + added, ‘with Ingersoll Armour,’ but she as obviously shrank from the + roughness of pitching him in that unconsidered way before us. For some + reason I refrained from taking the cue. I would not lug him in either. + </p> + <p> + ‘That is a new accomplishment,’ was as much as I felt I could say with + dignity, and she responded: + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, isn’t it?’ + </p> + <p> + I felt some slight indignation on Lady Pilkey’s account. ‘Do you really + think you ought to do things like that at the eleventh hour?’ I asked, but + Dora smiled at a glance, the hypocrisy out of my face. + </p> + <p> + ‘What does anything matter?’ she demanded. + </p> + <p> + I knew perfectly well the standard by which nothing mattered, and there + was no use, of course, in going on pretending that I did not. + </p> + <p> + ‘I assured him that you didn’t paint,’ I said, accusingly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I had to—otherwise what was there to go upon? He would have + been found only to be lost again. You did not contemplate that?’ Miss + Harris inquired sweetly. + </p> + <p> + ‘I should have thought it was the surest way of losing him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t think why you should be so rude. He observes progress already.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘With a view to claiming and holding him, would it be of any use,’ I + asked, ‘for me to start in oils?’ + </p> + <p> + Miss Harris eyed me calmly. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know,’ she said, ‘but it doesn’t seem the same thing somehow. I + think you had better leave it to me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed, I won’t,’ I said; ‘there is too much in it,’ and we smiled across + the gulf of our friendly understanding. + </p> + <p> + I crossed to the mantelpiece and picked up one of the little wet panels. + There was that in it which explained my friend’s exultation much more + plainly than words. + </p> + <p> + ‘That is what I am to show him tomorrow,’ she exclaimed; ‘I think I have + done as he told me. I think it’s pretty right.’ + </p> + <p> + Whether it was pretty right or pretty wrong, she had taken in an + extraordinary way an essence out of him. It wasn’t of course good, but his + feeling was reflected in it, at once so brilliantly and so profoundly that + it was startling to see. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you think he’ll be pleased?’ she asked, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think he’ll be astounded,’ I said, reserving the rest, and she cried in + her pleasure, ‘Oh, you dear man!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I see you have taken possession of him,’ I went on. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, body and soul,’ Dora rejoined, and it must have been something like + that. I could imagine how she did it; with what wiles of simplicity and + candid good-fellowship she had drawn him to forgetfulness and response, + and how presently his enthusiasm leaped up to answer hers and they had + been caught altogether out of the plane of common relations, and he had + gone away on that disgraceful bazaar pony with a ratified arrangement to + return next day which had been almost taken for granted from the + beginning. + </p> + <p> + I confess, though I had helped to bring it about, the situation didn’t + altogether please me. I did not dream of foolish dangers, but it seemed to + take a little too much for granted; I found myself inwardly demanding + whether, after all, a vivid capacity to make colour conscious was a + sufficient basis on which to bring to Edward Harris’s house a young man + about whom we knew nothing whatever else. An instant’s regard showed the + scruple fraudulent, it fled before the rush of pleasure with which I gazed + at the tokens he had left behind him. I fell back on my wonder, which was + great, that Dora should have possessed the technique necessary to take him + at a point where he could give her so much that was valuable. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, well,’ she said when I uttered it, ‘you know I made the experiment! I + found out in South Kensington—you can learn that much there—that + I never would be able to paint well enough to make it worth while. So I + dropped it and took a more general line towards life. But I find it very + easy to imagine myself dedicated to that particular one again.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You never told me,’ I said. Why had I been shut out of that experience? + </p> + <p> + ‘I tell you now,’ Dora replied, absently, ‘when I am able to offer you the + fact with illustrations.’ She laughed and dropped a still illuminated face + in the palm of her hand. ‘He has wonderfully revived me,’ she declared. ‘I + could throw, honestly, the whole of Simla overboard for this.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t,’ I urged, feeling, suddenly, an integral part of Simla. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, no—what end would be served? But I don’t care who knows,’ she + went on with a rush, ‘that in all life this is what I like best, and + people like Mr. Armour are the people I value most. Heavens, how few of + them there are! And wherever they go how the air clears up round them! It + makes me quite ill to think of the life we lead here—the poverty of + it, the preposterous dullness of it....’ + </p> + <p> + ‘For goodness’ sake,’ I said, obscurely irritated, ‘don’t quote the + bishop. The life holds whatever we put into it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘For other people it does, and for us it holds what other people put into + it,’ she retorted. ‘I don’t know whether you think it’s adequately filled + with gold lace and truffles.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why should I defend it?’ I asked, not knowing indeed why. ‘But it has + perhaps a dignity, you know. Ah, you are too fresh from your baptism,’ I + continued, as she shook her head and went to the piano. The quality, + whatever it was, that the last fortnight had generated in her, leaped from + her fingers; she played with triumph, elation, intention. The notes seemed + an outlet for the sense of beauty and for power to make it. I had never + heard her play like that before. + </p> + <p> + It occurred to me to ask when she had done, how far, after a fortnight, + she could throw light on Armour’s aims and history, where he had come + from, and the great query with which we first received him, what he could + be doing in Simla. I gathered that she had learned practically nothing, + and had hardly concerned herself to learn anything. What difference did it + make? she asked me. Why should we inquire? Why tack a theory of origin to + a phenomenon of joy? Let us say the wind brought him, and build him a + temple. She was very whimsical up to the furthest stretch of what could + possibly be considered tea-time. When I went away I saw her go again and + sit down at the piano. In the veranda I remembered something, stopped, and + went back. I had to go back. ‘You did not tell me,’ I said, ‘when he was + coming again.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, tomorrow—tomorrow, of course,’ Dora paused to reply. + </p> + <p> + I resented, as I made my way to the Club, the weight of official duties + that made it so impossible for me to keep at all closely in touch with + this young man. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 2.V. + </h2> + <p> + The art of the photographer usually arouses in me all that is splenetic, + and I had not submitted myself to him for years before Dora made such a + preposterous point of it—years in which, as I sadly explained to + her, I might have submitted to the ordeal with much more ‘pleasing’ + results. She had often insisted before, but I could never see that she + made out a particularly good case for the operation until one afternoon + when she showed me the bold counterfeit presentment of an Assistant + Adjutant-General or some such person, much flattered as to features but + singularly faithful in its reproduction of the straps and buttons + attached. To my post also there belongs a uniform and a cocked hat + sufficiently dramatic, but persons who serve the State primarily with the + intelligence are supposed to have a mind above buttons; and when I decided + that my photograph should compete with the Assistant Adjutant-General’s, I + gave him every sartorial advantage. I gathered that the offer, cabinet + size, of this gentleman had been a spontaneous one; that certainly could + not be said of mine. Most unwillingly I turned one morning into Kauffer’s; + and I can not now imagine why I did it, for emulation of the Assistant + Adjutant-General was really not motive enough, unless it was with an + instinct prepared to stumble upon matter germane in an absurd degree to + this little history. + </p> + <p> + I had the honour to be subjected to the searching analysis of Mr. Kauffer + himself. It was he who placed the chair and arranged the screw, he who + fixed the angle of my chin and gently disposed my fingers on my knee. He + gave me, I remember, a recent portrait of the Viceroy to fix my eye upon, + doubtless with the purpose of inspiring my countenance with the devotion + which would sit suitably upon one of His Excellency’s slaves, and when it + was all over he conducted me into another apartment in order that I might + see the very latest viceregal group—a domestic one, including the + Staff. The walls of the room contained what is usually there, the enlarged + photograph, the coloured photograph, the amateur theatrical group, the + group of His Excellency’s Executive Council, the native dignitary with a + diamond-tipped aigrette in the front of his turban. The copy in oils of + some old Italian landscape, very black and yellow, also held its + invariable place, and above it, very near the ceiling, a line of canvases + which, had I not been led past them to inspect our ruler and his family, + who sat transfixed on an easel in a resplendent frame, would probably have + escaped my attention. I did proper homage to the easel, and then turned to + those pictures. It was plain enough who had painted them. Armour’s broad + brush stood out all over them. They were mostly Indian sporting subjects, + the incident a trifle elliptical, the drawing unequal, but the verve and + feeling unmistakeable, and colour to send a quiver of glorious + acquiescence through you like a pang. What astonished me was the number of + them; there must have been at least a dozen, all the same size and shape, + all hanging in a line of dazzling repetition. Here then was the + explanation of Armour’s seeming curious lack of output, and plain denial + of the supposition that he spent the whole of his time in doing the little + wooden ‘pochade’ things whose sweetness and delicacy had so feasted our + eyes elsewhere. It was part, no doubt, of his absolutely uncommercial + nature—we had experienced together passages of the keenest + embarrassment over my purchase of some of his studies—that he had + not mentioned these more serious things exposed at Kauffer’s; one had the + feeling of coming unexpectedly on treasure left upon the wayside and + forgotten. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hullo!’ I said, at a standstill, ‘I see you’ve got some of Mr. Armour’s + work there.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. Kauffer, with his hands behind him, made the sound which has its + counterpart in a shrug. ‘Yass,’ he said, ‘I haf some of Mr. Armour’s work + there. This one, that one, all those remaining pictures—they are all + the work of Mr. Armour.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I didn’t know that any of his things were to be seen outside his studio,’ + I observed. + </p> + <p> + ‘So? They are to be seen here. There is no objection.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why should there be any objection?’ I demanded, slightly nettled. ‘People + must see them before they buy them.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Buy them!’ Kauffer’s tone was distinctly exasperated. ‘Who will buy these + pictures? Nobody. They are all, every one of them to REfuse.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you know Mr. Armour well enough,’ I said, ‘you should advise him to + exhibit some of his local studies and sketches here. They might sell + better.’ + </p> + <p> + My words seemed unfortunately chosen. Mr. Kauffer turned an honest angry + red. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do I not know Mr. Armour well enough—und better!’ he exclaimed. + ‘What this man wass doing when I in Paris find him oudt? Shtarving, mein + Gott! I see his work. I see he paint a very goot horse, very goot animal + subject. I bring him oudt on contract, five hundred rupees the monnth to + paint for me, for my firm. Sir, it is now nine monnth. I am yoost four + tousand five hundred rupees out of my pocket by this gentleman!’ + </p> + <p> + To enable me to cope with this astonishing tale I asked Mr. Kauffer for a + chair, which he obligingly gave me, and begged that he also would be + seated. The files at my office were my business, and this was not, but no + matter of Imperial concern seemed at the moment half so urgently to + require probing. ‘Surely,’ I said, ‘that is an unusual piece of enterprise + for a photographic firm to employ an artist to paint on a salary. I don’t + know even a regular dealer who does it.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. Kauffer at once and frankly explained. It was unusual and entirely out + of the regular line of business. It was, in fact, one of the exceptional + forms of enterprise inspired in this country by the native prince. We who + had to treat with the native prince solely on lofty political lines were + hardly likely to remember how largely he bulked in the humbler relations + of trade; but there was more than one Calcutta establishment, Mr. Kauffer + declared, that would be obliged to put up its shutters without this + inconstant and difficult, but liberal customer. I waited with impatience. + I could not for the life of me see Armour’s connection with the native + prince, who is seldom a patron of the arts for their own sakes. + </p> + <p> + ‘Surely,’ I said, ‘you could not depend on the Indian nobility to buy + landscapes. They never do. I know of only one distinguished exception, and + he lives a thousand miles from here, in Bengal.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, not landscape,’ returned Mr. Kauffer; ‘but that Indian nobleman will + buy his portrait. We send our own man—photographic artist—to + his State, and he photograph the Chief and his arab, the Chief and his + Prime Minister, the Chief in his durbar, palace, gardens, stables—everything. + Presently the Chief goes on a big shoot. He says he will not have a plain + photograph—besides, it is difficult. He will have a painting, and he + will pay.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah,’ I said, ‘I begin to see.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You see? Then I send this Armour. Look!’ Mr. Kauffer continued with + rising excitement, baited apparently by the unfortunate canvas to which he + pointed, ‘when Armour go to make that I say you go paint ze Maharajah of + Gridigurh spearing ze wild pig. You see what he make?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ I said, ‘it is a wonderfully spirited, dashing thing, and the + treatment of all that cane-brake and jungle grass is superb.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ze treatment—pardon me, sir, I overboil—do you know which is + ze Maharajah?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t say I do.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Neider does he. Ze Maharajah refuse zat picture; he is a good fellow, + too. He says it is a portrait of ze pig.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But it is so good,’ I protested, ‘of the pig.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But that does not interest the Maharajah, you onderstand, no. You see + this one? Nawab of Kandore on his State elephant.’ + </p> + <p> + No doubt about it,’ I said. ‘I know the Nawab well, the young scoundrel. + How dignified he looks!’ + </p> + <p> + There was a note of real sorrow in Kauffer’s voice. ‘Dignified? Oh, yes; + dignified, but, you observe, also black. The Nawab will not be painted + black. At once it is on my hands.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But he is black,’ I remonstrated. ‘He’s the darkest native I’ve ever seen + among the nobility.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No matter for that. He will not be black. When I photograph that Nawab—any + nawab—I do not him black make. But ziss ass of Armour—ach!’ + </p> + <p> + It was a fascinating subject, and I could have pursued it all along the + line of poor Armour’s rejected canvases, but the need to get away from + Kauffer with his equal claim upon my sympathy was too great. To have + cracked my solemn mask by a single smile would have been to break down + irrepressibly, and never since I set foot in India had I felt a parallel + desire to laugh and to weep. There was a pang in it which I recognize as + impossible to convey, arising from the point of contact, almost + unimaginable yet so clear before me, of the uncompromising ideals of the + atelier and the naive demands of the Oriental, with an unhappy + photographer caught between and wriggling. The situation was really + monstrous, the fatuous rejection of all that fine scheming and exquisite + manipulation, and it did not grow less so as Mr. Kauffer continued to + unfold it. Armour had not, apparently, proceeded to the scene of his + labours without instructions. In the pig-sticking delineation he had been + specially told that the Maharajah and the pig were to be in the middle, + with the rest nowhere and nothing between. Other injunctions were as + clear, and as clearly disregarded. Armour, like the Maharajahs, had simply + ‘REfuse’ to abandon his premeditated conceptions of how the thing should + be done. And here was the result, for the laughter of the gods and anybody + else that might see. I asked Kauffer unguardedly if no sort of pressure + could be brought to bear upon these chaps to make them pay up. His face + beaming with hope and intelligence, he suggested that I should approach + the Foreign Office in his behalf; but this I could not quite see my way + to. The coercion of native rulers, I explained, was a difficult and a + dangerous art, and to insist, for example, that one of them should + recognize his own complexion might be to run up a disproportionate little + bill of our own. I did, however, compound something with Kauffer; I hope + it wasn’t a felony. ‘Look here,’ I said to Kauffer, ‘this isn’t official, + you know, in any way, but how would it do to write that scamp Kandore a + formal letter regretting that the portrait does not suit him, and asking + his permission to dispose of it to me? Of course it is yours to do as you + like with already, but that is no reason why you shouldn’t ask. I should + like it, but the Porcha tiger beat will do as well.’ + </p> + <p> + Kauffer nearly fell upon my neck. + </p> + <p> + ‘That Kandore will buy it to put in one bonfire first,’ he assured me, and + I sincerely hoped for his sake that it would be the case. + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course it’s understood,’ I bethought me to say, ‘that I get it, if I + do get it, at Mr. Armour’s price. I’m not a Maharajah, you know, and it + isn’t a portrait of me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course!’ said Kauffer, ‘but I sink I sell you that Porcha; it is ze + best of ze two.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 2.VI. + </h2> + <p> + I ventured for a few days to keep the light which chance had shed for me + upon Armour’s affairs to myself. The whole thing considered in connection + with his rare and delicate talent, seemed too derogatory and disastrous to + impart without the sense of doing him some kind of injury in the mere + statement. But there came a point when I could no longer listen to Dora + Harris’s theories to account for him, wild idealizations as most of them + were of any man’s circumstances and intentions. ‘Why don’t you ask him + point-blank?’ I said, and she replied, frowning slightly, ‘Oh, I couldn’t + do that. It would destroy something—I don’t know what, but something + valuable—between us.’ This struck me as an exaggeration, considering + how far, by that time, they must have progressed towards intimacy, and my + mouth was opened. She heard me without the exclamations I expected, her + head bent over the pencil she was sharpening, and her silence continued + after I had finished. The touch of comedy I gave the whole thing—surely + I was justified in that!—fell flat, and I extracted from her + muteness a sense of rebuke; one would think I had been taking advantage of + the poor devil. + </p> + <p> + At last, having broken the lead of her pencil three times, she turned a + calm, considering eye upon me. + </p> + <p> + ‘You have known this for a fortnight?’ she asked. ‘That doesn’t seem + somehow quite fair.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘To whom?’ I asked, and her answer startled me. + </p> + <p> + ‘To either of us,’ she said. + </p> + <p> + How she advised herself to that effect is more than I can imagine, but the + print of her words is indelible, that is what she said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, confound it!’ I exclaimed. ‘I couldn’t help finding out, you know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But you could help keeping it to yourself in that—in that base + way,’ she replied, and almost—the evening light was beginning to + glimmer uncertainly through the deodars—I could swear I saw the + flash of a tear on her eyelid. + </p> + <p> + ‘I beg your pardon,’ she went on a moment later, ‘but I do hate having to + pity him. It’s intolerable—that.’ + </p> + <p> + I picked up a dainty edition of Aucassin and Nicolette with the intention + of getting upon ground less emotional, and observed on the flyleaf ‘D.H. + from I.A. In memory of the Hill of Stars.’ I looked appreciatively at the + binding, and as soon as possible put it down. + </p> + <p> + ‘He was not bound to tell me,’ Dora asserted presently, in reply to my + statement that the mare had somehow picked up a nail in the stable, and + was laid up. + </p> + <p> + ‘You have been very good to him,’ I said. ‘I think he was.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘His reticence was due,’ she continued, as if defying contradiction, ‘to a + simple dislike to bore one with his personal affairs.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Was it?’ I assented. My tone acknowledged with all humility that she was + likely to know, and I did not deserve her doubtful glance. + </p> + <p> + ‘He could not certainly,’ she went on, with firmer decision, ‘have been in + the least ashamed of his connection with Kauffer.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He comes from a country where social distinctions are less sharp than + they are in this idiotic place,’ I observed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, if you think it is from any lack of recognition! His sensitiveness is + beyond reason. He has met two or three men in the Military Department here—he + was aware of the nicest shade of their patronage. But he does not care. To + him life is more than a clerkship. He sees all round people like that. + They are only figures in the landscape.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then,’ I said, ‘he is not at all concerned that nobody in this Capua of + ours knows him, or cares anything about him, or has bought a scrap of his + work, except our two selves.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s a different matter. I have tried to rouse in him the feeling that + it would be as well to be appreciated, even in Simla, and I think I’ve + succeeded. He said, after those two men had gone away on Sunday, that he + thought a certain reputation in the place where he lived would help + anybody in his work.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘On Sunday? Do you mean between twelve and two?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, he came and made a formal call. There was no reason why he + shouldn’t.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Now that I think of it,’ I rejoined, ‘he shot a card on me too, at the + Club. I was a little surprised. We didn’t seem somehow to be on those + terms. One doesn’t readily associate him with any conventionality.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s no reason why he shouldn’t,’ said Dora again, and with this vague + comment we spoke of something else, both of us, I think, a little + disquieted and dissatisfied that he had. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think,’ Dora said as I went away, ‘that you had better go up to the + studio and tell him what you have told me. Perhaps it doesn’t matter much, + but I can’t bear the thought of his not knowing.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Come to Kauffer’s in the morning and see the pictures,’ I urged; but she + turned away, ‘Oh, not with you.’ + </p> + <p> + I found my way almost at once to Amy Villa, not only because I had been + told to go there. I wanted, myself, certain satisfactions. Armour was + alone and smoking, but I had come prepared against the contingency of one + of his cigars. They were the cigars of the man who doesn’t know what he + eats. With sociable promptness I lighted one of my own. The little + enclosed veranda testified to a wave of fresh activity. The north light + streamed in upon two or three fresh canvases, the place seemed full of + enthusiasm, and you could see its source, at present quiescent under the + influence of tobacco, in Armour’s face. + </p> + <p> + ‘You have taken a new line,’ I said, pointing to a file of camels, still + half obscured by the dust of the day, coming along a mountain road under a + dim moon. They might have been walking through time and through history. + It was a queer, simple thing, with a world of early Aryanism in it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Does that say anything? I’m glad. It was to me articulate, but I didn’t + know. Oh, things have been going well with me lately. Those two studies + over there simply did themselves. That camp scene on the left is almost a + picture. I think I’ll put a little more work on it and give it a chance in + Paris. I got in once, you know. Champ de Mars. With some horses.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Did you, indeed?’ I said. ‘Capital.’ I asked him if he didn’t atrociously + miss the life of the Quarter, and he surprised me by saying that he never + had lived it. He had been en pension instead with a dear old professor of + chemistry and his family at Puteaux, and used to go in and out. A smile + came into his eyes at the remembrance, and he told me one after the other + idyllic little stories of the old professor and madame. Madame and the + omelet—madame and the melon—M. Vibois and the maire; I sat + charmed. So long as we remained in France his humour was like this, + delicate and expansive, but an accidental allusion led us across the + Channel when he changed. He had no little stories of the time he spent in + England. Instead he let himself go in generalizations, aimed, for they had + a distinct animus, at English institutions and character, particularly as + these appear in English society. I could not believe, from the little I + had seen of him, that his experience of English society of any degree had + been intimate; what he said had the flavour of Radical Sunday papers. The + only original element was the feeling behind, which was plainly part of + him; speculation instantly clamoured as to how far this was purely + temperamental and how far the result of painful contact. He himself, he + said, though later of the Western States, had been born under the British + flag of British parents—though his mother was an Irishwoman she came + from loyal Ulster—and he repeated the statement as if it in some way + justified his attitude towards his fellow countrymen and excused his + truculence in the ear of a servant of the empire which he had the humour + to abuse. I heard him, I confess, with impatience, it was all so shabby + and shallow, but I heard him out, and I was rewarded; he came for an + illustration in the end to Simla. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘at what they call + their “Government House list”; and look at Strobo, Signor Strobo. Isn’t + Strobo a man of intelligence, isn’t he a man of benevolence? He gave ten + thousand rupees last week to the famine fund. Is Strobo on Government + House list? Is he ever invited to dine with the Viceroy? No, because + Strobo keeps a hotel! Look at Rosario—where does Rosario come in? + Nowhere, because Rosario is a clerk, and a subordinate. Yet Rosario is a + man of wide reading and a very accomplished fellow!’ + </p> + <p> + It became more or less necessary to argue then, and the commonplaces with + which I opposed him called forth a wealth of detail bearing most + picturesquely upon his stay among us. I began to think he had never hated + English rigidity and English snobbery until he came to Simla, and that he + and Strobo and Rosario had mingled their experiences in one bitter cup. I + gathered this by inference only, he was curiously watchful and reticent as + to anything that had happened to him personally; indeed, he was careful to + aver preferences for the society of ‘sincere’ people like Strobo and + Rosario, that seemed to declare him more than indifferent to circles in + which he would not meet them. In the end our argument left me ridiculously + irritated—it was simply distressing to see the platform from which + he obtained so wide and exquisite a view of the world upheld by such + flimsy pillars—and my nerves were not soothed by his proposal to + walk with me to the Club. I could hardly refuse it, however, and he came + along in excellent spirits, having effected the demolition of British + social ideals, root and branch. His mongrel dog accompanied, keeping + offensively near our heels. It was not even an honest pi, but a dog of + tawdry pretensions with a banner-like tail dishonestly got from a spaniel. + On one occasion I very nearly kicked the dog. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 2.VII. + </h2> + <p> + ‘The fact is,’ I said to Dora as we rode down to the gymkhana, ‘his + personality takes possession of one. I constantly go to that little hut of + his with intentions, benevolent or otherwise, which I never carry out.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You mean,’ she answered, ‘that you completely forgot to reveal to him + your hateful knowledge about Kauffer.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘On the contrary, I didn’t forget it for a moment. But the conversation + took a turn that made it quite impossible to mention.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I can understand,’ Miss Harris replied softly, ‘how that might be. And it + doesn’t in the least matter,’ she went on triumphantly, ‘because I’ve told + him myself.’ + </p> + <p> + My nerves must have been a trifle strung up at the time, for this struck + me as a matter for offense. ‘You thought I would trample upon him,’ I + exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no really. I disliked his not knowing it was known—rien de + plus,’ she said lightly. + </p> + <p> + ‘What did he say?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, not much. What should he say?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He might have expressed a decent regret on poor Kauffer’s account,’ I + growled. Dora did not reply, and a glance showed her frowning. + </p> + <p> + ‘I believe he apologized!’ I cried, pushing, as it were, my advantage. + </p> + <p> + ‘He explained.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course he hasn’t relished the position, and of course he didn’t + realize it before he came. Shall we trot?’ + </p> + <p> + I was compelled to negative the idea of trotting, since we were descending + quite the steepest pitch of the road down to Annandale. We went on at a + walk, and it occurred to me, as my contemplative gaze fell on my own + pig-skins, that we were, even for Simla, an uncommonly well-turned-out + pair. I had helped to pick Dora’s hack, and I allowed myself to reflect + that he did my judgment credit. She sat him perfectly in her wrath—she + was plainly angry—not a hair out of place. Why is it that a lady out + of temper with her escort always walks away from him? Is her horse + sympathetic? Ronald, at all events, was leading by a couple of yards, when + suddenly he shied, bounding well across the road. + </p> + <p> + The mare, whose manners I can always answer for, simply stopped and looked + haughtily about for explanations. A path dropped into the road from the + hillside; something came scrambling and stumbling down. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh!’ cried Dora, as it emerged and was Armour on his much enduring white + pony, ‘how you frightened us!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why don’t you stick to the road, man?’ I exclaimed. ‘It isn’t usual to + put ponies up and down these coolie tracks!’ + </p> + <p> + He took no notice of this rather broad hint that I was annoyed, but fixed + his eager, light, luminous eyes upon Dora. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and added, ‘I did not expect to see you today!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not till tomorrow,’ she returned. ‘You remember that we are sketching + tomorrow?’ + </p> + <p> + He looked at her and smiled slightly; and then I remember noticing that + his full, arched upper lip seldom quite met its counterpart over his + teeth. This gave an unpremeditated casual effect to everything he found to + say, and made him look a dreamer at his busiest. His smile was at the + folly of her reminder. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve just been looking for something that you would like,’ he said, ‘but + it isn’t much good hunting about alone. I see five times as much when we + go together.’ + </p> + <p> + He and his pony barred the way; he had an air of leisure and of felicity; + one would think we had met at an afternoon party. + </p> + <p> + ‘We are on our way,’ I explained, ‘to the gymkhana. Miss Harris is in one + of the events. You did enter for the needle-threading race, didn’t you, + with Lord Arthur? I think we must get on.’ + </p> + <p> + A slow, dull red mounted to Armour’s face and seemed to put out that + curious light in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is it far?’ he asked, glancing down over the tree-tops. ‘I’ve never been + there.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why,’ cried Dora, suddenly, ‘you’ve been down!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘So you have,’ I confirmed her. ‘Your beast is damaged too.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, it was only a stumble,’ Armour replied; ‘I stuck on all right.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ I said, ‘you had better get off now, as you didn’t then, and look + at your animal’s near fore. The swelling’s as big as a bun already.’ + </p> + <p> + Again he made me no answer, but looked intently and questioningly at Dora. + </p> + <p> + ‘Get off, Mr. Armour,’ she said, sharply, ‘and lead your horse home. It is + not fit to be ridden. Goodbye.’ + </p> + <p> + I have no doubt he did it, but neither of us were inclined to look back to + see. We pushed on under the deodars, and I was indulgent to a trot. At the + end of it Dora remarked that Mr. Armour naturally could not be expected to + know anything about riding, it was very plucky of him to get on a horse at + all, among these precipices; and I of course agreed. + </p> + <p> + Lord Arthur was waiting when we arrived, on his chestnut polo pony, but + Dora immediately scratched for the brilliant event in which they were + paired. Ronald, she said, was simply cooked with the heat. Ronald had come + every yard of the way on his toes and was fit for anything, but Lord + Arthur did not insist. There were young ladies in Simla, I am glad to say, + who appealed more vividly to his imagination than Dora Harris did, and one + of them speedily replaced her, a fresh-coloured young Amazon who was + staying at the Chief’s. She wandered about restlessly over the dry turf + for a few minutes, and then went and sat down in a corner of the little + wooden Grand Stand and sent me for a cup of tea. + </p> + <p> + ‘Won’t you come to the tent?’ I asked a little ruefully, eyeing the + distance and the possible collisions between, but she shook her head. + </p> + <p> + ‘I simply couldn’t bear it,’ she said, and I went feeling somehow + chastened myself by the cloud that was upon her spirit. + </p> + <p> + I found her on my return regarding the scene with a more than usually + critical eye, and a more than usually turned down lip. Yet it was exactly + the scene it always was, and always, probably, will be. I sat down beside + her and regarded it also, but more charitably than usual. Perhaps it was + rather trivial, just a lot of pretty dresses and excited young men in + white riding-breeches doing foolish things on ponies in the shortest + possible time, with one little crowd about the Club’s refreshment tent and + another about the Staff’s, while the hills sat round in an indifferent + circle; but it appealed to me with a kind of family feeling that + afternoon, and inspired me with tolerance, even benevolence. + </p> + <p> + ‘After all,’ I said, ‘it’s mainly youth and high spirits—two good + things. And one knows them all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And who are they to know?’ complained Dora. + </p> + <p> + ‘Just decent young Englishmen and Englishwomen, out here on their + country’s business,’ I replied cheerfully; ‘with the marks of Oxford and + Cambridge and Sandhurst and Woolwich on the men. Well-set-up youngsters, + who know what to do and how to do it. Oh, I like the breed!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wonder,’ said she, in a tone of preposterous melancholy, ‘if eventually + I have to marry one of them.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not necessarily,’ I said. She looked at me with interest, as if I had + contributed importantly to the matter in hand, and resumed tapping her + boot with her riding-crop. We talked of indifferent things and had long + lapses. At the close of one effort Dora threw herself back with a deep, + tumultuous sigh. ‘The poverty of this little wretched resort ties up one’s + tongue!’ she cried. ‘It is the bottom of the cup; here one gets the very + dregs of Simla’s commonplace. Let us climb out of it.’ + </p> + <p> + I thought for a moment that Ronald had been too much for her nerves coming + down, and offered to change saddles, but she would not. We took it out of + the horses all along the first upward slopes, and as we pulled in to + breathe them she turned to me paler than ever. + </p> + <p> + ‘I feel better now,’ she said. + </p> + <p> + For myself I had got rid of Armour for the afternoon. I think my + irritation with him about his pony rose and delivered me from the too + insistent thought of him. With Dora it was otherwise; she had dismissed + him; but he had never left her for a moment the whole long afternoon. + </p> + <p> + She flung a searching look at me. With a reckless turn of her head, she + said, ‘Why didn’t we take him with us?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Did we want him?’ I asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think I always want him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah!’ said I, and would have pondered this statement at some length in + silence, but that she plainly did not wish me to do so. + </p> + <p> + ‘We might perfectly well have sent his pony home with one of our own + servants—he would have been delighted to walk down.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He wasn’t in proper kit,’ I remonstrated. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I wish you would speak to him about that. Make him get some + tennis-flannels and riding-things.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you propose to get him asked to places?’ I inquired. + </p> + <p> + She gave me a charmingly unguarded smile. ‘I propose to induce you to do + so. I have done what I could. He has dined with us several times, and met + a few people who would, I thought, be kind to him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, well,’ I said, ‘I have had him at the Club too, with old Lamb and + Colonel Hamilton. He made us all miserable with his shyness. Don’t ask me + to do it again, please.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve sent him to call on certain people,’ Dora continued, ‘and I’ve shown + his pictures to everybody, and praised him and talked about him, but I + can’t go on doing that indefinitely, can I?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ I said; ‘people might misunderstand.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t think they would MISunderstand,’ replied this astonishing girl, + without flinching. She even sought my eyes to show me that hers were clear + and full of purpose. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good God!’ I said to myself, but the words that fell from me were, ‘He is + outside all that life.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What is the use of living a life that he is outside of?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, if you put it that way,’ I said, and set my teeth, ‘I will do what I + can.’ + </p> + <p> + She held out her hand with an affectionate gesture, and I was reluctantly + compelled to press it. + </p> + <p> + The horses broke into a trot, and we talked no more of Armour, or of + anything, until Ted Harris joined us on the Mall. + </p> + <p> + I have rendered this conversation with Dora in detail because subsequent + events depend so closely upon it. Some may not agree that it was basis + enough for the action I thought well to take; I can only say that it was + all I was ever able to obtain. Dora was always particularly civil and + grateful about my efforts, but she gave me only one more glimpse, and that + enigmatic, of any special reason why they should be made. Perhaps this was + more than compensated for by the abounding views I had of the situation as + it lay with Ingersoll Armour, but of that, other persons, approaching the + subject without prejudice, will doubtless judge better than I. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 2.VIII. + </h2> + <p> + It was better not to inquire, so I never knew to what extent Kauffer + worked upon the vanity of ancient houses the sinful dodge I suggested to + him; but I heard before long that the line of Armour’s rejected efforts + had been considerably diminished. Armour told me himself that Kauffer’s + attitude had become almost conciliatory, that Kauffer had even hinted at + the acceptance of, and adhesion to, certain principles which he would lay + down as the basis of another year’s contract. In talking to me about it, + Armour dwelt on these absurd stipulations only as the reason why any idea + of renewal was impossible. It was his proud theory with me that to work + for a photographer was just as dignified as to produce under any other + conditions, provided you did not stoop to ideals which for lack of a + better word might be called photographic. How he represented it to Dora, + or permitted Dora to represent it to him, I am not so certain—I + imagine there may have been admissions and qualifications. Be that as it + may, however, the fact was imperative that only three months of the hated + bond remained, and that some working substitute for the hated bond would + have to be discovered at their expiration. Simla, in short, must be made + to buy Armour’s pictures, to appreciate them, if the days of miracle were + not entirely past, but to buy them any way. On one or two occasions I had + already made Simla buy things. I had cleared out young Ludlow’s stables + for him in a week—he had a string of ten—when he played polo + in a straw hat and had to go home with sunstroke; and I once auctioned off + all the property costumes of the Amateur Dramatic Society at astonishing + prices. Pictures presented difficulties which I have hinted at in an + earlier chapter, but I did not despair. I began by hauling old Lamb, + puffing and blowing like a grampus, up to Amy Villa, filling him up all + the way with denunciations of Simla’s philistinism and suggestions that he + alone redeemed it. + </p> + <p> + It is a thing I am ashamed to think of, and it deserved its reward. + </p> + <p> + Lamb criticized and patronized every blessed thing he saw, advised Armour + to beware of mannerisms and to be a little less liberal with his colour, + and heard absolutely unmoved of the horses Armour had got into the Salon. + ‘I understand,’ he said, with a benevolent wink, ‘that about four thousand + pictures are hung every year at the Salon, and I don’t know how many + thousand are rejected. Let Mr. Armour get a picture accepted by the + Academy. Then he will have something to talk about.’ + </p> + <p> + Neither did Sir William Lamb buy anything at all. + </p> + <p> + The experiment with Lady Pilkey was even more distressing. She gushed with + fair appropriateness and great liberality, and finally fixed upon one + scene to make her own. She winningly asked the price of it. She had never + known anybody who did not understand prices. Poor Armour, the colour of a + live coal, named one hundred rupees. + </p> + <p> + ‘One hundred rupees! Oh, my dear boy, I can never afford that! You must, + you must really give it to me for seventy-five. It will break my heart if + I can’t have it for seventy-five.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Give me the pleasure,’ said Armour, ‘of making you a present of it. You + have been so kind about everything, and it’s so seldom one meets anybody + who really cares. So let me send it to you.’ It was honest embarrassment; + he did not mean to be impertinent. + </p> + <p> + And she did. + </p> + <p> + Blum, of the Geological Department—Herr Blum in his own country—came + up and honestly rejoiced, and at end of an interminable pipe did purchase + a little Breton bit that I hated to see go—it was one of the things + that gave the place its air; but Blum had a large family undergoing + education at Heidelberg, and exclaimed, to Armour’s keenest anguish, that + on this account he could not more do. + </p> + <p> + Altogether, during the months of August and September, persons resident in + Simla drawing their income from Her Majesty, bought from the eccentric + young artist from nowhere, living on Summer Hill, canvases and little + wooden panels to the extent of two hundred and fifty rupees. Lady Pilkey + had asked him to lunch—she might well! and he had appeared at three + garden-parties and a picnic. It was not enough. + </p> + <p> + It was not enough, and yet it was, in a manner, too much. Pitiful as it + was in substance, it had an extraordinary personal effect. Armour suddenly + began to turn himself out well—his apparel was of smarter cut than + mine, and his neckties in better taste. Little elegances appeared in the + studio—he offered you Scotch in a Venetian decanter and Melachrinos + from a chased silver box. The farouche element faded out of his speech; + his ideas remained as fresh and as simple as ever, but he gave them a + form, bless me! that might have been used at the Club. He worked as hard + as ever, but more variously; he tried his hand at several new things. He + said he was feeling about for something that would really make his + reputation. + </p> + <p> + In spite of all this his little measure of success made him more + contemptuous than before of its scene and its elements. He declared that + he had a poorer idea than ever of society now that he saw the pattern from + the smart side. That his convictions on this head survived one of the best + Simla tailors shows that they must always have been strong. I think he + believed that he was doing all that he did do to make himself socially + possible with the purpose of pleasing Dora Harris. I would not now venture + to say how far Dora inspired and controlled him in this direction, and how + far the impulse was his own. The measure of appreciation that began to + seek his pictures, poor and small though it was, gave him, on the other + hand, the most unalloyed delight. He talked of the advice of Sir William + Lamb as if it were anything but that of a pompous old ass, and he made a + feast with champagne for Blum that must have cost him quite as much as + Blum paid for the Breton sketch. He confirmed my guess that he had never + in his life until he came to Simla sold anything, so that even these small + transactions were great things to him, and the earnest of a future upon + which he covered his eyes not to gaze too raptly. He mentioned to me that + Kauffer had been asked for his address—who could it possibly be?—and + looked so damped by my humourous suggestion that it was a friend of + Kauffer’s in some other line who wanted a bill paid, that I felt I had + been guilty of brutality. And all the while the quality of his wonderful + output never changed or abated. Pure and firm and prismatic it remained. I + found him one day at the very end of October, with shining eyes and + fingers blue with cold, putting the last of the afternoon light on the + snows into one of the most dramatic hill pictures I ever knew him to do. + He seemed intoxicated with his skill, and hummed the ‘Marseillaise,’ I + remember, all the way to Amy Villa whither I accompanied him. + </p> + <p> + It was the last day of Kauffer’s contract; and besides, all the world, + secretaries, establishments, hill captains, grass widows, shops, and + sundries, was trundling down the hill. I came to ask my young friend what + he meant to do. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do?’ he cried. ‘Why, eat, drink, and be merry! Kauffer has paid up, and + his yoke is at the bottom of the sea. Come back and dine with me!’ + </p> + <p> + The hour we spent together in his little inner room before dinner was + served stands out among my strangest, loveliest memories of Armour. He was + divinely caught up, and absurd as it is to write, he seemed to carry me + with him. We drank each a glass of vermouth before dinner sitting over a + scented fire of deodar branches, while outside the little window in front + of me the lifted lines of the great empty Himalayan landscape faded and + fell into a blur. I remembered the solitary scarlet dahlia that stood + between us and the vast cold hills and held its colour when all was grey + but that. The hill world waited for the winter; down a far valley we could + hear a barking deer. Armour talked slowly, often hesitating for a word, of + the joy there was in beauty and the divinity in the man who saw it with + his own eyes. I have read notable pages that brought conviction pale + beside that which stole about the room from what he said. The comment may + seem fantastic, but it is a comment—I caressed the dog. The servant + clattered in with the plates, and at a shout outside Armour left me. He + came in radiant with Signor Strobo, also radiant and carrying a violin, + for hotel-keeping was not the Signor’s only accomplishment. I knew Strobo + well; many a special dish had he ordered for my little parties; and we met + at Armour’s fireside like the genial old acquaintances we were. Another + voice without and presently I was nodding to Rosario and vaguely wondering + why he looked uncomfortable. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m sorry,’ said Armour, as we sat down, ‘I’ve got nothing but beer. If I + had known you were all coming, no vintage that crawls up the hill would + have been good enough for me.’ He threw the bond of his wonderful smile + round us as we swallowed his stuff, and our hearts were lightened. ‘You + fellows,’ he went on nodding at the other two, ‘might happen any day, but + my friend John Philips comes to me across aerial spaces; he is a star I’ve + trapped—you don’t do that often. Pilsener, John Philips, or Black?’ + He was helping his only servant by pouring out the beer himself, and as I + declared for Black he slapped me affectionately on the back and said my + choice was good. + </p> + <p> + The last person who had slapped me on the back was Lord Dufferin, and I + smiled softly and privately at the remembrance, and what a difference + there was. I had resented Dufferin’s slap. + </p> + <p> + We had spiced hump and jungle-fowl and a Normandy cheese, everybody will + understand that; but how shall I make plain with what exultation and + simplicity we ate and drank, how the four candid selves of us sat around + the table in a cloud of tobacco and cheered each other on, Armour always + far in front turning handsprings as he went. Scraps come back to me, but + the whole queer night has receded and taken its place among those dreams + that insist at times upon having been realities. Rosario told us stories + Kipling might have coveted of the under life of Port Said. Strobo talked + with glorious gusto of his uncle the brigand. They were liberated men; we + were all liberated men. ‘Let the direction go,’ cried Armour, ‘and give + the senses flight, taking the image as it comes, beating the air with + happy pinions.’ He must have been talking of his work, but I can not now + remember. And what made Strobo say, of life and art, ‘I have waited for + ten years and five thousand pounds—now my old violin says, “Go, + handle the ladle! Go, add up the account!”’ And did we really discuss the + chances of ultimate salvation for souls in the Secretariat? I know I + lifted my glass once and cried, ‘I, a slave, drink to freedom!’ and + Rosario clinked with me. And Strobo played wailing Hungarian airs with + sudden little shakes of hopeless laughter in them. I can not even now hear + Naches without being filled with the recollection of how certain bare + branches in me that night blossomed. + </p> + <p> + I walked alone down the hill and along the three miles to the Club, and at + every step the tide sank in me till it cast me on my threshold at three in + the morning, just the middle-aged shell of a Secretary to the Government + of India that I was when I set forth. Next day when my head clerk brought + me the files we avoided one another’s glances; and it was quite three + weeks before I could bring myself to address him with the dignity and + distance prescribed for his station as ‘Mr.’ Rosario. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 2.IX. + </h2> + <p> + I went of course to Calcutta for the four winter months. Harris and I were + together at the Club. It was the year, I remember, of the great shindy as + to whether foreign consuls should continue to be made honourary members, + in view of the sentiments some of them were freely reflecting from Europe + upon the subject of a war in South Africa which was none of theirs. + Certainly, feeling as they did, it would have been better if they had + swaggered less about a club that stood for British Government; but I did + not vote to withdraw the invitation. We can not, after all, take notice of + every idle word that drops from Latin or Teutonic tongues; it isn’t our + way; but it was a liverish cold weather on various accounts, and the + public temper was short. I heard from Dora oftener, Harris declared, than + he did. She was spending the winter with friends in Agra, and Armour, of + course, was there too, living at Laurie’s Hotel, and painting, Dora + assured me, with immense energy. It was just the place for Armour, a + sumptuous dynasty wrecked in white marble and buried in desert sands for + three hundred years; and I was glad to hear that he was making the most of + it. It was quite by the way, but I had lent him the money to go there—somebody + had to lend it to him—and when he asked me to decide whether he + should take his passage for Marseilles or use it for this other purpose I + could hardly hesitate, believing in him, as I did, to urge him to paint a + little more of India before he went. I frankly despaired of his ever being + able to pay his way in Simla without Kauffer, but that was no reason why + he should not make a few more notes for further use at home, where I + sometimes saw for him, when his desultory and experimental days were over + and some definiteness and order had come into his work, a Bond Street + exhibition. + </p> + <p> + I have not said all this time what I thought of Ingersoll Armour and Dora + Harris together, because their connection seemed too vague and fantastic + and impossible to hold for an instant before a steady gaze. I have no wish + to justify myself when I write that I preferred to keep my eyes averted, + enjoying perhaps just such a measure of vision as would enter at a corner + of them. This may or may not have been immoral under the circumstances—the + event did not prove it so—but for urgent private reasons I could not + be the person to destroy the idyll, if indeed its destruction were + possible, that flourished there in the corner of my eye. Besides, had not + I myself planted and watered it? But it was foolish to expect other + people, people who are forever on the lookout for trousseaux and + wedding-bells, and who considered these two as mere man and maid, and had + no sight of them as engaging young spirits in happy conjunction—it + was foolish to expect such people to show equal consideration. Christmas + was barely over before the lady with whom Miss Harris was staying found it + her duty to communicate to Edward Harris the fact that dear Dora’s + charming friendship—she was sure it was nothing more—with the + young artist—Mrs. Poulton believed Mr. Harris would understand who + was meant—was exciting a good deal of comment in the station, and + WOULD dear Mr. Harris please write to Dora himself, as Mrs. Poulton was + beginning to feel so responsible? + </p> + <p> + I saw the letter; Harris showed it to me when he sat down to breakfast + with the long face of a man in a domestic difficulty, and we settled + together whom we should ask to put his daughter up in Calcutta. It should + be the wife of a man in his own department of course; it is to one’s + Deputy Secretary that one looks for succour at times like this; and + naturally one never looks in vain. Mrs. Symons would be delighted. I + conjured up Dora’s rage on receipt of the telegram. She loathed the + Symonses. + </p> + <p> + She came, but not at the jerk of a wire; she arrived a week later, with a + face of great propriety and a smile of great unconcern. Harris, having got + her effectually out of harm’s way, shirked further insistence, and I have + reason to believe that Armour was never even mentioned between them. + </p> + <p> + Dora applied herself to the gaieties of the season with the zest of a + debutante; she seemed really refreshed, revitalized. She had never looked + better, happier. I met her again for the first time at one of the Thursday + dances at Government House. In the glance she gave me I was glad to detect + no suspicion of collusion. She plainly could not dream that Edward Harris + in his nefarious exercise of parental authority had acted upon any hint + from me. It was rather sweet. + </p> + <p> + Out in the veranda, away from the blare of the Viceroy’s band, she told me + very delicately and with the most charming ellipses how Armour had been + filling her life in Agra, how it had all been, for these two, a dream and + a vision. There is a place below the bridge there, where the cattle come + down from the waste pastures across the yellow sands to drink and stand in + the low water of the Jumna, to stand and switch their tails while their + herdsmen on the bank coax them back with ‘Ari!’ ‘Ari!’ ‘Ari!’ long and + high, faint and musical; and the minarets of Akbar’s fort rise beyond + against the throbbing sky and the sun fills it all. This place I shall + never see more distinctly than I saw it that night on the veranda at + Government House, Calcutta, with the conviction, like a margin for the + picture, that its foreground had been very often occupied by the woman I + profoundly worshiped and Ingersoll Armour. She told me that he had sent me + a sketch of it, and I very much wished he hadn’t. One felt that the gift + would carry a trifle of irony. + </p> + <p> + ‘He has told me,’ she said once brusquely, ‘how good you have been to + him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Is he coming to Simla again?’ I asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh yes! And please take it from me that this time he will conquer the + place. He has undertaken to do it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘At your request?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘At my persuasion—at my long entreaty. They must recognize him—they + must be taught. I have set my heart on it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Does he himself very much care?’ I asked remembering the night of the + thirty-first of October. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, he does care. He despises it, of course, but in a way he cares. I’ve + been trying to make him care more. A human being isn’t an orchid; he must + draw something from the soil he grows in.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If he were stable,’ I mused; ‘if he had a fixed ambition somewhere in the + firmament. But his purpose is a will-o’-the-wisp.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think he has an ambition,’ said Miss Harris, into the dark. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! Then we must continue,’ I said—‘continue to push from behind.’ + </p> + <p> + Dora did not reply. She is a person of energy and determination, and might + have been expected to offer to cooperate gladly. But she didn’t. + </p> + <p> + ‘He is painting a large picture for next season’s exhibition,’ she + informed me. ‘I was not allowed to see it or to know anything about it, + but he declares it will bring Simla down.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope not,’ I said, piously. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I hope so. I have told him,’ Dora continued, slowly, ‘that a great + deal depends on it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Here is Mrs. Symons,’ I was able to return, ‘and I am afraid she is + looking for you.’ + </p> + <p> + March came, and the city lay white under its own dust. The electric fans + began to purr in the Club, and Lent brought the flagging season to a full + stop. I had to go that year on tour through the famine district with the + Member, and we escaped, gasping, from the Plains about the middle of + April. Simla was crimson with rhododendron blossoms, and seemed a spur of + Arcady. There had been the usual number of flittings from one house to + another, and among them I heard with satisfaction that Armour no longer + occupied Amy Villa. I would not for the world have blurred my + recollections of that last evening—I could not have gone there + again. + </p> + <p> + ‘He is staying with Sir William Lamb,’ said Dora, handing me my cup of + tea. ‘And I am quite jealous. Sir William, only Sir William, has been + allowed to see the exhibition picture.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What does that portend?’ I said, thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know. Sir William was here yesterday simply swelling with his + impression of it. He says it’s the finest thing that has been done in + India. I told you he would conquer them.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You did,’ and without thinking I added, ‘I hope you won’t be sorry that + you asked him to.’ It must have been an inspiration. + </p> + <p> + Armour, those weeks before the exhibition, seemed invisible. Dora reported + him torn with the incapacity of the bazaar frame-maker to follow a design, + and otherwise excessively occupied, and there was no lack of demands upon + my own time. Besides, my ardour to be of assistance to the young man found + a slight damper in the fact that he was staying with Sir William Lamb. + What competence had I to be of use to the guest of Sir William Lamb? + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not for a moment think he will be there,’ said Dora, on the day of + the private view as we went along the Mall towards the Town Hall together. + ‘He will not run with an open mouth to his success. He will take it from + us later.’ + </p> + <p> + But he was there. We entered precisely at the dramatic moment of his + presentation by Sir William Lamb to the Viceroy. He stood embarrassed and + smiling in a little circle of compliments and congratulation. Behind him + and a little to the left hung his picture, large and predominant, and in + the corner of the frame was stuck the red ticket that signified the + Viceroy’s gold medal. We saw that, I think, before we saw anything else. + Then with as little haste as was decent, considering His Excellency’s + proximity, we walked within range of the picture. + </p> + <p> + I am not particularly pleased, even now, to have the task of describing + the thing. Its subject was an old Mahomedan priest with a green turban and + a white beard exhorting a rabble of followers. I heard myself saying to + Dora that it was very well painted indeed, very conscientiously painted, + and that is certainly what struck me. The expression of the fire-eater’s + face was extremely characteristic; his arm was flung out with a gesture + that perfectly matched. The group of listeners was carefully composed and + most ‘naturally’; that is the only word that would come to me. + </p> + <p> + I glanced almost timidly at Dora. She was regarding it with a deep + vertical line between her handsome brows. + </p> + <p> + ‘What—on earth—has he done with himself?’ she demanded, but + before I could reply Armour was by our side. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well?’ he said, looking at Dora. + </p> + <p> + ‘It—it’s very nice,’ she stammered, ‘but I miss YOU.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She only means, you know,’ I rushed in, ‘that you’ve put in everything + that was never there before. Accuracy of detail, you know, and so forth. + ‘Pon my word, there’s some drawing in that!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Dora, calmly, ‘what I complain of is that he has left out + everything that was there before. But he has won the gold medal, and I + congratulate him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ I said, uneasily, ‘don’t congratulate me. I didn’t do it. + Positively I am not to blame.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘His Excellency says that it reminds him of an incident in one of Mrs. + Steel’s novels,’ said Armour, just turning his head to ascertain His + Excellency’s whereabouts. + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear me, so it does,’ I exclaimed, eagerly, ‘one couldn’t name the + chapter—it’s the general feeling.’ I went on to discourse of the + general feeling. Words came generously, questions with point, comments + with intelligence. I swamped the situation and so carried it off. + </p> + <p> + ‘The Viceroy has bought the thing,’ Armour went on, looking at Dora, ‘and + has commissioned me to paint another. The only restriction he makes is—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That it shall be of the same size?’ asked Dora. + </p> + <p> + ‘That it must deal with some phase of native life.’ + </p> + <p> + Miss Harris walked to a point behind us, and stood there with her eyes + fixed upon the picture. I glanced at her once; her gaze was steady, but + perfectly blank. Then she joined us again, and struck into the stream of + my volubility. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am delighted,’ she said, pleasantly, to Armour. ‘You have done exactly + what I wanted you to do. You have won the Viceroy’s medal, and all the + reputation there is to win in this place. Come and dine tonight, and we + will rejoice together. But wasn’t it—for you—a little + difficult?’ + </p> + <p> + He looked at her as if she had offered him a cup, and then dashed it from + his lips; but the occasion was not one, of course, for crying out. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh no,’ he said, putting on an excellent face. ‘But it took a hideous + time.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 2.X. + </h2> + <p> + Within a fortnight I was surprised and a little irritated to receive from + Armour the amount of my loan in full. It was not in accordance with my + preconceived idea of him that he should return it at all. I had arranged + in my own mind that he should be governed by the most honest impulses and + the most approved intentions up to the point of departure, but that he + should never find it quite convenient to pay, and that in order to effect + his final shipment to other shores I should be compelled to lend him some + more money. In the far future, when he should be famous and I an obscure + pauper on pension, my generous imagination permitted me to see the loan + repaid; but not till then. These are perhaps stereotyped and conventional + lines to conceive him on, but I hardly think that anybody who has followed + my little account to this point will think them unjustifiable. I looked at + his cheque with disgust. That a man turns out better than you expected is + no reason why you such not be annoyed that your conception of him is + shattered. You may be gratified on general grounds, but distinctly put out + on personal ones, especially when your conception pointed to his + inevitable removal. That was the way I felt. + </p> + <p> + The cheque stood for so much more than its money value. It stood for a + possible, nay, a probable capacity in Armour to take his place in the + stable body of society, to recognize and make demands, to become a + taxpayer, a churchgoer, a householder, a husband. As I gazed, the + signature changed from that of a gnome with luminous eyes who inhabited an + inaccessible crag among the rhododendrons to that of a prosperous + artist-bourgeois with a silk hat for Sundays. I have in some small degree + the psychological knack, I saw the possibilities of the situation with + immense clearness; and I cursed the cheque. + </p> + <p> + Coincidence is odious, tells on the nerves. I never felt it more so than a + week later, when I read in the ‘Pioneer’ the announcement of the death of + my old friend Fry, Superintendent of the School of Art in Calcutta. The + paragraph in which the journal dismissed poor Fry to his reward was not + unkind, but it distinctly implied that the removal of Fry should include + the removal of his ideas and methods, and the substitution of something + rather more up to date. It remarked that the Bengali student had been + pinned down long enough to drawing plaster casts, and declared that + something should be done to awake within him the creative idea. I remember + the phrase, it seemed so directly to suggest that the person to awake it + should be Ingersoll Armour. + </p> + <p> + I turned the matter over in my mind; indeed, for the best part of an hour + my brain revolved with little else. The billet was an excellent one, with + very decent pay and charming quarters. It carried a pension, it was the + completest sort of provision. There was a long vacation, with + opportunities for original effort, and I had heard Fry call the work + interesting. Fry was the kind of man to be interested in anything that + gave him a living, but there was no reason why a more captious spirit, in + view of the great advantages, should not accommodate itself to the routine + that might present itself. The post was in the gift of the Government of + Bengal, but that was no reason why the Government of Bengal should not be + grateful in the difficulty of making a choice for a hint from us. The + difficulty was really great. They would have to write home and advertise + in the ‘Athenaeum’—for some reason Indian Governments always + advertise educational appointments in the ‘Athenaeum’; it is a habit which + dates from the days of John Company—and that would mean delay. And + then the result might be a disappointment. Might Armour not also be a + disappointment? That I really could not say. A new man is always a + speculation, and departments, like individuals, have got to take their + luck. + </p> + <p> + The Viceroy was so delighted—everybody was so delighted—with + the medal picture that the merest breath blown among them would secure + Armour’s nomination. Should I blow that breath? These happy thoughts must + always occur to somebody. This one had occurred to me. Ten to one it would + occur to nobody else, and last of all to Armour himself. The advertisement + might already be on its way home to the ‘Athenaeum’. + </p> + <p> + It would make everything possible. It would throw a very different + complexion over the idyll. It would turn that interlacing wreath of + laurels and of poppies into the strongest bond in the world. + </p> + <p> + I would simply have nothing to do with it. + </p> + <p> + But there was no harm I asking Armour to dine with me; I sent the note off + by messenger after breakfast and told the steward to put a magnum of + Pommery to cool at seven precisely. I had some idea, I suppose, of + drinking with Armour to his eternal discomfiture. Then I went to the + office with a mind cleared of responsibility and comfortably pervaded with + the glow of good intentions. + </p> + <p> + The moment I saw the young man, punctual and immediate and a little + uncomfortable about the cuffs, I regretted not having asked one or two + more fellows. It might have spoiled the occasion, but it would have saved + the situation. That single glance of my accustomed eye—alas! that it + was so well accustomed—revealed him anxious and screwed up, as + nervous as a cat, but determined, revealed—how well I knew the + signs!—that he had something confidential and important and highly + personal to communicate, a matter in which I could, if I only would, be of + the greatest possible assistance. From these appearances twenty years had + taught me to fly to any burrow, but your dinner-table offers no retreat; + you are hoist, so to speak, on your own carving-fork. There are men, of + course, and even women, who have scruples about taking advantage of so + intimate and unguarded an opportunity, but Armour, I rapidly decided, was + not one of these. His sophistication was progressing, but it had not + reached that point. He wanted something—I flew instantly to the mad + conclusion that he wanted Dora. I did not pause to inquire why he should + ask her of me. It had seemed for a long time eminently proper that anybody + who wanted Dora should ask her of me. The application was impossible, but + applications nearly always were impossible. Nobody knew that better than + the Secretary to the Government of India in the Home Department. + </p> + <p> + I squared my shoulders and we got through the soup. It was necessary to + apologize for the fish. ‘I suppose one must remember,’ I said, ‘that it + has to climb six thousand feet,’ when suddenly he burst out. + </p> + <p> + ‘Sir William Lamb tells me,’ he said, and stopped to swallow some wine, + ‘that there is something very good going in Calcutta and that I should ask + you to help me to get it. May I?’ + </p> + <p> + So the miserable idea—the happy thought—had occurred to + somebody else. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is there?’ I said, with interest and attention. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s something in the School of Art. A man named Fry has died.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah!’ I said, ‘a man named Fry. He, I think was Director of that + institution.’ I looked at Armour in the considering, measuring way with + which we suggest to candidates for posts that their fitness to fill them + is not to be absolutely taken for granted. ‘Fry was a man of fifty-six,’ I + said. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am thirty.’ He certainly did not look it, but years often fall lightly + upon a temperament. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a vile climate.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know. Is it too vile, do you think,’ he said anxiously, ‘to ask a lady + to share?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Lots of ladies do share it,’ I replied, with amazing calmness; ‘but I + must decline absolutely to enter into that.’ + </p> + <p> + My frown was so forbidding that he couldn’t and didn’t dare to go on. He + looked dashed and disappointed; he was really a fool of an applicant, + quite ready to retire from the siege on the first intimation that the + gates were not to be thrown open at his approach. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you think you would like teaching?’ I asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can teach. Miss—my only pupil here has made capital progress.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am afraid you must not measure the Bengali art student by the standard + of Miss Harris,’ I replied coldly. He WAS a fool. We talked of other + things. I led him on to betray his ludicrous lack of knowledge of the + world in various directions. At other times it had irritated me, that + night it gave me purest pleasure. I agreed with him about everything. + </p> + <p> + As he selected his smoke to go home with I said, ‘Send your application in + to the Director of Public Instruction, Bengal—Lamb will tell you how—and + I’ll see what I can do.’ + </p> + <p> + They were only too thankful to get him. As a student it seemed he had been + diligent both in London and Paris; he possessed diplomas or some such + things bearing names which were bound to have weight with a Department of + Public Instruction anywhere. I felt particularly thankful for this, for I + was committed to him if he had not a rag to show. + </p> + <p> + The matter was settled in three weeks, during which Armour became more and + more the fashion in Simla. He was given every opportunity of experiment in + the society of which he was about to become a permanent item. He dined out + four or five times a week, and learned exactly what to talk about. He + surprised me one day with a piece of news of my own department, which was + a liberty of a very serious kind, but I forgave him upon finding that it + was not true. He rode Lamb’s weight-carriers, to cross which his short + legs were barely adequate, and apart from this disadvantage he did not + ride them badly. Only one thing marred the completeness of the + transformation—he didn’t dismiss the dog. The dog, fundamentally, + was still and ever his companion. It was a suspicious circumstance if we + had known; but we saw in it only a kind heart, and ignored it. + </p> + <p> + I saw little of Dora Harris at this time. Making no doubt that she was + enjoying her triumph as she deserved, I took the liberty of supposing that + she would hardly wish to share so intimate a source of satisfaction. I met + them both several times at people’s houses—certain things had + apparently been taken for granted—but I was only one of the little + circle that wondered how soon it might venture upon open congratulations. + The rest of us knew as much, it seemed, as Edward Harris did. Lady Pilkey + asked him point-blank, and he said what his daughter found to like in the + fellow the Lord only knew, and he was glad to say that at present he had + no announcement to make. Lady Pilkey told me she thought it very romantic—like + marrying a newspaper correspondent—but I pointed to a lifelong task, + with a pension attached, of teaching fat young Bengalis to draw, and asked + her if she saw extravagant romance in that. + </p> + <p> + They wrote up from Calcutta that they would like to have a look at Armour + before making the final recommendation, and he left us, I remember, by the + mail tonga of the third of June. He dropped into my office to say goodbye, + but I was busy with the Member and could see nobody, so he left a card + with ‘P.P.C.’ on it. I kept the card by accident, and I keep it still by + design, for the sake of that inscription. + </p> + <p> + Strobo had given up his hotel in Simla to start one in Calcutta. It never + occurred to me that Armour might go to Strobo’s; but it was, of course, + the natural thing for him to do, especially as Strobo happened to be in + Calcutta himself at the time. He went and stayed with Strobo, and every + day he and the Signor, clad in bath-towels, lay in closed rooms under + punkahs and had iced drinks in the long tumblers of the East, and smoked + and talked away the burden of the hours. + </p> + <p> + Strobo was in Calcutta to meet a friend, an Austrian, who was shortly + leaving India in the Messagerie Maritimes steamer Dupleix after agreeable + wanderings disguised as a fakir in Tibet; and to this friend was attached, + in what capacity I never thought well to inquire, a lady who was a Pole, + and played and sang as well as Strobo fiddled. I believe they dined + together every night, this precious quartet, and exchanged in various + tongues their impressions of India under British control. ‘A houri in + stays,’ the lady who was a Pole described it. I believe she herself was a + houri without them. And at midnight, when the south wind was cool and + strong from the river, Strobo and Armour would walk up Chowringhee Road + and look at the red brick School of Art from the outside in the light of + the street lamps, as a preliminary to our friend’s final acceptance of the + task of superintending it from within. + </p> + <p> + We in Simla, of course, knew nothing of all this at the time; the details + leaked out later when Strobo came up again. I began to feel some joyful + anxiety when in a letter dated a week after Armour’s arrival in Calcutta, + the Director of Public Instruction wrote to inquire whether he had yet + left Simla; but the sweet blow did not fall with any precision or + certainty until the newspaper arrived containing his name immediately + under that of Herr Vanrig and Mme. Dansky in the list of passengers who + had sailed per S.S. Dupleix on the fifteenth of June for Colombo. There it + was, ‘I. Armour,’ as significant as ever to two persons intimately + concerned with it, but no longer a wrapping of mystery, rather a radiating + centre of light. Its power of illumination was such that it tried my eyes. + I closed them to recall the outlines of the School of Art—it had + been built in a fit of economy—and the headings of the last + Director’s report, which I had kindly sent after Armour to Calcutta. + Perhaps that had been the last straw. + </p> + <p> + The real meaning of the task of implanting Western ideals in the Eastern + mind rose before me when I thought of Armour’s doing it—how they + would dwindle in the process, and how he must go on handling them and + looking at them withered and shrunken for twenty-odd years. I understood—there + was enough left in me to understand—Armour’s terrified escape. I was + happy in the thought of him, sailing down the Bay. The possibilities of + marriage, social position, assured income, support in old age, the strands + in the bond that held him, the bond that holds us all, had been + untwisting, untwisting, from the third of June to the fifteenth. The + strand that stood for Dora doubtless was the last to break, but it did not + detract from my beatitude to know that even this consideration, before the + Dupleix and liberty, failed to hold. + </p> + <p> + I kept out of Miss Harris’s way so studiously for the next week or two + that she was kind enough in the end to feel compelled to send for me. I + went with misgivings—I expected, as may be imagined, to be very + deeply distressed. She met me with a storm of gay reproaches. I had never + seen her in better health or spirits. My surprise must have been more + evident than I supposed or intended, for before I went away she told me + the whole story. By that time she had heard from Ceylon, a delicious + letter with a pen-and-ink sketch at the top. I have it still; it + infallibly brought the man back to me. But it was all over; she assured me + with shining eyes that it was. The reason of her plainly boundless + thankfulness that Armour had run away from the School of Art did not come + to the surface until I was just going. Then I gathered that if he had + taken the post she would have felt compelled, compelled by all she had + done for him, to share its honours with him; and this, ever since at her + bidding he had begun to gather such things up, was precisely what she had + lost all inclination to do. + </p> + <p> + We were married the following October. We had a big, gorgeous official + wedding, which we both enjoyed enormously. I took furlough, and we went + home, but we found London very expensive and the country very slow; and + with my K.C.S.I. came the offer of the Membership, so we went back to + Simla for three perfectly unnecessary years, which we now look back upon + with pleasure and regret. I fear that we, no more than Ingersoll Armour, + were quite whole-hearted Bohemians; but I don’t know that we really ever + pretended to be. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 3. The Hesitation of Miss Anderson. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 3.I. + </h2> + <p> + When it became known that Madeline Anderson had finally decided to go + abroad for two years, her little circle in New York naturally talked a + good deal, in review, about her curious reason for never having gone + before. So much that happened afterward, so much that I am going to tell, + depends upon this reason for not going before, that I also must talk about + it and explain it; I could never bring it out just as we went along. It + would have been a curious reason in connection with anybody, but doubly so + as explaining the behaviour of Miss Anderson, whose profile gave you the + impression that she was anything but the shuttlecock of her emotions. + Shortly, her reason was a convict, Number 1596, who, up to February in + that year, had been working, or rather waiting, out his sentence in the + State penitentiary. So long as he worked or waited, Madeline remained in + New York, but when in February death gave him his quittance, she took her + freedom too, with wide intentions and many coupons. + </p> + <p> + Earlier in his career Number 1596 had been known in New York society as + Mr. Frederick Prendergast, and for a little while he was disapproved there + on the score of having engaged himself to a Miss Anderson, Madeline + Anderson, whom nobody knew anything about. There was her own little + circle, as I have said, and it lacked neither dignity nor refinement, but + I doubt whether any member of it was valeted from London, or could imply, + in conversation, a personal acquaintance with Yvette Guilbert. There is no + need, however, to insist that there are many persons of comfortable income + and much cultivation in New York, who would not be met by strangers having + what are called the ‘best’ introductions there. The best so often fails to + include the better. It may be accepted that Madeline Anderson and her + people were of these, and that she wondered sometimes during the brief + days of her engagement what it would be like to belong to the brilliant + little world about her that had its visiting list in London, Paris, or St. + Petersburg, and was immensely entertained by the gaucheries of the great + ones of the earth. + </p> + <p> + Then came, with the most unexceptionable introductions, Miss Violet Forde, + from a Sloane Square address, London. She came leaning on the arm of a + brother, the only relative she had in the world, and so brilliant was the + form of these young people that it occurred to nobody to imagine that it + had the most precarious pecuniary foundation, must have faded and + shrivelled indeed, after another year or two of anything but hospitality + as generous as that of New York. Well-nourished and undimmed, however, it + concealed for them admirably the fact that it was the hospitality they + were after, and not the bracing climate or the desire to see the + fascinating Americans of London and Paris at home. New York found them + agreeable specimens of high-spirited young English people, and played with + them indefinitely. Miss Forde, when she sat imperturbably on a cushion in + the middle of the floor after dinner and sang to a guitar the songs of + Albert Chevalier, was an anomaly in English decorum that was as pleasing + to observe as it was amusing to criticize. + </p> + <p> + The Americans she met delighted in drawing her out—it was a pastime + that took the lead at dinner-parties, to an extent which her hostess often + thought preposterous—and she responded with naivete and vigour, + perfectly aware that she was scoring all along the line. Upon many + charming people she made the impression that she was a type of the most + finished class of what they called ‘English society girls,’ that she + represented the best they could do over there in this direction. As a + matter of fact she might have sat to any of those ‘black and white’ + artists, who draw townish young women of London, saying cynical things to + young men in the weekly papers. That was her type, and if you look for her + picture there, you will see that her face was very accurately oval, with + eyes that knew their value, and other features that didn’t very much + matter, except in so far as they expressed a very full conception of the + satisfactions of this life, and a wide philosophy as to methods of + obtaining them. + </p> + <p> + Frederick Prendergast was unacquainted with the popular pictures I have + mentioned, having a very reasonable preference for the illustrated papers + of his own country; otherwise—there is no telling—he might + have observed the resemblance and escaped the State prison, whither he + assuredly never would have gone had he married Madeline Anderson—as + he fully intended to do when Miss Forde came over. He was worth at that + time a great deal of money, besides being more personable than any one + would have believed who knew him as ‘1596.’ His fiancee was never too + obtrusively in evidence, and if Miss Forde thought of Miss Anderson with + any scruple, it was probably to reflect that if she could not take care of + these things she did not deserve to have them. This at all events was how + her attitude expressed itself practically; and the upshot was that Miss + Anderson lost them. There came a day when Frederick Prendergast, in much + discomfort of mind, took to Violet the news that Madeline had brought + their engagement to an end. She, Violet, gave him some tea, and they + talked frankly of the absurd misconception of the relations between them + upon which his dismissal was founded; and Prendergast went away much + comforted and wholly disposed to respect Miss Anderson’s startling wishes. + She, with what both the others thought excellent taste, persuaded her + mother and sister to move to Brooklyn; and so far as the thoroughfares and + social theatres of New York were concerned, the city over the river might + have been a nunnery which had closed its gates upon her. It was only in + imagination that she heard Frederick Prendergast’s wedding-bells when, two + months later, he was united to Miss Forde in Grace Church, and that after + the fact, their melody being brought to her inner sense next day by the + marriage notice in the ‘Tribune’. + </p> + <p> + It would be painful, in view of what we know of Frederick Prendergast, to + dwell upon what Madeline Anderson undeniably felt. Besides her emotions + were not destructively acute, they only lasted longer than any one could + have either expected or approved. She suffered for him as well; she saw as + plainly as he did the first sordid consequences of his mistake the + afternoon he came to solicit her friendship, having lost other claims; and + it was then perhaps, that her responsibility in allowing Violet Forde to + spoil his life for him began to suggest itself to her. Up to that time she + had thought of the matter differently, as she would have said, selfishly. + He was not permitted to come again; but he went away lightened, inasmuch + as he had added his burden to hers. + </p> + <p> + When a year later the national credit involved that of Prendergast’s firm, + Madeline read financial articles in the newspapers with heavy concern, + surprising her family with views on ‘sound money’; and when, shortly + afterward, his partners brought that unhappy young man before the criminal + courts for an irregular use of the firm’s signature, which further + involved it beyond hope of extrication, there was no moment of the day + which did not find her, in spirit, beside him there. + </p> + <p> + The case dragged on through appeal, and the decision of the lower courts + was not reversed. The day this became known the fact also transpired that + poor Prendergast would never live to complete his ten years’ term of + imprisonment. He went to prison with hardly more than one lung, and in the + most favourable physical condition to get rid of the other. Mrs. + Prendergast wept a little over the installation, and assured Frederick + that it was perfectly absurd; they were certain to get him out again; + people always got people out again in America. She took him grapes and + flowers once a week for about a month, and then she sailed for Europe. She + put it about that her stay was to be as brief as was consistent with the + transaction of certain necessary business in London; but she never came + back, and Madeline Anderson had taken her place, in so far as the grapes + and flowers were concerned, for many months, when the announcement of his + wife’s death reached Prendergast in an English paper published in Paris. + About a year after that it began to be thought singular how he picked up + in health, and Madeline’s mother and sister occasionally romanced about + the possibility of his recovering and marrying her after all—they + had an enormous opinion of the artistic virtue of forgiveness—but it + was not a contingency ever seriously contemplated by Miss Anderson + herself. Her affection, pricked on by remorse, had long satisfied itself + with the duties of her ministry. If she would not leave him until he died, + it was because there was no one but herself to brighten the long day in + the prison hospital for him, because she had thrown him into the arms of + the woman who had deserted him, because he represented in her fancy her + life’s only budding towards the sun. Her patience lasted through six + years, which was four years longer than any doctor had given Frederick + Prendergast to live; but when one last morning she found an empty bed, and + learned that Number 1596 had been discharged in his coffin, she rose from + the shock with the sense of a task fully performed and a well-developed + desire to see what else there might be in the world. + </p> + <p> + She announced her intention of travelling for a year or two with a maid, + and her family expressed the usual acquiescence. It would help her, they + said, to ‘shake it off’; but they said that to one another. They were not + aware—and it would have spoiled an ideal for them if they had been—that + she had shaken it off, quite completely, into Prendergast’s grave. + </p> + <p> + This was the curious reason why Miss Anderson’s travels were so long + postponed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 3.II. + </h2> + <p> + It was Madeline’s fancy to enjoy the contrast between West and East in all + its sharpness, so she and Brookes embarked at San Francisco for Yokohama. + Their wanderings in Japan were ideal, in spite of Brookes’s ungrateful + statement that she could have done with fewer eggs and more bacon; and + Madeline prolonged the appeal of the country to her sense of humour and + fantasy, putting off her departure for India from week to week. She went + at last in March; and found herself down with fever at Benares in the + middle of one particularly hot April, two months after the last of her + fellow travellers had sailed from Bombay, haunted on her baking pillow by + pictorial views of the burning ghat and the vultures. The station doctor, + using appalling language to her punkah-coolie, ordered her to the hills; + and thus it was that she went to Simla, where she had no intention of + going, and where this story really begins. + </p> + <p> + Brookes has always declared that Providence in sending Miss Anderson to + Simla had it in mind to prevent a tragedy; but as to that there is room + for a difference of opinion: besides I can not be anticipated by Brookes. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s the oddest place imaginable, and in many ways the most delightful,’ + Madeline wrote to her sister Adele, ‘this microcosm of Indian official + society withdrawn from all the world, and playing at being a municipality + on three Himalayan mountaintops. You can’t imagine its individuality, its + airy, unsubstantial, superior poise. How can I explain to you elderly + gentlemen, whose faces express daily electric communications with the + Secretary of State, playing tennis violently every single afternoon in + striped flannels—writing letters of admonition to the Amir all day + long, and in the evening, with the assistance of yellow wigs and make-up + sticks from the Calcutta hair-dresser, imagining that they produce things, + poor dears, only a LITTLE less well done than is done at the Lyceum? + Nothing is beyond them. I assure you they are contemplating at the moment + ‘The Second Mrs. Tanqueray’. The effect of remoteness from the world, I + suppose, and the enormous mutual appreciation of people who have watched + each other climb. For to arrive officially at Simla they have had to climb + in more ways than one...It is all so hilarious, so high-spirited, so young + and yet, my word! what a cult of official dignity underlying! I saw a + staff-officer in full uniform, red and white feathers and all, going to + the birthday dinner at the Viceroy’s the other evening in a perambulator—rickshaw, + you know, such as they have in Japan. That is typical of the place. All + the honours and dignities—and a perambulator to put them in—or + a ridiculous little white-washed house made of mud and tin, and calling + itself Warwick Castle, Blenheim, Abbotsford! They haven’t a very good + hold, these Simla residences, and sometimes they slip fifty yards or so + down the mountain-side, but the chimneys (bad pun coming) are never any + more out of drawing than they were before. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yet—never forget—the queer little place has a nobility, drawn + I suppose from high standards of conduct in essentials. + </p> + <p> + ‘...This matter of precedence is a bore for an outsider. I am very tired + of being taken in to dinner by subalterns, because I have no “official + position.” Something of the kind was offered me, by the way, the other + day, by a little gunner with red eyelids, in the Ordnance Department, + named McDermott—Captain McDermott. He took my declining very + cheerfully, said he knew Americans didn’t like Englishmen, who hadn’t been + taught to pronounce their “g’s,” but hoped I would change my mind before + the rains, when he was goin’ down. Of course I sha’n’t. The red eyelids + alone...I am living in a boarding-house precisely under the deodars, and + have “tiffin” with Mrs. Hauksbee every day when neither of us are having + it anywhere else. And I’ve been told the original of “General Bangs,” + “that most immoral man.” You remember, don’t you, the heliograph incident—I + needn’t quote it. It really happened! and the General still lives, none + the worse—perhaps rather greater. Quite half the people seem + materializations of Kipling, and it’s very interesting; but one mustn’t + say so if one wants to be popular. Talking of materializations, I saw the + original of Crawford’s Mr. Isaacs, too, the other day. He used to be a + diamond agent among the native princes when Crawford knew him. When I saw + him he was auctioning off his collection of curios and things. These types + of novelists look wonderfully little impaired; I suppose it’s the dry air. + </p> + <p> + ‘P.S.—Brookes is also quite happy. She was much struck, on arriving, + by an apparent anomaly in nature. “Have you noticed, ma’am,” said she, + “how at this height all the birds are crows and monkeys?”’ + </p> + <p> + Miss Anderson described Simla exhaustively in her letters to New York. She + touched upon almost every feature, from Mrs. Mickie and Mrs. Gammidge, + whose husbands were perspiring in the Plains, and nobody telling them + anything, to the much larger number of ladies interested in the work of + the Young Women’s Christian Association; from the ‘type’ of the Military + Secretary to the Viceroy to that of Ali Buksh, who sold raw turquoises in + a little carved shop in the bazaar. I should like to quote more of her + letters, but if I did I should find nothing about Colonel Horace Innes, + who represented—she often acknowledged to herself—her only + serious interest. Miss Anderson took the world at its own light valuation + as it came; but she had a scale of recognitions and acceptances, which she + kept apart for the very few, and Innes had claimed a place in it the first + time they met. It seems a trifle ungrateful that she should have left him + out, since it was he who gave her a standard by which to measure the + frivolity of Simla. He went to gymkhanas—if he knew she was going—but + he towered almost pictorially above them; and when he talked to Madeline + his shoulders expressed a resentment of possible interruptions that + isolated him still further. I would not suggest that he was superior by + conviction; he was only intent, whereas most of the other people were + extremely diffused, and discriminating, while the intimacies of the rest + were practically coextensive with Government House list. Neither, for his + part, would he admit that the tone of Simla was as wholly flippant as I + have implied. They often talked about it; he recognized it as a feature + likely to compel the attention of people from other parts of the world; + and one afternoon he asked her, with some directness, if she could see no + tragedies underneath. + </p> + <p> + ‘Tragedies of the heart?’ she asked. ‘Oh, I can not take them seriously. + The emotion is so ephemeral! A woman came to tea with me three days ago, + and made me her confessor. It was unexpected; if it hadn’t been, I + wouldn’t have asked her to tea. She was so unhappy that she forgot about + the rouge, and it all came off on her handkerchief when she cried. The man + likes somebody else better this season. Well, I gave her nougat and cheap + cynicisms, and she allowed herself to be comforted! Why, the loves of + kitchen-maids are more dignified.’ + </p> + <p> + They were riding on the broad four-mile road, blasted out of the rock, + that winds round Jakko. The deodars stood thick above them, with the + sunlight filtering through; a thousand feet below lay the little square + fields, yellow and green, of the King of Koti. The purple-brown Himalayas + shouldered the eye out to the horizon, and there the Snows lifted + themselves, hardly more palpable than the drifted clouds, except for a + gleam of ice in their whiteness. A low stone wall ran along the verge of + the precipice, and, looking down, they saw tangled patches of the white + wild rose of the Himalayas, waving and drooping over the abyss. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am afraid,’ said Innes, ‘you are not even upon the fringe of the + situation.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s the situation as I see it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then—excuse me—you do not see deep enough. That poor lady + suffered, I suppose, to the extent of her capacity. You would not have + have increased it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know, I should have preferred not to measure it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Besides, that was not quite the sort of thing I had in mind. I was + thinking more of the—separations.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah!’ said Madeline. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s not fair to ask women to live much in India. Sometimes it’s the + children, sometimes it’s ill health, sometimes it’s natural antipathy to + the place; there’s always a reason to take them away.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Madeline, turning a glance of scrutiny on him. His face was + impassive; he was watching mechanically for a chance to slay a teasing + green spider-fly. + </p> + <p> + ‘That is the beginning of the tragedy I was thinking of. Time does the + rest, time and the aridity of separations. How many men and women can hold + themselves together with letters? I don’t mean aging or any physical + change. I don’t mean change at all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Madeline, and this time, though her curiosity was greater, she + did not look at him. + </p> + <p> + ‘No. The mind could accustom itself to expect that, and so forestall the + blow, if it really would be a blow, which I doubt. For myself, I’m pretty + sure that nothing of that kind could have much effect upon one’s feeling, + if it were the real thing.’ He spoke practically to himself, as if he had + reasoned this out many times. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, no!’ said Madeline. + </p> + <p> + ‘But separation can do a worse thing than that. It can REINTRODUCE people, + having deprived them of their mutual illusion under which they married. If + they lived together the illusion would go, I suppose, but custom and + comfort would step in to prevent a jar. There never would be that awful + revelation of indifference.’ + </p> + <p> + He stopped sharply, and the hope went through Madeline’s mind that her + face expressed no personal concern for him. There was a small red stain in + the brown of his cheek as he looked at her to find out, and he added, + ‘I’ve known—in Bombay—one or two bad cases of that. But, of + course, it is the wife who suffers most. Shall we canter on?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘In a minute,’ said Madeline, and he drew his rein again. + </p> + <p> + She could not let this be the last word; he must not imagine that she had + seen, through the simple crystal of his convictions, the personal + situation that gave them to him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course,’ she said, thoughtfully, ‘you know the Anglo-Indian world and + I don’t. You must have observed this that you speak of it; it sounds only + too probable. And I confess it makes my little impression very vulgar and + superficial.’ She turned her head and a candid smile to him. ‘All the + same, I fancy that the people who are capable of suffering much that way + are the exceptions. And—I don’t care—I believe there is more + cheap sentiment in this place than the other kind. What do you think I + heard a woman say the other day at a tiffin-party? “No man has touched my + heart since I’ve been married,” she proclaimed, “except my husband!” AT A + TIFFIN-party!’ + </p> + <p> + She heard the relief in Innes’s laugh and was satisfied. + </p> + <p> + ‘How does it happen,’ he said, ‘that women nowadays are critical of the + world so young?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall be thirty in September, and we no longer look at society through + a tambour-frame,’ she said, hardily. + </p> + <p> + ‘And I shall be forty-three next month, but hitherto I have known it to + produce nothing like you,’ he returned, and if there was ambiguity in his + phrase there was none in his face. + </p> + <p> + Miss Anderson made with her head her little smiling gesture—Simla + called it very American—which expressed that all chivalrous speech + was to be taken for granted and meant nothing whatever; and as they turned + into the Ladies’ Mile gave her horse his head, and herself a chance for + meditation. She thought of the matter again that evening before her little + fire of snapping deodar twigs, thought of it intently. She remembered it + all with perfect distinctness; she might have been listening to a + telephonic reproduction. + </p> + <p> + It was the almost intimate glimpse Innes had given her of himself, and it + brought her an excitement which she did not think of analyzing. She wrung + from every sentence its last possibility of unconscious meaning, and she + found when she had finished that it was eleven o’clock. + </p> + <p> + Then she went to bed, preferring not to call Brookes, with the somewhat + foolish feeling of being unable to account for her evening. Her last + reflection before she slept shaped itself in her mind in definite words. + </p> + <p> + ‘There are no children,’ it ran, ‘and her health has always been good, he + says. She must have left him after that first six months in Lucknow, + because of a natural antipathy to the country—and when she + condescended to come out again for a winter he met the different lady he + thinks about. With little hard lines around the mouth and common + conventional habits of thought, full of subservience to his official + superiors, and perfectly uninterested in him except as the source of + supplies. But I don’t know why I should WANT her to be so disagreeable. + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact, Mrs. Innes, travelling at the moment with the mails + from London to Bombay, was hastening to present to Miss Anderson features + astonishingly different. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 3.III. + </h2> + <p> + The lady guests at Peliti’s—Mrs. Jack Owen and the rest—were + giving a tea in the hotel pavilion. They had the band, the wife of the + Commander-in-Chief, the governess from Viceregal Lodge and one little + Viceregal girl, three A.D.C.‘s, one member of council, and the Archdeacon. + These were the main features, moving among a hundred or so of people more + miscellaneous, who, like the ladies at Peliti’s, had come up out of the + seething Plains to the Paradise of the summer capital. The Pavilion + overhung the Mall; looking down one could see the coming and going of + leisurely Government peons in scarlet and gold, Cashmiri vendors of great + bales of embroideries and skins, big-turbaned Pahari horse-dealers, + chaffering in groups, and here and there a mounted Secretary-sahib + trotting to the Club. Beyond, the hills dipped blue and bluer to the + plains, and against them hung a single waving yellow laburnum, a note of + imagination. Madeline Anderson was looking at it when Mrs. Mickie and Mrs. + Gammidge came up with an affectionate observation upon the cut of her + skirt, after which Mrs. Mickie harked back to what they had been talking + about before. + </p> + <p> + ‘She’s straight enough now, I suppose,’ this lady said. + </p> + <p> + ‘She goes down. But she gives people a good deal of latitude for + speculation.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Who is this?’ asked Madeline. ‘I ask for information, to keep out of her + way. I find I am developing the most shocking curiosity. I must be in a + position to check it.’ + </p> + <p> + The ladies exchanged hardly perceptible glances. Then Mrs. Gammidge said, + ‘Mrs. Innes,’ and looked as if, for the moment, at any rate, she would + withhold further judgment. + </p> + <p> + ‘But you mustn’t avoid the poor lady,’ put in Mrs. Mickie, ‘simply because + of her past. It wouldn’t be fair. Besides—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Her past?’ Madeline made one little effort to look indifferent, and then + let the question leap up in her. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear,’ said Mrs. Gammidge, with brief impatience, ‘he married her in + Cairo, and she was—dancing there. Case of chivalry, I believe, + though there are different versions. Awful row in the regiment—he + had to take a year’s leave. Then he succeeded to the command, and the + Twenty-third were ordered out here. She came with him to Lucknow—and + made slaves of every one of them. They’ll swear to you now that she was + staying at Shepheard’s with an invalid mother when he met her. And now + she’s accepted like everybody else; and that’s all there is about it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s nothing in that,’ said Madeline, determinedly, ‘to prove that she + wasn’t—respectable.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘N—no. Of course not,’ and again the eye of Mrs. Gammidge met that + of Mrs. Mickie. + </p> + <p> + ‘Though, you see love,’ added the latter lady, ‘it would have been nicer + for his people—they’ve never spoken to him since—if she had + been making her living otherwise in Cairo.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘As a barmaid, for instance,’ said Madeline, sarcastically. + </p> + <p> + ‘As a barmaid, for instance,’ repeated Mrs. Gammidge, calmly. + </p> + <p> + ‘But Simla isn’t related to him—Simla doesn’t care!’ Mrs. Mickie + exclaimed. ‘Everybody will be as polite as possible when she turns up. + You’ll see. You knew, didn’t you, that she was coming out in the + Caledonia?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Madeline. She looked carefully where she was going to put her + coffee-cup, and then she glanced out again at the laburnum hanging over + the plains. ‘I—I am glad to hear it. These separations you take so + lightly out here are miserable, tragic.’ + </p> + <p> + The other ladies did not exchange glances this time. Miss Anderson’s + change of tone was too marked for comment which she might have detected. + </p> + <p> + ‘Colonel Innes got the telegram this morning. She wired from Brindisi,’ + Mrs. Gammidge said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Does he seem pleased?’ asked Mrs. Mickie, demurely. + </p> + <p> + ‘He said he was afraid she would find it very hot coming up here from + Bombay. And, of course, he is worried about a house. When a man has been + living for months at the Club—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course, poor fellow! I do love that dear old Colonel Innes, though I + can’t say I know him a bit. He won’t take the trouble to be nice to me, + but I am perfectly certain he must be the dearest old thing inside of him. + Worth any dozen of these little bow-wows that run round after rickshaws,’ + said Mrs. Mickie, with candour. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think he’s a ridiculous old glacier,’ Mrs. Gammidge remarked, and Mrs. + Mickie looked at Madeline and said, ‘Slap her!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What for?’ asked Miss Anderson, with composure. ‘I dare say he is—occasionally. + It isn’t a bad thing to be, I should think, in Indian temperatures.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I guess you got it that time, dear lady,’ said Mrs. Mickie to Mrs. + Gammidge, as Madeline slipped toward the door. + </p> + <p> + ‘Meant to be cross, did she? How silly of her! If she gives her little + heart away like that often, people will begin to make remarks.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The worst of that girl is,’ Mrs. Mickie continued, ‘that you never can + depend upon her. For days together she’ll be just as giddy and jolly as + anybody and then suddenly she’ll give you a nasty superior bit of ice down + the back of your neck like that. I’ve got her coming to tea tomorrow + afternoon,’ Mrs. Mickie added, with sudden gloom, ‘and little Lord Billy + and all that set are coming. They’ll throw buns at each other—I know + they will. What, in heaven’s name, made me ask her?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, she’ll have recovered by then. You must make allowance for the shock + we gave her, poor dear. Consider how you would feel if Lady Worsley + suddenly appeared upon the scene, and demanded devotion from Sir Frank.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She wouldn’t get it,’ Mrs. Mickie dimpled candidly. ‘Frank always loses + his heart and his conscience at the same time. But you don’t suppose + there’s anything serious in this affair? Pure pretty platonics, I should + call it.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Gammidge lifted her eyebrows. ‘I dare say that is what they imagine + it. Well, they’re never in the same room for two minutes without being + aware of it, and their absorption when they get in a corner—I saw + her keep the Viceroy waiting, the other night after dinner, while Colonel + Innes finished a sentence. And then she was annoyed at the interruption. + Here’s Kitty Vesey, lookin’ SUCH a dog! Hello, Kitty! where did you get + that hat, where did you get that tile? But that wasn’t the colour of your + hair last week, Kitty!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t feel any kind of a dog’—Mrs. Vesey’s pout, though becoming, + was genuine. ‘I’m in a perfectly furious rage, my dears, and I’m coming + home to cry, just as soon as I’ve had an ice. What do you think—they + won’t let me have Val for Captain Wynne’s part in ‘The Outcast Pearl’—they + say he’s been tried before, and he’s a stick. Did you ever hear of such + brutes? They want me to act with Major Dalton, and he’s MUCH too old for + the part.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Kitten,’ said Mrs. Mickie, with conviction, ‘Valentine Drake on the stage + would be fatal to your affection for him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t care, I won’t act with anybody else—I’ll throw up the part. + Haven’t I got to make love to the man? How am I to play up to such an + unkissable-looking animal as Major Dalton? I shall CERTAINLY throw up the + part.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t do anything rash, Kitty. If you do, they’ll probably offer it to + me, and I warn you I won’t give it back to you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, refuse it, like a dear! I am dying to put them in a hole. It’s + jealousy, that’s what it is. Goodbye, Mrs. Jack, I’ve had a lovely time. + Val and I have been explaining our affection to the Archdeacon, and he + says it’s perfectly innocent. We’re going to get him to put it on paper to + produce when Jimmy sues for a divorce, aren’t we, Val?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re not going?’ said Mrs. Jack Owen. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, yes, I must. But I’ve enjoyed myself awfully, and so has everybody + I’ve been talking to. I say, Mickie, dear—about tomorrow afternoon—I + suppose I may bring Val?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, dear, yes,’ Mrs. Mickie replied. ‘But you must let me hold his hand.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know which of you is the most ridiculous,’ Mrs. Owen remarked; ‘I + shall write to both your husbands this very night,’ but as the group + shifted and left her alone with Mrs. Gammidge, she said she didn’t know + whether Mrs. Vesey would be quite so chirpy three weeks hence. ‘When Mrs. + Innes comes out,’ she added in explanation. ‘Oh, yes, Valentine Drake is + quite her property. My own idea is that Kitty won’t be in it.’ + </p> + <p> + Where the road past Peliti’s dips to the Mall Madeline met Horace Innes. + When she appeared in her rickshaw he dismounted, and gave the reins to his + syce. She saw in his eyes the look of a person who has been all day + lapsing into meditation and rousing himself from it. ‘You are very late,’ + she said as he came up. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I’m not going; at least, you are just coming away, aren’t you? I + think it is too late. I’ll turn back with you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do,’ she said, and looked at his capable, sensitive hand as he laid it on + the side of her little carriage. Miss Anderson had not the accomplishment + of palm-reading, but she took general manual impressions. She had observed + Colonel Innes’s hand before, but it had never offered itself so intimately + to her inspection. That, perhaps, was why the conviction seemed new to + her, as she thought ‘He is admirable—and it is all there.’ + </p> + <p> + When they got to the level Mall he kept his hold, which was a perfectly + natural and proper thing for him to do, walking alongside; but she still + looked at it. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have heard your good news,’ she said, smiling congratulation at him. + </p> + <p> + ‘My good news? Oh, about my wife, of course. Yes, she ought to be here by + the end of the month. I thought of writing to tell you when the telegram + came, and then I—didn’t. The files drove it out of my head, I + fancy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Heavy day?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ he said, absently. They went along together in an intimacy of + silence, and Madeline was quite aware of the effort with which she said: + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall look forward to meeting Mrs. Innes.’ + </p> + <p> + It was plain that his smile was perfunctory, but he put it on with + creditable alacrity. + </p> + <p> + ‘She will be delighted. My wife is a clever woman,’ he went on, ‘very + bright and attractive. She keeps people well amused.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She must be a great success in India, then.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think she is liked. She has a tremendous fund of humour and spirits. A + fellow feels terribly dull beside her sometimes.’ + </p> + <p> + Madeline cast a quick glance at him, but he was only occupied to find + other matters with which he might commend his wife. + </p> + <p> + ‘She is very fond of animals,’ he said, ‘and she sings and plays well—really + extremely well.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That must be charming,’ murmured Madeline, privately iterating, ‘He + doesn’t mean to damn her—he doesn’t mean to damn her.’ ‘Have you a + photograph of her?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Quantities of them,’ he said, with simplicity. + </p> + <p> + ‘You have never shown me one. But how could you?’ she added in haste; ‘a + photograph is always about the size of a door nowadays. It is simply + impossible to keep one’s friends and relations in a pocketbook as one used + to do.’ + </p> + <p> + They might have stopped there, but some demon of persistence drove + Madeline on. She besought help from her imagination; she was not for the + moment honest. It was an impulse—an equivocal impulse—born + doubtless of the equivocal situation, and it ended badly. + </p> + <p> + ‘She will bring something of the spring out to you,’ said Madeline—‘the + spring in England. How many years is it since you have seen it? There will + be a breath of the cowslips about her, and in her eyes the soft wet of the + English sky. Oh, you will be very glad to see her.’ The girl was well + aware of her insincerity, but only dimly of her cruelty. She was drawn on + by something stronger than her sense of honesty and humanity, a + determination to see, to know, that swept these things away. + </p> + <p> + Innes’s hand tightened on the rickshaw, and he made at first no answer. + Then he said: + </p> + <p> + ‘She has been staying in town, you know.’ + </p> + <p> + There was just a quiver of Madeline’s eyelid; it said nothing of the + natural rapacity behind. This man’s testimony was coming out in throes, + and yet—it must be said—again she probed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then she will put you in touch again,’ she cried; ‘you will remember when + you see her all the vigour of great issues and the fascination of great + personalities. For a little while, anyway, after she comes, you will be in + a world—far away from here—where people talk and think and + live.’ + </p> + <p> + He looked at her in wonder, not understanding, as indeed how could he? + </p> + <p> + ‘Why,’ he said, ‘you speak of what YOU have done’; and before the truth of + this she cast down her eyes and turned a hot, deep red, and had nothing to + say. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ he said, ‘my wife is not like that.’ + </p> + <p> + He walked along in absorption, from which he roused himself with + resentment in his voice. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can not leave such a fabric of illusion in your mind. It irritates me + that it should be there—about anybody belonging to me. My wife is + not in the least what you imagine her. She has her virtues, but she is—like + the rest. I can not hope that you will take to her, and she won’t like you + either—we never care about the same people. And we shall see nothing + of you—nothing. I can hardly believe that I am saying this of my own + wife, but—I wish that she had stayed in England.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs. Mickie!’ cried Madeline to a passing rickshaw, ‘what are you rushing + on like that for? Just go quietly and peaceably along with us, please, and + tell us what Mrs. Vesey decided to do about her part in ‘The Outcast + Pearl’. I’m dining out tonight—I must know.’ And Mrs. Mickie was + kind enough to accompany them all the rest of the way. + </p> + <p> + Miss Anderson dined out, and preferred to suppose that she had no time to + think until she was on her way home along the empty road round Jakko at + eleven o’clock that night. Then it pleased her to get out of her rickshaw + and walk. There was an opulent moon, the vast hills curving down to the + plains were all grey and silvery, and the deodars overhead fretted the + road with dramatic shadows. About her hung the great stillness in a mighty + loneliness in which little Simla is set, and it freed her from what had + happened, so that she could look at it and cry out. She actually did + speak, pausing in the little pavilion on the road where the nursemaids + gather in the daytime, but very low, so that her words fell round her even + in that silence, and hardly a deodar was aware. ‘I will not go now,’ she + said. ‘I will stay and realize that he is another woman’s husband. That + should cure me if anything will—to see him surrounded by the + commonplaces of married life, that kind of married life. I will stay till + she comes and a fortnight after. Besides, I want to see her—I want + to see how far she comes short.’ She was silent for a moment, and the + moonlight played upon her smile of quiet triumph. ‘He cares too,’ she + said; ‘he cares too, but he doesn’t know it, and I promise you one thing, + Madeline Anderson, you won’t help him to find out. And in five weeks I + will go away and leave my love where I found it—on a mountaintop in + the middle of Asia!’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 3.IV. + </h2> + <p> + Madeline did her best to make certain changes delicately, imperceptibly, + so that Innes would not, above all things, be perplexed into seeking for + their reason. The walks and rides came to a vague conclusion, and Miss + Anderson no longer kept the Viceroy or anybody else waiting, while Innes + finished what he had to say to her in public, since his opportunities for + talking to her seemed to become gradually more and more like everybody + else’s. So long as she had been mistress of herself she was indifferent to + the very tolerant and good-natured gossip of the hill capital; but as soon + as she found her citadel undermined, the lightest kind of comment became a + contingency unbearable. In arranging to make it impossible, she was really + over-considerate and over-careful. Her soldier never thought of analyzing + his bad luck or searching for motive in it. To him the combinations of + circumstances that seemed always to deprive him of former pleasures were + simply among the things that might happen. Grieving, she left him under + that impression for the sake of its expediency, and tried to make it by + being more than ever agreeable on the occasions when he came and demanded + a cup of tea, and would not be denied. After all, she consoled herself, no + situation was improved by being turned too suddenly upside down. + </p> + <p> + She did not wholly withdraw his privilege of taking counsel with her, and + he continued to go away freshened and calmed, leaving her to toss little + sad reflections into the fire, and tremulously wonder whether the jewel of + her love had flashed ever so little behind the eyes. They both saw it a + conspicuous thing that as those three weeks went on, neither he nor she + alluded even remotely to Mrs. Innes, but the fact remained, and they + allowed it to remain. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, Madeline knew precisely when that lady was expected, and as + she sauntered in the bazaar one morning, and heard Innes’s steps and voice + behind her, her mind became one acute surmise as to whether he could + possibly postpone the announcement any longer. But he immediately made it + plain that this was his business in stopping to speak to her. ‘Good + morning,’ he said, and then, ‘My wife comes tomorrow.’ He had not told her + a bit of personal news, he had made her an official communication, as + briefly as it could be done, and he would have raised his hat and gone on + without more words if Madeline had not thwarted him. ‘What a stupidity for + him to be haunted by afterward!’ was the essence of the thought that + visited her; and she put out a detaining hand. + </p> + <p> + ‘Really! By the Bombay mail, I suppose—no, an hour or so later; + private tongas are always as much as that behind the mail.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘About eleven, I fancy. You—you are not inclined for a canter round + Summer Hill before breakfast?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am terrified of Summer Hill. The Turk always misbehaves there. + Yesterday he got one leg well over the khud—I WAS thankful he had + four. Tell me, are you ready for Mrs. Innes—everything in the house? + Is there anything I can do? + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, thanks very much! I don’t think so. The house isn’t ready, as a + matter of fact, but two or three people have offered to put us up for a + day or so until it is. I’ve left it open till my wife comes, as I dare say + she has already arranged to go to somebody. What are you buying? Country + tobacco, upon my word! For your men? That’s subversive of all discipline!’ + </p> + <p> + The lines on his face relaxed; he looked at her with fond recognition of + another delightful thing in her. + </p> + <p> + ‘You give sugar-cane to your horses,’ she declared; ‘why shouldn’t I give + tobacco to mine? Goodbye; I hope Mrs. Innes will like “Two Gables”. There + are roses waiting for her in the garden, at all events.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Are there?’ he said. ‘I didn’t notice. Goodbye, then.’ + </p> + <p> + He went on to his office thinking of the roses, and that they were in his + garden, and that Madeline had seen them there. He thought that if they + were good roses—in fact, any kind of roses—they should be + taken care of, and he asked a Deputy Assistant Inspector-General of + Ordnance whether he knew of a gardener that was worth anything. + </p> + <p> + ‘Most of them are mere coolies,’ said Colonel Innes, ‘and I’ve got some + roses in this little place I’ve taken that I want to look after.’ + </p> + <p> + Next day Madeline took Brookes, and ‘The Amazing Marriage’, and a + lunch-basket, and went out to Mashobra, where the deodars shadow hardly + any scandal at all, and the Snows come, with perceptible confidence, a + little nearer. + </p> + <p> + ‘They almost step,’ she said to Brookes, looking at them, ‘out of the + realm of the imagination.’ + </p> + <p> + Brookes said that they did indeed, and hoped that she hadn’t by any chance + forgotten the mustard. + </p> + <p> + ‘The wind is keen off the glaciers over there—anybody would think of + a condiment,’ Miss Anderson remarked in deprecation, and to this Brookes + made no response. It was a liberty she often felt compelled to take. + </p> + <p> + The Snows appealed to Madeline even more than did Carintha, Countess of + Fleetwood, to whose fortunes she gave long pauses while she looked across + their summits at renunciation, and fancied her spirit made strong and + equal to its task. She was glad of their sanctuary; she did not know where + she should find such another. Perhaps the spectacle was more than ever + sublime in its alternative to the one she had come away to postpone the + sight of; at all events it drove the reunion of the Inneses from her mind + several times for five minutes together, during which she thought of + Horace by himself, and went over, by way of preparation for her departure, + all that had come and gone between them. There had been luminous moments, + especially as they irradiated him, and she dwelt on these. There was no + reason why she should not preserve in London or in New York a careful + memory of them. + </p> + <p> + So the lights were twinkling all up and down and round about Simla when + she cantered back to it and it was late when she started for the Worsleys, + where she was dining. One little lighted house looked much like another + perched on the mountainside, and the wooden board painted ‘Branksome Hall, + Maj.-Gen. T.P. Worsley, R.E.,’ nailed to the most conspicuous tree from + the main road, was invisible in the darkness. Madeline arrived in + consequence at the wrong dinner-party, and was acclaimed and redirected + with much gaiety, which gave her a further agreeable impression of the + insouciance of Simla, but made her later still at the Worsleys. So that + half the people were already seated when she at last appeared, and her + hostess had just time to cry, ‘My dear, we thought the langurs must have + eaten you! Captain Gordon, you are not abandoned after all. You know Miss + Anderson?’ when she found herself before her soup. + </p> + <p> + Captain Gordon heard her account of herself with complacence, and + declared, wiping his moustache, that a similar experience had befallen him + only a fortnight before. + </p> + <p> + ‘Did you ever hear the story of that absent-minded chap, Sir James + Jackson, who went to the RIGHT dinner-party by mistake?’ he asked, ‘and + apologized like mad, by Jove! and insisted he couldn’t stay. The people + nearly had to tie him down in his—’ Captain Gordon stopped, arrested + by his companion’s sudden and complete inattention. + </p> + <p> + ‘I see a lady,’ interrupted Madeline, with odd distinctness, ‘curiously + like somebody I have known before.’ Her eyes convinced themselves, and + then refused to be convinced of the inconceivable fact that they were + resting on Violet Prendergast. It was at first too amazing, too amazing + only. Then an old forgotten feeling rose in her bosom; the hand on the + stem of her wine-glass grew tense. The sensation fell away; she remembered + her emancipation, the years arose and reassured her during which Violet + Prendergast, living or dead, had been to her of absolutely no importance. + Yet there was a little aroused tremour in her voice as she went on, ‘She + is on the General’s right—he must have taken her in. Can you see + from where you are sitting?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘These narrow oval tables are a nuisance that way, aren’t they? You don’t + know who you’re dining with till the end of the function. Oh! I see—that’s + Mrs. Innes, just out, and fresh as paint, isn’t she? The Colonel’—Captain + Gordon craned his head again—‘is sitting fourth from me on this + side.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs. Innes! Really!’ said Madeline. ‘Then—then of course I must be + mistaken.’ + </p> + <p> + She removed her eyes almost stealthily from the other woman’s face and + fixed them on the pattern of the table-cloth. Her brain guided her clearly + through the tumult of her perception, and no emotion could be observed in + the smiling attention which she gave to Captain Gordon’s account of the + afternoon’s tandem racing; but there was a furious beating in her breast, + and she thought she could never draw a breath long enough to control it. + It helped her that there was food to swallow, wine to drink, and Captain + Gordon to listen to; and under cover of these things she gradually, + consciously, prepared herself for the shock of encounter which should be + conclusive. Presently she leaned a little forward and let her glance, in + which no outsider could see the steady recognition, rest upon the lady on + the General’s right, until that person’s agreeable blue eyes wandered down + the table and met it. Perhaps Madeline’s own eyelids fluttered a little as + she saw the sudden stricture in the face that received her message, and + the grimace with which it uttered, pallid with apprehension, its response + to a pleasantry of General Worsley’s. She was not consummate in her + self-control, but she was able at all events to send the glance travelling + prettily on with a casual smile for an intervening friend, and bring it + back to her dinner-roll without mischief. It did not adventure again; she + knew, and she set herself to hold her knowledge, to look at it and + understand it, while the mechanical part of her made up its mind about the + entrees, and sympathized with Captain Gordon on his hard luck in having + three ponies laid up at once. She did not look again, although she felt + the watching of the other woman, and was quite aware of the moment at + which Mrs. Innes allowed herself the reprieve of believing that at the + Worsley’s dinner-party at least there would be no scandal. The belief had + its reflex action, doing something to calm her. How could there be—scandal—she + asked herself, and dismissed with relief the denunciations which crowded + vague but insistent in her brain. Even then she had not grasped the + salient points of the situation; she was too much occupied with its irony + as it affected her personally; her impressions circled steadily round the + word ‘twice’ and the unimaginable coincidence. Her resentment filled her, + and her indignation was like a clear flame behind her smiling face. Robbed + twice, once in New York and—oh! preposterous—the second time + in Simla! Robbed of the same things by the same hand! She perceived in the + shock of it only a monstrous fatality, a ludicrously wicked chance. This + may have been due to the necessity of listening to Captain Gordon. + </p> + <p> + At all events it was only as she passed Colonel Innes on her way to the + drawing-room and saw ahead of her the very modish receding back of Mrs. + Innes that she realized other things—crime and freedom. + </p> + <p> + It was the reversion of power; it brought her a great exultation. She sat + down under it in a corner, hoping to be left alone, with a white face and + shining eyes. Power and opportunity and purpose—righteous purpose! + </p> + <p> + The circumstances had come to her in a flash; she brought them up again + steadily and scrutinized them. The case was absolutely clear. Frank + Prendergast had been dead just seven months. Colonel Innes imagined + himself married four years. Violet Prendergast was a bigamist, and Horace + Innes had no wife. + </p> + <p> + That was the marvellous transcendent fact; that was what lifted her and + carried her on great pulsing waves that rolled beyond the walls of the + little fripperied drawing-room and its collection of low-necked women, out + into her life, which had not these boundaries. She lived again in a + possible world. There was no stone wall between herself and joy. + </p> + <p> + The old Mussulman butler who offered her coffee looked at her with aroused + curiosity—here was certainly a memsahib under the favour of God—and + as she stirred it, the shadow that Violet Prendergast had thrown upon her + life faded out of her mind in the light that was there. Then she looked up + and met that lady’s vivid blue eyes. Mrs. Innes’s colour had not returned, + but there was a recklessness in the lines of her mouth. In the way she + held her chin, expressing that she had been reflecting on old scores, and + anticipated the worst. Meeting this vigilance Miss Anderson experienced a + slight recoil. Her happiness, she realized, had been brought to her in the + hands of ugly circumstance. + </p> + <p> + ‘And so melodramatic,’ she told herself. ‘It is really almost vulgar. In a + story I should have no patience with it.’ But she went on stirring her + coffee with a little uncontrollable smile. + </p> + <p> + A moment later she had to contemplate the circumstance that her hostess + was addressing her. Mrs. Innes wished to be introduced. Mrs. Innes, + incarnate, conscious sensation, was smiling at her, saying that she must + know so great a friend of her husband’s. He made so few friends, and she + was so grateful to anybody who was good to him. Eyes and voice tolerably + in rein, aware of the situation at every point, she had a meretricious + daring; and it occurred to Madeline, looking at her, that she was after + all a fairly competent second-class adventuress. She would not refuse the + cue. It would make so little difference. + </p> + <p> + ‘On the contrary, I am tremendously indebted to Colonel Innes. He has been + so very kind about ponies and jhampanies and things. Simla is full of + pitfalls for a stranger, don’t you think?’ And Miss Anderson, unclosing + her fan, turned her reposeful head a little in the direction of three + married schoolgirls voluble on her left. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not when you get to know the language. You must learn the language; it’s + indispensable. But of course it depends on how long you mean to stay.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think I will learn the language,’ said Madeline. + </p> + <p> + ‘But General Worsley told me you were leaving Simla in a fortnight.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh no. My plans are very indefinite; but I shall stay much longer than + that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is Miss Anderson, isn’t it?—Miss Madeline Anderson, of New York—no, + Brooklyn?’ + </p> + <p> + Madeline looked at her. ‘Did not the General say so?’ she asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, he did. But one looks to make quite sure.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I can understand that.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Innes leaned forward with one elbow on her knee. + </p> + <p> + It was not a graceful attitude, but it gave the casual air to the + conversation which was desirable. + </p> + <p> + ‘What are you going to do?’ she said. + </p> + <p> + ‘My plans are as indefinite as possible, really,’ Madeline returned. ‘I + may spend the cold weather in Calcutta, or go into camp with the Dovedells—I + should like that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs. Innes,’ cried the nearest schoolgirl, ‘we are coming tomorrow to see + all the lovely things in your boxes, may we?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do, duckies. But mind, no copying of them by durzies in the veranda. + They’re all Paris things—Coulter’s—and you know he doesn’t + copy well, does he? Oh, dear! here are the men—they always come too + soon, don’t they? So glad to have had even a little chat, Miss Anderson. + I’ll come and see you tomorrow. You know newcomers in India always make + the first calls. I shall find you at home, sha’n’t I?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘By all means,’ Madeline said. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Innes crossed the room, crying out that the heat was perfectly absurd + for Simla, it must be cooler outside; and as Captain Valentine Drake + followed her into the semi-darkness of the veranda, the three married + schoolgirls looked at each other and smiled. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t be naughty,’ said Captain Gordon, leaning over the sofa from + behind. ‘They’re very dear friends, and they’ve been separated for two + years.’ + </p> + <p> + Madeline heard this as plainly as they did. She noted disdainfully how it + all fell in. + </p> + <p> + ‘How absent you are tonight!’ Horace Innes exclaimed, when Miss Anderson + had asked him a trivial question for the third time. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hush!’ she said. ‘Mrs. Scallepa is going to sing;’ and as Mrs. Scallepa + sang she let her eyes play over him with a light in them so tender, that + once catching it the felt a sudden answering throb, and looked again; but + after that her eyes were on the floor. + </p> + <p> + ‘We are staying here,’ he said a quarter of an hour later, as he saw her + into her rickshaw; ‘and I think I must see you to your quarters. It’s very + dark, and there is an ugly little slip half-way between this and the Mall. + </p> + <p> + He ran upstairs to get his coat and stick, and a white face like an + apparition suddenly hung itself on the edge of Madeline’s rickshaw-hood. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t tell him tonight,’ it said, hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you ready, Colonel Innes? Then good night, everybody,’ cried + Madeline. + </p> + <p> + She was not at all sure that she would not tell Horace Innes ‘tonight’. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 3.V. + </h2> + <h3> + ‘My wife,’ said Colonel Innes, ‘is looking extremely well.’ + </h3> + <p> + ‘She seems so, indeed,’ Madeline replied. + </p> + <p> + ‘She is delighted with “Two Gables”. Likes it better, she says, than any + other house we could have got.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What a good thing!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It was a record trip for the Caledonia, thirteen days from Brindisi to + Bombay. Was she telling you about the voyage?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Madeline impatiently, ‘she didn’t mention it. How shall I tell + the men to put down the hood, please? A rickshaw is detestable with the + hood up—stifling! Thanks. I beg your pardon. The Caledonia made a + good run?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thirteen days. Wonderful weather, of course, which was luck for Violet. + She is an atrocious sailor.’ + </p> + <p> + Madeline fancied she heard repose and reassurance in his voice. Her + thought cried, ‘It is not so bad as he expected!’ We can not be surprised + that she failed to see in herself the alleviation of that first evening. + </p> + <p> + ‘She has brought quantities of things for the house with her,’ Innes went + on, ‘as well as three dachshund puppies,’ and he laughed. ‘Wouldn’t you + like one? What can we do with three—and the terrier, and Brutus?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, thank you, no.’ + </p> + <p> + How could he laugh? How could he speak pleasantly of these intimate + details of his bondage? How could he conceive that she would accept— + </p> + <p> + ‘Already she has arranged four dinner-parties! It will be a relief not to + have to think of that sort of thing—to be able to leave it to her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs. Innes must have great energy. To drive all the way up from Kalka by + noon and appear at a dinner-party at night—wonderful!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, great energy,’ Horace said. + </p> + <p> + ‘She will take you everywhere—to all the functions. She will insist + on your duty to society.’ + </p> + <p> + Madeline felt that she must get him somehow back into his slough of + despond. His freedom paralyzed her. And he returned with a pathetic change + of tone. + </p> + <p> + ‘I suppose there is no alternative. Violet is very good about being + willing to go alone, or with somebody else; but I never think it quite + fair on one’s wife to impose on her the necessity of going about with + other men.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs. Worsley introduced us after dinner,’ said Madeline. + </p> + <p> + She kept disparagement out of her mind, but he could not help perceiving + aloofness. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes?’ + </p> + <p> + The monosyllable told her sensitive ear that while he admitted her + consideration in going on with the subject, he was willing to recognize + that there was no more to say, and have done with it. She gathered up her + scruples and repugnances in a firm grasp. She would not let him throw his + own shadow, as an effectual obstacle, between himself and liberty. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am going to ask you something,’ she said; it might come naturally + enough from another man with whom your friendship was as candid as it is + with me; but there is an awkwardness in it from a woman. You must believe + I have a good reason. Will you tell me about your first meeting with Mrs. + Innes, when—when you became engaged?’ + </p> + <p> + She knew she was daring a good deal; but when a man’s prison is to be + brought down about his ears, one might as well begin, she thought, at the + foundation. + </p> + <p> + For a moment Innes did not speak, and then his words came slowly. + </p> + <p> + I find it difficult,’ he said, ‘to answer you. How can it matter—it + is impossible. I suppose you have heard some story, and it is like you to + want to be in a position to negative it. Ignore it instead. She has very + successfully championed herself. Believe nothing to her disadvantage that + may be said about that—that time. I was pleased to marry her, and + she was pleased to marry me. But for God’s sake don’t let us talk about + it!’ + </p> + <p> + As he spoke Madeline saw the vivid clearness of the situation grow blurred + and confused. It was as if her point of view had suddenly changed and her + eyes failed her. Her eager impulse had beat less and less strongly from + the Worsley’s door; now it seemed to shrink away in fetters. Her eyes + filled with vaguely resentful tears, which sprang, if she could have + traced them, from the fact that the man she loved was loyal to his own + mistake, and the formless premonition that he might continue to be. She + contorted her lip to keep her emotion back, and deliberately turned away + from a matter in which she was not mistress, and which contained ugly + possibilities of buffeting. She would wait a little, and though + consideration for Violet Prendergast had nothing to do with it, she would + not tell him tonight. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am sorry,’ she said; and, after a moment, ‘Did I tell you that I have + changed my plans?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You are not going so soon?’ she took all the comfort there was in his + eagerness. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am not going at all for the present. I have abandoned my intentions and + my dates. I mean to drift for a little while. I have been too—too + conscientious.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you quite serious—do you mean it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed I do.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And in less than a fortnight you will not go out of one’s life. You will + stay on—you summer day! It’s hard to believe in luck like that. I + sent a poor devil of a sepoy a reprieve last week—one knows now how + he must have felt about it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Does it make all that difference?’ Madeline asked, softly. + </p> + <p> + ‘It makes a difference,’ he answered, controlling his words, ‘that I am + glad you can not conceive, since that would mean that your life has been + as barren as mine.’ He seemed to refrain from saying more, and then he + added, ‘You must be careful when you plant your friendship that you mean + it to stay, and blossom. It will not come easily up by the roots, and it + will leave an ugly hole.’ + </p> + <p> + He was helping her out of her rickshaw, and as they followed the servant + who carried her wraps the few yards to the door, she left her hand lightly + on his arm. It was the seal, he thought, of her unwritten bond that there + should be no uprooting of the single flower he cherished; and he went back + almost buoyantly because of it to the woman who had been sitting in the + sackcloth and ashes of misfortune, turning over the expedients for which + his step might make occasion. + </p> + <p> + By the time the monkeys began to scramble about the roof in the early + creeping of the dawn among the deodars, Madeline had groped her way to a + tolerably clear conception of what might happen. The impeding circumstance + everywhere, it must be acknowledged, was Frederick Prendergast’s coffin. + The case, had convict No. 1596 been still alive and working out his debt + to society, would have been transcendentally simple, she told herself. + Even a convict has a right—a prospective right—to his wife, + and no honest man should be compelled to retain a criminal’s property. + This was an odd reflection, perhaps, to be made by Madeline Anderson, but + the situation as a whole might be described as curious. And there was no + doubt about the coffin. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 3.VI. + </h2> + <p> + The veranda of which Miss Anderson’s little sitting-room claimed its + section hung over the road, and it seemed to her that she heard the sound + of Mrs. Innes’s arrival about ten minutes after breakfast. + </p> + <p> + On the contrary, she had spent two whole hours contemplating, with very + fixed attention, first the domestic circumstances of Colonel Horace Innes + and their possible development, and then, with a pang of profoundest + acknowledgment, the moral qualities which he would bring to bear upon + them. She was further from knowing what course she personally intended to + pursue than ever, when she heard the wheels roll up underneath; and she + had worked herself into a state of sufficient detachment from the whole + problem to reflect upon the absurdity of a bigamist rattling forth to + discuss her probable ruin in the fanciful gaiety of a rickshaw. The + circumstances had its value though; it lightened all responsibility for + the lady concerned. As Madeline heard her jump out and give pronounced + orders for the securing of an accompanying dachshund, it did not seem to + matter so particularly what became of Violet Prendergast. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Innes’s footsteps came briskly along the veranda. Madeline noted that + there was no lagging. ‘Number seven,’ she said aloud; as she passed other + doors, ‘Number eight—number nine! Ah! there you are.’ The door was + open. ‘I wouldn’t let them bring up my card for fear of some mistake. How + do you do? Now please don’t get up—you look so comfortable with your + book. What is it? Oh, yes, of course, THAT. People were talking about it a + good deal when I left London, but I haven’t read it. Is it good?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I like it,’ said Madeline. She half rose as Mrs. Innes entered; but as + the lady did not seem to miss the ceremony of greeting, she was glad to + sink back in her chair. + </p> + <p> + ‘And how do you like Simla? Charming in many ways, isn’t it? A little too + flippant, I always say—rather TOO much champagne and silliness. But + awfully bracing.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The Snows are magnificent,’ Madeline said, ‘when you can see them. And + there’s a lot of good work done here.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Aren’t they divine? I did nothing, absolutely nothing, my first season + but paint them. And the shops—they’re not bad, are they, for the + size of the place? Though today, upon my soul, there doesn’t seem to be a + yard of white spotted veiling among them.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That is annoying,’ said Madeline, ‘if you want spotted veiling.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Isn’t it? Well’—Mrs. Innes take a deep breath—‘you DIDN’T + tell him last night?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘N—no,’ said Madeline, with deliberation. + </p> + <p> + ‘I WAS grateful. I knew I could rely upon you not to. It would have been + too cruel when we have only just been reunited—dear Horace would + have had to sleep in the—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Pray—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, Horace is the soul of honour. Is your ayah in there?’ Mrs. Innes + nodded towards the bedroom door. ‘You can not imagine what long ears she + has.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have no ayah. There is only Brookes;’ and as that excellent woman + passed through the room with a towel over her arm, Madeline said, ‘You can + go now, Brookes, and see about that alpaca. Take the rickshaw; it looks + very threatening.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Maid! You ARE a swell! There are only four genuine maids in Simla that I + know of—the rest are really nurse-girls. What a comfort she must be! + THE luxury of all others that I long for; but alas! army pay, you know. I + did once bring a dear thing out with me from Nice—you should have + seen Horace’s face.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I couldn’t very well go about quite alone; it would be uncomfortable.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Except that you Americans are so perfectly independent.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘On the contrary. If I could order about a servant the way an Englishwoman + does—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Say you are not going to tell him! I’ve got such a lot of other calls to + make,’ exclaimed Mrs. Innes. ‘Dear Lady Bloomfield won’t understand it if + I don’t call today, especially after the baby. What people in that + position want with more babies I can not comprehend. Of course you haven’t + noticed it, but a baby is such a shock to Simla.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t let me keep you,’ Madeline said, rising. + </p> + <p> + ‘But you haven’t promised. Do promise, Miss Anderson. You gain nothing by + telling him, except your revenge; and I should think by this time you + would have forgiven me for taking Frederick away from you. He didn’t turn + out so well! You can’t still bear me malice over that convict in Sing + Sing.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘For his sake, poor fellow, I might.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Coming along I said to myself, “She CAN score off me badly, but surely + she doesn’t want to so much as all that.” Besides, I really only took your + leavings, you know. You threw poor Fred Prendergast over.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am not prepared to discuss that,’ Madeline said, at no pains to smooth + the curve out of her lip. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then I thought, “Perhaps—you never can tell with people—she + will think it her DUTY to make a fuss.”’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That is a possible point of view.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know. You think I’m an imposter on society and I ought to be exposed, + and I suppose you could shut every door in Simla against me if you liked. + But you are a friend of my husband’s, Miss Anderson. You would not turn + his whole married life into a scandal and ruin his career?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ruin his career?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course. Government is awfully particular. It mayn’t be his fault in + the least, but no man is likely to get any big position with a cloud over + his domestic affairs. Horace would resign, naturally.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Or take long leave,’ Mrs. Innes added to herself, but she did not give + Madeline this alternative. A line or two of nervous irritation marked + themselves about her eyes, and her colour had faded. Her hat was less + becoming than it had been, and she had pulled a button off her glove. + </p> + <p> + ‘Besides,’ she went on quickly, ‘it isn’t as if you could do any good, you + know. The harm was done once for all when I let him think he’d married me. + I thought then—well, I had to take it or leave it—and every + week I expected to hear of Frederick’s death. Then I meant to tell Horace + myself, and have the ceremony over again. He couldn’t refuse. And all + these years it’s been like living on a volcano, in the fear of meeting New + York people. Out here there never are any, but in England I dye my hair, + and alter my complexion.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why did you change your mind,’ Madeline asked, ‘about telling Colonel + Innes?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I haven’t! Why should I change my mind? For my own protection, I mean to + get things put straight instantly—when the time comes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘When the time comes,’ Madeline repeated; and her eyes, as she fixed them + on Mrs. Innes, were suddenly so lightened with a new idea that she dropped + the lids over them as she waited for the answer. + </p> + <p> + ‘When poor Frederick does pass away,’ Mrs. Innes said, with an air of + observing the proprieties. ‘When they put him in prison it was a matter of + months, the doctors said. That was one reason why I went abroad. I + couldn’t bear to stay there and see him dying by inches, poor fellow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Couldn’t you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I couldn’t. And the idea of the hard labour made me SICK. But it + seems to have improved his health, and now—there is no telling! I + sometimes believe he will live out his sentence. Should you think that + possible in the case of a man with half a lung?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have no knowledge of pulmonary disease,’ Madeline said. She forced the + words from her lips and carefully looked away, taking this second key to + the situation mechanically, and for a moment groping with it. + </p> + <p> + ‘What arrangement did you make to be informed about—about him?’ she + asked, and instantly regretted having gone so perilously near provoking a + direct question. + </p> + <p> + ‘I subscribe to the “New York World”. I used to see lots of things in it—about + the shock the news of my death gave him—’ + </p> + <p> + A flash of hysterical amusement shot into Mrs. Innes’s eyes, and she + questioned Madeline’s face to see whether it responded to her humour. Then + she put her own features straight behind her handkerchief and went on. + </p> + <p> + ‘And about his failing health, and then about his being so much better. + But nothing now for ages.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Did the “World” tell you,’ asked Miss Anderson, with sudden interest, + ‘that Mr. Prendergast came into a considerable fortune before—about + two years ago?’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Innes’s face turned suddenly blank. ‘How much?’ she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + ‘About five hundred thousand dollars, I believe. Left him by a cousin. + Then you didn’t know?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That must have been Gordon Prendergast—the engineer!’ Mrs. Innes + said, with excitement. ‘Fancy that! Leaving money to a relation in Sing + Sing! Hadn’t altered his will, I suppose. Who could possibly,’ and her + face fell visibly, ‘have foreseen such a thing?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No one, I think,’ said Madeline, through a little edged smile. ‘On that + point you will hardly be criticized.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Innes, with clasped hands, was sunk in thought. She raised her eyes + with a conviction in them which she evidently felt to be pathetic. + </p> + <p> + ‘After all,’ she said, ‘there is something in what the padres say about + our reaping the reward of our misdeeds in this world—some of us, + anyway. If I had stayed in New York—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes?’ said Madeline. ‘I shall wake up presently,’ she reflected, ‘and + find that I have been dreaming melodrama.’ But that was a fantastic + underscoring of her experience. She knew very well she was making it. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Innes, again wrapped in astonished contemplation, did not reply. Then + she jumped to her feet with a gesture that cast fortunes back into the lap + of fate. + </p> + <p> + ‘One thing is certain,’ she said; ‘I can’t do anything NOW, can I?’ + </p> + <p> + Madeline laid hold of silence and made armour with it. At all events, she + must have time to think. + </p> + <p> + ‘I decline to advise you,’ she said, and she spoke with a barely + perceptive movement of her lips only. The rest of her face was stone. + </p> + <p> + ‘How unkind and unforgiving you are! Must people would think the loss of a + hundred thousand pounds about punishment enough for what I have done. You + don’t seem to see it. But on top of that you won’t refuse to promise not + to tell Horace?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I will not bind myself in any way whatever.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not even when you know that the moment I hear of the—death I intend + to—to—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Make an honest man of him? Not even when I know that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you want me to go down on my knees to you?’ + </p> + <p> + Madeline glanced at the flowered fabric involved and said, ‘I wouldn’t, I + think.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And this is to hang over me the whole season? I shall enjoy nothing—absolutely + NOTHING.’ The blue eyes were suddenly eclipsed by angry tears, which the + advent of a servant with cards checked as suddenly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Goodbye, then, dear,’ cried Mrs. Innes, as if in response to the + advancing rustle of skirts in the veranda. ‘So glad to have found you at + home. Dear me, has Trilby made her way up—and I gave such particular + orders! Oh, you NAUGHTY dog!’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 3.VII. + </h2> + <p> + From the complication that surged round Miss Anderson’s waking hours one + point emerged, and gave her a perch for congratulation. That was the + determination she had shown in refusing to let Frederick Prendergast leave + her his money, or any part of it. + </p> + <p> + It has been said that he had outlived her tenderness, if not her care, and + this fact, which she never found it necessary to communicate to poor + Frederick himself, naturally made his desire in the matter sharply + distasteful. She was even unaware of the disposition he had made of his + ironical fortune, a reflection which brought her thankfulness that there + was something she did not know. ‘If I had let him do it,’ she thought, ‘I + should have felt compelled to tell her everything, instantly. And think of + discussing it with her!’ This was quite a fortnight later, and Mrs. Innes + still occupied her remarkable position only in her own mind and + Madeline’s, still knowing herself the wife of 1596 and of 1596 only, and + still unaware that 1596 was in his grave. Simla had gone on with its + dances and dinners and gymkhanas quite as if no crucial experience were + hanging over the heads of three of the people one met ‘everywhere,’ and + the three people continued to be met everywhere, although only one of them + was unconscious. The women tried to avoid each other without accenting it, + exchanging light words only as occasion demanded, but they were not clever + enough for Mrs. Gammidge and Mrs. Mickie, who went about saying that Mrs. + Innes’s treatment of Madeline Anderson was as ridiculous as it was + inexplicable. ‘Did you ever know her to be jealous of anybody before?’ + demanded Mrs. Mickie, to which Mrs. Gammidge responded, with her customary + humour, that the Colonel had never, in the memory of the oldest + inhabitant, been known to give her occasion. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ declared Mrs. Mickie, ‘if friendships—UNSENTIMENTAL + friendships—between men and women are not understood in Simla, I’d + like to be told what is understood.’ + </p> + <p> + Between them they gave Madeline a noble support, for which—although + she did not particularly require it, and they did not venture to offer it + in so many words—she was grateful. A breath of public criticism from + any point of view would have blown over the toppling structure she was + defending against her conscience. The siege was severe and obstinate, with + an undermining conviction ever at work that in the end she would yield; in + the end she would go away, at least as far as Bombay or Calcutta, and from + there send to Mrs. Innes the news of her liberation. It would not be + necessary, after all, or even excusable, to tell Horace. His wife would do + that quickly enough—at least, she had said she would. If she didn’t—well, + if she didn’t, nothing would be possible but another letter, giving HIM + the simple facts, she, Madeline, carefully out of the way of his path of + duty—at all events, at Calcutta or Bombay. But there was no danger + that Mrs. Innes would lose the advantage of confession, of throwing + herself on his generosity—and at this point Madeline usually felt + her defenses against her better nature considerably strengthened, and the + date of her sacrifice grow vague again. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, she was astonished to observe that, in spite of her threat to + the contrary, Mrs. Innes appeared to be enjoying herself particularly + well. Madeline had frequent occasion for private comment on the advantages + of a temperament that could find satisfaction in dancing through whole + programmes at the very door, so to speak, of the criminal courts; and it + can not be denied that this capacity of Mrs. Innes’s went far to increase + the vacillation with which Miss Anderson considered her duty towards that + lady. If she had shown traces of a single hour of genuine suffering, there + would have been an end to Madeline’s hesitation. But beyond an occasional + watchful glance at conversations in which she might be figuring + dramatically, and upon which she instantly turned her back as soon as she + was perceived, Mrs. Innes gave no sign even of preoccupation. If she had + bad half-hours, they occurred between the teas and tennises, the picnics, + riding-parties, luncheons, and other entertainments, at which you could + always count upon meeting her; and in that case they must have been short. + She looked extremely well, and her admirable frocks gave an accent even to + ‘Birthday’ functions at Viceregal Lodge, which were quite hopelessly + general. If any one could have compelled a revelation of her mind, I think + it would have transpired that her anxieties about Capt. Valentine Drake + and Mrs. Vesey gave her no leisure for lesser ones. These for a few days + had been keen and indignant—Captain Drake had so far forgotten + himself as to ride with Mrs. Vesey twice since Mrs. Innes’s arrival—and + any display of poverty of spirit was naturally impossible under the + circumstances. The moment was a critical one; Captain Drake seemed + inclined to place her in the category of old, unexacting friends—ladies + who looked on and smiled, content to give him tea on rainy days, and call + him by his Christian name, with perhaps the privilege of a tapping finger + on his shoulder, and an occasional order about a rickshaw. Mrs. Violet was + not an introspective person, or she might have discovered here that the + most stable part of her self-respect was her EXIGENCE with Captain Drake. + </p> + <p> + She found out quickly enough, however, that she did not mean to discard + it. She threw herself, therefore—her fine shoulders and arms, her + pretty clothes, her hilarity, her complexion, her eyelashes, and all that + appertained to her—into the critical task of making other men + believe, at Captain Drake’s expense, that they were quite as fond of her + as he was. Mrs. Vesey took opposite measures, and the Club laid bets on + the result. + </p> + <p> + The Club was not prepossessed by Captain Drake. He said too little and he + implied too much. He had magnificent shoulders, which he bent a great deal + over secluded sofas, and a very languid interest in matters over which + ordinary men were enthusiastic. He seemed to believe that if he smiled all + the way across his face, he would damage a conventionality. His clothes + were unexceptionable, and he always did the right thing, though bored by + the necessity. He was good-looking in an ugly way, which gave him an air + of restrained capacity for melodrama, and made women think him + interesting. Somebody with a knack of disparagement said that he was too + much expressed. It rather added to his unpopularity that he was a man whom + women usually took with preposterous seriousness—all but Kitty + Vesey, who charmed and held him by her outrageous liberties. When Mrs. + Vesey chaffed him, he felt picturesque. He was also aware of inspiring + entertainment for the lookers-on, with the feeling at such times that he, + too, was an amused spectator. This was, of course, their public attitude. + In private there was sentiment, and they talked about the tyranny of + society, or delivered themselves of ideas suggested by works of fiction + which everybody simply HAD to read. + </p> + <p> + For a week Mrs. Innes looked on, apparently indifferent, rather apparently + not observing; and an Assistant Secretary in the Home Department began to + fancy that his patience in teaching the three dachshund puppies tricks was + really appreciated. He was an on-coming Assistant Secretary, with other + conspicuous parts, and hitherto his time had been too valuable to spend + upon ladies’ dachshunds. Mrs. Innes had selected him well. There came an + evening when, at a dance at the Lieutenant-Governor’s, Mrs. Innes was so + absorbed in what the Assistant Secretary was saying to her, as she passed + on his arm, that she did not see Captain Drake in the corridor at all, + although he had carefully broken an engagement to walk with Kitty Vesey + that very afternoon, as the beginning of gradual and painless reform in + her direction. His unrewarded virtue rose up and surprised him with the + distinctness of its resentment; and while his expression was successfully + amused, his shoulders and the back of his neck, as well as the hand on his + moustache, spoke of discipline which promised to be efficient. Reflection + assured him that discipline was after all deserved, and a quarter of an + hour later found him wagging his tail, so to speak, over Mrs. Innes’s + programme in a corner pleasantly isolated. The other chair was occupied by + the Assistant Secretary. Captain Drake represented an interruption, and + was obliged to take a step towards the nearest lamp to read the card. + Three dances were rather ostentatiously left, and Drake initialled them + all. He brought back the card with a bow, which spoke of dignity under + bitter usage, together with the inflexible intention of courteous + self-control, and turned away. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, if you please, Captain Drake—let me see what you’ve done. All + those? But—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Isn’t it after eleven, Mrs. Innes?’ asked the Assistant Secretary, with a + timid smile. He was enjoying himself, but he had a respect for vested + interests, and those of Captain Drake were so well known that he felt a + little like a buccaneer. + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear me, so it is!’ Mrs. Innes glanced at one of her bracelets. ‘Then, + Captain Drake, I’m sorry’—she carefully crossed out the three + ‘V.D.‘s’—‘I promised all the dances I had left after ten to Mr. + Holmcroft. Most of the others I gave away at the gymkhana—really. + Why weren’t you there? That Persian tutor again! I’m afraid you are + working too hard. And what did the Rani do, Mr. Holmcroft? It’s like the + Arabian Nights, only with real jewels—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I say, Holmcroft, this is too much luck, you know. Regular + sweepstakes, by Jove!’ And Captain Drake lingered on the fringe of the + situation. + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps I have been greedy,’ said the Assistant Secretary, deprecatingly. + ‘I’ll—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not in the very least! That is,’ exclaimed Mrs. Violet, pouting, ‘if I’M + to be considered. We’ll sit out all but the waltzes, and you shall tell me + official secrets about the Rani. She put us up once, she’s a delicious old + thing. Gave us string beds to sleep on and gold plate to eat from, and + swore about every other word. She had been investing in Government paper, + and it had dropped three points. “Just my damn luck!” she said. Wasn’t it + exquisite? Captain Drake—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs. Innes—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t want to be rude, but you’re a dreadful embarrassment. Mr. + Holmcroft won’t tell you official secrets!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If she would only behave!’ thought Madeline, looking on, ‘I would tell + her—indeed I would—at once.’ + </p> + <p> + Colonel Innes detached himself from a group of men in mess dress as she + appeared with the Worsleys, and let himself drift with the tide that + brought them always together. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are looking tired—ill,’ she said, seriously, as they sought the + unconfessed solace of each other’s eyes. ‘Last night it was the + Commander-in-Chief’s, and the night before the dance at Peliti’s. And + again tonight. And you are not like those of us who can rest next morning—you + have always your heavy office work!’ She spoke with indignant, tender + reproach, and he gave himself up to hearing it. ‘You will have to take + leave and go away,’ she insisted, foolishly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Leave! Good heavens, no! I wish all our fellows were as fit as I am. And—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes?’ she said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t pity me, dear friend. I don’t think it’s good for me. The world + really uses me very well.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then it’s all right, I suppose,’ Madeline said, with sudden depression. + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course it is. You are dining with us on the eighth?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m afraid not, I’m engaged.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Engaged again? Don’t you WANT to break bread in my house, Miss Anderson?’ + She was silent, and he insisted, ‘Tell me,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + She gave him instead a kind, mysterious smile. + </p> + <p> + ‘I will explain to you what I feel about that some day,’ she said; ‘some + day soon. I can’t accept Mrs. Innes’s invitation for the eighth, but—Brookes + and I are going to take tea with the fakir’s monkeys on the top of Jakko + tomorrow afternoon.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Anybody else, or only Brookes?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Only Brookes.’ And she thought she had abandoned coquetry! + </p> + <p> + ‘Then may I come?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed you may.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I really don’t know,’ reflected Madeline, as she caught another glimpse + of Mrs. Innes vigorously dancing the reel opposite little Lord Billy in + his Highland uniform, with her hands on her flowered-satin hips, ‘that I + am behaving very well myself.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 3.VIII. + </h2> + <p> + Horace Innes looked round his wife’s drawing-room as if he were making an + inventory of it, carefully giving each article its value, which happened, + however, to have nothing to do with rupees. Madeline Anderson had been + saying something the day before about the intimacy and accuracy with which + people’s walls expressed them, and though the commonplace was not new to + him, this was the first time it had ever led him to scan his wife’s. What + he saw may be imagined, but his only distinct reflection was that he had + no idea that she had been photographed so variously or had so many friends + who wore resplendent Staff uniforms. The relation of cheapness in + porcelain ornaments to the lady’s individuality was beyond him, and he + could not analyze his feelings of sitting in the midst of her poverty of + spirit. Indeed, thinking of his ordinary unsusceptibility to such things, + he told himself sharply that he was adding an affectation of discomfort to + the others that he had to bear; and that if Madeline had not given him the + idea it would never have entered his mind. The less, he mused, that one + had to do with finicking feelings in this world the better. They were well + enough for people who were tolerably conditioned in essentials—he + preferred this vagueness, even with himself, in connection with his + marriage—otherwise they added pricks. Besides he had that other + matter to think of. + </p> + <p> + He thought of the other matter with such obvious irritation that the + butler coming in to say that the ‘English water’ was finished, and how + many dozen should he order, put a chair in its place instead, closed the + door softly again, and went away. It was not good for the dignity of + butlers to ask questions of any sort with a look of that kind under the + eyebrows of the sahib. The matter was not serious, Colonel Innes told + himself, but he would prefer by comparison to deal with matters that were + serious. He knew Simla well enough to attach no overwhelming importance to + things said about women at the Club, where the broadest charity prevailed + underneath, and the idle comment of the moment had an intrinsic value as a + distraction rather than a reflective one as a criticism. This + consideration, however, was more philosophical in connection with other + men’s wives. He found very little in it to palliate what he had overheard, + submerged in the ‘Times of India’, that afternoon. And to put an edge on + it, the thing had been said by one of his own juniors. Luckily the boy had + left the room without discovering who was behind the ‘Times of India’. + Innes felt that he should be grateful for having been spared the exigency + of defending his wife against a flippant word to which she had very + probably laid herself open. He was very angry, and it is perhaps not + surprising that he did not pause to consider how far his anger was due to + the humiliating necessity of speaking to her about it. She was coming at + last though; she was in the hall. He would get it over quickly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Goodbye!’ said Mrs. Innes at the door. ‘No, I can’t possibly let you come + in to tea. I don’t know how you have the conscience after drinking three + cups at Mrs. Mickie’s, where I had no business to take you! Tomorrow? Oh, + all right if you want to VERY badly. But I won’t promise you strawberries—they’re + nearly all gone.’ + </p> + <p> + There was the sound of a departing pony’s trot, and Mrs. Innes came into + the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good heavens, Horace! what are you sitting there for like a—like a + ghost? Why didn’t you make a noise or something, and why aren’t you at + office? I can’t tell you how you startled me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is early,’ Colonel Innes said. ‘We are neither of us in the house, as + a rule, at this hour.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Coincidence!’ Violet turned a cool, searching glance on her husband, and + held herself ready. ‘I came home early because I want to alter the lace on + my yellow bodice for tonight. It’s too disgusting as it is. But I was + rather glad to get away from Mrs. Mickie’s lot. So rowdy!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And I came because I had a special reason for wanting to speak to you.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Violet’s lips parted, and her breath, in spite of herself, came a + little faster. + </p> + <p> + ‘As we are dining out tonight, I thought that if I didn’t catch you now I + might not have another opportunity—till tomorrow morning.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And it’s always a pity to spoil one’s breakfast. I can tell from your + manner, mon ami, it’s something disagreeable. What have I been and gone + and done?’ + </p> + <p> + She was dancing, poor thing, in her little vulgar way, on hot iron. But + her eyes kept their inconsistent coolness. + </p> + <p> + ‘I heard something today which you are not in the way of hearing. You have—probably—no + conception that it could be said.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then she has been telling other people. ABSOLUTELY the worst thing she + could do!’ Mrs. Innes exclaimed privately, sitting unmoved, her face a + little too expectant. + </p> + <p> + ‘You won’t be prepared for it—you may be shocked and hurt by it. + Indeed, I think there is no need to repeat it to you. But I must put you + on your guard. Men are coarser, you know, than women; they are apt to put + their own interpretation—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What is it?’ + </p> + <p> + There was a physical gasp, a sharpness in her voice that brought Innes’s + eyes from the floor to her face. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am sorry,’ he said, ‘but—don’t overestimate it, don’t let it + worry you. It was simply a very impertinent—a very disagreeable + reference to you and Mr. Holmcroft, I think, in connection with the + Dovedell’s picnic. It was a particularly silly thing as well, and I am + sure no one would attach any importance to it, but it was said openly at + the Club, and—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Who said it?’ Mrs. Innes demanded. + </p> + <p> + A flood of colour rushed over her face. Horace marked that she blushed. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know whether I ought to tell you, Violet. It certainly was not + meant for your ears.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If I’m not to know who said it, I don’t see why I should pay any + attention to it. Mere idle rumour—’ + </p> + <p> + Innes bit his lip. + </p> + <p> + ‘Captain Gordon said it,’ he replied. + </p> + <p> + ‘Bobby Gordon! DO tell me what he said! I’m dying to know. Was he very + disagreeable? I DID give his dance away on Thursday night.’ + </p> + <p> + Innes looked at her with the curious distrust which she often inspired in + him. He had a feeling that he would like to put her out of the room into a + place by herself, and keep her there. + </p> + <p> + ‘I won’t repeat what he said.’ Colonel Innes took up the ‘Saturday + Review’. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, do, Horace! I particularly want to know.’ + </p> + <p> + Innes said nothing. + </p> + <p> + ‘Horace! Was it—was it anything about Mr. Holmcroft being my + Secretariat baa-lamb?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you adorn your guess with a little profanity,’ said Innes, acidly, + ‘you won’t be far wrong.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Violet burst into a peal of laughter. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, you old goose!’ she articulated, behind her handkerchief; ‘he said + that to ME.’ + </p> + <p> + Innes laid down the ‘Saturday Review’. + </p> + <p> + ‘To you!’ he repeated; ‘Gordon said it to you!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Rather!’ Mrs. Violet was still mirthful. ‘I’m not sure that he didn’t + call poor little Homie something worse than that. It’s the purest jealousy + on his part—nothing to make a fuss about.’ + </p> + <p> + The fourth skin which enables so many of us to be callous to all but the + relative meaning of careless phrases had not been given to Innes, and her + words fell upon his bare sense of propriety. + </p> + <p> + ‘Jealous,’ he said, ‘of a married woman? I find that difficult to + understand.’ + </p> + <p> + Violet’s face straightened out. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t be absurd, Horace. These boys are always jealous of somebody or + other—it’s the occupation of their lives! I really don’t see how one + can prevent it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It seems to me that a self-respecting woman should see how. Your point of + view in these matters is incomprehensible.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps,’ Violet was driven by righteous anger to say, ‘you find Miss + Anderson’s easier to understand.’ + </p> + <p> + Colonel Innes’s face took its regimental disciplinary look, and, though + his eyes were aroused, his words were quiet with repression. + </p> + <p> + ‘I see no reason to discuss Miss Anderson with you,’ he said. ‘She has + nothing to do with what we are talking about.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, don’t you, really! Hasn’t she, indeed! I take it you are trying to + make me believe that compromising things are said about Mr. Holmcroft and + me at the Club. Well, I advise you to keep your ears open a little more, + and listen to the things said about you and Madeline Anderson there. But I + don’t suppose you would be in such a hurry to repeat them to HER.’ + </p> + <p> + Innes turned very white, and the rigidity of his face gave place to heavy + dismay. His look was that of a man upon whom misfortune had fallen out of + a clear sky. For an instant he stared at his wife. When he spoke his voice + was altered. + </p> + <p> + ‘For God’s sake!’ he said, ‘let us have done with this pitiful wrangling. + I dare say you can take care of yourself; at all events, I only meant to + warn you. But now you must tell me exactly what you mean by this that you + have said—this—about—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The fat’s in the fire,’ was Mrs. Innes’s reflection. + </p> + <p> + ‘Certainly, I’ll tell you—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t shout, please!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I mean simply that all Simla is talking about your affair with Miss + Anderson. You may imagine that because you are fifteen years older than + she is things won’t be thought of, but they are, and I hear it’s been + spoken about at Viceregal Lodge. I KNOW Lady Bloomfield has noticed it, + for she herself mentioned it to me. I told her I hadn’t the slightest + objection, and neither have I, but there’s an old proverb about people in + glass houses. What are you going to do?’ + </p> + <p> + Colonel Innes’s expression was certainly alarming, and he had made a step + toward her that had menace in it. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am going out,’ he said, and turned and left her to her triumph. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 3.IX. + </h2> + <p> + She—Violet—had unspeakably vulgarized it, but it must be true—it + must be, to some extent, true. She may even have lied about it, but the + truth was there, fundamentally, in the mere fact that it had been + suggested to her imagination. Madeline’s name, which had come to be for + him an epitome of what was finest and most valuable, most to be lived for, + was dropping from men’s lips into a kind of an abyss of dishonourable + suggestion. There was no way out of it or around it. It was a cloud which + encompassed them, suddenly blackening down. + </p> + <p> + There was nothing that he could do—nothing. Except, yes, of course—that + was obvious, as obvious as any other plain duty. Through his selfishness + it had a beginning; in spite of his selfishness it should have an end. + That went without saying. No more walks or rides. In a conventional way, + perhaps—but nothing deliberate, designed—and never alone + together. Gossip about flippant married women was bad enough, but that it + should concern itself with an unprotected creature like Madeline was + monstrous, incredible. He strode fiercely into the road round Jakko, and + no little harmless snake, if it had crawled across his path, would have + failed to suffer a quick fate under the guidance of his imagination. But + there was nothing for him to kill, and he turned upon himself. + </p> + <p> + The sun went down into the Punjab and left great blue-and-purple hill + worlds barring the passage behind him. The deodars sank waist deep into + filmy shadow, and the yellow afterlight lay silently among the branches. A + pink-haunched monkey lopading across the road with a great show of + prudence seemed to have strayed into an unfamiliar country, and the + rustling twigs behind him made an episode of sound. The road in perpetual + curve between its little stone parapet and the broad flank of the hill + rose and fell under the deodars; Innes took its slopes and its steepnesses + with even, unslackened stride, aware of no difference, aware of little + indeed except the physical necessity of movement, spurred on by a futile + instinct that the end of his walk would be the end of his trouble—his + amazing, black, menacing trouble. A pony’s trot behind him struck through + the silence like percussion-caps; all Jakko seemed to echo with it; and it + came nearer—insistent, purposeful—but he was hardly aware of + it until the creature pulled up beside him, and Madeline, slipping quickly + off, said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m coming too.’ + </p> + <p> + He took off his hat and stared at her. She seemed to represent a climax. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m coming too,’ she said. ‘I’m tired of picking flies off the Turk, and + he’s really unbearable about them tonight. Here, syce.’ She threw the + reins to the man and turned to Innes with a smile of relief. ‘I would much + rather do a walk. Why—you want me to come too, don’t you?’ + </p> + <p> + His face was all one negative, and under the unexpectedness of it and the + amazement of it her questioning eyes slowly filled with sudden, + uncontrollable tears, so that she had to lower them, and look steadily at + the hoof-marks in the road while she waited for his answer. + </p> + <p> + ‘You know how I feel about seeing you—how glad I always am,’ he + stammered. ‘But there are reasons—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Reasons?’ she repeated, half audibly. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know how to tell you. I will write. But let me put you up again—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I will not,’ Madeline said, with a sob, ‘I won’t be sent home like a + child. I am going to walk, but—but I can quite well go alone.’ She + started forward, and her foot caught in her habit so that she made an + awkward stumble and came down on her knee. In rising she stumbled again, + and his quick arm was necessary. Looking down at her, he saw that she was + crying bitterly. The tension had lasted long, and the snap had come when + she least expected it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Stop,’ Innes said, firmly, hardly daring to turn his head and ascertain + the blessed fact that they were still alone. ‘Stop instantly. You shall + not go by yourself.’ He flicked the dust off her habit with his + pocket-handkerchief. ‘Come, please; we will go on together.’ Her distress + seemed to make things simple again. It was as if the cloud that hung over + them had melted as she wept, and lifted, and drifted a little further on. + For the moment, naturally, nothing mattered except that she should be + comforted. As she walked by his side shaken with her effort at + self-control, he had to resist the impulse to touch her. His hand tingled + to do its part in soothing her, his arm ached to protect her, while he + vaguely felt an element of right, of justice, in her tears; they were in a + manner his own. What he did was to turn and ask the syce following if he + had loosened the Turk’s saddle-girths. + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall be better—in a moment,’ Madeline said, and he answered, ‘Of + course’; but they walked on and said nothing more until the road ran out + from under the last deodar and round the first bare boulder that marked + the beginning of the Ladies’ Mile. It lay rolled out before them, the + Ladies’ Mile, sinuous and grey and empty, along the face of the cliff; + they could see from one end of it to the other. It was the bleak side of + Jakko; even tonight there was a fresh springing coldness in it blowing + over from the hidden snows behind the rims of the nearer hills. Madeline + held up her face to it, and gave herself a moment of its grateful + discipline. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have been as foolish as possible,’ she said, ‘as foolish as possible. I + have distressed you. Well, I couldn’t help it—that is all there is + to be said. Now if you will tell me—what is in your mind—what + you spoke of writing—I will mount again and go home. It doesn’t + matter—I know you didn’t mean to be unkind.’ Her lip was trembling + again, and he knew it, and dared not look at it. + </p> + <p> + ‘How can you ask me to tell you—miserable things!’ he exclaimed. + ‘How can I find the words? And I have only just been told—I can + hardly myself conceive it—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am not a child in her teens that my ears should be guarded from + miserable things. I have come of age, I have entered into my inheritance + of the world’s bitterness with the rest. I can listen,’ Madeline said. + ‘Why not?’ + </p> + <p> + He looked to her with grave tenderness. ‘You think yourself very old, and + very wise about the world,’ he said; ‘but you are a woman, and you will be + hurt. And when I think that a little ordinary forethought on my part would + have protected you, I feel like the criminal I am.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t make too much of it,’ she said, simply. ‘I have a presentiment—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll tell you,’ Innes said, slowly; ‘I won’t niggle about it. The people + of this place—idiots!—are unable to believe that a man and a + woman can be to each other what we are.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes?’ said Madeline. She paused beside the parapet and looked down at the + indistinct little fields below, and the blurred masses of white wild roses + waving midway against the precipice. + </p> + <p> + ‘They can not understand that there can be any higher plane of intercourse + between us than the one they know. They won’t see—they can’t see—that + the satisfaction we find in being together is of a different nature.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I see,’ said Madeline. She had raised her eyes, and they sought the + solemn lines of the horizon. She looked as if she saw something infinitely + lifted above the pettiness he retailed to her. + </p> + <p> + ‘So they say—good God, why should I tell you what they say!’ It + suddenly flashed upon him that the embodiment of it in words would be at + once, from him, sacrilegious and ludicrous. It flashed upon him that her + natural anger would bring him pain, and that if she laughed—it was + so hard to tell when she would laugh—it would be as if she struck + him. He cast about him dumb and helpless while she kept her invincibly + quiet gaze upon the farther hills. She was thinking that this breath of + gossip, now that it had blown, was a very slight affair compared with + Horace Innes’s misery—which he did not seem to understand. Then her + soul rose up in her, brushing everything aside, and forgetting, alas! the + vow it had once made to her. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think I know,’ she said. ‘They are indeed foolish. They say that we—love + each other. Is not that what they say?’ + </p> + <p> + He looked in amazement into her tender eyes and caught at the little + mocking smile about her lips. Suddenly the world grew light about him, the + shadows fled away. Somewhere down in the valley, he remembered afterward, + a hill-flute made music. When he spoke it was almost in a whisper, lest he + should disturb some newly perceived lovely thing that had wings, and might + leave him. ‘Oh, Madeline,’ he said, ‘is it true?’ She only smiled on in + gladness that took no heed of any apprehension, any fear or scruple, and + he himself keeping his eyes upon her face, said, ‘It is true.’ + </p> + <p> + So they stood for a little time in silence while she resisted her great + opportunity. She resisted it to the end, and presently beckoned to the + syce, who came up leading the pony. Innes mounted her mechanically and + said, ‘Is that all right?’ as she put her foot in the stirrup, without + knowing that he had spoken. + </p> + <p> + ‘Goodbye,’ she said; ‘I am going away—immediately. It will be + better. And listen—I have known this for weeks—and I have gone + on seeing you. And I hope I am not any more wicked than I feel. Goodbye.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Goodbye,’ he said, taking his hand from the pony’s neck, and she rode + buoyantly away. He, turning to breast the road again, saw darkness + gathering over the end of it, and drawing nearer. + </p> + <p> + At eleven o’clock next morning Brookes rose from her packing to take a + note addressed to her mistress from the hand of a messenger in the + Imperial red and gold. It ran: + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear Miss Anderson—I write to tell you that I have obtained three + weeks’ leave, and I am going into the interior to shoot, starting this + afternoon. You spoke yesterday of leaving Simla almost immediately. I + trust you will not do this, as it would be extremely risky to venture down + to the Plains just now. In ten days the rains will have broken, when it + will be safe. Pray wait till then. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yours sincerely, + </p> + <p> + ‘Horace Innes.’ + </p> + <p> + Involuntarily the letter found its way to Madeline’s lips, and remained + there until she saw the maid observing her with intelligence. + </p> + <p> + ‘Brookes,’ she said, ‘I am strongly advised not to start until the rains + break. I think, on the whole, that we won’t.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed, miss,’ returned Brookes, ‘Mrs. Sergeant Simmons told me that it + was courting cholera to go—and nothing short of it. I must say I’m + thankful.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 3.X. + </h2> + <p> + A week later Colonel Innes had got his leave, and had left Simla for the + snow-line by what is facetiously known as ‘the carriage road to Tibet.’ + Madeline had done as she was bidden, and was waiting for the rains to + break. Another day had come without them. To write and tell Innes, to + write to tell Violet, to go away and leave the situation as she found it; + she had lived and moved and slept and awakened to these alternatives. At + the moment she slept. + </p> + <p> + It was early, very early in the morning. The hills all about seemed still + unaware of it, standing in the greyness, compact, silent, immutable, as if + they slept with their eyes open. Nothing spoke of the oncoming sun, + nothing was yet surprised. The hill world lifted itself unconscious in a + pale solution of daylight, and only on the sky-line, very far away, it + rippled into a cloud. The flimsy town clinging steeply roof above roof to + the slope, mounting to the saddle and slipping over on the other side, cut + the dawn with innumerable little lines and angles all in one tone like a + pencil drawing. + </p> + <p> + There was no feeling in it, no expression. It had a temporary air in that + light, like trampled snow, and even the big Secretariat buildings that + raised themselves here and there out of the huddling bazaar looked + trivial, childish enterprises in the simple revelation of the morning. A + cold silence was abroad, which a crow now and then vainly tried to disturb + with a note of tentative enterprise, forced, premature. It announced that + the sun would probably rise, but nothing more. In the little dark shops of + the wood-carvers an occasional indefinite figure moved, groping among last + night’s tools, or an old woman in a red sari washed a brass dish over the + shallow open drain that ran past her door. At the tonga terminus, below + the Mall, a couple of coughing syces, muffled in their blankets, pulled + one of these vehicles out of the shed. They pushed it about sleepily, with + clumsy futility; nothing else stirred or spoke at all in Simla. Nothing + disturbed Miss Anderson asleep in her hotel. + </p> + <p> + A brown figure in a loin-cloth, with a burden, appeared where the road + turned down from the Mall, and then another, and several following. They + were coolies, and they carried luggage. + </p> + <p> + The first to arrive beside the tonga bent and loosed the trunk he brought, + which slipped from his back to the ground. The syces looked at him, saying + nothing, and he straightened himself against the wall of the hillside, + also in silence. It was too early for conversation. Thus did all the + others. + </p> + <p> + When the last portmanteau had been deposited, a khaki-coloured heap on the + shed floor rose up as a broad-shouldered Punjabi driver, and walked round + the luggage, looking at it. + </p> + <p> + ‘And you, owls’ brethren,’ he said, with sarcasm, addressing the first + coolie, ‘you have undertaken to carry these matter fifty-eight kos to + Kalka, have you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Na,’ replied the coolie, stolidly, and spat. + </p> + <p> + ‘How else, then, is it to be taken?’ the driver cried, with anger in his + argument. ‘Behold the memsahib has ordered but one tonga, and a fool-thing + of an ekka. Here is work for six tongas! What reason is there in this?’ + </p> + <p> + The coolie folded his naked arms, and dug in the dust with an unconcerned + toe. + </p> + <p> + ‘I, what can I do?’ he said, ‘It is the order of the memsahib.’ + </p> + <p> + Ram Singh grunted and said no more. A rickshaw was coming down from the + Mall, and the memsahib was in it. + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes later the ponies stood in their traces under the iron bar, and + the lady sat in the tonga behind Ram Singh. Her runners, in uniform, + waited beside the empty rickshaw with a puzzled look, at which she + laughed, and threw a rupee to the head man. + </p> + <p> + The luggage was piled and corded on three ekkas behind, and their + cross-legged drivers, too, were ready. + </p> + <p> + ‘Chellao!’ she cried, crisply, and Ram Singh imperturbably lifted the + reins. The little procession clanked and jingled along the hillside, + always tending down, and broke upon the early grey melancholy with a + forced and futile cheerfulness, too early, like everything else. As it + passed the last of Simla’s little gardens, spread like a + pocket-handkerchief on the side of the hill, the lady leaned forward and + looked back as if she wished to impress the place upon her memory. Her + expression was that of a person going forth without demur into the day’s + hazards, ready to cope with them, yet there was some regret in the + backward look. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a place,’ she said aloud, ‘where EVERYBODY has a good time!’ + </p> + <p> + Then the Amusement Club went out of sight behind a curve; and she settled + herself more comfortably among her cushions, and drew a wrap round her to + meet the chill wind of the valley. It was all behind her. The lady looked + out as the ponies galloped up to the first changing-place, and, seeing a + saddled horse held by a syce, cramped herself a little into one corner to + make room. The seat would just hold two. + </p> + <p> + Ram Singh salaamed, getting down to harness the fresh pair, and a man put + his face in at the side of the tonga and took off his hat. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you all right?’ he said. His smile was as conscious as his words were + casual. + </p> + <p> + ‘Quite right. The ayah was silly about coming—didn’t want to leave + her babies or something—so I had to leave her behind. Everything + else is either here or in the ekkas.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The brute! Never mind—they’re not much use in a railway journey. + You can pick up another at Bombay. Then I suppose I’d better get in.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I suppose you better had. Unless you think of walking,’ she laughed, and + he took the place beside her. + </p> + <p> + Ram Singh again unquestioningly took up the reins. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nobody else going down?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not another soul. We might just as well have started together.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, well, we couldn’t tell. Beastly awkward if there had been anybody.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ she said, but thrust up her under lip indifferently. + </p> + <p> + Then, with the effect of turning to the business in hand, she bent her + eyes upon him understandingly and smiled in frank reference to something + that had not been mentioned. ‘It’s goodbye Simla, isn’t it?’ she said. He + smiled in response and put his hand upon her firm, round arm, + possessively, and they began to talk. + </p> + <p> + Ram Singh, all unaware, kept his horses at their steady clanking downward + gallop, and Simla, clinging to the hilltops, was brushed by the first rays + of the sun. + </p> + <p> + It came a gloriously clear morning; early riders round Jakko saw the real + India lying beyond the outer ranges, flat and blue and pictured with + forests and rivers like a map. The plains were pretty and interesting in + this aspect, but nobody found them attractive. Sensitive people liked it + better when the heat mist veiled them and it was possible to look abroad + without a sudden painful thought of contrasting temperatures. We may + suppose that the inhabitants of Paradise sometimes grieve over their luck. + Even Madeline Anderson, whose heart knew no constriction at the + remembrance of brother or husband at some cruel point in the blue expanse, + had come to turn her head more willingly the other way, towards the hills + rolling up to the snows, being a woman who suffered by proxy, and by + observation, and by Rudyard Kipling. + </p> + <p> + On this particular morning, however, she had not elected to do either. She + slept late instead, and was glad to sleep. I might as well say at once + that on the night before she had made up her mind, had brought herself to + the point, and had written to Mrs. Innes, at ‘Two Gables’, all the facts, + in so far as she was acquainted with them, connected with Frederick + Prendergast’s death. She was very much ashamed of herself, poor girl; she + was aware that, through her postponement, Horace Innes would now see his + problem in all its bitterness, make his choice with his eyes wide open. If + it had only happened before he knew—anything about her! + </p> + <p> + She charged herself with having deliberately waited, and then spent an + exhausting hour trying to believe that she had drifted unconsciously to + the point of their mutual confession. Whatever the truth was, she did not + hesitate to recognize a new voice in her private counsels from that hour, + urging her in one way or another to bring matters to an end. It was a + strong instinct; looking at the facts, she saw it was the gambler’s. When + she tried to think of the ethical considerations involved she saw only the + chances. The air seemed to throb with them all night; she had to count + them finally to get rid of them. + </p> + <p> + Brookes was up betimes, however, and sent off the letter. It went duly, by + Surnoo, to Mrs. Innes at ‘Two Gables’. Madeline woke at seven with a + start, and asked if it had gone, then slept again contentedly. So far as + she was concerned the thing was finished. The breakfast gong had sounded, + and the English mail had arrived before she opened her eyes again upon the + day’s issues; she gave it her somewhat desultory attention while Brookes + did her hair. There was only one scrap of news. Adele mentioned in a + postscript that poor Mr. Prendergast’s money was likely to go to a distant + relative, it having transpired that he died without leaving a will. + </p> + <p> + ‘She is sure, absolutely sure,’ Madeline mused, ‘to answer my letter in + person. She will be here within an hour. I shall have this to tell her, + too. How pleased she will be! She will come into it all, I suppose—if + she is allowed. Though she won’t be allowed, that is if—’ But there + speculation began, and Madeline had forbidden herself speculation, if not + once and for all, at least many times and for fifteen minutes. + </p> + <p> + No reasonable purpose would be served by Mrs. Innes’s visit, Madeline + reflected, as she sat waiting in the little room opening on the veranda; + but she would come, of course she would come. She would require the + satisfaction of the verbal assurance; she would hope to extract more + details; she would want the objectionable gratification of talking if + over. + </p> + <p> + In spite of any assurance, she would believe that Madeline had not told + her before in order to make her miserable a little longer than she need + be; but, after all, her impression about that did not particularly matter. + It couldn’t possibly be a pleasant interview, yet Madeline found herself + impatient for it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Surnoo,’ she said of her messenger, ‘must be idling on his way back in + the bazaar. I must try to remember to fine him two pice. Surnoo is + incorrigible.’ + </p> + <p> + She forgot, however, to fine Surnoo. The pad of his bare feet sounded + along the veranda almost immediately, and the look in his Pahari eyes was + that of expected reproach, and ability to defend himself against it. + </p> + <p> + He held out two letters at arm’s-length, for as he was expected to bring + only one there was a fault in this; and all his domestic traditions told + him that he might be chastened. One was addressed to Madeline in Mrs. + Innes’s handwriting; the other, she saw with astonishment, was her own + communication to that lady, her own letter returned. Surnoo explained + volubly all the way along the veranda, and in the flood of his unknown + tongue Madeline caught a sentence or two. + </p> + <p> + ‘The memsahib was not,’ said Surnoo. Clearly he could not deliver a letter + to a memsahib who was not. ‘Therefore,’ Surnoo continued, ‘I have brought + back your honour’s letter, and the other I had from the hand of the + memsahib’s runner, the runner with one eye, who was on the road to bring + it here. More I do not know, but it appears that the memsahib has gone to + her father and mother in Belaat, being very sorrowful because the + Colonel-sahib has left her to shoot.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The letter will tell me,’ said Madeline to herself, fingering it. + ‘Enough, Surnoo.’ + </p> + <p> + The man went away, and Madeline closed and locked the door of her + sitting-room. The letter would tell her—what? She glanced about her + with dissatisfaction, and sought the greater privacy of her bedroom, where + also she locked the door and drew the muslin curtain across the window. + She laid the letter on the dressing-table and kept her eyes upon it while + she unfastened, with trembling hands, the brooch at her neck and the belt + at her waist. She did one or two other meaningless things, as if she + wanted to gain time, to fortify her nerves even against an exhibition + before herself. + </p> + <p> + Then she sat down with her back towards the light and opened the letter. + It had a pink look and a scented air. Even in her beating suspense + Madeline held it a little farther away from her, as she unfolded it, and + it ran: + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear Miss Anderson—What will you say, I wonder, and what will Simla + say, when you know that Captain Drake and I have determined to DISREGARD + CONVENTIONALITIES, and live henceforward only for one another! I am all + packed up, and long before this meets your eye we shall have taken the + step which society condemns, but which I have a feeling that you, knowing + my storm-tossed history, will be broad-minded enough to sympathize with, + at least to some extent. That is the reason I am writing to you rather + than to any of my own chums, and also of course to have the satisfaction + of telling you that I no longer care what you do about letting out the + secret of my marriage to Frederick Prendergast. I am now ABOVE AND BEYOND + IT. Any way you look at it, I do not see that I am much to blame. As I + never have been Colonel Innes’s wife there can be no harm in leaving him, + though if he had ever been sympathetic, or understood me the LEAST LITTLE + BIT, I might have felt bound to him. But he has never been able to evoke + the finer parts of my nature, and when this is the case marriage is a mere + miserable fleshly failure. You may say, “Why try it a third time?”—but + my union with Val will be different. I have never been fond of the + opposite sex—so far as that goes I should have made a very good nun—but + for a long time Valentine Drake has been the only man I cared to have come + within a mile of me, and lately we have discovered that we are absolutely + necessary to each other’s existence on the higher plane. I don’t care much + what Simla thinks, but if you happen to be talking about it to dear Lady + Bloomfield, you might just mention this. Val has eight hundred a year of + his own, so it is perfectly practicable. Of course, he will send in his + papers. WHATEVER HAPPENS, Val and I will never bind ourselves in any way. + We both think it wrong and enslaving. I have nothing more to add, except + that I am depending on you to explain to Simla that I never was Mrs. + Innes. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yours sincerely, + </p> + <p> + ‘Violet Prendergast. + </p> + <p> + ‘P.S.—I have written to Horace, telling him everything about + everything, and sent my letter off to him in the wilds by a runner. If you + see him you might try and smooth him down. I don’t want him coming after + Val with a revolver.’ + </p> + <p> + Madeline read this communication through twice. Then quietly and + deliberately she lay down upon the bed, and drew herself out of the + control of her heart by the hard labour of thought. When she rose, she had + decided that there were only two things for her to do, and she began at + once to do them, continuing her refuge in action. She threw her little + rooms open again, and walked methodically round the outer one, collecting + the odds and ends of Indian fabrics with which she had garnished it. + </p> + <p> + As the maid came in, she looked up from folding them. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have news, Brookes,’ she said, ‘that necessitates my going home at + once. No, it is not bad news, but—important. I will go now and see + about the tonga. We must start tomorrow morning.’ + </p> + <p> + Brookes called Surnoo, and the rickshaw came round. + </p> + <p> + Madeline looked at her watch. + </p> + <p> + ‘The telegraph office,’ she said; ‘and as quickly as may be.’ + </p> + <p> + As the runners panted over the Mall, up and down and on, Madeline said to + herself, ‘She shall have her chance. She shall choose.’ + </p> + <p> + The four reeking Paharis pulled up at the telegraph office, and Madeline + sped up the steps. There was a table, with forms printed ‘Indian + Telegraphs,’ and the usual bottle of thickened ink and pair of rusty pens. + She sat down to her intention as if she dared not let it cool; she wrote + her message swiftly, she had worded it on the way. + </p> + <p> + ‘To Mrs. Innes, Dak Bungalow, Solon. + </p> + <p> + ‘From M. Anderson, Simla. + </p> + <p> + ‘Frederick Prendergast died on January 7th, at Sing Sing. Your letter + considered confidential if you return. Prendergast left no will. + </p> + <p> + ‘M. Anderson.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Send this “urgent,” Babu,’ she said to the clerk, ‘and repeat it to the + railway station, Kalka. Shall I fill up another form? No? Very well.’ + </p> + <p> + At the door she turned and came back. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is now eleven o’clock,’ she said. ‘The person I am telegraphing to is + on her way down to get tonight’s train at Kalka. I am hoping to catch her + half-way at Solon. Do you think I can?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think so, madam. Oyess! It is the custom to stop at Solon for tiffin. + The telegram can arrive there. All urgent telegram going very quick.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And in any case,’ said Madeline, ‘it can not fail to reach her at Kalka?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not possible to fail, madam.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She will have her chance,’ she said to herself, on her way to the post + office to order her tonga. And with a little nauseated shudder at the + thought of the letter in her pocket, she added, ‘It is amazing. I should + have thought her too good a woman of business!’ After which she + concentrated her whole attention upon the necessities of departure. Her + single immediate apprehension was that Horace Innes might, by some magic + of circumstances, be transported back into Simla before she could get out + of it. That such a contingency was physically impossible made no + difference to her nerves, and to the last Brookes was the hurrying victim + of unnecessary promptings. + </p> + <p> + The little rambling hotel of Kalka, where the railway spreads out over the + plains, raises its white-washed shelter under the very walls of the + Himalayas. Madeline, just arrived, lay back in a long wicker chair on the + veranda, and looked up at them as they mounted green and grey and silent + under the beating of the first of the rains. Everywhere was a luxury of + silence, the place was steeped in it, drowned in it. A feeding cow flicked + an automatic tail under a tree. Near the low mud wall that strolled + irresolutely between the house and the hills leaned a bush with a few + single pink roses; their petals were floating down under the battering + drops. A draggled bee tried to climb to a dry place on a pillar of the + veranda. Above all, the hills, immediate, towering, all grey and green, + solidly ideal, with phantasies of mist. Everything drippingly soft and + silent. Suddenly the venetian blind that hung before the door of a bedroom + farther on swayed out before a hand variously ringed to emit a lady in a + pink lawn dress with apt embroideries. Madeline’s half-closed eyes opened + very wide, and for an instant she and the lady, to whom I must once more + refer as Mrs. Innes, confronted each other. Then Mrs. Innes’s countenance + expanded, and she took three or four light steps forward. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, you dear thing!’ she exclaimed. ‘I thought you were in Simla! Imagine + you being here! Do you know you have SAVED me!’ + </p> + <p> + Madeline regarded her in silence, while a pallor spread over her face and + lips, and her features grew sharp with a presage of pain. + </p> + <p> + ‘Have I?’ she stammered. She could not think. + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed you have. I don’t know how to be grateful enough to you. Your + telegram of yesterday reached me at Solon. We had just sat down to tiffin. + Nothing will ever shake my faith in providence again! My dear, THINK of it—after + all I’ve been through, my darling Val—and one hundred thousand + pounds!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well—I stayed behind there last night, and Val came on here and + made the necessary arrangement, and—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And we were married this morning. Good heavens! What’s the matter with + you! Here—oh, Brookes! Water, salts—anything!’ + </p> + <p> + Brookes, I know, would think that I should dwell at greater length upon + Miss Anderson’s attack of faintness in Kalka, and the various measures + which were resorted to for her succour, but perhaps the feelings and + expedients of any really capable lady’s-maid under the circumstances may + be taken for granted. I feel more seriously called upon to explain that + Colonel Horace Innes, shortly after these last events, took two years’ + furlough to England, during which he made a very interesting tour in the + United States with the lady with now bears his name by inalienable right. + Captain and Mrs. Valentine Drake are getting the most that is to be had + out of Frederick Prendergast’s fortune with courage in London and the + European capitals, where Mrs. Drake is sometimes mentioned as a lady with + a romantic past. They have not returned to Simla, where the situation has + never been properly understood. People always supposed that Mrs. Drake ran + away that June morning with her present husband, who must have been + tremendously fond of her to have married her ‘after the divorce.’ She is + also occasionally mentioned in undertones as ‘the first Mrs. Innes.’ All + of which we know to be quite erroneous, like most scandal. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mickie and Mrs. Gammidge, in retirement, are superintending the + education of their children in Bedford, where it is cheap and practical. + They converse when they meet about the iniquitous prices of dressmakers + and the degeneracy of the kind of cook obtainable in England at eighteen + pounds a year. Mrs. Gammidge has grown rather portly and very ritualistic. + They seldom speak of Simla, and when they do, if too reminiscent a spark + appears in Mrs. Mickie’s eye, Mrs. Gammidge changes the subject. Kitty + Vesey still fills her dance cards at Viceregal functions, though people do + not quote her as they used to, and subalterns imagine themselves vastly + witty about her colour, which is unimpaired. People often commend her, + however, for her good nature to debutantes, and it is admitted that she + may still ride with credit in ‘affinity stakes’—and occasionally win + them. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 4. The Pool in the Desert. + </h2> + <p> + I knew Anna Chichele and Judy Harbottle so well, and they figured so + vividly at one time against the rather empty landscape of life in a + frontier station, that my affection for one of them used to seem little + more, or less, than a variant upon my affection for the other. That + recollection, however, bears examination badly; Judy was much the better + sort, and it is Judy’s part in it that draws me into telling the story. + Conveying Judy is what I tremble at: her part was simple. Looking back—and + not so very far—her part has the relief of high comedy with the + proximity of tears; but looking closely, I find that it is mostly Judy, + and what she did is entirely second, in my untarnished picture, to what + she was. Still I do not think I can dissuade myself from putting it down. + </p> + <p> + They would, of course, inevitably have found each other sooner or later, + Mrs. Harbottle and Mrs. Chichele, but it was I who actually introduced + them; my palmy veranda in Rawul Pindi; where the teacups used to assemble, + was the scene of it. I presided behind my samovar over the early + formalities that were almost at once to drop from their friendship, like + the sheath of some bursting flower. I deliberately brought them together, + so the birth was not accidental, and my interest in it quite legitimately + maternal. We always had tea in the veranda in Rawul Pindi, the + drawing-room was painted blue, blue for thirty feet up to the whitewashed + cotton ceiling; nothing of any value in the way of a human relation, I am + sure, could have originated there. The veranda was spacious and open, + their mutual observation had room and freedom; I watched it to and fro. I + had not long to wait for my reward; the beautiful candour I expected + between them was not ten minutes in coming. For the sake of it I had taken + some trouble, but when I perceived it revealing I went and sat down beside + Judy’s husband, Robert Harbottle, and talked about Pharaoh’s split hoof. + It was only fair; and when next day I got their impressions of one + another, I felt single-minded and deserving. + </p> + <p> + I knew it would be a satisfactory sort of thing to do, but perhaps it was + rather more for Judy’s sake than for Anna’s that I did it. Mrs. Harbottle + was only twenty-seven then and Robert a major, but he had brought her to + India out of an episode too colour-flushed to tone with English hedges; + their marriage had come, in short, of his divorce, and as too natural a + consequence. In India it is well known that the eye becomes accustomed to + primitive pigments and high lights; the aesthetic consideration, if + nothing else, demanded Robert’s exchange. He was lucky to get a Piffer + regiment, and the Twelfth were lucky to get him; we were all lucky, I + thought, to get Judy. It was an opinion, of course, a good deal + challenged, even in Rawul Pindi, where it was thought, especially in the + beginning, that acquiescence was the most the Harbottles could hope for. + That is not enough in India; cordiality is the common right. I could not + have Judy preserving her atmosphere at our tea-parties and gymkhanas. Not + that there were two minds among us about ‘the case’; it was a preposterous + case, sentimentally undignified, from some points of view deplorable. I + chose to reserve my point of view, from which I saw it, on Judy’s behalf, + merely quixotic, preferring on Robert’s just to close my eyes. There is no + doubt that his first wife was odious to a degree which it is simply + pleasanter not to recount, but her malignity must almost have amounted to + a sense of humour. Her detestation of her cousin Judy Thynne dated much + further back than Robert’s attachment. That began in Paris, where Judy, a + young widow, was developing a real vein at Julian’s. I am entirely + convinced that there was nothing, as people say, ‘in it,’ Judy had not a + thought at that time that was not based on Chinese white and permeated + with good-fellowship; but there was a good deal of it, and no doubt the + turgid imagination of the first Mrs. Harbottle dealt with it honestly + enough. At all events, she saw her opportunity, and the depths of her + indifference to Robert bubbled up venomously into the suit. That it was + undefended was the senseless mystery; decency ordained that he and Judy + should have made a fight, even in the hope that it would be a losing one. + The reason it had to be a losing one—the reason so immensely + criticized—was that the petitioning lady obstinately refused to + bring her action against any other set of circumstances than those to + which, I have no doubt, Judy contributed every indiscretion. It is hard to + imagine Robert Harbottle refusing her any sort of justification that the + law demands short of beating her, but her malice would accept nothing of + which the account did not go for final settlement to Judy Thynne. If her + husband wanted his liberty, he should have it, she declared, at that price + and no other. Major Harbottle did indeed deeply long for his liberty, and + his interesting friend, Mrs. Thynne, had, one can only say, the most vivid + commiseration for his bondage. Whatever chance they had of winning, to win + would be, for the end they had at heart, to lose, so they simply + abstained, as it were, from comment upon the detestable procedure which + terminated in the rule absolute. I have often wondered whether the whole + business would not have been more defensible if there had been on Judy’s + part any emotional spring for the leap they made. I offer my conviction + that there was none, that she was only extravagantly affected by the + ideals of the Quarter—it is a transporting atmosphere—and held + a view of comradeship which permitted the reversal of the modern situation + filled by a blameless correspondent. Robert, of course, was tremendously + in love with her; but my theory is that she married him as the logical + outcome of her sacrifice and by no means the smallest part of it. + </p> + <p> + It was all quite unimaginable, as so many things are, but the upshot of it + brought Judy to Rawul Pindi, as I have said, where I for one thought her + mistake insignificant compared with her value. It would have been great, + her value, anywhere; in the middle of the Punjab it was incalculable. To + explain why would be to explain British India, but I hope it will appear; + and I am quite willing, remember, to take the responsibility if it does + not. + </p> + <p> + Somers Chichele, Anna’s son, it is absurd to think, must have been about + fifteen then, reflecting at Winchester with the other ‘men’ upon the + comparative merits of tinned sardines and jam roll, and whether a packet + of real Egyptians was not worth the sacrifice of either. His father was + colonel of the Twelfth; his mother was still charming. It was the year + before Dick Forsyth came down from the neighbourhood of Sheikhbudin with a + brevet and a good deal of personal damage. I mention him because he proved + Anna’s charm in the only conclusive way before the eyes of us all; and the + station, I remember, was edified to observe that if Mrs. Chichele came out + of the matter ‘straight’—one relapses so easily into the simple + definitions of those parts—which she undoubtedly did, she owed it in + no small degree to Judy Harbottle. This one feels to be hardly a + legitimate reference, but it is something tangible to lay hold upon in + trying to describe the web of volitions which began to weave itself + between the two that afternoon on my veranda and which afterward became so + strong a bond. I was delighted with the thing; its simplicity and + sincerity stood out among our conventional little compromises at + friendship like an ideal. She and Judy had the assurance of one another; + they made upon one another the finest and often the most unconscionable + demands. One met them walking at odd hours in queer places, of which I + imagine they were not much aware. They would turn deliberately off the + Maidan and away from the bandstand to be rid of our irrelevant bows; they + did their duty by the rest of us, but the most egregious among us, the + Deputy-Commissioner for selection, could see that he hardly counted. I + thought I understood, but that may have been my fatuity; certainly when + their husbands inquired what on earth they had been talking of, it usually + transpired that they had found an infinite amount to say about nothing. It + was a little worrying to hear Colonel Chichele and Major Harbottle + describe their wives as ‘pals,’ but the fact could not be denied, and + after all we were in the Punjab. They were pals too, but the terms were + different. + </p> + <p> + People discussed it according to their lights, and girls said in pretty + wonderment that Mrs. Harbottle and Mrs. Chichele were like men, they never + kissed each other. I think Judy prescribed these conditions. Anna was far + more a person who did as the world told her. But it was a poor negation to + describe all that they never did; there was no common little convention of + attachment that did not seem to be tacitly omitted between them. I hope + one did not too cynically observe that they offered these to their + husbands instead; the redeeming observation was their husbands’ complete + satisfaction. This they maintained to the end. In the natural order of + things Robert Harbottle should have paid heavily for interfering as he did + in Paris between a woman and what she was entitled to live for. As a + matter of fact he never paid anything at all; I doubt whether he ever knew + himself a debtor. Judy kept her temperament under like a current and swam + with the tides of the surface, taking refreshing dips only now and then + which one traced in her eyes and her hair when she and Robert came back + from leave. That sort of thing is lost in the sands of India, but it makes + an oasis as it travels, and it sometimes seemed to me a curious pity that + she and Anna should sit in the shade of it together, while Robert and + Peter Chichele, their titular companions, blundered on in the desert. But + after all, if you are born blind—and the men were both immensely + liked, and the shooting was good. + </p> + <p> + Ten years later Somers joined. The Twelfth were at Peshawur. Robert + Harbottle was Lieutenant-Colonel by that time and had the regiment. + Distinction had incrusted, in the Indian way, upon Peter Chichele, its + former colonel; he was General Commanding the District and K.C.B. So we + were all still together in Peshawur. It was great luck for the Chicheles, + Sir Peter’s having the district, though his father’s old regiment would + have made it pleasant enough for the boy in any case. He came to us, I + mean, of course, to two or three of us, with the interest that hangs about + a victim of circumstances; we understood that he wasn’t a ‘born soldier.’ + Anna had told me on the contrary that he was a sacrifice to family + tradition made inevitable by the General’s unfortunate investments. + Bellona’s bridegroom was not a role he fancied, though he would make a + kind of compromise as best man; he would agree, she said, to be a war + correspondent and write picturesque specials for the London halfpenny + press. There was the humour of the poor boy’s despair in it, but she + conveyed it, I remember, in exactly the same tone with which she had said + to me years before that he wanted to drive a milk-cart. She carried quite + her half of the family tradition, though she could talk of sacrifice and + make her eyes wistful, contemplating for Somers the limitations of the + drill-book and the camp of exercise, proclaiming and insisting upon what + she would have done if she could only have chosen for him. Anna Chichele + saw things that way. With more than a passable sense of all that was + involved, if she could have made her son an artist in life or a + commander-in-chief, if she could have given him the seeing eye or Order of + the Star of India, she would not have hesitated for an instant. Judy, with + her single mind, cried out, almost at sight of him, upon them both, I mean + both Anna and Sir Peter. Not that the boy carried his condemnation badly, + or even obviously; I venture that no one noticed it in the mess; but it + was naturally plain to those of us who were under the same. He had put in + his two years with a British regiment at Meerut—they nurse + subalterns that way for the Indian army—and his eyes no longer + played with the tinsel vision of India; they looked instead into the arid + stretch beyond. This preoccupation conveyed to the Surgeon-Major’s wife + the suggestion that Mr. Chichele was the victim of a hopeless attachment. + Mrs. Harbottle made no such mistake; she saw simply, I imagine, the + beginnings of her own hunger and thirst in him, looking back as she told + us across a decade of dusty sunsets to remember them. The decade was + there, close to the memory of all of us; we put, from Judy herself + downward, an absurd amount of confidence in it. + </p> + <p> + She looked so well the night she met him. It was English mail day; she + depended a great deal upon her letters, and I suppose somebody had written + her a word that brought her that happy, still excitement that is the inner + mystery of words. He went straight to her with some speech about his + mother having given him leave, and for twenty minutes she patronized him + on a sofa as his mother would not have dreamed of doing. + </p> + <p> + Anna Chichele, from the other side of the room, smiled on the pair. + </p> + <p> + ‘I depend on you and Judy to be good to him while we are away,’ she said. + She and Sir Peter were going on leave at the end of the week to Scotland, + as usual, for the shooting. + </p> + <p> + Following her glance I felt incapable of the proportion she assigned me. + ‘I will see after his socks with pleasure,’ I said. ‘I think, don’t you, + we may leave the rest to Judy?’ + </p> + <p> + Her eyes remained upon the boy, and I saw the passion rise in them, at + which I turned mine elsewhere. Who can look unperturbed upon such a + privacy of nature as that? + </p> + <p> + ‘Poor old Judy!’ she went on. ‘She never would be bothered with him in all + his dear hobble-dehoy time; she resented his claims, the unreasonable + creature, used to limit me to three anecdotes a week; and now she has him + on her hands, if you like. See the pretty air of deference in the way he + listens to her! He has nice manners, the villain, if he is a Chichele!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, you have improved Sir Peter’s,’ I said kindly. + </p> + <p> + ‘I do hope Judy will think him worth while. I can’t quite expect that he + will be up to her, bless him, she is so much cleverer, isn’t she, than any + of us? But if she will just be herself with him it will make such a + difference.’ + </p> + <p> + The other two crossed the room to us at that, and Judy gaily made Somers + over to his mother, trailing off to find Robert in the billiard-room. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, what has Mrs. Harbottle been telling you?’ Anna asked him. + </p> + <p> + The young man’s eye followed Judy, his hand went musingly to his + moustache. + </p> + <p> + ‘She was telling me,’ he said, ‘that people in India were sepulchers of + themselves, but that now and then one came who could roll away another’s + stone.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It sounds promising,’ said Lady Chichele to me. + </p> + <p> + ‘It sounds cryptic,’ I laughed to Somers, but I saw that he had the key. + </p> + <p> + I can not say that I attended diligently to Mr. Chichele’s socks, but the + part corresponding was freely assigned me. After his people went I saw him + often. He pretended to find qualities in my tea, implied that he found + them in my talk. As a matter of fact it was my inquiring attitude that he + loved, the knowledge that there was no detail that he could give me about + himself, his impressions and experiences, that was unlikely to interest + me. I would not for the world imply that he was egotistical or complacent, + absolutely the reverse, but he possessed an articulate soul which found + its happiness in expression, and I liked to listen. I feel that these are + complicated words to explain a very simple relation, and I pause to wonder + what is left to me if I wished to describe his commerce with Mrs. + Harbottle. Luckily there is an alternative; one needn’t do it. I wish I + had somewhere on paper Judy’s own account of it at this period, however. + It is a thing she would have enjoyed writing and more enjoyed + communicating, at this period. + </p> + <p> + There was a grave reticence in his talk about her which amused me in the + beginning. Mrs. Harbottle had been for ten years important enough to us + all, but her serious significance, the light and the beauty in her, had + plainly been reserved for the discovery of this sensitive and intelligent + person not very long from Sandhurst and exactly twenty-six. I was barely + allowed a familiar reference, and anything approaching a flippancy was met + with penetrating silence. I was almost rebuked for lightly suggesting that + she must occasionally find herself bored in Peshawur. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think not anywhere,’ said Mr. Chichele; ‘Mrs. Harbottle is one of the + few people who sound the privilege of living.’ + </p> + <p> + This to me, who had counted Mrs. Harbottle’s yawns on so many occasions! + It became presently necessary to be careful, tactful, in one’s + implications about Mrs. Harbottle, and to recognize a certain distinction + in the fact that one was the only person with whom Mr. Chichele discussed + her at all. + </p> + <p> + The day came when we talked of Robert; it was bound to come in the + progress of any understanding and affectionate colloquy which had his wife + for inspiration. I was familiar, of course, with Somers’s opinion that the + Colonel was an awfully good sort; that had been among the preliminaries + and become understood as the base of all references. And I liked Robert + Harbottle very well myself. When his adjutant called him a born leader of + men, however, I felt compelled to look at the statement consideringly. + </p> + <p> + ‘In a tight place,’ I said—dear me, what expressions had the freedom + of our little frontier drawing-rooms!—‘I would as soon depend on him + as on anybody. But as for leadership—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He is such a good fellow that nobody here does justice to his soldierly + qualities,’ said Mr. Chichele, ‘except Mrs. Harbottle.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Has she been telling you about them?’ I inquired. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ he hesitated, ‘she told me about the Mulla Nulla affair. She is + rather proud of that. Any woman would be.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Poor dear Judy!’ I mused. + </p> + <p> + Somers said nothing, but looked at me, removing his cigarette, as if my + words would be the better of explanation. + </p> + <p> + ‘She has taken refuge in them—in Bob Harbottle’s soldierly qualities—ever + since she married him,’ I continued. + </p> + <p> + ‘Taken refuge,’ he repeated, coldly, but at my uncompromising glance his + eyes fell. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well?’ I said. + </p> + <p> + ‘You mean—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I mean what I say,’ I laughed. ‘Your cigarette has gone out—have + another.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think her devotion to him splendid.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Quite splendid. Have you seen the things he brought her from the Simla + Art Exhibition? He said they were nice bits of colour, and she has hung + them in the drawing-room, where she will have to look at them every day. + Let us admire her—dear Judy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh,’ he said, with a fine air of detachment, ‘do you think they are so + necessary, those agreements?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ I replied, ‘we see that they are not indispensable. More sugar? I + have only given you one lump. And we know, at all events,’ I added, + unguardedly, ‘that she could never have had an illusion about him.’ + </p> + <p> + The young man looked up quickly. ‘Is that story true?’ he asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘There was a story, but most of us have forgotten it. Who told you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The doctor.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The Surgeon-Major,’ I said, ‘has an accurate memory and a sense of + proportion. As I suppose you were bound to get it from somebody, I am glad + you got it from him.’ + </p> + <p> + I was not prepared to go on, and saw with some relief that Somers was not + either. His silence, as he smoked, seemed to me deliberate; and I had + oddly enough at this moment for the first time the impression that he was + a man and not a boy. Then the Harbottles themselves joined us, very cheery + after a gallop from the Wazir-Bagh. We talked of old times, old + friendships, good swords that were broken, names that had carried far, and + Somers effaced himself in the perfect manner of the British subaltern. It + was a long, pleasant gossip, and I thought Judy seemed rather glad to let + her husband dictate its level, which, of course, he did. I noticed when + the three rode away together that the Colonel was beginning to sit down + rather solidly on his big New Zealander; and I watched the dusk come over + from the foothills for a long time thinking more kindly than I had spoken + of Robert Harbottle. + </p> + <p> + I have often wondered how far happiness is contributed to a temperament + like Judy Harbottle’s, and how far it creates its own; but I doubt + whether, on either count, she found as much in any other winter of her + life except perhaps the remote ones by the Seine. Those ardent hours of + hers, when everything she said was touched with the flame of her + individuality, came oftener; she suddenly cleaned up her palate and began + to translate in one study after another the language of the frontier + country, that spoke only in stones and in shadows under the stones and in + sunlight over them. There is nothing in the Academy of this year, at all + events, that I would exchange for the one she gave me. She lived her + physical life at a pace which carried us all along with her; she hunted + and drove and danced and dined with such sincere intention as convinced us + all that in hunting and driving and dancing and dining there were + satisfactions that had been somehow overlooked. The Surgeon-Major’s wife + said it was delightful to meet Mrs. Harbottle, she seemed to enjoy + everything so thoroughly; the Surgeon-Major looked at her critically and + asked her if she were quite sure she hadn’t a night temperature. He was a + Scotchman. One night Colonel Harbottle, hearing her give away the last + extra, charged her with renewing her youth. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, Bob,’ she said, ‘only imitating it.’ + </p> + <p> + Ah, that question of her youth. It was so near her—still, she told + me once, she heard the beat of its flying, and the pulse in her veins + answered the false signal. That was afterward, when she told the truth. + She was not so happy when she indulged herself otherwise. As when she + asked one to remember that she was a middle-aged woman, with middle-aged + thoughts and satisfactions. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am now really happiest,’ she declared, ‘when the Commissioner takes me + in to dinner, when the General Commanding leads me to the dance.’ + </p> + <p> + She did her best to make it an honest conviction. I offered her a recent + success not crowned by the Academy, and she put it down on the table. ‘By + and by,’ she said. ‘At present I am reading Pascal and Bossuet.’ Well, she + was reading Pascal and Bossuet. She grieved aloud that most of our + activities in India were so indomitably youthful, owing to the accident + that most of us were always so young. ‘There is no dignified distraction + in this country,’ she complained, ‘for respectable ladies nearing forty.’ + She seemed to like to make these declarations in the presence of Somers + Chichele, who would look at her with a little queer smile—a bad + translation, I imagine, of what he felt. + </p> + <p> + She gave herself so generously to her seniors that somebody said Mrs. + Harbottle’s girdle was hung with brass hats. It seems flippant to add that + her complexion was as honest as the day, but the fact is that the year + before Judy had felt compelled, like the rest of us, to repair just a + little the ravages of the climate. If she had never done it one would not + have looked twice at the absurdity when she said of the powder-puff in the + dressing-room, ‘I have raised that thing to the level of an immorality,’ + and sailed in to dance with an uncompromising expression and a face + uncompromised. I have not spoken of her beauty; for one thing it was not + always there, and there were people who would deny it altogether, or whose + considered comment was, ‘I wouldn’t call her plain.’ They, of course, were + people in whom she declined to be interested, but even for those of us who + could evoke some demonstration of her vivid self her face would not always + light in correspondence. When it did there was none that I liked better to + look at; and I envied Somers Chichele his way to make it the pale, shining + thing that would hold him lifted, in return, for hours together, with I + know not what mystic power of a moon upon the tide. And he? Oh, he was + dark and delicate, by nature simple, sincere, delightfully intelligent. + His common title to charm was the rather sweet seriousness that rested on + his upper lip, and a certain winning gratification in his attention; but + he had a subtler one in his eyes, which must be always seeking and smiling + over what they found; those eyes of perpetual inquiry for the exquisite + which ask so little help to create it. A personality to button up in a + uniform, good heavens! + </p> + <p> + As I begin to think of them together I remember how the maternal note + appeared in her talk about him. + </p> + <p> + ‘His youth is pathetic,’ she told me, ‘but there is nothing that he does + not understand.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t apologize, Judy,’ I said. We were so brusque on the frontier. + Besides, the matter still suffered a jocular presentment. Mrs. Harbottle + and Mr. Chichele were still ‘great friends’; we could still put them next + each other at our dinner-parties without the feeling that it would be + ‘marked.’ There was still nothing unusual in the fact that when Mrs. + Harbottle was there Mr. Chichele might be taken for granted. We were so + broad-minded also, on the frontier. + </p> + <p> + It grew more obvious, the maternal note. I began positively to dread it, + almost as much, I imagine, as Somers did. She took her privileges all in + Anna’s name, she exercised her authority quite as Lady Chichele’s proxy. + She went to the very limit. ‘Anna Chichele,’ she said actually in his + presence, ‘is a fortunate woman. She has all kinds of cleverness, and she + has her tall son. I have only one little talent, and I have no tall son.’ + Now it was not in nature that she could have had a son as tall as Somers, + nor was that desire in her eyes. All civilization implies a good deal of + farce, but this was a poor refuge, a cheap device; I was glad when it fell + away from her sincerity, when the day came on which she looked into my + fire and said simply, ‘An attachment like ours has no terms.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wonder,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + ‘For what comes and goes,’ she went on dreamily, ‘how could there be a + formula?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Look here, Judy,’ I said, ‘you know me very well. What if the flesh leaps + with the spirit?’ + </p> + <p> + She looked at me, very white. ‘Oh no,’ she said, ‘no.’ + </p> + <p> + I waited, but there seemed nothing more that she could say; and in the + silence the futile negative seemed to wander round the room repeating + itself like an echo, ‘Oh no, no.’ I poked the fire presently to drown the + sound of it. Judy sat still, with her feet crossed and her hands thrust + into the pockets of her coat, staring into the coals. + </p> + <p> + ‘Can you live independently, satisfied with your interests and + occupations?’ she demanded at last. ‘Yes, I know you can. I can’t. I must + exist more than half in other people. It is what they think and feel that + matters to me, just as much as what I think and feel. The best of life is + in that communication.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It has always been a passion with you, Judy,’ I replied. ‘I can imagine + how much you must miss—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Whom?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Anna Chichele,’ I said softly. + </p> + <p> + She got up and walked about the room, fixing here and there an intent + regard upon things which she did not see. ‘Oh, I do,’ she said at one + point, with the effect of pulling herself together. She took another turn + or two, and then finding herself near the door she went out. I felt as + profoundly humiliated for her as if she had staggered. + </p> + <p> + The next night was one of those that stand out so vividly, for no reason + that one can identify, in one’s memory. We were dining with the + Harbottles, a small party, for a tourist they had with them. Judy and I + and Somers and the traveller had drifted out into the veranda, where the + scent of Japanese lilies came and went on the spring wind to trouble the + souls of any taken unawares. There was a brightness beyond the foothills + where the moon was coming, and I remember how one tall clump swayed out + against it, and seemed in passionate perfume to lay a burden on the + breast. Judy moved away from it and sat clasping her knees on the edge of + the veranda. Somers, when his eyes were not upon her, looked always at the + lily. + </p> + <p> + Even the spirit of the globe-trotter was stirred, and he said, ‘I think + you Anglo-Indians live in a kind of little paradise.’ + </p> + <p> + There was an instant’s silence, and then Judy turned her face into the + lamplight from the drawing-room. ‘With everything but the essentials,’ she + said. + </p> + <p> + We stayed late; Mr. Chichele and ourselves were the last to go. Judy + walked with us along the moonlit drive to the gate, which is so + unnecessary a luxury in India that the servants always leave it open. She + swung the stiff halves together. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now,’ she said, ‘it is shut.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And I,’ said Somers Chichele, softly and quickly, ‘am on the other side.’ + </p> + <p> + Even over that depth she could flash him a smile. ‘It is the business of + my life,’ she gave him in return, ‘to keep this gate shut.’ I felt as if + they had forgotten us. Somers mounted and rode off without a word. We were + walking in a different direction. Looking back, I saw Judy leaning + immovable on the gate, while Somers turned in his saddle, apparently to + repeat the form of lifting his hat. And all about them stretched the + stones of Kabul valley, vague and formless in the tide of the moonlight... + </p> + <p> + Next day a note from Mrs. Harbottle informed me that she had gone to + Bombay for a fortnight. In a postscript she wrote, ‘I shall wait for the + Chicheles there, and come back with them.’ I remember reflecting that if + she could not induce herself to take a passage to England in the ship that + brought them, it seemed the right thing to do. + </p> + <p> + She did come back with them. I met the party at the station. I knew Somers + would meet them, and it seemed to me, so imminent did disaster loom, that + someone else should be there, someone to offer a covering movement or a + flank support wherever it might be most needed. And among all our smiling + faces disaster did come, or the cold premonition of it. We were all + perfect, but Somers’s lip trembled. Deprived for a fortnight he was eager + for the draft, and he was only twenty-six. His lip trembled, and there, + under the flickering station-lamps, suddenly stood that of which there + never could be again any denial, for those of us who saw. + </p> + <p> + Did we make, I wonder, even a pretense of disguising the consternation + that sprang up among us, like an armed thing, ready to kill any further + suggestion of the truth? I don’t know. Anna Chichele’s unfinished sentence + dropped as if someone had given her a blow upon the mouth. Coolies were + piling the luggage into a hired carriage at the edge of the platform. She + walked mechanically after them, and would have stepped in with it but for + the sight of her own gleaming landau drawn up within a yard or two, and + the General waiting. We all got home somehow, taking it with us, and I + gave Lady Chichele twenty-four hours to come to me with her face all one + question and her heart all one fear. She came in twelve. + </p> + <p> + ‘Have you seen it—long?’ Prepared as I was her directness was + demoralizing. + </p> + <p> + ‘It isn’t a mortal disease.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, for Heaven’s sake—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, not with certainty, for more than a month.’ + </p> + <p> + She made a little spasmodic movement with her hands, then dropped them + pitifully. ‘Couldn’t you do ANYthing?’ + </p> + <p> + I looked at her, and she said at once, ‘No, of course you couldn’t.’ + </p> + <p> + For a moment or two I took my share of the heavy sense of it, my trivial + share, which yet was an experience sufficiently exciting. ‘I am afraid it + will have to be faced,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + ‘What will happen?’ Anna cried. ‘Oh, what will happen?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why not the usual thing?’ Lady Chichele looked up quickly as if at a + reminder. ‘The ambiguous attachment of the country,’ I went on, limping + but courageous, ‘half declared, half admitted, that leads vaguely nowhere, + and finally perishes as the man’s life enriches itself—the thing we + have seen so often.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Whatever Judy is capable of it won’t be the usual thing. You know that.’ + </p> + <p> + I had to confess in silence that I did. + </p> + <p> + ‘It flashed at me—the difference in her—in Bombay.’ She + pressed her lips together and then went on unsteadily. ‘In her eyes, her + voice. She was mannered, extravagant, elaborate. With me! All the way up I + wondered and worried. But I never thought—’ She stopped; her voice + simply shook itself into silence. I called a servant. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am going to give you a good stiff peg,’ I said. I apologize for the + ‘peg,’ but not for the whisky and soda. It is a beverage on the frontier, + of which the vulgarity is lost in the value. While it was coming I tried + to talk of other things, but she would only nod absently in the pauses. + </p> + <p> + ‘Last night we dined with him, it was guest night at the mess, and she was + there. I watched her, and she knew it. I don’t know whether she tried, but + anyway, she failed. The covenant between them was written on her forehead + whenever she looked at him, though that was seldom. She dared not look at + him. And the little conversation that they had—you would have + laughed—it was a comedy of stutters. The facile Mrs. Harbottle!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You do well to be angry, naturally,’ I said; ‘but it would be fatal to + let yourself go, Anna.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Angry?’ Oh, I am SICK. The misery of it! The terror of it! If it were + anybody but Judy! Can’t you imagine the passion of a temperament like that + in a woman who has all these years been feeding on herself? I tell you she + will take him from my very arms. And he will go—to I dare not + imagine what catastrophe! Who can prevent it? Who can prevent it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There is you,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + Lady Chichele laughed hysterically. ‘I think you ought to say, “There are + you.” I—what can I do? Do you realize that it’s JUDY? My friend—my + other self? Do you think we can drag all that out of it? Do you think a + tie like that can be broken by an accident—by a misfortune? With it + all I ADORE Judy Harbottle. I love her, as I have always loved her, and—it’s + damnable, but I don’t know whether, whatever happened, I wouldn’t go on + loving her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Finish your peg,’ I said. She was sobbing. + </p> + <p> + ‘Where I blame myself most,’ she went on, ‘is for not seeing in him all + that makes him mature to her—that makes her forget the absurd + difference between them, and take him simply and sincerely as I know she + does, as the contemporary of her soul if not of her body. I saw none of + that. Could I, as his mother? Would he show it to me? I thought him just a + charming boy, clever, too, of course, with nice instincts and well + plucked; we were always proud of that, with his delicate physique. Just a + boy! I haven’t yet stopped thinking how different he looks without his + curls. And I thought she would be just kind and gracious and delightful to + him because he was my son.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There, of course,’ I said, ‘is the only chance.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Where—what?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He is your son.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Would you have me appeal to her? Do you know I don’t think I could?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear me, no. Your case must present itself. It must spring upon her and + grow before her out of your silence, and if you can manage it, your + confidence. There is a great deal, after all, remember, to hold her in + that. I can’t somehow imagine her failing you. Otherwise—’ + </p> + <p> + Lady Chichele and I exchanged a glance of candid admission. + </p> + <p> + ‘Otherwise she would be capable of sacrificing everything—everything. + Of gathering her life into an hour. I know. And do you know if the thing + were less impossible, less grotesque, I should not be so much afraid? I + mean that the ABSOLUTE indefensibility of it might bring her a + recklessness and a momentum which might—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Send her over the verge,’ I said. ‘Well, go home and ask her to dinner.’ + </p> + <p> + There was a good deal more to say, of course, than I have thought proper + to put down here, but before Anna went I saw that she was keyed up to the + heroic part. This was none the less to her credit because it was the only + part, the dictation of a sense of expediency that despaired while it + dictated. The noble thing was her capacity to take it, and, amid all that + warred in her, to carry it out on the brave high lines of her inspiration. + It seemed a literal inspiration, so perfectly calculated that it was hard + not to think sometimes, when one saw them together, that Anna had been + lulled into a simple resumption of the old relation. Then from the least + thing possible—the lift of an eyelid—it flashed upon one that + between these two every moment was dramatic, and one took up the word with + a curious sense of detachment and futility, but with one’s heart beating + like a trip-hammer with the mad excitement of it. The acute thing was the + splendid sincerity of Judy Harbottle’s response. For days she was + profoundly on her guard, then suddenly she seemed to become practically, + vividly aware of what I must go on calling the great chance, and + passionately to fling herself upon it. It was the strangest cooperation + without a word or a sign to show it conscious—a playing together for + stakes that could not be admitted, a thing to hang upon breathless. It was + there between them—the tenable ground of what they were to each + other: they occupied it with almost an equal eye upon the tide that + threatened, while I from my mainland tower also made an anguished + calculation of the chances. I think in spite of the menace, they found + real beatitudes; so keenly did they set about the business that it brought + them moments finer than any they could count in the years that were behind + them, the flat and colourless years that were gone. Once or twice the wild + idea even visited me that it was, after all, the projection of his mother + in Somers that had so seized Judy Harbottle, and that the original was all + that was needed to help the happy process of detachment. Somers himself at + the time was a good deal away on escort duty: they had a clear field. + </p> + <p> + I can not tell exactly when—between Mrs. Harbottle and myself—it + became a matter for reference more or less overt, I mean her defined + problem, the thing that went about between her and the sun. It will be + imagined that it did not come up like the weather; indeed, it was hardly + ever to be envisaged and never to be held; but it was always there, and + out of our joint consciousness it would sometimes leap and pass, without + shape or face. It might slip between two sentences, or it might remain, a + dogging shadow, for an hour. Or a week would go by while, with a strong + hand, she held it out of sight altogether and talked of Anna—always + of Anna. Her eyes shone with the things she told me then: she seemed to + keep herself under the influence of them as if they had the power of + narcotics. At the end of a time like this she turned to me in the door as + she was going and stood silent, as if she could neither go nor stay. I had + been able to make nothing of her that afternoon: she had seemed + preoccupied with the pattern of the carpet which she traced continually + with her riding crop, and finally I, too, had relapsed. She sat haggard, + with the fight forever in her eyes, and the day seemed to sombre about her + in her corner. When she turned in the door, I looked up with sudden + prescience of a crisis. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t jump,’ she said, ‘it was only to tell you that I have persuaded + Robert to apply for furlough. Eighteen months. From the first of April. + Don’t touch me.’ I suppose I made a movement towards her. Certainly I + wanted to throw my arms about her; with the instinct, I suppose, to steady + her in her great resolution. + </p> + <p> + ‘At the end of that time, as you know, he will be retired. I had some + trouble, he is so keen on the regiment, but I think—I have + succeeded. You might mention it to Anna.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Haven’t you?’ sprang past my lips. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t. It would be like taking an oath to tell her, and—I can’t + take an oath to go. But I mean to.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There is nothing to be said,’ I brought out, feeling indeed that there + was not. ‘But I congratulate you, Judy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, there is nothing to be said. And you congratulate me, no doubt!’ + </p> + <p> + She stood for a moment quivering in the isolation she made for herself; + and I felt a primitive angry revolt against the delicate trafficking of + souls that could end in such ravage and disaster. The price was too heavy; + I would have denuded her, at the moment, of all that had led her into + this, and turned her out a clod with fine shoulders like fifty other women + in Peshawur. Then, perhaps, because I held myself silent and remote and + she had no emotion of fear from me, she did not immediately go. + </p> + <p> + ‘It will beat itself away, I suppose, like the rest of the unreasonable + pain of the world,’ she said at last; and that, of course, brought me to + her side. ‘Things will go back to their proportions. This,’ she touched an + open rose, ‘will claim its beauty again. And life will become—perhaps—what + it was before.’ Still I found nothing to say, I could only put my arm in + hers and walk with her to the edge of the veranda where the syce was + holding her horse. She stroked the animal’s neck. ‘Everything in me + answered him,’ she informed me, with the grave intelligence of a patient + who relates a symptom past. As she took the reins she turned to me again. + ‘His spirit came to mine like a homing bird,’ she said, and in her smile + even the pale reflection of happiness was sweet and stirring. It left me + hanging in imagination over the source and the stream, a little blessed in + the mere understanding. + </p> + <p> + Too much blessed for confidence, or any safe feeling that the source was + bound. Rather I saw it leaping over every obstacle, flashing to its + destiny. As I drove to the Club next day I decided that I would not tell + Anna Chichele of Colonel Harbottle’s projected furlough. If to Judy + telling her would be like taking an oath that they would go, to me it + would at least be like assuming sponsorship for their intention. That + would be heavy indeed. From the first of April—we were then in + March. Anna would hear it soon enough from the General, would see it soon + enough, almost, in the ‘Gazette’, when it would have passed into + irrecoverable fact. So I went by her with locked lips, kept out of the way + of those eyes of the mother that asked and asked, and would have seen + clear to any depth, any hiding-place of knowledge like that. As I pulled + up at the Club I saw Colonel Harbottle talking concernedly to the wife of + our Second-in-Command, and was reminded that I had not heard for some days + how Major Watkins was going on. So I, too, approached Mrs. Watkins in her + victoria to ask. Robert Harbottle kindly forestalled her reply. ‘Hard + luck, isn’t it? Watkins has been ordered home at once. Just settled into + their new house, too—last of the kit came up from Calcutta + yesterday, didn’t it, Mrs. Watkins? But it’s sound to go—Peshawur is + the worst hole in Asia to shake off dysentery in.’ + </p> + <p> + We agreed upon this and discussed the sale-list of her new furniture that + Mrs. Watkins would have to send round the station, and considered the + chances of a trooper—to the Watkinses with two children and not a + penny but his pay it did make it easier not to have to go by a liner—and + Colonel Harbottle and I were halfway to the reading-room before the + significance of Major Watkins’s sick-leave flashed upon me. + </p> + <p> + ‘But this,’ I cried, ‘will make a difference to your plans. You won’t—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Be able to ask for that furlough Judy wants. Rather not. I’m afraid she’s + disappointed—she was tremendously set on going—but it doesn’t + matter tuppence to me.’ + </p> + <p> + I sought out Mrs. Harbottle, at the end of the room. She looked radiant; + she sat on the edge of the table and swung a light-hearted heel. She was + talking to people who in themselves were a witness to high spirits, + Captain the Hon. Freddy Gisborne, Mrs. Flamboys. + </p> + <p> + At sight of me her face clouded, fell suddenly into the old weary lines. + It made me feel somehow a little sick; I went back to my cart and drove + home. + </p> + <p> + For more than a week I did not see her except when I met her riding with + Somers Chichele along the peach-bordered road that leads to the + Wazir-Bagh. The trees were all in blossom and made a picture that might + well catch dreaming hearts into a beatitude that would correspond. The air + was full of spring and the scent of violets, those wonderful Peshawur + violets that grow in great clumps, tall and double. Gracious clouds came + and trailed across the frontier barrier; blue as an idyll it rose about + us; the city smiled in her gardens. + </p> + <p> + She had it all in her face, poor Judy, all the spring softness and more, + the morning she came, intensely controlled, to announce her defeat. I was + in the drawing-room doing the flowers; I put them down to look at her. The + wonderful telegram from Simla arrived—that was the wonderful part—at + the same time; I remembered how the red, white, and blue turban of the + telegraph peon bobbed up behind her shoulder in the veranda. I signed and + laid it on the table; I suppose it seemed hardly likely that anything + could be important enough to interfere at the moment with my impression of + what love, unbound and victorious, could do with a face I thought I knew. + Love sat there careless of the issue, full of delight. Love proclaimed + that between him and Judith Harbottle it was all over—she had met + him, alas, in too narrow a place—and I marvelled at the paradox with + which he softened every curve and underlined every vivid note of + personality in token that it had just begun. He sat there in great + serenity, and though I knew that somewhere behind lurked a vanquished + woman, I saw her through such a radiance that I could not be sure of + seeing her at all... + </p> + <p> + She went back to the very first of it; she seemed herself intensely + interested in the facts; and there is no use in pretending that, while she + talked, the moral consideration was at all present with me either; it + wasn’t. Her extremity was the thing that absorbed us; she even, in tender + thoughtfulness, diagnosed it from its definite beautiful beginning. + </p> + <p> + ‘It was there, in my heart, when I woke one morning, exquisite and + strange, the assurance of a gift. How had it come there, while I slept? I + assure you when I closed my eyes it did not exist for me... Yes, of + course, I had seen him, but only somewhere at dinner... As the day went on + it changed—it turned into a clear pool, into a flower. And I—think + of my not understanding! I was pleased with it! For a long time, for days, + I never dreamed that it could be anything but a little secret joy. Then, + suddenly—oh, I had not been perceiving enough!—it was in all + my veins, a tide, an efflorescence, a thing of my very life. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then—it was a little late—I understood, and since— + </p> + <p> + ‘I began by hating it—being furious, furious—and afraid, too. + Sometimes it was like a low cloud, hovering and travelling always with me, + sometimes like a beast of prey that went a little way off and sat looking + at me.... + </p> + <p> + ‘I have—done my best. But there is nothing to do, to kill, to + abolish. How can I say, “I will not let you in,” when it is already there? + How can I assume indifference when this thing is imposed upon every moment + of my day? And it has grown so sweet—the longing—that—isn’t + it strange?—I could more willingly give him up than the desire of + him. That seems as impossible to part with as life itself.’ + </p> + <p> + She sat reflective for a moment, and I saw her eyes slowly fill. + </p> + <p> + Don’t—don’t CRY, Judy,’ I faltered, wanting to horribly, myself. + </p> + <p> + She smiled them dry. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not now. But I am giving myself, I suppose, to many tears.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘God help you,’ I said. What else was there to say? + </p> + <p> + ‘There is no such person,’ she replied, gaily. ‘There is only a blessed + devil.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then you go all the way—to the logical conclusion?’ + </p> + <p> + She hardly hesitated. ‘To the logical conclusion. What poor words!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘May I ask—when?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I should like to tell you that quite definitely, and I think I can. The + English mail leaves tonight.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And you have arranged to take it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We have arranged nothing. Do you know’—she smiled as if at the + fresh colours of an idyll—‘we have not even come to the admission? + There has been between us no word, no vision. Ah, we have gone in bonds, + and dumb! Hours we have had, exquisite hours of the spirit, but never a + moment of the heart, a moment confessed. It was mine to give—that + moment, and he has waited—I know—wondering whether perhaps it + would ever come. And today—we are going for a ride today, and I do + not think we shall come back.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O Judy,’ I cried, catching at her sleeve, ‘he is only a boy!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There were times when I thought that conclusive. Now the misery of it has + gone to sleep; don’t waken it. It pleases me to believe that the years are + a convention. I never had any dignity, you know, and I seem to have missed + the moral deliverance. I only want—oh, you know what I want. Why + don’t you open your telegram?’ + </p> + <p> + I had been folding and fingering the brown envelope as if it had been a + scrap of waste paper. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is probably from Mrs. Watkins about the victoria,’ I said, feeling its + profound irrelevance. ‘I wired an offer to her in Bombay. However’—and + I read the telegram, the little solving telegram from Army Headquarters. I + turned my back on her to read it again, and then I replaced it very + carefully and put it in my pocket. It was a moment to take hold of with + both hands, crying on all one’s gods for steadiness. + </p> + <p> + ‘How white you look!’ said Mrs. Harbottle, with concern. ‘Not bad news?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘On the contrary, excellent news. Judy, will you stay to lunch?’ + </p> + <p> + She looked at me, hesitating. ‘Won’t it seem rather a compromise on your + part? When you ought to be rousing the city—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t intend to rouse the city,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have given you the chance.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you,’ I said, grimly, ‘but the only real favour you can do me is to + stay to lunch.’ It was then just on one. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll stay,’ she said, ‘if you will promise not to make any sort of + effort. I shouldn’t mind, but it would distress you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I promise absolutely,’ I said, and ironical joy rose up in me, and the + telegram burned in my pocket. + </p> + <p> + She would talk of it, though I found it hard to let her go on, knowing and + knowing and knowing as I did that for that day at least it could not be. + There was very little about herself that she wanted to tell me; she was + there confessed a woman whom joy had overcome; it was understood that we + both accepted that situation. But in the details which she asked me to + take charge of it was plain that she also kept a watchful eye upon fate—matters + of business. + </p> + <p> + We were in the drawing-room. The little round clock in its Armritsar case + marked half-past three. Judy put down her coffee cup and rose to go. As + she glanced at the clock the light deepened in her eyes, and I, with her + hand in mine, felt like an agent of the Destroyer—for it was + half-past three—consumed myself with fear lest the blow had + miscarried. Then as we stood, suddenly, the sound of hoofs at a gallop on + the drive, and my husband threw himself off at the door and tore through + the hall to his room; and in the certainty that overwhelmed me even Judy, + for an instant, stood dim and remote. + </p> + <p> + ‘Major Jim seems to be in a hurry,’ said Mrs. Harbottle, lightly. ‘I have + always liked your husband. I wonder whether he will say tomorrow that he + always liked me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear Judy, I don’t think he will be occupied with you tomorrow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, surely, just a little, if I go tonight.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You won’t go tonight.’ + </p> + <p> + She looked at me helplessly. I felt as if I were insisting upon her + abasement instead of her salvation. ‘I wish—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re not going—you’re not! You can’t! Look!’ + </p> + <p> + I pulled it out of my pocket and thrust it at her—the telegram. It + came, against every regulation, from my good friend the Deputy + Adjutant-General, in Simla, and it read, ‘Row Khurram 12th probably + ordered front three hours’ time.’ + </p> + <p> + Her face changed—how my heart leaped to see it change!—and + that took command there which will command trampling, even in the women of + the camp, at news like this. + </p> + <p> + ‘What luck that Bob couldn’t take his furlough!’ she exclaimed, + single-thoughted. ‘But you have known this for hours’—there was even + something of the Colonel’s wife, authority, incisiveness. ‘Why didn’t you + tell me? Ah—I see.’ + </p> + <p> + I stood before her abashed, and that was ridiculous, while she measured me + as if I presented in myself the woman I took her to be. ‘It wasn’t like + that,’ she said. I had to defend myself. ‘Judy,’ I said, ‘if you weren’t + in honour bound to Anna, how could I know that you would be in honour + bound to the regiment? There was a train at three.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I beg to assure you that you have overcalculated,’ said Mrs. Harbottle. + Her eyes were hard and proud. ‘And I am not sure’—a deep red swept + over her face, a man’s blush—‘in the light of this I am not sure + that I am not in honour bound to Anna.’ + </p> + <p> + We had reached the veranda, and at her signal her coachman drove quickly + up. ‘You have kept me here three hours when there was the whole of Bob’s + kit to see to,’ she said, as she flung herself in; ‘you might have thought + of that.’ + </p> + <p> + It was a more than usually tedious campaign, and Colonel Robert Harbottle + was ambushed and shot in a place where one must believe pure boredom + induced him to take his men. The incident was relieved, the newspapers + said—and they are seldom so clever in finding relief for such + incidents—by the dash and courage shown by Lieutenant Chichele, who, + in one of those feats which it has lately been the fashion to criticize, + carried the mortally wounded body of his Colonel out of range at + conspicuous risk of depriving the Queen of another officer. I helped Judy + with her silent packing; she had forgiven me long before that; and she + settled almost at once into the flat in Chelsea which has since been + credited with so delightful an atmosphere, went back straight into her own + world. I have always kept her first letters about it, always shall. For + months after, while the expedition still raged after snipers and + rifle-thieves, I discussed with Lady Chichele the probable outcome of it + all. I have sometimes felt ashamed of leaping as straight as I did with + Anna to what we thought the inevitable. I based no calculation on all Mrs. + Harbottle had gone back to, just as I had based no calculation on her ten + years’ companionship in arms when I kept her from the three o’clock train. + This last was a retrospection in which Anna naturally could not join me; + she never knew, poor dear, how fortunate as to its moment was the campaign + she deplored, and nothing to this day can have disturbed her conviction + that the bond she was at such magnificent pains to strengthen, held + against the strain, as long, happily, as the supreme need existed. ‘How + right you were!’ she often said. ‘She did, after all, love me best, dear, + wonderful Judy!’ Her distress about poor Robert Harbottle was genuine + enough, but one could not be surprised at a certain ambiguity; one tear + for Robert, so to speak, and two for her boy. It could hardly be, for him, + a marriage after his mother’s heart. And she laid down with some emphasis + that Somers was brilliantly entitled to all he was likely to get—which + was natural, too... + </p> + <p> + I had been from the beginning so much ‘in it’ that Anna showed me, a year + later, though I don’t believe she liked doing it, the letter in part of + which Mrs. Harbottle shall finally excuse herself. + </p> + <p> + ‘Somers will give you this,’ I read, ‘and with it take back your son. You + will not find, I know, anything grotesque in the charming enthusiasm with + which he has offered his life to me; you understand too well, you are too + kind. And if you wonder that I can so render up a dear thing which I might + keep and would once have taken, think how sweet in the desert is the pool, + and how barren was the prospect from Balclutha.’ + </p> + <p> + It was like her to abandon in pride a happiness that asked so much less + humiliation; I don’t know why, but it was like her. And of course, when + one thought of it, she had consulted all sorts of high expediencies. But I + sat silent with remembrance, quieting a pang in my heart, trying not to + calculate how much it had cost Judy Harbottle to take her second chance. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s The Pool in the Desert, by Sara Jeanette Duncan + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POOL IN THE DESERT *** + +***** This file should be named 1168-h.htm or 1168-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/6/1168/ + +Produced by Sue Asscher, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + </body> +</html> diff --git a/old/1168.txt b/old/1168.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dfc25b1 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1168.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7765 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Pool in the Desert, by Sara Jeanette Duncan + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Pool in the Desert + +Author: Sara Jeanette Duncan + +Posting Date: August 26, 2008 [EBook #1168] +Release Date: January, 1998 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POOL IN THE DESERT *** + + + + +Produced by Sue Asscher + + + + + +THE POOL IN THE DESERT + +By Sara Jeanette Duncan + + + +Contents + + 1. A Mother in India. + + 2. An Impossible Ideal. + + 3. The Hesitation of Miss Anderson. + + 4. The Pool in the Desert. + + + + +1. A Mother in India + + + +Chapter 1.I + +There were times when we had to go without puddings to pay John's +uniform bills, and always I did the facings myself with a cloth-ball to +save getting new ones. I would have polished his sword, too, if I had +been allowed; I adored his sword. And once, I remember, we painted and +varnished our own dog-cart, and very smart it looked, to save fifty +rupees. We had nothing but our pay--John had his company when we were +married, but what is that?--and life was made up of small knowing +economies, much more amusing in recollection than in practise. We were +sodden poor, and that is a fact, poor and conscientious, which was +worse. A big fat spider of a money-lender came one day into the veranda +and tempted us--we lived in a hut, but it had a veranda--and John +threatened to report him to the police. Poor when everybody else had +enough to live in the open-handed Indian fashion, that was what made it +so hard; we were alone in our sordid little ways. When the expectation +of Cecily came to us we made out to be delighted, knowing that the whole +station pitied us, and when Cecily came herself, with a swamping burst +of expense, we kept up the pretense splendidly. She was peevish, poor +little thing, and she threatened convulsions from the beginning, but we +both knew that it was abnormal not to love her a great deal, more than +life, immediately and increasingly; and we applied ourselves honestly to +do it, with the thermometer at a hundred and two, and the nurse leaving +at the end of a fortnight because she discovered that I had only six +of everything for the table. To find out a husband's virtues, you must +marry a poor man. The regiment was under-officered as usual, and John +had to take parade at daylight quite three times a week; but he walked +up and down the veranda with Cecily constantly till two in the morning, +when a little coolness came. I usually lay awake the rest of the +night in fear that a scorpion would drop from the ceiling on her. +Nevertheless, we were of excellent mind towards Cecily; we were in such +terror, not so much of failing in our duty towards her as towards the +ideal standard of mankind. We were very anxious indeed not to come +short. To be found too small for one's place in nature would have been +odious. We would talk about her for an hour at a time, even when John's +charger was threatening glanders and I could see his mind perpetually +wandering to the stable. I would say to John that she had brought a new +element into our lives--she had indeed!--and John would reply, 'I know +what you mean,' and go on to prophesy that she would 'bind us together.' +We didn't need binding together; we were more to each other, there in +the desolation of that arid frontier outpost, than most husbands and +wives; but it seemed a proper and hopeful thing to believe, so we +believed it. Of course, the real experience would have come, we weren't +monsters; but fate curtailed the opportunity. She was just five +weeks old when the doctor told us that we must either pack her home +immediately or lose her, and the very next day John went down with +enteric. So Cecily was sent to England with a sergeant's wife who had +lost her twins, and I settled down under the direction of a native +doctor, to fight for my husband's life, without ice or proper food, or +sickroom comforts of any sort. Ah! Fort Samila, with the sun glaring up +from the sand!--however, it is a long time ago now. I trusted the baby +willingly to Mrs. Berry and to Providence, and did not fret; my capacity +for worry, I suppose, was completely absorbed. Mrs. Berry's letter, +describing the child's improvement on the voyage and safe arrival came, +I remember, the day on which John was allowed his first solid mouthful; +it had been a long siege. 'Poor little wretch!' he said when I read it +aloud; and after that Cecily became an episode. + +She had gone to my husband's people; it was the best arrangement. We +were lucky that it was possible; so many children had to be sent to +strangers and hirelings. Since an unfortunate infant must be brought +into the world and set adrift, the haven of its grandmother and its Aunt +Emma and its Aunt Alice certainly seemed providential. I had absolutely +no cause for anxiety, as I often told people, wondering that I did +not feel a little all the same. Nothing, I knew, could exceed the +conscientious devotion of all three Farnham ladies to the child. She +would appear upon their somewhat barren horizon as a new and interesting +duty, and the small additional income she also represented would be +almost nominal compensation for the care she would receive. They were +excellent persons of the kind that talk about matins and vespers, and +attend both. They helped little charities and gave little teas, +and wrote little notes, and made deprecating allowance for the +eccentricities of their titled or moneyed acquaintances. They were the +subdued, smiling, unimaginatively dressed women on a small definite +income that you meet at every rectory garden-party in the country, a +little snobbish, a little priggish, wholly conventional, but apart from +these weaknesses, sound and simple and dignified, managing their two +small servants with a display of the most exact traditions, and keeping +a somewhat vague and belated but constant eye upon the doings of their +country as chronicled in a bi-weekly paper. They were all immensely +interested in royalty, and would read paragraphs aloud to each other +about how the Princess Beatrice or the Princess Maud had opened a fancy +bazaar, looking remarkably well in plain grey poplin trimmed with Irish +lace--an industry which, as is well known, the Royal Family has set its +heart on rehabilitating. Upon which Mrs. Farnham's comment invariably +would be, 'How thoughtful of them, dear!' and Alice would usually say, +'Well, if I were a princess, I should like something nicer than plain +grey poplin.' Alice, being the youngest, was not always expected to +think before she spoke. Alice painted in water-colours, but Emma was +supposed to have the most common sense. + +They took turns in writing to us with the greatest regularity about +Cecily; only once, I think, did they miss the weekly mail, and that was +when she threatened diphtheria and they thought we had better be kept +in ignorance. The kind and affectionate terms of these letters never +altered except with the facts they described--teething, creeping, +measles, cheeks growing round and rosy, all were conveyed in the same +smooth, pat, and proper phrases, so absolutely empty of any glimpse +of the child's personality that after the first few months it was like +reading about a somewhat uninteresting infant in a book. I was sure +Cecily was not uninteresting, but her chroniclers were. We used to wade +through the long, thin sheets and saw how much more satisfactory it +would be when Cecily could write to us herself. Meanwhile we noted her +weekly progress with much the feeling one would have about a far-away +little bit of property that was giving no trouble and coming on +exceedingly well. We would take possession of Cecily at our convenience; +till then, it was gratifying to hear of our unearned increment in dear +little dimples and sweet little curls. + +She was nearly four when I saw her again. We were home on three months' +leave; John had just got his first brevet for doing something which he +does not allow me to talk about in the Black Mountain country; and we +were fearfully pleased with ourselves. I remember that excitement lasted +well up to Port Said. As far as the Canal, Cecily was only one of the +pleasures and interests we were going home to: John's majority was +the thing that really gave savour to life. But the first faint line of +Europe brought my child to my horizon; and all the rest of the way she +kept her place, holding out her little arms to me, beckoning me on. Her +four motherless years brought compunction to my heart and tears to my +eyes; she should have all the compensation that could be. I suddenly +realized how ready I was--how ready!--to have her back. I rebelled +fiercely against John's decision that we must not take her with us on +our return to the frontier; privately, I resolved to dispute it, and, if +necessary, I saw myself abducting the child--my own child. My days and +nights as the ship crept on were full of a long ache to possess her; the +defrauded tenderness of the last four years rose up in me and sometimes +caught at my throat. I could think and talk and dream of nothing else. +John indulged me as much as was reasonable, and only once betrayed by a +yawn that the subject was not for him endlessly absorbing. Then I cried +and he apologized. 'You know,' he said, 'it isn't exactly the same +thing. I'm not her mother.' At which I dried my tears and expanded, +proud and pacified. I was her mother! + +Then the rainy little station and Alice, all-embracing in a damp +waterproof, and the drive in the fly, and John's mother at the gate and +a necessary pause while I kissed John's mother. Dear thing, she wanted +to hold our hands and look into our faces and tell us how little we had +changed for all our hardships; and on the way to the house she actually +stopped to point out some alterations in the flower-borders. At last the +drawing-room door and the smiling housemaid turning the handle and the +unforgettable picture of a little girl, a little girl unlike anything we +had imagined, starting bravely to trot across the room with the little +speech that had been taught her. Half-way she came; I suppose our +regards were too fixed, too absorbed, for there she stopped with a +wail of terror at the strange faces, and ran straight back to the +outstretched arms of her Aunt Emma. The most natural thing in the +world, no doubt. I walked over to a chair opposite with my hand-bag and +umbrella and sat down--a spectator, aloof and silent. Aunt Emma fondled +and quieted the child, apologizing for her to me, coaxing her to look +up, but the little figure still shook with sobs, hiding its face in +the bosom that it knew. I smiled politely, like any other stranger, +at Emma's deprecations, and sat impassive, looking at my alleged baby +breaking her heart at the sight of her mother. It is not amusing even +now to remember the anger that I felt. I did not touch her or speak to +her; I simply sat observing my alien possession, in the frock I had +not made and the sash I had not chosen, being coaxed and kissed and +protected and petted by its Aunt Emma. Presently I asked to be taken to +my room, and there I locked myself in for two atrocious hours. Just once +my heart beat high, when a tiny knock came and a timid, docile little +voice said that tea was ready. But I heard the rustle of a skirt, and +guessed the directing angel in Aunt Emma, and responded, 'Thank you, +dear, run away and say that I am coming,' with a pleasant visitor's +inflection which I was able to sustain for the rest of afternoon. + +'She goes to bed at seven,' said Emma. + +'Oh, does she?' said I. 'A very good hour, I should think.' + +'She sleeps in my room,' said Mrs. Farnham. + +'We give her mutton broth very often, but seldom stock soup,' said Aunt +Emma. 'Mamma thinks it is too stimulating.' + +'Indeed?' said I, to all of it. + +They took me up to see her in her crib, and pointed out, as she lay +asleep, that though she had 'a general look' of me, her features were +distinctively Farnham. + +'Won't you kiss her?' asked Alice. 'You haven't kissed her yet, and she +is used to so much affection.' + +'I don't think I could take such an advantage of her,' I said. + +They looked at each other, and Mrs. Farnham said that I was plainly worn +out. I mustn't sit up to prayers. + +If I had been given anything like reasonable time I might have made +a fight for it, but four weeks--it took a month each way in those +days--was too absurdly little; I could do nothing. But I would not +stay at mamma's. It was more than I would ask of myself, that daily +disappointment under the mask of gratified discovery, for long. + +I spent an approving, unnatural week, in my farcical character, bridling +my resentment and hiding my mortification with pretty phrases; and then +I went up to town and drowned my sorrows in the summer sales. I took +John with me. I may have been Cecily's mother in theory, but I was +John's wife in fact. + +We went back to the frontier, and the regiment saw a lot of service. +That meant medals and fun for my husband, but economy and anxiety for +me, though I managed to be allowed as close to the firing line as any +woman. + +Once the Colonel's wife and I, sitting in Fort Samila, actually heard +the rifles of a punitive expedition cracking on the other side of +the river--that was a bad moment. My man came in after fifteen hours' +fighting, and went sound asleep, sitting before his food with his knife +and fork in his hands. But service makes heavy demands besides those +on your wife's nerves. We had saved two thousand rupees, I remember, +against another run home, and it all went like powder, in the Mirzai +expedition; and the run home diminished to a month in a boarding-house +in the hills. + +Meanwhile, however, we had begun to correspond with our daughter, in +large round words of one syllable, behind which, of course, was +plain the patient guiding hand of Aunt Emma. One could hear Aunt Emma +suggesting what would be nice to say, trying to instil a little pale +affection for the far-off papa and mamma. There was so little Cecily and +so much Emma--of course, it could not be otherwise--that I used to take, +I fear, but a perfunctory joy in these letters. When we went home again +I stipulated absolutely that she was to write to us without any sort of +supervision--the child was ten. + +'But the spelling!' cried Aunt Emma, with lifted eyebrows. + +'Her letters aren't exercises,' I was obliged to retort; 'she will do +the best she can.' + +We found her a docile little girl, with nice manners, a thoroughly +unobjectionable child. I saw quite clearly that I could not have brought +her up so well; indeed, there were moments when I fancied that Cecily, +contrasting me with her aunts, wondered a little what my bringing up +could have been like. With this reserve of criticism on Cecily's part, +however, we got on very tolerably, largely because I found it impossible +to assume any responsibility towards her, and in moments of doubt or +discipline referred her to her aunts. We spent a pleasant summer with +a little girl in the house whose interest in us was amusing, and whose +outings it was gratifying to arrange; but when we went back, I had no +desire to take her with us. I thought her very much better where she +was. + +Then came the period which is filled, in a subordinate degree, with +Cecily's letters. I do not wish to claim more than I ought; they were +not my only or even my principal interest in life. It was a long +period; it lasted till she was twenty-one. John had had promotion in the +meantime, and there was rather more money, but he had earned his second +brevet with a bullet through one lung, and the doctors ordered our leave +to be spent in South Africa. We had photographs, we knew she had +grown tall and athletic and comely, and the letters were always very +creditable. I had the unusual and qualified privilege of watching my +daughter's development from ten to twenty-one, at a distance of +four thousand miles, by means of the written word. I wrote myself as +provocatively as possible; I sought for every string, but the vibration +that came back across the seas to me was always other than the one I +looked for, and sometimes there was none. Nevertheless, Mrs. Farnham +wrote me that Cecily very much valued my communications. Once when I had +described an unusual excursion in a native state, I learned that she +had read my letter aloud to the sewing circle. After that I abandoned +description, and confined myself to such intimate personal details as no +sewing circle could find amusing. The child's own letters were simply +a mirror of the ideas of the Farnham ladies; that must have been so, +it was not altogether my jaundiced eye. Alice and Emma and grandmamma +paraded the pages in turn. I very early gave up hope of discoveries +in my daughter, though as much of the original as I could detect was +satisfactorily simple and sturdy. I found little things to criticize, +of course, tendencies to correct; and by return post I criticized and +corrected, but the distance and the deliberation seemed to touch my +maxims with a kind of arid frivolity, and sometimes I tore them up. One +quick, warm-blooded scolding would have been worth a sheaf of them. My +studied little phrases could only inoculate her with a dislike for me +without protecting her from anything under the sun. + +However, I found she didn't dislike me, when John and I went home at +last to bring her out. She received me with just a hint of kindness, +perhaps, but on the whole very well. + + + +Chapter 1.II + +John was recalled, of course, before the end of our furlough, which +knocked various things on the head; but that is the sort of thing one +learned to take with philosophy in any lengthened term of Her Majesty's +service. Besides, there is usually sugar for the pill; and in this case +it was a Staff command bigger than anything we expected for at least +five years to come. The excitement of it when it was explained to her +gave Cecily a charming colour. She took a good deal of interest in the +General, her papa; I think she had an idea that his distinction would +alleviate the situation in India, however it might present itself. She +accepted that prospective situation calmly; it had been placed before +her all her life. There would always be a time when she should go and +live with papa and mamma in India, and so long as she was of an age to +receive the idea with rebel tears she was assured that papa and mamma +would give her a pony. The pony was no longer added to the prospect; it +was absorbed no doubt in the general list of attractions calculated +to reconcile a young lady to a parental roof with which she had no +practical acquaintance. At all events, when I feared the embarrassment +and dismay of a pathetic parting with darling grandmamma and the +aunties, and the sweet cat and the dear vicar and all the other objects +of affection, I found an agreeable unexpected philosophy. + +I may add that while I anticipated such broken-hearted farewells I +was quite prepared to take them easily. Time, I imagined, had brought +philosophy to me also, equally agreeable and equally unexpected. + +It was a Bombay ship, full of returning Anglo-Indians. I looked up and +down the long saloon tables with a sense of relief and of solace; I +was again among my own people. They belonged to Bengal and to Burma, to +Madras and to the Punjab, but they were all my people. I could pick out +a score that I knew in fact, and there were none that in imagination I +didn't know. The look of wider seas and skies, the casual experienced +glance, the touch of irony and of tolerance, how well I knew it and how +well I liked it! Dear old England, sitting in our wake, seemed to hold +by comparison a great many soft, unsophisticated people, immensely +occupied about very particular trifles. How difficult it had been, all +the summer, to be interested! These of my long acquaintance belonged to +my country's Executive, acute, alert, with the marks of travail on them. +Gladly I went in and out of the women's cabins and listened to the argot +of the men; my own ruling, administering, soldiering little lot. + +Cecily looked at them askance. To her the atmosphere was alien, and I +perceived that gently and privately she registered objections. She +cast a disapproving eye upon the wife of a Conservator of Forests, who +scanned with interest a distant funnel and laid a small wager that it +belonged to the Messageries Maritimes. She looked with a straightened +lip at the crisply stepping women who walked the deck in short and +rather shabby skirts with their hands in their jacket-pockets +talking transfers and promotions; and having got up at six to make +a water-colour sketch of the sunrise, she came to me in profound +indignation to say that she had met a man in his pyjamas; no doubt; poor +wretch, on his way to be shaved. I was unable to convince her he was not +expected to visit the barber in all his clothes. + +At the end of the third day she told me that she wished these people +wouldn't talk to her; she didn't like them. I had turned in the hour we +left the Channel and had not left my berth since, so possibly I was not +in the most amiable mood to receive a douche of cold water. 'I must try +to remember, dear,' I said, 'that you have been brought up altogether in +the society of pussies and vicars and elderly ladies, and of course you +miss them. But you must have a little patience. I shall be up tomorrow, +if this beastly sea continues to go down; and then we will try to find +somebody suitable to introduce to you.' + +'Thank you, mamma,' said my daughter, without a ray of suspicion. Then +she added consideringly, 'Aunt Emma and Aunt Alice do seem quite elderly +ladies beside you, and yet you are older than either of them aren't you? +I wonder how that is.' + +It was so innocent, so admirable, that I laughed at my own expense; +while Cecily, doing her hair, considered me gravely. 'I wish you would +tell me why you laugh, mamma,' quoth she; 'you laugh so often.' + +We had not to wait after all for my good offices of the next morning. +Cecily came down at ten o'clock that night quite happy and excited; she +had been talking to a bishop, such a dear bishop. The bishop had been +showing her his collection of photographs, and she had promised to play +the harmonium for him at the eleven-o'clock service in the morning. +'Bless me!' said I, 'is it Sunday?' It seemed she had got on very well +indeed with the bishop, who knew the married sister, at Tunbridge, +of her very greatest friend. Cecily herself did not know the married +sister, but that didn't matter--it was a link. The bishop was charming. +'Well, my love,' said I--I was teaching myself to use these forms of +address for fear she would feel an unkind lack of them, but it was +difficult--'I am glad that somebody from my part of the world has +impressed you favourably at last. I wish we had more bishops.' + +'Oh, but my bishop doesn't belong to your part of the world,' responded +my daughter sleepily. 'He is travelling for his health.' + +It was the most unexpected and delightful thing to be packed into one's +chair next morning by Dacres Tottenham. As I emerged from the music +saloon after breakfast--Cecily had stayed below to look over her hymns +and consider with her bishop the possibility of an anthem--Dacres's face +was the first I saw; it simply illuminated, for me, that portion of the +deck. I noticed with pleasure the quick toss of the cigar overboard as +he recognized and bore down upon me. We were immense friends; John liked +him too. He was one of those people who make a tremendous difference; +in all our three hundred passengers there could be no one like him, +certainly no one whom I could be more glad to see. We plunged at once +into immediate personal affairs, we would get at the heart of them +later. He gave his vivid word to everything he had seen and done; +we laughed and exclaimed and were silent in a concert of admirable +understanding. We were still unravelling, still demanding and explaining +when the ship's bell began to ring for church, and almost simultaneously +Cecily advanced towards us. She had a proper Sunday hat on, with flowers +under the brim, and a church-going frock; she wore gloves and clasped a +prayer-book. Most of the women who filed past to the summons of the bell +were going down as they were, in cotton blouses and serge skirts, in +tweed caps or anything, as to a kind of family prayers. I knew exactly +how they would lean against the pillars of the saloon during the psalms. +This young lady would be little less than a rebuke to them. I surveyed +her approach; she positively walked as if it were Sunday. + +'My dear,' I said, 'how endimanchee you look! The bishop will be very +pleased with you. This gentleman is Mr. Tottenham, who administers +Her Majesty's pleasure in parts of India about Allahabad. My daughter, +Dacres.' She was certainly looking very fresh, and her calm grey eyes +had the repose in them that has never known itself to be disturbed about +anything. I wondered whether she bowed so distantly also because it was +Sunday, and then I remembered that Dacres was a young man, and that +the Farnham ladies had probably taught her that it was right to be very +distant with young men. + +'It is almost eleven, mamma.' + +'Yes, dear. I see you are going to church.' + +'Are you not coming, mamma?' + +I was well wrapped up in an extremely comfortable corner. I had 'La +Duchesse Bleue' uncut in my lap, and an agreeable person to talk to. I +fear that in any case I should not been inclined to attend the service, +but there was something in my daughter's intonation that made me +distinctly hostile to the idea. I am putting things down as they were, +extenuating nothing. + +'I think not, dear.' + +'I've turned up two such nice seats.' + +'Stay, Miss Farnham, and keep us in countenance,' said Dacres, with +his charming smile. The smile displaced a look of discreet and amused +observation. Dacres had an eye always for a situation, and this one was +even newer to him than to me. + +'No, no. She must run away and not bully her mamma,' I said. 'When she +comes back we will see how much she remembers of the sermon;' and as +the flat tinkle from the companion began to show signs of diminishing, +Cecily, with one grieved glance, hastened down. + +'You amazing lady!' said Dacres. 'A daughter--and such a tall daughter! +I somehow never--' + +'You knew we had one?' + +'There was theory of that kind, I remember, about ten years ago. Since +then--excuse me--I don't think you've mentioned her.' + +'You talk as if she were a skeleton in the closet!' + +'You DIDN'T talk--as if she were.' + +'I think she was, in a way, poor child. But the resurrection day hasn't +confounded me as I deserved. She's a very good girl.' + +'If you had asked me to pick out your daughter--' + +'She would have been the last you would indicate! Quite so,' I said. +'She is like her father's people. I can't help that.' + +'I shouldn't think you would if you could,' Dacres remarked absently; +but the sea air, perhaps, enabled me to digest his thoughtlessness with +a smile. + +'No,' I said, 'I am just as well pleased. I think a resemblance to me +would confuse me, often.' + +There was a trace of scrutiny in Dacres's glance. 'Don't you find +yourself in sympathy with her?' he asked. + +'My dear boy, I have seen her just twice in twenty-one years! You see, +I've always stuck to John.' + +'But between mother and daughter--I may be old-fashioned, but I had an +idea that there was an instinct that might be depended on.' + +'I am depending on it,' I said, and let my eyes follow the little blue +waves that chased past the hand-rail. 'We are making very good speed, +aren't we? Thirty-five knots since last night at ten. Are you in the +sweep?' + +'I never bet on the way out--can't afford it. Am I old-fashioned?' he +insisted. + +'Probably. Men are very slow in changing their philosophy about women. I +fancy their idea of the maternal relation is firmest fixed of all.' + +'We see it a beatitude!' he cried. + +'I know,' I said wearily, 'and you never modify the view.' + +Dacres contemplated the portion of the deck that lay between us. His +eyes were discreetly lowered, but I saw embarrassment and speculation +and a hint of criticism in them. + +'Tell me more about it,' said he. + +'Oh, for heaven's sake don't be sympathetic!' I exclaimed. 'Lend me a +little philosophy instead. There is nothing to tell. There she is and +there I am, in the most intimate relation in the world, constituted +when she is twenty-one and I am forty.' Dacres started slightly at the +ominous word; so little do men realize that the women they like can ever +pass out of the constated years of attraction. 'I find the young +lady very tolerable, very creditable, very nice. I find the relation +atrocious. There you have it. I would like to break the relation into +pieces,' I went on recklessly, 'and throw it into the sea. Such things +should be tempered to one. I should feel it much less if she occupied +another cabin, and would consent to call me Elizabeth or Jane. It is not +as if I had been her mother always. One grows fastidious at forty--new +intimacies are only possible then on a basis of temperament--' + +I paused; it seemed to me that I was making excuses, and I had not the +least desire in the world to do that. + +'How awfully rough on the girl!' said Dacres Tottenham. + +'That consideration has also occurred to me,' I said candidly, 'though I +have perhaps been even more struck by its converse.' + +'You had no earthly business to be her mother,' said my friend, with +irritation. + +I shrugged my shoulders--what would you have done?--and opened 'La +Duchesse Bleue'. + + + +Chapter 1.III + +Mrs. Morgan, wife of a judge of the High Court of Bombay, and I sat +amidships on the cool side in the Suez Canal. She was outlining 'Soiled +Linen' in chain-stitch on a green canvas bag; I was admiring the +Egyptian sands. 'How charming,' said I, 'is this solitary desert in the +endless oasis we are compelled to cross!' + +'Oasis in the desert, you mean,' said Mrs. Morgan; 'I haven't noticed +any, but I happened to look up this morning as I was putting on my +stockings, and I saw through my port-hole the most lovely mirage.' + +I had been at school with Mrs. Morgan more than twenty years agone, but +she had come to the special enjoyment of the dignities of life while I +still liked doing things. Mrs. Morgan was the kind of person to make +one realize how distressing a medium is middle age. Contemplating her +precipitous lap, to which conventional attitudes were certainly more +becoming, I crossed my own knees with energy, and once more resolved to +be young until I was old. + +'How perfectly delightful for you to be taking Cecily out!' said Mrs. +Morgan placidly. + +'Isn't it?' I responded, watching the gliding sands. + +'But she was born in sixty-nine--that makes her twenty-one. Quite time, +I should say.' + +'Oh, we couldn't put it off any longer. I mean--her father has such a +horror of early debuts. He simply would not hear of her coming before.' + +'Doesn't want her to marry in India, I dare say--the only one,' purred +Mrs. Morgan. + +'Oh, I don't know. It isn't such a bad place. I was brought out there to +marry, and I married. I've found it very satisfactory.' + +'You always did say exactly what you thought, Helena,' said Mrs. Morgan +excusingly. + +'I haven't much patience with people who bring their daughters out to +give them the chance they never would have in England, and then go about +devoutly hoping they won't marry in India,' I said. 'I shall be very +pleased if Cecily does as well as your girls have done.' + +'Mary in the Indian Civil and Jessie in the Imperial Service Troops,' +sighed Mrs. Morgan complacently. 'And both, my dear, within a year. It +WAS a blow.' + +'Oh, it must have been!' I said civilly. + +There was no use in bandying words with Emily Morgan. + +'There is nothing in the world like the satisfaction and pleasure one +takes in one's daughters,' Mrs. Morgan went on limpidly. 'And one can be +in such CLOSE sympathy with one's girls. I have never regretted having +no sons.' + +'Dear me, yes. To watch oneself growing up again--call back the lovely +April of one's prime, etcetera--to read every thought and anticipate +every wish--there is no more golden privilege in life, dear Emily. +Such a direct and natural avenue for affection, such a wide field for +interest!' + +I paused, lost in the volume of my admirable sentiments. + +'How beautifully you talk, Helena! I wish I had the gift.' + +'It doesn't mean very much,' I said truthfully. + +'Oh, I think it's everything! And how companionable a girl is! I quite +envy you, this season, having Cecily constantly with you and taking her +about everywhere. Something quite new for you, isn't it?' + +'Absolutely,' said I; 'I am looking forward to it immensely. But it +is likely she will make her own friends, don't you think?' I added +anxiously. + +'Hardly the first season. My girls didn't. I was practically their only +intimate for months. Don't be afraid; you won't be obliged to go shares +in Cecily with anybody for a good long while,' added Mrs. Morgan kindly. +'I know just how you feel about THAT.' + +The muddy water of the Ditch chafed up from under us against its banks +with a smell that enabled me to hide the emotions Mrs. Morgan evoked +behind my handkerchief. The pale desert was pictorial with the drifting, +deepening purple shadows of clouds, and in the midst a blue glimmer of +the Bitter Lakes, with a white sail on them. A little frantic Arab boy +ran alongside keeping pace with the ship. Except for the smell, it was +like a dream, we moved so quietly; on, gently on and on between the +ridgy clay banks and the rows of piles. Peace was on the ship; you could +hear what the Fourth in his white ducks said to the quartermaster in +his blue denims; you could count the strokes of the electric bell in the +wheel-house; peace was on the ship as she pushed on, an ever-venturing, +double-funneled impertinence, through the sands of the ages. My eyes +wandered along a plank-line in the deck till they were arrested by a +petticoat I knew, when they returned of their own accord. I seemed to be +always seeing that petticoat. + +'I think,' resumed Mrs. Morgan, whose glance had wandered in the same +direction, 'that Cecily is a very fine type of our English girls. +With those dark grey eyes, a LITTLE prominent possibly, and that good +colour--it's rather high now perhaps, but she will lose quite enough +of it in India--and those regular features, she would make a splendid +Britannia. Do you know, I fancy she must have a great deal of character. +Has she?' + +'Any amount. And all of it good,' I responded, with private dejection. + +'No faults at all?' chaffed Mrs. Morgan. + +I shook my head. 'Nothing,' I said sadly, 'that I can put my finger on. +But I hope to discover a few later. The sun may bring them out.' + +'Like freckles. Well, you are a lucky woman. Mine had plenty, I assure +you. Untidiness was no name for Jessie, and Mary--I'm SORRY to say that +Mary sometimes fibbed.' + +'How lovable of her! Cecily's neatness is a painful example to me, and I +don't believe she would tell a fib to save my life.' + +'Tell me,' said Mrs. Morgan, as the lunch-bell rang and she gathered her +occupation into her work-basket, 'who is that talking to her?' + +'Oh, an old friend,' I replied easily; 'Dacres Tottenham, a dear fellow, +and most benevolent. He is trying on my behalf to reconcile her to the +life she'll have to lead in India.' + +'She won't need much reconciling, if she's like most girls,' observed +Mrs. Morgan, 'but he seems to be trying very hard.' + +That was quite the way I took it--on my behalf--for several days. When +people have understood you very adequately for ten years you do not +expect them to boggle at any problem you may present at the end of the +decade. I thought Dacres was moved by a fine sense of compassion. I +thought that with his admirable perception he had put a finger on the +little comedy of fruitfulness in my life that laughed so bitterly at +the tragedy of the barren woman, and was attempting, by delicate +manipulation, to make it easier. I really thought so. Then I observed +that myself had preposterously deceived me, that it wasn't like that at +all. When Mr. Tottenham joined us, Cecily and me, I saw that he listened +more than he talked, with an ear specially cocked to register any small +irony which might appear in my remarks to my daughter. Naturally he +registered more than there were, to make up perhaps for dear Cecily's +obviously not registering any. I could see, too, that he was suspicious +of any flavour of kindness; finally, to avoid the strictures of his +upper lip, which really, dear fellow, began to bore me, I talked +exclusively about the distant sails and the Red Sea littoral. When he +no longer joined us as we sat or walked together, I perceived that his +hostility was fixed and his parti pris. He was brimful of compassion, +but it was all for Cecily, none for the situation or for me. (She would +have marvelled, placidly, why he pitied her. I am glad I can say that.) +The primitive man in him rose up as Pope of nature and excommunicated +me as a creature recusant to her functions. Then deliberately Dacres +undertook an office of consolation; and I fell to wondering, while +Mrs. Morgan spoke her convictions plainly out, how far an impulse of +reparation for a misfortune with which he had nothing to do might carry +a man. + +I began to watch the affair with an interest which even to me seemed +queer. It was not detached, but it was semi-detached, and, of course, +on the side for which I seem, in this history, to be perpetually +apologizing. With certain limitations it didn't matter an atom whom +Cecily married. So that he was sound and decent, with reasonable +prospects, her simple requirements and ours for her would be quite met. +There was the ghost of a consolation in that; one needn't be anxious or +exacting. + +I could predict with a certain amount of confidence that in her first +season she would probably receive three or four proposals, any one of +which she might accept with as much propriety and satisfaction as any +other one. For Cecily it was so simple; prearranged by nature like her +digestion, one could not see any logical basis for difficulties. A nice +upstanding sapper, a dashing Bengal Lancer--oh, I could think of half +a dozen types that would answer excellently. She was the kind of young +person, and that was the summing up of it, to marry a type and be +typically happy. I hoped and expected that she would. But Dacres! + +Dacres should exercise the greatest possible discretion. He was not +a person who could throw the dice indifferently with fate. He could +respond to so much, and he would inevitably, sooner or later, demand so +much response! He was governed by a preposterously exacting temperament, +and he wore his nerves outside. And what vision he had! How he explored +the world he lived in and drew out of it all there was, all there was! +I could see him in the years to come ranging alone the fields that were +sweet and the horizons that lifted for him, and ever returning to pace +the common dusty mortal road by the side of a purblind wife. On general +principles, as a case to point at, it would be a conspicuous pity. Nor +would it lack the aspect of a particular, a personal misfortune. Dacres +was occupied in quite the natural normal degree with his charming self; +he would pass his misery on, and who would deserve to escape it less +than his mother-in-law? + +I listened to Emily Morgan, who gleaned in the ship more information +about Dacres Tottenham's people, pay, and prospects than I had ever +acquired, and I kept an eye upon the pair which was, I flattered myself, +quite maternal. I watched them without acute anxiety, deploring the +threatening destiny, but hardly nearer to it than one is in the stalls +to the stage. My moments of real concern for Dacres were mingled more +with anger than with sorrow--it seemed inexcusable that he, with his +infallible divining-rod for temperament, should be on the point of +making such an ass of himself. Though I talk of the stage there was +nothing at all dramatic to reward my attention, mine and Emily Morgan's. +To my imagination, excited by its idea of what Dacres Tottenham's +courtship ought to be, the attentions he paid to Cecily were most +humdrum. He threw rings into buckets with her--she was good at that--and +quoits upon the 'bull' board; he found her chair after the decks were +swabbed in the morning and established her in it; he paced the deck with +her at convenient times and seasons. They were humdrum, but they were +constant and cumulative. Cecily took them with an even breath that +perfectly matched. There was hardly anything, on her part, to note--a +little discreet observation of his comings and goings, eyes scarcely +lifted from her book, and later just a hint of proprietorship, as the +evening she came up to me on deck, our first night in the Indian +Ocean. I was lying in my long chair looking at the thick, low stars and +thinking it was a long time since I had seen John. + +'Dearest mamma, out here and nothing over your shoulders! You ARE +imprudent. Where is your wrap? Mr. Tottenham, will you please fetch +mamma's wrap for her?' + +'If mamma so instructs me,' he said audaciously. + +'Do as Cecily tells you,' I laughed, and he went and did it, while I by +the light of a quartermaster's lantern distinctly saw my daughter blush. + +Another time, when Cecily came down to undress, she bent over me as I +lay in the lower berth with unusual solicitude. I had been dozing, and I +jumped. + +'What is it, child?' I said. 'Is the ship on fire?' + +'No, mamma, the ship is not on fire. There is nothing wrong. I'm so +sorry I startled you. But Mr. Tottenham has been telling me all about +what you did for the soldiers the time plague broke out in the lines at +Mian-Mir. I think it was splendid, mamma, and so does he.' + +'Oh, Lord!' I groaned. 'Good night.' + + + +Chapter 1.IV. + +It remained in my mind, that little thing that Dacres had taken the +trouble to tell my daughter; I thought about it a good deal. It seemed +to me the most serious and convincing circumstances that had yet offered +itself to my consideration. Dacres was no longer content to bring solace +and support to the more appealing figure of the situation; he must set +to work, bless him! to improve the situation itself. He must try to +induce Miss Farnham, by telling her everything he could remember to +my credit, to think as well of her mother as possible, in spite of the +strange and secret blows which that mother might be supposed to sit +up at night to deliver to her. Cecily thought very well of me already; +indeed, with private reservations as to my manners and--no, NOT my +morals, I believe I exceeded her expectations of what a perfectly new +and untrained mother would be likely to prove. It was my theory that she +found me all she could understand me to be. The maternal virtues of the +outside were certainly mine; I put them on with care every morning and +wore them with patience all day. Dacres, I assured myself, must have +allowed his preconception to lead him absurdly by the nose not to see +that the girl was satisfied, that my impatience, my impotence, did +not at all make her miserable. Evidently, however, he had created +our relations differently; evidently he had set himself to their +amelioration. There was portent in it; things seemed to be closing in. I +bit off a quarter of an inch of wooden pen-handle in considering whether +or not I should mention it in my letter to John, and decided that it +would be better just perhaps to drop a hint. Though I could not expect +John to receive it with any sort of perturbation. Men are different; he +would probably think Tottenham well enough able to look after himself. + +I had embarked on my letter, there at the end of a corner-table of the +saloon, when I saw Dacres saunter through. He wore a very conscious +and elaborately purposeless air; and it jumped with my mood that he had +nothing less than the crisis of his life in his pocket, and was looking +for me. As he advanced towards me between the long tables doubt left me +and alarm assailed me. 'I'm glad to find you in a quiet corner,' said +he, seating himself, and confirmed my worst anticipations. + +'I'm writing to John,' I said, and again applied myself to my +pen-handle. It is a trick Cecily has since done her best in vain to cure +me of. + +'I am going to interrupt you,' he said. 'I have not had an opportunity +of talking to you for some time.' + +'I like that!' I exclaimed derisively. + +'And I want to tell you that I am very much charmed with Cecily.' + +'Well,' I said, 'I am not going to gratify you by saying anything +against her.' + +'You don't deserve her, you know.' + +'I won't dispute that. But, if you don't mind--I'm not sure that I'll +stand being abused, dear boy.' + +'I quite see it isn't any use. Though one spoke with the tongues of men +and of angels--' + +'And had not charity,' I continued for him. 'Precisely. I won't go on, +but your quotation is very apt.' + +'I so bow down before her simplicity. It makes a wide and beautiful +margin for the rest of her character. She is a girl Ruskin would have +loved.' + +'I wonder,' said I. 'He did seem fond of the simple type, didn't he?' + +'Her mind is so clear, so transparent. The motive spring of everything +she says and does is so direct. Don't you find you can most completely +depend upon her?' + +'Oh yes,' I said; 'certainly. I nearly always know what she is going +to say before she says it, and under given circumstances I can tell +precisely what she will do.' + +'I fancy her sense of duty is very beautifully developed.' + +'It is,' I said. 'There is hardly a day when I do not come in contact +with it.' + +'Well, that is surely a good thing. And I find that calm poise of hers +very restful.' + +'I would not have believed that so many virtues could reside in one +young lady,' I said, taking refuge in flippancy, 'and to think that she +should be my daughter!' + +'As I believe you know, that seems to me rather a cruel stroke of +destiny, Mrs. Farnham.' + +'Oh yes, I know! You have a constructive imagination, Dacres. You +don't seem to see that the girl is protected by her limitations, like a +tortoise. She lives within them quite secure and happy and content. How +determined you are to be sorry for her!' + +Mr. Tottenham looked at the end of this lively exchange as though he +sought for a polite way of conveying to me that I rather was the limited +person. He looked as if he wished he could say things. The first of them +would be, I saw, that he had quite a different conception of Cecily, +that it was illuminated by many trifles, nuances of feeling and +expression, which he had noticed in his talks with her whenever they had +skirted the subject of her adoption by her mother. He knew her, he was +longing to say, better than I did; when it would have been natural to +reply that one could not hope to compete in such a direction with an +intelligent young man, and we should at once have been upon delicate and +difficult ground. So it was as well perhaps that he kept silence until +he said, as he had come prepared to say, 'Well, I want to put that +beyond a doubt--her happiness--if I'm good enough. I want her, please, +and I only hope that she will be half as willing to come as you are +likely to be to let her go.' + +It was a shock when it came, plump, like that; and I was horrified to +feel how completely every other consideration was lost for the instant +in the immense relief that it prefigured. To be my whole complete self +again, without the feeling that a fraction of me was masquerading about +in Cecily! To be freed at once, or almost, from an exacting condition +and an impossible ideal! 'Oh!' I exclaimed, and my eyes positively +filled. 'You ARE good, Dacres, but I couldn't let you do that.' + +His undisguised stare brought me back to a sense of the proportion of +things. I saw that in the combination of influences that had brought Mr. +Tottenham to the point of proposing to marry my daughter consideration +for me, if it had a place, would be fantastic. Inwardly I laughed at the +egotism of raw nerves that had conjured it up, even for an instant, as +a reason for gratitude. The situation was not so peculiar, not so +interesting, as that. But I answered his stare with a smile; what I had +said might very well stand. + +'Do you imagine,' he said, seeing that I did not mean to amplify it, +'that I want to marry her out of any sort of GOODness?' + +'Benevolence is your weakness, Dacres.' + +'I see. You think one's motive is to withdraw her from a relation +which ought to be the most natural in the world, but which is, in her +particular and painful case, the most equivocal.' + +'Well, come,' I remonstrated. 'You have dropped one or two things, you +know, in the heat of your indignation, not badly calculated to give one +that idea. The eloquent statement you have just made, for instance--it +carries all the patness of old conviction. How often have you rehearsed +it?' + +I am a fairly long-suffering person, but I began to feel a little +annoyed with my would-be son-in-law. If the relation were achieved it +would give him no prescriptive right to bully me; and we were still in +very early anticipation of that. + +'Ah!' he said disarmingly. 'Don't let us quarrel. I'm sorry you think +that; because it isn't likely to bring your favour to my project, and +I want you friendly and helpful. Oh, confound it!' he exclaimed, with +sudden temper. 'You ought to be. I don't understand this aloofness. +I half suspect it's pose. You undervalue Cecily--well, you have no +business to undervalue me. You know me better than anybody in the world. +Now are you going to help me to marry your daughter?' + +'I don't think so,' I said slowly, after a moment's silence, which he +sat through like a mutinous schoolboy. 'I might tell you that I don't +care a button whom you marry, but that would not be true. I do care more +or less. As you say, I know you pretty well. I'd a little rather you +didn't make a mess of it; and if you must I should distinctly prefer +not to have the spectacle under my nose for the rest of my life. I can't +hinder you, but I won't help you.' + +'And what possesses you to imagine that in marrying Cecily I should make +a mess of it? Shouldn't your first consideration be whether SHE would?' + +'Perhaps it should, but, you see, it isn't. Cecily would be happy with +anybody who made her comfortable. You would ask a good deal more than +that, you know.' + +Dacres, at this, took me up promptly. Life, he said, the heart of life, +had particularly little to say to temperament. By the heart of life I +suppose he meant married love. He explained that its roots asked other +sustenance, and that it throve best of all on simple elemental goodness. +So long as a man sought in women mere casual companionship, perhaps +the most exquisite thing to be experienced was the stimulus of some +spiritual feminine counterpart; but when he desired of one woman that +she should be always and intimately with him, the background of his +life, the mother of his children, he was better advised to avoid +nerves and sensibilities, and try for the repose of the common--the +uncommon--domestic virtues. Ah, he said, they were sweet, like lavender. +(Already, I told him, he smelled the housekeeper's linen-chest.) But +I did not interrupt him much; I couldn't, he was too absorbed. To +temperamental pairing, he declared, the century owed its breed of +decadents. I asked him if he had ever really recognized one; and he +retorted that if he hadn't he didn't wish to make a beginning in his +own family. In a quarter of an hour he repudiated the theories of a +lifetime, a gratifying triumph for simple elemental goodness. Having +denied the value of the subtler pretensions to charm in woman as you +marry her, he went artlessly on to endow Cecily with as many of them as +could possibly be desirable. He actually persuaded himself to say that +it was lovely to see the reflections of life in her tranquil spirit; +and when I looked at him incredulously he grew angry, and hinted that +Cecily's sensitiveness to reflections and other things might be a trifle +beyond her mother's ken. 'She responds instantly, intimately, to the +beautiful everywhere,' he declared. + +'Aren't the opportunities of life on board ship rather limited to +demonstrate that?' I inquired. 'I know--you mean sunsets. Cecily is very +fond of sunsets. She is always asking me to come and look at them.' + +'I was thinking of last night's sunset,' he confessed. 'We looked at it +together.' + +'What did she say?' I asked idly. + +'Nothing very much. That's just the point. Another girl would have raved +and gushed.' + +'Oh, well, Cecily never does that,' I responded. 'Nevertheless she is +a very ordinary human instrument. I hope I shall have no temptation ten +years hence to remind you that I warned you of her quality.' + +'I wish, not in the least for my own profit, for I am well convinced +already, but simply to win your cordiality and your approval--never did +an unexceptional wooer receive such niggard encouragement!--I wish there +were some sort of test for her quality. I would be proud to stand by it, +and you would be convinced. I can't find words to describe my objection +to your state of mind.' + +The thing seemed to me to be a foregone conclusion. I saw it +accomplished, with all its possibilities of disastrous commonplace. I +saw all that I have here taken the trouble to foreshadow. So far as +I was concerned, Dacres's burden would add itself to my philosophies, +voila tout. I should always be a little uncomfortable about it, because +it had been taken from my back; but it would not be a matter for the +wringing of hands. And yet--the hatefulness of the mistake! Dacres's +bold talk of a test made no suggestion. Should my invention be more +fertile? I thought of something. + +'You have said nothing to her yet?' I asked. + +'Nothing. I don't think she suspects for a moment. She treats me as if +no such fell design were possible. I'm none too confident, you know,' he +added, with longer face. + +'We go straight to Agra. Could you come to Agra?' + +'Ideal!' he cried. 'The memory of Mumtaz! The garden of the Taj! I've +always wanted to love under the same moon as Shah Jehan. How thoughtful +of you!' + +'You must spend a few days with us in Agra,' I continued. 'And as you +say, it is the very place to shrine your happiness, if it comes to pass +there.' + +'Well, I am glad to have extracted a word of kindness from you at last,' +said Dacres, as the stewards came to lay the table. 'But I wish,' he +added regretfully, 'you could have thought of a test.' + + + +Chapter 1.V. + +Four days later we were in Agra. A time there was when the name would +have been the key of dreams to me; now it stood for John's headquarters. +I was rejoiced to think I would look again upon the Taj; and the +prospect of living with it was a real enchantment; but I pondered most +the kind of house that would be provided for the General Commanding the +District, how many the dining-room would seat, and whether it would +have a roof of thatch or of corrugated iron--I prayed against corrugated +iron. I confess these my preoccupations. I was forty, and at forty the +practical considerations of life hold their own even against domes of +marble, world-renowned, and set about with gardens where the bulbul +sings to the rose. I smiled across the years at the raptures of my first +vision of the place at twenty-one, just Cecily's age. Would I now sit +under Arjamand's cypresses till two o'clock in the morning to see the +wonder of her tomb at a particular angle of the moon? Would I climb one +of her tall white ministering minarets to see anything whatever? I very +greatly feared that I would not. Alas for the aging of sentiment, of +interest! Keep your touch with life and your seat in the saddle as +long as you will, the world is no new toy at forty. But Cecily was +twenty-one, Cecily who sat stolidly finishing her lunch while Dacres +Tottenham talked about Akbar and his philosophy. 'The sort of man,' he +said, 'that Carlyle might have smoked a pipe with.' + +'But surely,' said Cecily reflectively, 'tobacco was not discovered in +England then. Akbar came to the throne in 1526.' + +'Nor Carlyle either for that matter,' I hastened to observe. +'Nevertheless, I think Mr. Tottenham's proposition must stand.' + +'Thanks, Mrs. Farnham,' said Dacres. 'But imagine Miss Farnham's +remembering Akbar's date! I'm sure you didn't!' + +'Let us hope she doesn't know too much about him,' I cried gaily, 'or +there will be nothing to tell!' + +'Oh, really and truly very little!' said Cecily, 'but as soon as we +heard papa would be stationed here Aunt Emma made me read up about those +old Moguls and people. I think I remember the dynasty. Baber, wasn't he +the first? And then Humayon, and after him Akbar, and then Jehangir, and +then Shah Jehan. But I've forgotten every date but Akbar's.' + +She smiled her smile of brilliant health and even spirits as she made +the damaging admission, and she was so good to look at, sitting there +simple and wholesome and fresh, peeling her banana with her well-shaped +fingers, that we swallowed the dynasty as it were whole, and smiled back +upon her. John, I may say, was extremely pleased with Cecily; he +said she was a very satisfactory human accomplishment. One would +have thought, positively, the way he plumed himself over his handsome +daughter, that he alone was responsible for her. But John, having +received his family, straightway set off with his Staff on a tour of +inspection, and thereby takes himself out of this history. I sometimes +think that if he had stayed--but there has never been the lightest +recrimination between us about it, and I am not going to hint one now. + +'Did you read,' asked Dacres, 'what he and the Court poet wrote over the +entrance gate to the big mosque at Fattehpur-Sikri? It's rather nice. +"The world is a looking-glass, wherein the image has come and is +gone--take as thine own nothing more than what thou lookest upon."' + +My daughter's thoughtful gaze was, of course, fixed upon the speaker, +and in his own glance I saw a sudden ray of consciousness; but Cecily +transferred her eyes to the opposite wall, deeply considering, and while +Dacres and I smiled across the table, I saw that she had perceived no +reason for blushing. It was a singularly narrow escape. + +'No,' she said, 'I didn't; what a curious proverb for an emperor to +make! He couldn't possibly have been able to see all his possessions at +once.' + +'If you have finished,' Dacres addressed her, 'do let me show you what +your plain and immediate duty is to the garden. The garden waits for +you--all the roses expectant--' + +'Why, there isn't one!' cried Cecily, pinning on her hat. It was +pleasing, and just a trifle pathetic, the way he hurried her out of the +scope of any little dart; he would not have her even within range of +amused observation. Would he continue, I wondered vaguely, as, with my +elbows on the table, I tore into strips the lemon-leaf that floated in +my finger-bowl--would he continue, through life, to shelter her from his +other clever friends as now he attempted to shelter her from her mother? +In that case he would have to domicile her, poor dear, behind the +curtain, like the native ladies--a good price to pay for a protection +of which, bless her heart! she would be all unaware. I had quite stopped +bemoaning the affair; perhaps the comments of my husband, who treated +it with broad approval and satisfaction, did something to soothe my +sensibilities. At all events, I had gradually come to occupy a high +fatalistic ground towards the pair. If it was written upon their +foreheads that they should marry, the inscription was none of mine; +and, of course, it was true, as John had indignantly stated, that +Dacres might do very much worse. One's interest in Dacres Tottenham's +problematical future had in no way diminished; but the young man was so +positive, so full of intention, so disinclined to discussion--he had +not reopened the subject since that morning in the saloon of the +Caledonia--that one's feeling about it rather took the attenuated form +of a shrug. I am afraid, too, that the pleasurable excitement of such +an impending event had a little supervened; even at forty there is no +disallowing the natural interests of one's sex. As I sat there pulling +my lemon-leaf to pieces, I should not have been surprised or in the +least put about if the two had returned radiant from the lawn to demand +my blessing. As to the test of quality that I had obligingly invented +for Dacres on the spur of the moment without his knowledge or +connivance, it had some time ago faded into what he apprehended it to +be--a mere idyllic opportunity, a charming background, a frame for his +project, of prettier sentiment than the funnels and the hand-rails of a +ship. + +Mr. Tottenham had ten days to spend with us. He knew the place well; +it belonged to the province to whose service he was dedicated, and he +claimed with impressive authority the privilege of showing it to Cecily +by degrees--the Hall of Audience today, the Jessamine Tower tomorrow, +the tomb of Akbar another, and the Deserted City yet another day. We +arranged the expeditions in conference, Dacres insisting only upon the +order of them, which I saw was to be cumulative, with the Taj at the +very end, on the night precisely of the full of the moon, with a better +chance of roses. I had no special views, but Cecily contributed some; +that we should do the Hall of Audience in the morning, so as not to +interfere with the club tennis in the afternoon, that we should bicycle +to Akbar's tomb and take a cold luncheon--if we were sure there would +be no snakes--to the Deserted City, to all of which Dacres gave loyal +assent. I endorsed everything; I was the encouraging chorus, only +stipulating that my number should be swelled from day to day by the +addition of such persons as I should approve. Cecily, for instance, +wanted to invite the Bakewells because we had come out in the same ship +with them; but I could not endure the Bakewells, and it seemed to me +that our having made the voyage with them was the best possible reason +for declining to lay eyes on them for the rest of our natural lives. +'Mamma has such strong prejudices,' Cecily remarked, as she reluctantly +gave up the idea; and I waited to see whether the graceless Tottenham +would unmurmuringly take down the Bakewells. How strong must be the +sentiment that turns a man into a boa-constrictor without a pang of +transmigration! But no, this time he was faithful to the principles of +his pre-Cecilian existence. 'They are rather Boojums,' he declared. +'You would think so, too, if you knew them better. It is that kind of +excellent person that makes the real burden of India.' I could have +patted him on the back. + +Thanks to the rest of the chorus, which proved abundantly available, +I was no immediate witness to Cecily's introduction to the glorious +fragments which sustain in Agra the memory of the moguls. I may as well +say that I arranged with care that if anybody must be standing by when +Dacres disclosed them, it should not be I. If Cecily had squinted, +I should have been sorry, but I would have found in it no personal +humiliation. There were other imperfections of vision, however, for +which I felt responsible and ashamed; and with Dacres, though the +situation, Heaven knows, was none of my seeking, I had a little the +feeling of a dealer who offers a defective bibelot to a connoisseur. My +charming daughter--I was fifty times congratulated upon her appearance +and her manners--had many excellent qualities and capacities which she +never inherited from me; but she could see no more than the bulk, no +further than the perspective; she could register exactly as much as a +camera. + +This was a curious thing, perhaps, to displease my maternal vanity, but +it did; I had really rather she squinted; and when there was anything to +look at I kept out of the way. I can not tell precisely, therefore, what +the incidents were that contributed to make Mr. Tottenham, on our return +from these expeditions, so thoughtful, with a thoughtfulness which +increased, towards the end of them, to a positive gravity. This would +disappear during dinner under the influence of food and drink. He +would talk nightly with new enthusiasm and fresh hope--or did I imagine +it?--of the loveliness he had arranged to reveal on the following day. +If again my imagination did not lead me astray, I fancied this occurred +later and later in the course of the meal as the week went on; as if +his state required more stimulus as time progressed. One evening, when +I expected it to flag altogether, I had a whim to order champagne and +observe the effect; but I am glad to say that I reproved myself, and +refrained. + +Cecily, meanwhile, was conducting herself in a manner which left nothing +to be desired. If, as I sometimes thought, she took Dacres very much for +granted, she took him calmly for granted; she seemed a prey to none of +those fluttering uncertainties, those suspended judgments and elaborate +indifferences which translate themselves so plainly in a young lady +receiving addresses. She turned herself out very freshly and very well; +she was always ready for everything, and I am sure that no glance of +Dacres Tottenham's found aught but direct and decorous response. His +society on these occasions gave her solid pleasure; so did the drive and +the lunch; the satisfactions were apparently upon the same plane. She +was aware of the plum, if I may be permitted a brusque but irresistible +simile; and with her mouth open, her eyes modestly closed, and her head +in a convenient position, she waited, placidly, until it should fall in. +The Farnham ladies would have been delighted with the result of their +labours in the sweet reason and eminent propriety of this attitude. +Thinking of my idiotic sufferings when John began to fix himself upon my +horizon, I pondered profoundly the power of nature in differentiation. + +One evening, the last, I think, but one, I had occasion to go to my +daughter's room, and found her writing in her commonplace-book. She had +a commonplace-book, as well as a Where Is It? an engagement-book, an +account-book, a diary, a Daily Sunshine, and others with purposes too +various to remember. 'Dearest mamma,' she said, as I was departing, +'there is only one "p" in "opulence", isn't there?' + +'Yes,' I replied, with my hand on the door-handle, and added curiously, +for it was an odd word in Cecily's mouth, 'Why?' + +She hardly hesitated. 'Oh,' she said, 'I am just writing down one or two +things Mr. Tottenham said about Agra before I forget them. They seemed +so true.' + +'He has a descriptive touch,' I remarked. + +'I think he describes beautifully. Would you like to hear what he said +today?' + +'I would,' I replied, sincerely. + +'"Agra,"' read this astonishing young lady, '"is India's one pure idyll. +Elsewhere she offers other things, foolish opulence, tawdry pageant, +treachery of eunuchs and jealousies of harems, thefts of kings' jewels +and barbaric retributions; but they are all actual, visualized, or +part of a past that shows to the backward glance hardly more relief +and vitality than a Persian painting"--I should like to see a Persian +painting--"but here the immortal tombs and pleasure-houses rise out of +colour delicate and subtle; the vision holds across three hundred years; +the print of the court is still in the dust of the city."' + +'Did you really let him go on like that?' I exclaimed. 'It has the +license of a lecture!' + +'I encouraged him to. Of course he didn't say it straight off. He said +it naturally; he stopped now and then to cough. I didn't understand it +all; but I think I have remembered every word.' + +'You have a remarkable memory. I'm glad he stopped to cough. Is there +any more?' + +'One little bit. "Here the moguls wrought their passions into marble, +and held them up with great refrains from their religion, and set them +about with gardens; and here they stand in the twilight of the glory of +those kings and the noonday splendour of their own."' + +'How clever of you!' I exclaimed. 'How wonderfully clever of you to +remember!' + +'I had to ask him to repeat one or two sentences. He didn't like that. +But this is nothing. I used to learn pages letter-perfect for Aunt Emma. +She was very particular. I think it is worth preserving, don't you?' + +'Dear Cecily,' I responded, 'you have a frugal mind.' + +There was nothing else to respond. I could not tell her just how +practical I thought her, or how pathetic her little book. + + + +Chapter 1.VI. + +We drove together, after dinner, to the Taj. The moonlight lay in an +empty splendour over the broad sandy road, with the acacias pricking up +on each side of it and the gardens of the station bungalows stretching +back into clusters of crisp shadows. It was an exquisite February night, +very still. Nothing seemed abroad but two or three pariah dogs, upon +vague and errant business, and the Executive Engineer going swiftly home +from the club on his bicycle. Even the little shops of the bazaar were +dark and empty; only here and there a light showed barred behind +the carved balconies of the upper rooms, and there was hardly any +tom-tomming. The last long slope of the road showed us the river curving +to the left, through a silent white waste that stretched indefinitely +into the moonlight on one side, and was crowned by Akbar's fort on the +other. His long high line of turrets and battlements still guarded a +hint of their evening rose, and dim and exquisite above them hovered +the three dome-bubbles of the Pearl Mosque. It was a night of perfect +illusion, and the illusion was mysterious, delicate, and faint. I sat +silent as we rolled along, twenty years nearer to the original joy of +things when John and I drove through the same old dream. + +Dacres, too, seemed preoccupied; only Cecily was, as they say, herself. +Cecily was really more than herself, she exhibited an unusual flow of +spirits. She talked continually, she pointed out this and that, she +asked who lived here and who lived there. At regular intervals of +about four minutes she demanded if it wasn't simply too lovely. She +sat straight up with her vigorous profile and her smart hat; and the +silhouette of her personality sharply refused to mingle with the dust +of any dynasty. She was a contrast, a protest; positively she was +an indignity. 'Do lean back, dear child,' I exclaimed at last. 'You +interfere with the landscape.' + +She leaned back, but she went on interfering with it in terms of +sincerest enthusiasm. + +When we stopped at the great archway of entrance I begged to be left in +the carriage. What else could one do, when the golden moment had come, +but sit in the carriage and measure it? They climbed the broad stone +steps together and passed under the lofty gravures into the garden, and +I waited. I waited and remembered. I am not, as perhaps by this time is +evident, a person of overwhelming sentiment, but I think the smile upon +my lips was gentle. So plainly I could see, beyond the massive +archway and across a score of years, all that they saw at that +moment--Arjamand's garden, and the long straight tank of marble cleaving +it full of sleeping water and the shadows of the marshaling cypresses; +her wide dark garden of roses and of pomegranates, and at the end the +Vision, marvellous, aerial, the soul of something--is it beauty? is it +sorrow?--that great white pride of love in mourning such as only here +in all the round of our little world lifts itself to the stars, the +unpaintable, indescribable Taj Mahal. A gentle breath stole out with a +scent of jessamine and such a memory! I closed my eyes and felt the warm +luxury of a tear. + +Thinking of the two in the garden, my mood was very kind, very +conniving. How foolish after all were my cherry-stone theories of taste +and temperament before that uncalculating thing which sways a world and +builds a Taj Mahal! Was it probable that Arjamand and her Emperor had +loved fastidiously, and yet how they had loved! I wandered away into +consideration of the blind forces which move the world, in which comely +young persons like my daughter Cecily had such a place; I speculated +vaguely upon the value of the subtler gifts of sympathy and insight +which seemed indeed, at that enveloping moment, to be mere flowers +strewn upon the tide of deeper emotions. The garden sent me a fragrance +of roses; the moon sailed higher and picked out the little kiosks set +along the wall. It was a charming, charming thing to wait, there at the +portal of the silvered, scented garden, for an idyll to come forth. + +When they reappeared, Dacres and my daughter, they came with casual +steps and cheerful voices. They might have been a couple of tourists. +The moonlight fell full upon them on the platform under the arch. +It showed Dacres measuring with his stick the length of the Sanskrit +letters which declared the stately texts, and Cecily's expression of +polite, perfunctory interest. They looked up at the height above them; +they looked back at the vision behind. Then they sauntered towards +the carriage, he offering a formal hand to help her down the uncertain +steps, she gracefully accepting it. + +'You--you have not been long,' said I. 'I hope you didn't hurry on my +account.' + +'Miss Farnham found the marble a little cold under foot,' replied +Dacres, putting Miss Farnham in. + +'You see,' explained Cecily, 'I stupidly forgot to change into thicker +soles. I have only my slippers. But, mamma, how lovely it is! Do let us +come again in the daytime. I am dying to make a sketch of it.' + +Mr. Tottenham was to leave us on the following day. In the morning, +after 'little breakfast,' as we say in India, he sought me in the room I +had set aside to be particularly my own. + +Again I was writing to John, but this time I waited for precisely his +interruption. I had got no further than 'My dearest husband,' and my +pen-handle was a fringe. + +'Another fine day,' I said, as if the old, old Indian joke could give +him ease, poor man! + +'Yes,' said he, 'we are having lovely weather.' + +He had forgotten that it was a joke. Then he lapsed into silence while I +renewed my attentions to my pen. + +'I say,' he said at last, with so strained a look about his mouth that +it was almost a contortion, 'I haven't done it, you know.' + +'No,' I responded, cheerfully, 'and you're not going to. Is that it? +Well!' + +'Frankly--' said he. + +'Dear me, yes! Anything else between you and me would be grotesque,' I +interrupted, 'after all these years.' + +'I don't think it would be a success,' he said, looking at me resolutely +with his clear blue eyes, in which still lay, alas! the possibility of +many delusions. + +'No,' I said, 'I never did, you know. But the prospect had begun to +impose upon me.' + +'To say how right you were would seem, under the circumstances, the most +hateful form of flattery.' + +'Yes,' I said, 'I think I can dispense with your verbal endorsement.' +I felt a little bitter. It was, of course, better that the connoisseur +should have discovered the flaw before concluding the transaction; but +although I had pointed it out myself I was not entirely pleased to have +the article returned. + +'I am infinitely ashamed that it should have taken me all these +days--day after day and each contributory--to discover what you saw so +easily and so completely.' + +'You forget that I am her mother,' I could not resist the temptation of +saying. + +'Oh, for God's sake don't jeer! Please be absolutely direct, and tell +me if you have reason to believe that to the extent of a thought, of a +breath--to any extent at all--she cares.' + +He was, I could see, very deeply moved; he had not arrived at this point +without trouble and disorder not lightly to be put on or off. Yet I did +not hurry to his relief, I was still possessed by a vague feeling of +offense. I reflected that any mother would be, and I quite plumed myself +upon my annoyance. It was so satisfactory, when one had a daughter, to +know the sensations of even any mother. Nor was it soothing to remember +that the young man's whole attitude towards Cecily had been based upon +criticism of me, even though he sat before me whipped with his own +lash. His temerity had been stupid and obstinate; I could not regret his +punishment. + +I kept him waiting long enough to think all this, and then I replied, 'I +have not the least means of knowing.' + +I can not say what he expected, but he squared his shoulders as if he +had received a blow and might receive another. Then he looked at me +with a flash of the old indignation. 'You are not near enough to her for +that!' he exclaimed. + +'I am not near enough to her for that.' + +Silence fell between us. A crow perched upon an opened venetian and +cawed lustily. For years afterward I never heard a crow caw without a +sense of vain, distressing experiment. Dacres got up and began to walk +about the room. I very soon put a stop to that. 'I can't talk to a +pendulum,' I said, but I could not persuade him to sit down again. + +'Candidly,' he said at length, 'do you think she would have me?' + +'I regret to say that I think she would. But you would not dream of +asking her.' + +'Why not? She is a dear girl,' he responded inconsequently. + +'You could not possibly stand it.' + +Then Mr. Tottenham delivered himself of this remarkable phrase: 'I could +stand it,' he said, 'as well as you can.' + +There was far from being any joy in the irony with which I regarded him +and under which I saw him gather up his resolution to go; nevertheless +I did nothing to make it easy for him. I refrained from imparting +my private conviction that Cecily would accept the first presentable +substitute that appeared, although it was strong. I made no reference to +my daughter's large fund of philosophy and small balance of sentiment. I +did not even--though this was reprehensible--confess the test, the test +of quality in these ten days with the marble archives of the Moguls, +which I had almost wantonly suggested, which he had so unconsciously +accepted, so disastrously applied. I gave him quite fifteen minutes of +his bad quarter of an hour, and when it was over I wrote truthfully but +furiously to John.... + +That was ten years ago. We have since attained the shades of retirement, +and our daughter is still with us when she is not with Aunt Emma and +Aunt Alice--grandmamma has passed away. Mr. Tottenham's dumb departure +that day in February--it was the year John got his C.B.--was followed, +I am thankful to say, by none of the symptoms of unrequited affection on +Cecily's part. Not for ten minutes, so far as I was aware, was she the +maid forlorn. I think her self-respect was of too robust a character, +thanks to the Misses Farnham. Still less, of course, had she any +reproaches to serve upon her mother, although for a long time I thought +I detected--or was it my guilty conscience?--a spark of shrewdness in +the glance she bent upon me when the talk was of Mr. Tottenham and +the probabilities of his return to Agra. So well did she sustain her +experience, or so little did she feel it, that I believe the impression +went abroad that Dacres had been sent disconsolate away. One astonishing +conversation I had with her some six months later, which turned upon +the point of a particularly desirable offer. She told me something then, +without any sort of embarrassment, but quite lucidly and directly, that +edified me much to hear. She said that while she was quite sure that Mr. +Tottenham thought of her only as a friend--she had never had the least +reason for any other impression--he had done her a service for which she +could not thank him enough--in showing her what a husband might be. He +had given her a standard; it might be high, but it was unalterable. +She didn't know whether she could describe it, but Mr. Tottenham was +different from the kind of man you seemed to meet in India. He had his +own ways of looking at things, and he talked so well. He had given her +an ideal, and she intended to profit by it. To know that men like Mr. +Tottenham existed, and to marry any other kind would be an act of folly +which she did not intend to commit. No, Major the Hon. Hugh Taverel did +not come near it--very far short, indeed! He had talked to her during +the whole of dinner the night before about jackal-hunting with a bobbery +pack--not at all an elevated mind. Yes, he might be a very good +fellow, but as a companion for life she was sure he would not be at all +suitable. She would wait. + +And she has waited. I never thought she would, but she has. From time +to time men have wished to take her from us, but the standard has been +inexorable, and none of them have reached it. When Dacres married the +charming American whom he caught like a butterfly upon her Eastern tour, +Cecily sent them as a wedding present an alabaster model of the Taj, and +I let her do it--the gift was so exquisitely appropriate. I suppose +he never looks at it without being reminded that he didn't marry Miss +Farnham, and I hope that he remembers that he owes it to Miss Farnham's +mother. So much I think I might claim; it is really very little +considering what it stands for. Cecily is permanently with us--I believe +she considers herself an intimate. I am very reasonable about lending +her to her aunts, but she takes no sort of advantage of my liberality; +she says she knows her duty is at home. She is growing into a firm and +solid English maiden lady, with a good colour and great decision of +character. That she always had. + +I point out to John, when she takes our crumpets away from us, that she +gets it from him. I could never take away anybody's crumpets, merely +because they were indigestible, least of all my own parents'. She +has acquired a distinct affection for us, by some means best known +to herself; but I should have no objection to that if she would not +rearrange my bonnet-strings. That is a fond liberty to which I take +exception; but it is one thing to take exception and another to express +it. + +Our daughter is with us, permanently with us. She declares that she +intends to be the prop of our declining years; she makes the statement +often, and always as if it were humorous. Nevertheless I sometimes +notice a spirit of inquiry, a note of investigation in her encounters +with the opposite sex that suggests an expectation not yet extinct +that another and perhaps a more appreciative Dacres Tottenham may flash +across her field of vision--alas, how improbable! Myself I can not +imagine why she should wish it; I have grown in my old age into a +perfect horror of cultivated young men; but if such a person should by +a miracle at any time appear, I think it is extremely improbable that I +will interfere on his behalf. + + + + +2. An Impossible Ideal. + + + +Chapter 2.I. + +To understand how we prized him, Dora Harris and I, it is necessary to +know Simla. I suppose people think of that place, if they ever do think +of it, as an agreeable retreat in the wilds of the Himalayas where +deodars and scandals grow, and where the Viceroy if he likes may take +off his decorations and go about in flannels. I know how useless it +would be to try to give a more faithful impression, and I will hold back +from the attempt as far as I can. Besides, my little story is itself +an explanation of Simla. Ingersoll Armour might have appeared almost +anywhere else without making social history. He came and bloomed among +us in the wilderness, and such and such things happened. It sounds too +rude a generalization to say that Simla is a wilderness; I hasten to +add that it is a waste as highly cultivated as you like, producing many +things more admirable than Ingersoll Armour. Still he bloomed there +conspicuously alone. Perhaps there would have been nothing to tell if we +had not tried to gather him. That was wrong; Nature in Simla expects you +to be content with cocked hats. + +There are artists almost everywhere and people who paint even in the +Himalayas, though Miss Harris and I in our superior way went yearly to +the Simla Fine Arts Exhibition chiefly to amuse ourselves by scoffing. +It was easy to say clever things about the poor little exhibits; and one +was grateful to the show on this account, for nothing is more depressing +east of Suez than the absence of provocation to say clever things. There +one afternoon in May as we marched about enjoying ourselves, we came +upon Ingersoll Armour, not in the flesh, but in half a dozen studies +hanging in the least conspicuous corner and quite the worst light in the +room. + +'Eh, what?' said I, and Dora exclaimed: + +'I SAY!' + +'Sent out from home,' I said, ever the oracle. + +'Not at all,' replied Dora. 'Look, they are Indian subjects. SIMLA +subjects,' she went on, with excitement. + +I turned up the catalogue. 'Ninety-seven, "Kasumti Bazaar"; +ninety-eight, "Clouds on the Chor"; ninety-nine, "The House of a +Friend"--Lord, what apricot blossoms! Yes, they're all Simla.' + +'For goodness' sake,' said Dora, 'who painted them? You've got the +catalogue!' + +'"I. Armour,"' I read. + +'"I. Armour,"' she repeated, and we looked at each other, saying in +plain silence that to the small world of Simla I. Armour was unknown. + +'Not on Government House list, I venture to believe,' said Dora. That +in itself may show to what depths we sink. Yet it was a trenchant and a +reasonable speculation. + +'It may be a newcomer,' I suggested, but she shook her head. 'All +newcomers call upon us,' she said. 'There in the middle of the Mall we +escape none of them. He isn't a calling person.' + +'Why do you say "he"? You are very confident with your pronouns. There's +a delicacy of feeling--' + +'Which exactly does not suggest a women. We are undermined by delicacy +of feeling; we're not strong enough to express it with brushes. A man +can make it a quality, a decorative characteristic, and so we see it. +With a woman it's everything--all over the place--and of no effect. Oh, +I assure you, I. Armour is a man.' + +'Who shall stand against you! Let him be a man. He has taste.' + +'Taste!' exclaimed Miss Harris, violently, and from the corners of her +mouth I gathered that I had said one of those things which she would +store up and produce to prove that I was not, for all my pretensions, a +person of the truest feeling. 'He sees things.' + +'There's an intensity,' I ventured. + +'That's better. Yes, an intensity. A perfect passion of colour. Look at +that.' She indicated a patch of hillsides perhaps six inches by four, in +which the light seemed to come and go as it does in a sapphire. + +We stood and gazed. It was a tremendous thing; only half a dozen studies +with feeling and knowledge in them, but there in that remote fastness +thrice barred against the arts a tremendous thing, a banquet for our +famished eyes. What they would have said to us in London is a different +matter, and how good they really were I do not find the courage to +pronounce, but they had merit enough to prick our sense of beauty +delightfully where we found them--oh, they were good! + +'Heaven send it isn't a Tommy,' said Dora, with a falling countenance. +'There is something absolutely inaccessible about a Tommy.' + +'How could it be?' I asked. + +'Oh, there are some inspired ones. But it isn't--that's French +technique. It's an Englishman or an American who has worked in Paris. +What in the name of fortune is he doing here?' + +'Oh,' I said, 'we have had them, you know. Val Prinsep came out at the +time of the Prince of Wales's visit.' + +'Do you remember that?' + +'It's a matter of history,' I said, evasively, 'and Edwin Weeks +travelled through India not so many years ago. I saw his studio in Paris +afterward. Between his own canvases and Ahmedabad balconies and Delhi +embroideries and Burmese Buddhas and other things he seemed to have +carried off the whole place.' + +'But they don't come up here ever. They come in the cold weather, and +as they can get plenty of snow and ice at home, they stay down in the +plains with the palm-trees.' + +'Precisely; they do,' I said. + +'And besides,' Dora went on, with increasing excitement, 'this isn't +a master. You see, he doesn't send a single picture--only these tiny +things. And there's a certain tentativeness'--Miss Harris, her parasol +handle pressed against her lips, looked at me with an eagerness that was +a pleasure to look at in itself. + +'A certain weakness, almost a lack of confidence, in the drawing,' I +said. + +'What does that signify?' + +'Why, immaturity, of course--not enough discipline.' + +'He's a student. Not that it amounts to a defect, you know'--she was as +jealous already as if she possessed the things--'only a sign to read +by. I should be grateful for more signs. Why should a student come to +Simla?' + +'To teach, perhaps,' I suggested. Naturally one sought only among +reasons of utility. + +'It's the Kensington person who teaches. When they have worked in the +ateliers and learned as much as this they never do. They paint fans and +menu cards, and starve, but they don't teach.' + +Sir William Lamb, Member of Council for the Department of Finance, +was borne by the stream to our sides. The simile will hardly stand +conscientious examination, for the stream was a thin one and did no more +than trickle past, while Sir William weighed fifteen stone, and was +so eminent that it could never inconvenience him at its deepest. Dora +detached her gaze from the pictures and turned her back upon them; I +saw the measure of precaution. It was unavailing, however. 'What have +we here?' said Sir William. Dora removed her person from his line of +vision, and he saw what we had there. + +'The work of a friend of yours?' Sir William was spoken of as +a 'cautious' man. He had risen to his present distinction on +stepping-stones of mistakes he conspicuously had not made. + +'No,' said Dora, 'we were wondering who the artist could be.' + +Sir William looked at the studies, and had a happy thought. 'If you ask +me, I should say a child of ten,' he said. He was also known as a man of +humour. + +'Miss Harris had just remarked a certain immaturity,' I ventured. + +'Oh, well,' said Sir William, 'this isn't the Royal Academy, is it? I +always say it's very good of people to send their things here at all. +And some of them are not half bad--I should call this year's average +very high indeed.' + +'Are you pleased with the picture that has taken your prize, Sir +William?' asked Dora. + +'I have bought it.' Sir William's chest underwent before our eyes an +expansion of conscious virtue. Living is so expensive in Simla; the +purchase of a merely decorative object takes almost the proportion of an +act of religion, even by a Member of Council drawing four hundred pounds +a month. + +'First-rate it is, first-rate. Have you seen it? "Our Camp in Tirah." +Natives cooking in the foreground, fellows standing about smoking, and +a whole pile of tinned stores dumped down in one corner, exactly as they +would be, don't you know! Oh, I think the Committee made a very good +choice indeed, a very good choice.' + +Sir William moved on, and Dora was free to send me an expressive glance. +'Isn't that just LIKE this place?' she demanded. 'Let me see, the +Viceroy's medal, the Society's silver medal, five prizes from Members +of Council. Highly Commended's as thick as blackberries, and these +perfectly fresh, original, admirable things completely ignored. What an +absurd, impossible corner of the earth it is!' + +'You look very cross, you two,' said Mrs. Sinclair, trailing past. 'Come +and see the crazy china exhibit, all made of little bits, you know. They +say the photograph frames are simply lovely.' + +Mrs. Sinclair's invitation was not sincere. Miss Harris was able to +answer it with a laugh and a wave. We remained beside the serious fact +of exhibits 97-103. + +'Who are the judges this year?' I asked, not that I did not know +precisely who they were likely to be. There is a custom in these +matters, and I had been part of Simla for eleven years. + +Dora took the catalogue from my hand and turned its pages over. + +'Mr. Cathcart, of course; the Private Secretary to the Viceroy would be +on the Committee almost ex officio, wouldn't he? Impossible to conceive +a Private Secretary to the Viceroy whose opinion would not be valuable +upon any head. The member for Public Works--I suppose he can build +bridges, or could once, therefore he can draw, or could once; besides, +look at his precedence and his pay! General Haycock--isn't he head of +the Ordnance Department? I can't think of any other reason for putting +him on. Oh yes--he's a K.C.B., and he is inventing a way of taking +coloured photographs. Mr. Tilley, the old gentleman that teaches +elementary drawing to the little girls in the diocesan school, that's +all right. And Mr. Jay, of course, because Mr. Jay's water-colours +are the mainstay of the exhibition, and he must be given a chance of +expressing his opinion of them.' She handed me back the catalogue. 'I +have never been really angry with them before,' she said. + +'Are you really angry now?' I asked. + +'Furious,' Dora replied, and indeed her face expressed indignation. Its +lines were quite tense, and a spark shone oddly in the middle of the +eyes. One could not credit her with beauty, but as her lady friends were +fond of saying, there was something 'more' in her face. I saw a good +deal more at this moment, and it gave me pleasure, as all her feelings +did when they came out like that. I hasten to add that she was not +unpleasing; her features had a symmetry and a mobility, and her eyes +could take any transient charm they chose to endow themselves with; +though there were moments when she compared very badly with the +other young ladies of Simla with their high spirits and their pretty +complexions, very badly indeed. Those were occasions when the gay +monotony of the place pressed, I imagine, a little heavily upon her, and +the dullness she felt translated itself in her expression. But she was +by no means unpleasing. + +'I must go and see Lady Pilkey's picture,' I said. + +'What is the use?' said Dora. 'It's a landscape in oils--a view of the +Himalayas, near Narkanda. There are the snows in the background, very +thin and visionary through a gap in the trees, and two hills, one hill +on each side. Dark green trees, pine-trees, with a dead one in the +left foreground covered with a brilliant red creeper. Right foreground +occupied by a mountain path and a solitary native figure with its back +turned. Society's silver medal.' + +'When did you see it?' I asked. + +'I haven't seen it--this year. But I saw the one she sent last, and the +one the year before that. You can trust my memory, really.' + +'No,' I said, 'I can't. I'm dining there tonight. I must have an +original impression.' + +'Congratulate her on the warm blaze of colour in the foreground. It's +perfectly safe,' urged Miss Harris, but I felt compelled to go myself to +see lady Pilkey's landscape. When I returned I found her still sitting +in grave absorption before the studies that had taken us so by surprise. +Her face was full of a soft new light; I had never before seen the +spring touched in her that could flood it like that. + +'You were very nearly right,' I announced; 'but the blaze of colour was +in the middle distance, and there was a torrent in the foreground that +quite put it out. And the picture does take the Society's silver medal.' + +'I can not decide,' she replied without looking at me, 'between the +Kattiawar fair thing and those hills in the rain. I can only have +one--father won't hear of more than one.' + +'You can have two,' I said bluntly, so deeply interested I was in the +effect the things had on her. 'And I will have a third for myself. I +can't withstand those apricot-trees.' + +I thought there was moisture in the eyes she turned upon me, an unusual +thing--a most unusual thing--in Dora Harris; but she winked it back, if +it was there, too quickly for any certainty. + +'You are a dear,' she said. Once or twice before she had called me +a dear. It reminded me, as nothing else ever did, that I was a +contemporary of her father's. It is a feeble confession, but I have +known myself refrain from doing occasional agreeable things apprehending +that she might call me a dear. + + + +Chapter 2.II. + +Dora had been out three seasons when these things happened. I remember +sharing Edward Harris's anxiety in no slight degree as to how the +situation would resolve itself when she came, the situation consisting +so considerably in his eyes of the second Mrs. Harris, who had +complicated it further with three little red-cheeked boys, all of the +age to be led about the station on very small ponies, and not under any +circumstances to be allowed in the drawing-room when one went to tea +with their mother. No one, except perhaps poor Ted himself, was more +interested than I to observe how the situation did resolve itself, in +the decision of Mrs. Harris that the boys, the two eldest at least, must +positively begin the race for the competitive examinations of the future +without further delay, and that she must as positively be domiciled in +England 'to be near' them, at all events until they had well made the +start. I should have been glad to see them ride their ponies up and down +the Mall a bit longer, poor little chaps; they were still very cherubic +to be invited to take a view of competitive examinations, however +distant; but Mrs. Harris's conviction was not to be overcome. So they +went home to begin, and she went with them, leaving Dora in possession +of her father, her father's house, his pay, his precedence, and all +that was his. Not that I would suggest any friction; I am convinced that +there was nothing like that--at least, nothing that met the eye, or the +ear. Dora adored the three little boys and was extremely kind to their +mother. She regarded this lady, I have reason to believe, with +the greatest indulgence, and behaved towards her with the greatest +consideration; I mean she had unerring intuitions as to just when, +on afternoons when Mrs. Harris was at home from dusk till dinner, she +should be dying for a walk. One could imagine her looking with her grey +eyes at dear mamma's horizon and deciding that papa was certainly not +enough to fill it by himself, deciding at the same time that he was +never likely to be ousted there, only accompanied, in a less important +and entirely innocent degree. It may be surprising that any one should +fly from so broad-minded a step-daughter; but the happy family party +lasted a bare three months. I think Mrs. Harris had a perception--she +was the kind of woman who arrived obscurely at very correct +conclusions--that she was contributing to her step-daughter's amusement +in a manner which her most benevolent intentions had not contemplated, +and she was not by any means the little person to go on doing that +indefinitely, perhaps increasingly. Besides, it was in the natural order +of things that Dora should marry, and Mrs. Harris doubtless foresaw a +comfortable return for herself in the course of a year or two, when the +usual promising junior in 'the Department' should gild his own +prospects and promote the general well-being by acquiring its head for a +father-in-law. Things always worked out if you gave them time. How much +time you ought to give them was doubtless by now a pretty constant +query with the little lady in her foggy exile; for two years had already +passed and Dora had found no connection with any young man of the +Department more permanent than those prescribed at dinners and at +dances. It is doubtful, indeed, if she had had the opportunity. There +was no absolute means of knowing; but if offers were made they never +transpired, and Mrs. Harris, far away in England, nourished a certainty +that they never were made. Speaking with her intimate knowledge of the +sex she declared that Dora frightened the men, that her cleverness was +of a kind to paralyze any sentiment of the sort that might be expected. +It depended upon Mrs. Harris's humour whether this was Dora's misfortune +or her crime. She, Dora, never frightened me, and by the time her +cleverness dawned upon me, my sentiment about her had become too robust +to be paralyzed. On the contrary, the agreeable stimulus it gave me +was one of the things I counted most valuable in my life out there. It +hardly mattered, however, that I should confess this; I was not a young +man in Harris's department. I had a department of my own; and Dora, +though she frisked with me gloriously and bullied continually, must ever +have been aware of the formidable fact that I joined the Service two +years before Edward Harris did. The daughter of three generations of +bureaucrats was not likely to forget that at one time her father had +been junior to me in the same office, though in the course of time and +the march of opportunity he had his own show now, and we nodded to +each other on the Mall with an equal sense of the divine right of +secretaries. It may seem irrelevant, but I feel compelled to explain +here that I had remained a bachelor while Harris had married twice, and +that I had kept up my cricket, while Harris had let his figure take all +the soft curves of middle age. Nevertheless the fact remained. Sometimes +I fancied it gave a certain piquancy to my relations with his daughter, +but I could never believe that the laugh was on my side. + +If we met at dinner-parties, it would be sometimes Edward Harris and +sometimes myself who would take the dullest and stoutest woman down. If +she fell to him, the next in precedence was bestowed upon me, and there +might not be a pin to choose between them for phlegm and inflation. It +is a preposterous mistake to suppose that the married ladies of Simla +are in the majority brilliant and fascinating creatures, who say things +in French for greater convenience, and lead a man on. After fifteen +years I am ready to swear that I have been led on to nothing more +compromising than a subscription to the Young Women's Christian +Association, though no one could have been more docile or more +intelligent. During one viceroyalty of happy memory half a dozen +clever and amusing men and women came together in Simla--it was a mere +fortuitous occurrence, aided by a joyous ruler who hated being bored +as none before or ever since have hated it--and the place has lived +socially upon the reputation of that meteoric term ever since. Whereas +the domestic virtues are no more deeply rooted anywhere than under the +deodars; nor could any one, I hasten to add, chronicle the fact with +more profound satisfaction than myself. A dinner-party, however, is not +a favourable setting for the domestic virtues; it does them so little +justice that one could sometimes almost wish them left at home, and I +was talking of Simla dinner-parties, where I have encountered so many. +How often have I been consulted as to the best school for boys in +England, or instructed as to how much I should let my man charge me for +shoe-blacking, or advised as to the most effectual way of preventing the +butler from stealing my cheroots, while Dora Harris, remote as a star, +talked to a cavalry subaltern about wind-galls and splints! At these +moments I felt my seniority bitterly; to give Dora to a cavalry +subaltern was such plain waste. + +It was an infinite pleasure to know any one as well as I seemed to know +Dora Harris. She, I believe, held no one else upon the same terms of +intimacy, though she found women, of course, with whom she fluttered and +embraced; and while there were, naturally, men with whom I exchanged the +time o'day in terms more or less cordial, I am certain that I kept all +my closest thoughts for her. It is necessary again to know Simla to +understand how our friendship was gilded by the consideration that it +was on both sides perfectly spontaneous. Social life in the poor little +place is almost a pure farce with the number of its dictated, prompted +intimacies, not controlled by general laws of expediency as at home, but +each on its own basis of hope and expectancy, broadly and ludicrously +obvious as a case by itself. There is a conspiracy of stupidity about +it, for we are all in the same hat, every one of us; there is none so +exalted that he does not urgently want a post that somebody else can +give him. So we continue to exchange our depreciated smiles, and only +privately admit that the person who most desires to be agreeable to us +is the person whom we regard with the greatest suspicion. As between +Dora Harris and myself there could be, naturally, no ax to grind. We +amused ourselves by looking on penetratingly but tolerantly at the +grinding of other people's. + +That was a very principal bond between us, that uncompromising clearness +with which we looked at the place we lived in, and on the testimony of +which we were so certain that we didn't like it. The women were nearly +all so much in heaven in Simla, the men so well satisfied to be there +too, at the top of the tree, that our dissatisfaction gave us to +one another the merit of originality, almost proved in one another a +superior mind. It was not that either of us would have preferred to +grill out our days in the plains; we always had a saving clause for the +climate, the altitude, the scenery; it was Simla intrinsic, Simla as its +other conditions made it, with which we found such liberal fault. Again +I should have to explain Simla, at the length of an essay at least, to +justify our condemnation. This difficulty confronts me everywhere. +I must ask you instead to imagine a small colony of superior--very +superior--officials, of British origin and traditions, set on the top of +a hill, years and miles away from literature, music, pictures, politics, +existing like a harem on the gossip of the Viceroy's intentions, and +depending for amusement on tennis and bumble-puppy, and then consider, +you yourself, whether you are the sort of person to be unquestionably +happy there. If you see no reason to the contrary, pray do not go on. +There were times when Dora declared that she couldn't breathe for want +of an atmosphere, and times when I looked round and groaned at the +cheerful congratulatory aridity in every man's eye--men who had done +things at Oxford in my own year, and come out like me to be mummified +into a last state like this. Thank Heaven, there was never any cheerful +congratulation in my eye; one could always put there, when the thought +inspired it, a saving spark of rank ingratitude instead. + +It was as if we had the most desirable things--roses, cool airs, far +snowy ranges--to build what we like with, and we built Simla--altitude, +7,000, population 2,500, headquarters of the Government of India during +the summer months. An ark it was, of course; an ark of refuge from the +horrible heat that surged below, and I wondered as I climbed the steeps +of Summer Hill in search of I. Armour's inaccessible address, whether he +was to be the dove bearing beautiful testimony of a world coming nearer. +I rejected the simile, however, as over-sanguine; we had been too long +abandoned on our Ararat. + + + +Chapter 2.III. + +A dog of no sort of caste stood in the veranda and barked at me +offensively. I picked up a stone, and he vanished like the dog of a +dream into the house. It was such a small house that it wasn't on the +municipal map at all: it looked as if someone had built it for amusement +with anything that was lying about. Nevertheless, it had a name, it +was called Amy Villa, freshly painted in white letters on a shiny +black board, and nailed against the nearest tree in the orthodox Simla +fashion. It looked as if the owner of the place had named it as a +duty towards his tenant, the board was so new, and in that case the +reflection presented itself that the tenant might have cooperated to +call it something else. It was disconcerting somehow to find that our +dove had perched, even temporarily, in Amy Villa. Nor was it soothing +to discover that the small white object stuck in the corner of the board +was Mr. Ingersoll Armour's card. + +In Simla we do not stick our cards about in that way at the mercy of the +wind and the weather; we paint our names neatly under the names of our +houses with 'I.C.S.' for Indian Civil Service, or 'P.W.D.' for Public +Works Department, or whatever designation we are entitled to immediately +after, so that there can be no mistake. This strikes newcomers sometimes +as a little professional, especially when a hand accompanies, pointing; +but it is the only possible way where there are no streets and no +numbers, but where houses are dropped about a hilltop as if they had +fallen from a pepper-pot. In sticking his card out like that Mr. Armour +seemed to imagine himself au quatrieme or au cinquieme somewhere on +the south side of the Seine; it betrayed rather a ridiculous lack of +conformity. He was high enough up, however, to give any illusion; I had +to stop to find the wind to announce myself. There was nobody else to do +it if I except the dog. + +I walked into the veranda and shouted. Then I saw that one end of it was +partly glazed off, and inside sat a young man in his shirt-sleeves with +his back to the door. + +In reply he called out, 'That you, Rosario?' and I stood silent, taken +somewhat aback. + +There was only one Rosario in Simla, and he was a subordinate in my own +office. Again the hateful need to explain. Between subordinate clerks +and officials in Simla there is a greater gulf fixed than was ever +imagined in parable. Besides, Rosario had a plain strain of what we +call 'the country' in him, a plain strain, that is, of the colour of the +country. It was certainly the first time in my official career that I +had been mistaken for Rosario. + +Armour turned round and saw me--that I was a stranger. + +He got up at once. 'Oh,' he said, 'I thought it was Rosario. + +'It isn't,' I replied, 'my name is Philips. May I ask whether you were +expecting Mr. Rosario? I can come again, you know.' + +'Oh, it doesn't matter. Sit down. He may drop in or he may not--I rather +thought he would today. It's a pull up, isn't it, from the Mall? Have a +whisky and soda.' + +I stood on the threshold spellbound. It was just the smell that bound +me, the good old smell of oil paints and turpentine and mediums and +varnish and new canvas that you never by any chance put your nose into +in any part of Asia. It carried me back twenty years to old haunts, +old friends, old joys, ideals, theories. Ah, to be young and have a +temperament! For I had one then--that instant in Armour's veranda proved +it to me forever. + +'No thanks,' I said. 'If you don't mind I'll just have the smell.' + +The young fellow knew at once that I liked the smell. 'Well, have a +chair, anyhow,' he said, and took one himself and sat down opposite me, +letting his lean brown hands fall between his knees. + +'Do you mind,' I said, 'if for a minute I sit still and look round?' + +He understood again. + +'I haven't brought much,' he said, 'I left pretty near everything in +Paris.' + +'You have brought a world.' Then after a moment, 'Did you do that?' I +asked, nodding towards a canvas tacked against the wall. It was the head +of a half-veiled Arab woman turned away. + +The picture was in the turning away, and the shadow the head-covering +made over the cheek and lips. + +'Lord, no! That's Dagnan Bouveret. I used to take my things to him, +and one day he gave me that. You have an eye,' he added, but without +patronage. 'It's the best thing I've got.' + +I felt the warmth of an old thrill. + +'Once upon a time,' I said, 'I was allowed to have an eye.' The wine, +untasted all those years, went to my head. 'That's a vigorous bit +above,' I continued. + +'Oh, well! It isn't really up to much, you know. It's Rosario's. He +photographs mostly, but he has a notion of colour.' + +'Really?' said I, thinking with regard to my eye that the sun of that +atrocious country had put it out. 'I expect I've lost it,' I said aloud. + +'Your eye? Oh, you'll easily get a fresh one. Do you go home for the +exhibitions?' + +'I did once,' I confessed. 'My first leave. A kind of paralysis +overtakes one here. Last time I went for the grouse.' + +He glanced at me with his light clear eyes as if for the first time he +encountered a difficulty. + +'It's a magnificent country for painting,' he said. + +'But not for pictures,' I rejoined. He paid no attention, staring at the +ground and twisting one end of his moustache. + +'The sun on those old marble tombs--broad sun and sand--' + +'You mean somewhere about Delhi.' + +'I couldn't get anywhere near it.' He was not at that moment anywhere +near me. 'But I have thought out a trick or two--I mean to have another +go when it cools off again down there.' He returned with a smile, and +I saw how delicate his face was. The smile turned down with a little +gentle mockery in its lines. I had seen that particular smile only on +the faces of one or two beautiful women. It had a borrowed air upon a +man, like a tiara or an earring. + +'There's plenty to paint,' he said, looking at me with an air of +friendly speculation. + +'Indeed, yes. And it has never been done. We are sure it has never been +done.' + +'"We"--you mean people generally?' + +'Not at all. I mean Miss Harris, Miss Harris and myself.' + +'Your daughter?' + +'My name is Philips,' I reminded him pleasantly, remembering that the +intelligence of clever people is often limited to a single art. 'Miss +Harris is the daughter of Mr. Edward Harris, Secretary of the Government +of India in the Legislative Department. She is fond of pictures. We have +a good many tastes in common. We have always suspected that India had +never been painted, and when we saw your things at the Town Hall we knew +it.' + +His queer eyes dilated, and he blushed. + +'Oh,' he said, 'it's only one interpretation. It all depends on what a +fellow sees. No fellow can see everything.' + +'Till you came,' I insisted, 'nobody had seen anything.' + +He shook his head, but I could read in his face that this was not news +to him. + +'That is mainly what I came up to tell you,' I continued, 'to beg that +you will go on and on. To hope that you will stay a long time and do a +great deal. It is such an extraordinary chance that any one should turn +up who can say what the country really means.' + +He stuck his hands in his pockets with a restive movement. 'Oh, don't +make me feel responsible,' he said, 'I hate that;' and then suddenly he +remembered his manners. 'But it's certainly nice of you to think so,' he +added. + +There was something a little unusual in his inflection which led me to +ask at this point whether he was an American, and to discover that he +came from somewhere in Wisconsin, not directly, but by way of a few +years in London and Paris. This accounted in a way for the effect of +freedom in any fortune about him for which I already liked him, and +perhaps partly for the look of unembarrassed inquiry and experiment +which sat so lightly in his unlined face. He came, one realized, out of +the fermentation of new conditions; he never could have been the product +of our limits and systems and classes in England. His surroundings, his +'things,' as he called them, were as old as the sense of beauty, but +he seemed simply to have put them where he could see them, there was no +pose in their arrangement. They were all good, and his delight in them +was plain; but he was evidently in no sense a connoisseur beyond that of +natural instinct. Some of those he had picked up in India I could tell +him about, but I had no impression that he would remember what I said. +There was one Bokhara tapestry I examined with a good deal of interest. + +'Yes,' he said, 'they told me I shouldn't get anything as good as that +out here, so I brought it,' but I had to explain to him why it was +anomalous that this should be so. + +'It came a good many miles over desert from somewhere,' he remarked, as +I made a note of inquiry as to the present direction of trade in woven +goods from Persia, 'I had to pound it for a week to get the dust out.' + +We spent an hour looking over work he had done down in the plains, and +then I took my leave. It did not occur to me at the moment to ask +Armour to come to the club or to offer to do anything for him; all the +hospitality, all that was worth offering seemed so much more at his +disposition than at mine. I only asked if I might come again, mentioning +somewhat shyly that I must have the opportunity of adding, at my +leisure, to those of his pictures that were already mine by transaction +with the secretary of the Art Exhibition. I left him so astonished that +this had happened, so plainly pleased, that I was certain he had never +sold anything before in his life. This impression gave me the uplifted +joy of a discoverer to add to the satisfactions I had already drawn from +the afternoon; and I almost bounded down the hill to the Mall. I left +the pi dog barking in the veranda, and I met Mr. Rosario coming up, +but in my unusual elation I hardly paused to consider either of them +further. + +The mare and her groom were waiting on the Mall, and it was only when +I got on her back that the consciousness visited me of something +forgotten. It was my mission--to propose to take Armour, if he were +'possible,' to call upon the Harrises. Oh, well, he was possible enough; +I supposed he possessed a coat, though he hadn't been wearing it; and +I could arrange it by letter. Meanwhile, as was only fair, I turned the +mare in the direction of the drawing-room where I had reason to believe +that Miss Dora Harris was quenching her impatience in tea. + + + +Chapter 2.IV. + +The very next morning I met Armour on my way to the office. He was +ambling along on the leanest and most ill-groomed of bazaar ponies, +and he wore a bowler. In Simla sun hats are admissible, straw hats are +presentable, and soft felt hats are superior, but you must not wear a +bowler. I might almost say that if one's glance falls upon a bowler, one +hardly looks further; the expectation of finding an acquaintance under +it is so vain. In this instance, I did look further, fortunately, though +in doing so I was compelled to notice that the bowler was not lifted +in answer to my salutation. Of no importance in itself, of course, +but betraying in Armour a certain lack of observation. I felt the +Departmental Head crumble in me, however, as I recognized him, and I +pulled the mare up in a manner which she plainly resented. It was my +opportunity to do cautiously and delicately what I had omitted the +afternoon before; but my recollection is that I was very clumsy. + +I said something about the dust, and he said something about the glare, +and then I could think of nothing better than to ask him if he wouldn't +like to meet a few Simla people. + +'Oh, I know lots of people, thanks,' he said. 'It's kind of you to think +of it, all the same, but I've got any amount of friends here.' + +I thought of Mr. Rosario, and stood, or sat confounded. + +The mare fidgeted; I knocked a beast of a fly off her, and so gained +time. + +'This is my second season up here, you know.' + +'Your second season!' I exclaimed. 'Where on earth have you been +hiding?' + +'Well, I didn't exhibit last year, you see. I'd heard it was a kind of +a toy show, so I thought I wouldn't. I think now that was foolish. But I +got to know quite a number of families.' + +'But I am sure there are numbers that you haven't met,' I urged,' or I +should have heard of it.' + +He glanced at me with a slight flush. 'If you mean society people,' +he said, 'I don't care about that kind of thing, Mr. Philips. I'm not +adapted to it, and I don't want to be. If any one offered to introduce +me to the Viceroy, I would ask to be excused.' + +'Oh, the Viceroy,' I responded, disrespectfully, 'is neither here nor +there. But there are some people, friends of my own, who would like very +much to meet you.' + +'By the name of Harris?' he asked. I was too amazed to do anything but +nod. By the name of Harris! The Secretary of the Government of India in +the Legislative Department! The expression, not used as an invocation, +was inexcusable. + +'I remember you mentioned them yesterday.' + +'Yes,' I said, 'there's a father and daughter. Miss Harris is very +artistic.' + +His face clouded, as well it might, at the word. 'Does she paint?' he +asked, so apprehensively that I could not forbear a smile at Dora's +expense. I could assure him that she did not paint, that she had not +painted, at all events, for years, and presently I found myself in +the ridiculous position of using argument to bring a young man to the +Harrises. In the end I prevailed, I know, out of sheer good nature on +Armour's part; he was as innocent as a baby of any sense of opportunity. + +We arranged it for the following Friday, but as luck would have it, His +Excellency sent for me at the very hour; we met the messenger. I felt +myself unlucky, but there was nothing for it but that Armour should go +alone, which he did, with neither diffidence nor alacrity, but as if it +were all in the day's work, and he had no reason to be disobliging. + +The files were very heavy during the succeeding fortnight, and the +Viceroy quite importunate in his demand for my valuable suggestions. +I was worked off my legs, and two or three times was obliged to deny +myself in replying to notes from Dora suggesting Sunday breakfast or +afternoon tea. Finally, I shook myself free; it was the day she wrote: + +'You must come--I can't keep it to myself any longer.' + +I half thought Armour would be there, but he wasn't; that is, he was +absent corporeally, but the spirit and expression of him littered +every convenient part. Some few things lay about that I had seen in +the studio, to call it so, but most of the little wooden panels looked +fresh, almost wet, and the air held strongly the fragrance of Armour's +north veranda. In one corner there used to be a Madonna on a carved +easel; the Madonna stood on the floor, and the easel with working pegs +in it held an unfinished canvas. Dora sat in the midst with a distinct +flush--she was inclined to be sallow--and made me welcome in terms +touched with extravagance. She did not rush, however, upon the matter +that was dyeing her cheeks, and I showed myself as little impetuous. She +poured out the tea, and we sat there inhaling, as it were, the aroma of +the thing, while keeping it consciously in the background. + +I imagine there was no moment in the time I describe when we enjoyed +Ingersoll Armour so much as at this one, when he lay in his nimbus half +known and wholly suppressed, between us. There were later instances, +perhaps, of deeper satisfaction, but they were more or less perplexed, +and not unobscured by anxiety. That afternoon it was all to know and to +be experienced, with just a delicious foretaste. + +I said something presently about Lady Pilkey's picnic on the morrow, to +which we had both been bidden. + +'Shall I call for you?' I asked. 'You will ride, of course.' + +'Thanks, but I've cried off--I'm going sketching.' Her eyes plainly +added, 'with Ingersoll Armour,' but she as obviously shrank from the +roughness of pitching him in that unconsidered way before us. For some +reason I refrained from taking the cue. I would not lug him in either. + +'That is a new accomplishment,' was as much as I felt I could say with +dignity, and she responded: + +'Yes, isn't it?' + +I felt some slight indignation on Lady Pilkey's account. 'Do you really +think you ought to do things like that at the eleventh hour?' I asked, +but Dora smiled at a glance, the hypocrisy out of my face. + +'What does anything matter?' she demanded. + +I knew perfectly well the standard by which nothing mattered, and there +was no use, of course, in going on pretending that I did not. + +'I assured him that you didn't paint,' I said, accusingly. + +'Oh, I had to--otherwise what was there to go upon? He would have been +found only to be lost again. You did not contemplate that?' Miss Harris +inquired sweetly. + +'I should have thought it was the surest way of losing him.' + +'I can't think why you should be so rude. He observes progress already.' + +'With a view to claiming and holding him, would it be of any use,' I +asked, 'for me to start in oils?' + +Miss Harris eyed me calmly. + +'I don't know,' she said, 'but it doesn't seem the same thing somehow. I +think you had better leave it to me.' + +'Indeed, I won't,' I said; 'there is too much in it,' and we smiled +across the gulf of our friendly understanding. + +I crossed to the mantelpiece and picked up one of the little wet panels. +There was that in it which explained my friend's exultation much more +plainly than words. + +'That is what I am to show him tomorrow,' she exclaimed; 'I think I have +done as he told me. I think it's pretty right.' + +Whether it was pretty right or pretty wrong, she had taken in an +extraordinary way an essence out of him. It wasn't of course good, +but his feeling was reflected in it, at once so brilliantly and so +profoundly that it was startling to see. + +'Do you think he'll be pleased?' she asked, anxiously. + +'I think he'll be astounded,' I said, reserving the rest, and she cried +in her pleasure, 'Oh, you dear man!' + +'I see you have taken possession of him,' I went on. + +'Ah, body and soul,' Dora rejoined, and it must have been something like +that. I could imagine how she did it; with what wiles of simplicity and +candid good-fellowship she had drawn him to forgetfulness and response, +and how presently his enthusiasm leaped up to answer hers and they had +been caught altogether out of the plane of common relations, and he had +gone away on that disgraceful bazaar pony with a ratified arrangement +to return next day which had been almost taken for granted from the +beginning. + +I confess, though I had helped to bring it about, the situation didn't +altogether please me. I did not dream of foolish dangers, but it seemed +to take a little too much for granted; I found myself inwardly demanding +whether, after all, a vivid capacity to make colour conscious was a +sufficient basis on which to bring to Edward Harris's house a young man +about whom we knew nothing whatever else. An instant's regard showed +the scruple fraudulent, it fled before the rush of pleasure with which +I gazed at the tokens he had left behind him. I fell back on my wonder, +which was great, that Dora should have possessed the technique necessary +to take him at a point where he could give her so much that was +valuable. + +'Oh, well,' she said when I uttered it, 'you know I made the experiment! +I found out in South Kensington--you can learn that much there--that I +never would be able to paint well enough to make it worth while. So I +dropped it and took a more general line towards life. But I find it very +easy to imagine myself dedicated to that particular one again.' + +'You never told me,' I said. Why had I been shut out of that experience? + +'I tell you now,' Dora replied, absently, 'when I am able to offer +you the fact with illustrations.' She laughed and dropped a still +illuminated face in the palm of her hand. 'He has wonderfully revived +me,' she declared. 'I could throw, honestly, the whole of Simla +overboard for this.' + +'Don't,' I urged, feeling, suddenly, an integral part of Simla. + +'Oh, no--what end would be served? But I don't care who knows,' she went +on with a rush, 'that in all life this is what I like best, and people +like Mr. Armour are the people I value most. Heavens, how few of them +there are! And wherever they go how the air clears up round them! It +makes me quite ill to think of the life we lead here--the poverty of it, +the preposterous dullness of it....' + +'For goodness' sake,' I said, obscurely irritated, 'don't quote the +bishop. The life holds whatever we put into it.' + +'For other people it does, and for us it holds what other people put +into it,' she retorted. 'I don't know whether you think it's adequately +filled with gold lace and truffles.' + +'Why should I defend it?' I asked, not knowing indeed why. 'But it has +perhaps a dignity, you know. Ah, you are too fresh from your baptism,' +I continued, as she shook her head and went to the piano. The quality, +whatever it was, that the last fortnight had generated in her, leaped +from her fingers; she played with triumph, elation, intention. The notes +seemed an outlet for the sense of beauty and for power to make it. I had +never heard her play like that before. + +It occurred to me to ask when she had done, how far, after a fortnight, +she could throw light on Armour's aims and history, where he had come +from, and the great query with which we first received him, what he +could be doing in Simla. I gathered that she had learned practically +nothing, and had hardly concerned herself to learn anything. What +difference did it make? she asked me. Why should we inquire? Why tack +a theory of origin to a phenomenon of joy? Let us say the wind brought +him, and build him a temple. She was very whimsical up to the furthest +stretch of what could possibly be considered tea-time. When I went +away I saw her go again and sit down at the piano. In the veranda I +remembered something, stopped, and went back. I had to go back. 'You did +not tell me,' I said, 'when he was coming again.' + +'Oh, tomorrow--tomorrow, of course,' Dora paused to reply. + +I resented, as I made my way to the Club, the weight of official duties +that made it so impossible for me to keep at all closely in touch with +this young man. + + + +Chapter 2.V. + +The art of the photographer usually arouses in me all that is splenetic, +and I had not submitted myself to him for years before Dora made such a +preposterous point of it--years in which, as I sadly explained to her, +I might have submitted to the ordeal with much more 'pleasing' results. +She had often insisted before, but I could never see that she made out +a particularly good case for the operation until one afternoon when +she showed me the bold counterfeit presentment of an Assistant +Adjutant-General or some such person, much flattered as to features +but singularly faithful in its reproduction of the straps and buttons +attached. To my post also there belongs a uniform and a cocked hat +sufficiently dramatic, but persons who serve the State primarily with +the intelligence are supposed to have a mind above buttons; and when +I decided that my photograph should compete with the Assistant +Adjutant-General's, I gave him every sartorial advantage. I gathered +that the offer, cabinet size, of this gentleman had been a spontaneous +one; that certainly could not be said of mine. Most unwillingly I turned +one morning into Kauffer's; and I can not now imagine why I did it, +for emulation of the Assistant Adjutant-General was really not motive +enough, unless it was with an instinct prepared to stumble upon matter +germane in an absurd degree to this little history. + +I had the honour to be subjected to the searching analysis of Mr. +Kauffer himself. It was he who placed the chair and arranged the screw, +he who fixed the angle of my chin and gently disposed my fingers on my +knee. He gave me, I remember, a recent portrait of the Viceroy to fix +my eye upon, doubtless with the purpose of inspiring my countenance +with the devotion which would sit suitably upon one of His Excellency's +slaves, and when it was all over he conducted me into another apartment +in order that I might see the very latest viceregal group--a domestic +one, including the Staff. The walls of the room contained what is +usually there, the enlarged photograph, the coloured photograph, the +amateur theatrical group, the group of His Excellency's Executive +Council, the native dignitary with a diamond-tipped aigrette in the +front of his turban. The copy in oils of some old Italian landscape, +very black and yellow, also held its invariable place, and above it, +very near the ceiling, a line of canvases which, had I not been led past +them to inspect our ruler and his family, who sat transfixed on an easel +in a resplendent frame, would probably have escaped my attention. I did +proper homage to the easel, and then turned to those pictures. It was +plain enough who had painted them. Armour's broad brush stood out all +over them. They were mostly Indian sporting subjects, the incident +a trifle elliptical, the drawing unequal, but the verve and feeling +unmistakeable, and colour to send a quiver of glorious acquiescence +through you like a pang. What astonished me was the number of them; +there must have been at least a dozen, all the same size and shape, all +hanging in a line of dazzling repetition. Here then was the explanation +of Armour's seeming curious lack of output, and plain denial of the +supposition that he spent the whole of his time in doing the little +wooden 'pochade' things whose sweetness and delicacy had so feasted our +eyes elsewhere. It was part, no doubt, of his absolutely uncommercial +nature--we had experienced together passages of the keenest +embarrassment over my purchase of some of his studies--that he had not +mentioned these more serious things exposed at Kauffer's; one had the +feeling of coming unexpectedly on treasure left upon the wayside and +forgotten. + +'Hullo!' I said, at a standstill, 'I see you've got some of Mr. Armour's +work there.' + +Mr. Kauffer, with his hands behind him, made the sound which has its +counterpart in a shrug. 'Yass,' he said, 'I haf some of Mr. Armour's +work there. This one, that one, all those remaining pictures--they are +all the work of Mr. Armour.' + +'I didn't know that any of his things were to be seen outside his +studio,' I observed. + +'So? They are to be seen here. There is no objection.' + +'Why should there be any objection?' I demanded, slightly nettled. +'People must see them before they buy them.' + +'Buy them!' Kauffer's tone was distinctly exasperated. 'Who will buy +these pictures? Nobody. They are all, every one of them to REfuse.' + +'If you know Mr. Armour well enough,' I said, 'you should advise him +to exhibit some of his local studies and sketches here. They might sell +better.' + +My words seemed unfortunately chosen. Mr. Kauffer turned an honest angry +red. + +'Do I not know Mr. Armour well enough--und better!' he exclaimed. 'What +this man wass doing when I in Paris find him oudt? Shtarving, mein +Gott! I see his work. I see he paint a very goot horse, very goot animal +subject. I bring him oudt on contract, five hundred rupees the monnth to +paint for me, for my firm. Sir, it is now nine monnth. I am yoost four +tousand five hundred rupees out of my pocket by this gentleman!' + +To enable me to cope with this astonishing tale I asked Mr. Kauffer for +a chair, which he obligingly gave me, and begged that he also would be +seated. The files at my office were my business, and this was not, but +no matter of Imperial concern seemed at the moment half so urgently +to require probing. 'Surely,' I said, 'that is an unusual piece of +enterprise for a photographic firm to employ an artist to paint on a +salary. I don't know even a regular dealer who does it.' + +Mr. Kauffer at once and frankly explained. It was unusual and entirely +out of the regular line of business. It was, in fact, one of the +exceptional forms of enterprise inspired in this country by the native +prince. We who had to treat with the native prince solely on lofty +political lines were hardly likely to remember how largely he bulked +in the humbler relations of trade; but there was more than one Calcutta +establishment, Mr. Kauffer declared, that would be obliged to put up its +shutters without this inconstant and difficult, but liberal customer. +I waited with impatience. I could not for the life of me see Armour's +connection with the native prince, who is seldom a patron of the arts +for their own sakes. + +'Surely,' I said, 'you could not depend on the Indian nobility to buy +landscapes. They never do. I know of only one distinguished exception, +and he lives a thousand miles from here, in Bengal.' + +'No, not landscape,' returned Mr. Kauffer; 'but that Indian nobleman +will buy his portrait. We send our own man--photographic artist--to his +State, and he photograph the Chief and his arab, the Chief and his Prime +Minister, the Chief in his durbar, palace, gardens, stables--everything. +Presently the Chief goes on a big shoot. He says he will not have a +plain photograph--besides, it is difficult. He will have a painting, and +he will pay.' + +'Ah,' I said, 'I begin to see.' + +'You see? Then I send this Armour. Look!' Mr. Kauffer continued with +rising excitement, baited apparently by the unfortunate canvas to which +he pointed, 'when Armour go to make that I say you go paint ze Maharajah +of Gridigurh spearing ze wild pig. You see what he make?' + +'Well,' I said, 'it is a wonderfully spirited, dashing thing, and the +treatment of all that cane-brake and jungle grass is superb.' + +'Ze treatment--pardon me, sir, I overboil--do you know which is ze +Maharajah?' + +'I can't say I do.' + +'Neider does he. Ze Maharajah refuse zat picture; he is a good fellow, +too. He says it is a portrait of ze pig.' + +'But it is so good,' I protested, 'of the pig.' + +'But that does not interest the Maharajah, you onderstand, no. You see +this one? Nawab of Kandore on his State elephant.' + +No doubt about it,' I said. 'I know the Nawab well, the young scoundrel. +How dignified he looks!' + +There was a note of real sorrow in Kauffer's voice. 'Dignified? Oh, yes; +dignified, but, you observe, also black. The Nawab will not be painted +black. At once it is on my hands.' + +'But he is black,' I remonstrated. 'He's the darkest native I've ever +seen among the nobility.' + +'No matter for that. He will not be black. When I photograph that +Nawab--any nawab--I do not him black make. But ziss ass of Armour--ach!' + +It was a fascinating subject, and I could have pursued it all along the +line of poor Armour's rejected canvases, but the need to get away from +Kauffer with his equal claim upon my sympathy was too great. To have +cracked my solemn mask by a single smile would have been to break down +irrepressibly, and never since I set foot in India had I felt a parallel +desire to laugh and to weep. There was a pang in it which I recognize +as impossible to convey, arising from the point of contact, almost +unimaginable yet so clear before me, of the uncompromising ideals of +the atelier and the naive demands of the Oriental, with an unhappy +photographer caught between and wriggling. The situation was really +monstrous, the fatuous rejection of all that fine scheming and exquisite +manipulation, and it did not grow less so as Mr. Kauffer continued to +unfold it. Armour had not, apparently, proceeded to the scene of his +labours without instructions. In the pig-sticking delineation he had +been specially told that the Maharajah and the pig were to be in the +middle, with the rest nowhere and nothing between. Other injunctions +were as clear, and as clearly disregarded. Armour, like the Maharajahs, +had simply 'REfuse' to abandon his premeditated conceptions of how the +thing should be done. And here was the result, for the laughter of the +gods and anybody else that might see. I asked Kauffer unguardedly if no +sort of pressure could be brought to bear upon these chaps to make them +pay up. His face beaming with hope and intelligence, he suggested that +I should approach the Foreign Office in his behalf; but this I could not +quite see my way to. The coercion of native rulers, I explained, was a +difficult and a dangerous art, and to insist, for example, that one +of them should recognize his own complexion might be to run up a +disproportionate little bill of our own. I did, however, compound +something with Kauffer; I hope it wasn't a felony. 'Look here,' I said +to Kauffer, 'this isn't official, you know, in any way, but how would +it do to write that scamp Kandore a formal letter regretting that the +portrait does not suit him, and asking his permission to dispose of it +to me? Of course it is yours to do as you like with already, but that is +no reason why you shouldn't ask. I should like it, but the Porcha tiger +beat will do as well.' + +Kauffer nearly fell upon my neck. + +'That Kandore will buy it to put in one bonfire first,' he assured me, +and I sincerely hoped for his sake that it would be the case. + +'Of course it's understood,' I bethought me to say, 'that I get it, if I +do get it, at Mr. Armour's price. I'm not a Maharajah, you know, and it +isn't a portrait of me.' + +'Of course!' said Kauffer, 'but I sink I sell you that Porcha; it is ze +best of ze two.' + + + +Chapter 2.VI. + +I ventured for a few days to keep the light which chance had shed for +me upon Armour's affairs to myself. The whole thing considered in +connection with his rare and delicate talent, seemed too derogatory and +disastrous to impart without the sense of doing him some kind of injury +in the mere statement. But there came a point when I could no longer +listen to Dora Harris's theories to account for him, wild idealizations +as most of them were of any man's circumstances and intentions. 'Why +don't you ask him point-blank?' I said, and she replied, frowning +slightly, 'Oh, I couldn't do that. It would destroy something--I don't +know what, but something valuable--between us.' This struck me as +an exaggeration, considering how far, by that time, they must have +progressed towards intimacy, and my mouth was opened. She heard me +without the exclamations I expected, her head bent over the pencil she +was sharpening, and her silence continued after I had finished. The +touch of comedy I gave the whole thing--surely I was justified in +that!--fell flat, and I extracted from her muteness a sense of rebuke; +one would think I had been taking advantage of the poor devil. + +At last, having broken the lead of her pencil three times, she turned a +calm, considering eye upon me. + + +'You have known this for a fortnight?' she asked. 'That doesn't seem +somehow quite fair.' + +'To whom?' I asked, and her answer startled me. + +'To either of us,' she said. + +How she advised herself to that effect is more than I can imagine, but +the print of her words is indelible, that is what she said. + +'Oh, confound it!' I exclaimed. 'I couldn't help finding out, you know.' + +'But you could help keeping it to yourself in that--in that base way,' +she replied, and almost--the evening light was beginning to glimmer +uncertainly through the deodars--I could swear I saw the flash of a tear +on her eyelid. + +'I beg your pardon,' she went on a moment later, 'but I do hate having +to pity him. It's intolerable--that.' + +I picked up a dainty edition of Aucassin and Nicolette with the +intention of getting upon ground less emotional, and observed on the +flyleaf 'D.H. from I.A. In memory of the Hill of Stars.' I looked +appreciatively at the binding, and as soon as possible put it down. + +'He was not bound to tell me,' Dora asserted presently, in reply to my +statement that the mare had somehow picked up a nail in the stable, and +was laid up. + +'You have been very good to him,' I said. 'I think he was.' + +'His reticence was due,' she continued, as if defying contradiction, 'to +a simple dislike to bore one with his personal affairs.' + +'Was it?' I assented. My tone acknowledged with all humility that she +was likely to know, and I did not deserve her doubtful glance. + +'He could not certainly,' she went on, with firmer decision, 'have been +in the least ashamed of his connection with Kauffer.' + +'He comes from a country where social distinctions are less sharp than +they are in this idiotic place,' I observed. + +'Oh, if you think it is from any lack of recognition! His sensitiveness +is beyond reason. He has met two or three men in the Military Department +here--he was aware of the nicest shade of their patronage. But he does +not care. To him life is more than a clerkship. He sees all round people +like that. They are only figures in the landscape.' + +'Then,' I said, 'he is not at all concerned that nobody in this Capua +of ours knows him, or cares anything about him, or has bought a scrap of +his work, except our two selves.' + +'That's a different matter. I have tried to rouse in him the feeling +that it would be as well to be appreciated, even in Simla, and I think +I've succeeded. He said, after those two men had gone away on Sunday, +that he thought a certain reputation in the place where he lived would +help anybody in his work.' + +'On Sunday? Do you mean between twelve and two?' + +'Yes, he came and made a formal call. There was no reason why he +shouldn't.' + +'Now that I think of it,' I rejoined, 'he shot a card on me too, at the +Club. I was a little surprised. We didn't seem somehow to be on those +terms. One doesn't readily associate him with any conventionality.' + +'There's no reason why he shouldn't,' said Dora again, and with this +vague comment we spoke of something else, both of us, I think, a little +disquieted and dissatisfied that he had. + +'I think,' Dora said as I went away, 'that you had better go up to the +studio and tell him what you have told me. Perhaps it doesn't matter +much, but I can't bear the thought of his not knowing.' + +'Come to Kauffer's in the morning and see the pictures,' I urged; but +she turned away, 'Oh, not with you.' + +I found my way almost at once to Amy Villa, not only because I had been +told to go there. I wanted, myself, certain satisfactions. Armour was +alone and smoking, but I had come prepared against the contingency of +one of his cigars. They were the cigars of the man who doesn't know what +he eats. With sociable promptness I lighted one of my own. The little +enclosed veranda testified to a wave of fresh activity. The north light +streamed in upon two or three fresh canvases, the place seemed full of +enthusiasm, and you could see its source, at present quiescent under the +influence of tobacco, in Armour's face. + +'You have taken a new line,' I said, pointing to a file of camels, still +half obscured by the dust of the day, coming along a mountain road +under a dim moon. They might have been walking through time and through +history. It was a queer, simple thing, with a world of early Aryanism in +it. + +'Does that say anything? I'm glad. It was to me articulate, but I didn't +know. Oh, things have been going well with me lately. Those two studies +over there simply did themselves. That camp scene on the left is almost +a picture. I think I'll put a little more work on it and give it a +chance in Paris. I got in once, you know. Champ de Mars. With some +horses.' + +'Did you, indeed?' I said. 'Capital.' I asked him if he didn't +atrociously miss the life of the Quarter, and he surprised me by saying +that he never had lived it. He had been en pension instead with a dear +old professor of chemistry and his family at Puteaux, and used to go in +and out. A smile came into his eyes at the remembrance, and he told +me one after the other idyllic little stories of the old professor and +madame. Madame and the omelet--madame and the melon--M. Vibois and the +maire; I sat charmed. So long as we remained in France his humour was +like this, delicate and expansive, but an accidental allusion led us +across the Channel when he changed. He had no little stories of the +time he spent in England. Instead he let himself go in generalizations, +aimed, for they had a distinct animus, at English institutions and +character, particularly as these appear in English society. I could +not believe, from the little I had seen of him, that his experience of +English society of any degree had been intimate; what he said had the +flavour of Radical Sunday papers. The only original element was the +feeling behind, which was plainly part of him; speculation instantly +clamoured as to how far this was purely temperamental and how far the +result of painful contact. He himself, he said, though later of +the Western States, had been born under the British flag of British +parents--though his mother was an Irishwoman she came from loyal +Ulster--and he repeated the statement as if it in some way justified his +attitude towards his fellow countrymen and excused his truculence in the +ear of a servant of the empire which he had the humour to abuse. I heard +him, I confess, with impatience, it was all so shabby and shallow, but +I heard him out, and I was rewarded; he came for an illustration in +the end to Simla. 'Look,' he said, 'at what they call their "Government +House list"; and look at Strobo, Signor Strobo. Isn't Strobo a man of +intelligence, isn't he a man of benevolence? He gave ten thousand rupees +last week to the famine fund. Is Strobo on Government House list? Is he +ever invited to dine with the Viceroy? No, because Strobo keeps a hotel! +Look at Rosario--where does Rosario come in? Nowhere, because Rosario is +a clerk, and a subordinate. Yet Rosario is a man of wide reading and a +very accomplished fellow!' + +It became more or less necessary to argue then, and the commonplaces +with which I opposed him called forth a wealth of detail bearing most +picturesquely upon his stay among us. I began to think he had never +hated English rigidity and English snobbery until he came to Simla, +and that he and Strobo and Rosario had mingled their experiences in one +bitter cup. I gathered this by inference only, he was curiously watchful +and reticent as to anything that had happened to him personally; indeed, +he was careful to aver preferences for the society of 'sincere' +people like Strobo and Rosario, that seemed to declare him more than +indifferent to circles in which he would not meet them. In the end our +argument left me ridiculously irritated--it was simply distressing to +see the platform from which he obtained so wide and exquisite a view of +the world upheld by such flimsy pillars--and my nerves were not soothed +by his proposal to walk with me to the Club. I could hardly refuse it, +however, and he came along in excellent spirits, having effected the +demolition of British social ideals, root and branch. His mongrel dog +accompanied, keeping offensively near our heels. It was not even an +honest pi, but a dog of tawdry pretensions with a banner-like tail +dishonestly got from a spaniel. On one occasion I very nearly kicked the +dog. + + + +Chapter 2.VII. + +'The fact is,' I said to Dora as we rode down to the gymkhana, 'his +personality takes possession of one. I constantly go to that little hut +of his with intentions, benevolent or otherwise, which I never carry +out.' + +'You mean,' she answered, 'that you completely forgot to reveal to him +your hateful knowledge about Kauffer.' + +'On the contrary, I didn't forget it for a moment. But the conversation +took a turn that made it quite impossible to mention.' + +'I can understand,' Miss Harris replied softly, 'how that might be. And +it doesn't in the least matter,' she went on triumphantly, 'because I've +told him myself.' + +My nerves must have been a trifle strung up at the time, for this struck +me as a matter for offense. 'You thought I would trample upon him,' I +exclaimed. + +'No, no really. I disliked his not knowing it was known--rien de plus,' +she said lightly. + +'What did he say?' + +'Oh, not much. What should he say?' + +'He might have expressed a decent regret on poor Kauffer's account,' I +growled. Dora did not reply, and a glance showed her frowning. + +'I believe he apologized!' I cried, pushing, as it were, my advantage. + +'He explained.' + +'Oh!' + +'Of course he hasn't relished the position, and of course he didn't +realize it before he came. Shall we trot?' + +I was compelled to negative the idea of trotting, since we were +descending quite the steepest pitch of the road down to Annandale. We +went on at a walk, and it occurred to me, as my contemplative gaze +fell on my own pig-skins, that we were, even for Simla, an uncommonly +well-turned-out pair. I had helped to pick Dora's hack, and I allowed +myself to reflect that he did my judgment credit. She sat him perfectly +in her wrath--she was plainly angry--not a hair out of place. Why is it +that a lady out of temper with her escort always walks away from him? Is +her horse sympathetic? Ronald, at all events, was leading by a couple of +yards, when suddenly he shied, bounding well across the road. + +The mare, whose manners I can always answer for, simply stopped and +looked haughtily about for explanations. A path dropped into the road +from the hillside; something came scrambling and stumbling down. + +'Oh!' cried Dora, as it emerged and was Armour on his much enduring +white pony, 'how you frightened us!' + +'Why don't you stick to the road, man?' I exclaimed. 'It isn't usual to +put ponies up and down these coolie tracks!' + +He took no notice of this rather broad hint that I was annoyed, but +fixed his eager, light, luminous eyes upon Dora. + +'I'm sorry,' he said, and added, 'I did not expect to see you today!' + +'Not till tomorrow,' she returned. 'You remember that we are sketching +tomorrow?' + +He looked at her and smiled slightly; and then I remember noticing that +his full, arched upper lip seldom quite met its counterpart over his +teeth. This gave an unpremeditated casual effect to everything he found +to say, and made him look a dreamer at his busiest. His smile was at the +folly of her reminder. + +'I've just been looking for something that you would like,' he said, +'but it isn't much good hunting about alone. I see five times as much +when we go together.' + +He and his pony barred the way; he had an air of leisure and of +felicity; one would think we had met at an afternoon party. + +'We are on our way,' I explained, 'to the gymkhana. Miss Harris is in +one of the events. You did enter for the needle-threading race, didn't +you, with Lord Arthur? I think we must get on.' + +A slow, dull red mounted to Armour's face and seemed to put out that +curious light in his eyes. + +'Is it far?' he asked, glancing down over the tree-tops. 'I've never +been there.' + +'Why,' cried Dora, suddenly, 'you've been down!' + +'So you have,' I confirmed her. 'Your beast is damaged too.' + +'Oh, it was only a stumble,' Armour replied; 'I stuck on all right.' + +'Well,' I said, 'you had better get off now, as you didn't then, +and look at your animal's near fore. The swelling's as big as a bun +already.' + +Again he made me no answer, but looked intently and questioningly at +Dora. + +'Get off, Mr. Armour,' she said, sharply, 'and lead your horse home. It +is not fit to be ridden. Goodbye.' + +I have no doubt he did it, but neither of us were inclined to look back +to see. We pushed on under the deodars, and I was indulgent to a trot. +At the end of it Dora remarked that Mr. Armour naturally could not be +expected to know anything about riding, it was very plucky of him to get +on a horse at all, among these precipices; and I of course agreed. + +Lord Arthur was waiting when we arrived, on his chestnut polo pony, but +Dora immediately scratched for the brilliant event in which they were +paired. Ronald, she said, was simply cooked with the heat. Ronald had +come every yard of the way on his toes and was fit for anything, but +Lord Arthur did not insist. There were young ladies in Simla, I am glad +to say, who appealed more vividly to his imagination than Dora Harris +did, and one of them speedily replaced her, a fresh-coloured young +Amazon who was staying at the Chief's. She wandered about restlessly +over the dry turf for a few minutes, and then went and sat down in a +corner of the little wooden Grand Stand and sent me for a cup of tea. + +'Won't you come to the tent?' I asked a little ruefully, eyeing the +distance and the possible collisions between, but she shook her head. + +'I simply couldn't bear it,' she said, and I went feeling somehow +chastened myself by the cloud that was upon her spirit. + +I found her on my return regarding the scene with a more than usually +critical eye, and a more than usually turned down lip. Yet it was +exactly the scene it always was, and always, probably, will be. I sat +down beside her and regarded it also, but more charitably than usual. +Perhaps it was rather trivial, just a lot of pretty dresses and excited +young men in white riding-breeches doing foolish things on ponies in +the shortest possible time, with one little crowd about the Club's +refreshment tent and another about the Staff's, while the hills sat +round in an indifferent circle; but it appealed to me with a kind of +family feeling that afternoon, and inspired me with tolerance, even +benevolence. + +'After all,' I said, 'it's mainly youth and high spirits--two good +things. And one knows them all.' + +'And who are they to know?' complained Dora. + +'Just decent young Englishmen and Englishwomen, out here on their +country's business,' I replied cheerfully; 'with the marks of Oxford and +Cambridge and Sandhurst and Woolwich on the men. Well-set-up youngsters, +who know what to do and how to do it. Oh, I like the breed!' + +'I wonder,' said she, in a tone of preposterous melancholy, 'if +eventually I have to marry one of them.' + +'Not necessarily,' I said. She looked at me with interest, as if I had +contributed importantly to the matter in hand, and resumed tapping her +boot with her riding-crop. We talked of indifferent things and had long +lapses. At the close of one effort Dora threw herself back with a deep, +tumultuous sigh. 'The poverty of this little wretched resort ties up +one's tongue!' she cried. 'It is the bottom of the cup; here one gets +the very dregs of Simla's commonplace. Let us climb out of it.' + +I thought for a moment that Ronald had been too much for her nerves +coming down, and offered to change saddles, but she would not. We took +it out of the horses all along the first upward slopes, and as we pulled +in to breathe them she turned to me paler than ever. + +'I feel better now,' she said. + +For myself I had got rid of Armour for the afternoon. I think my +irritation with him about his pony rose and delivered me from the +too insistent thought of him. With Dora it was otherwise; she had +dismissed him; but he had never left her for a moment the whole long +afternoon. + +She flung a searching look at me. With a reckless turn of her head, she +said, 'Why didn't we take him with us?' + +'Did we want him?' I asked. + +'I think I always want him.' + +'Ah!' said I, and would have pondered this statement at some length in +silence, but that she plainly did not wish me to do so. + +'We might perfectly well have sent his pony home with one of our own +servants--he would have been delighted to walk down.' + +'He wasn't in proper kit,' I remonstrated. + +'Oh, I wish you would speak to him about that. Make him get some +tennis-flannels and riding-things.' + +'Do you propose to get him asked to places?' I inquired. + +She gave me a charmingly unguarded smile. 'I propose to induce you to +do so. I have done what I could. He has dined with us several times, and +met a few people who would, I thought, be kind to him.' + +'Oh, well,' I said, 'I have had him at the Club too, with old Lamb and +Colonel Hamilton. He made us all miserable with his shyness. Don't ask +me to do it again, please.' + +'I've sent him to call on certain people,' Dora continued, 'and I've +shown his pictures to everybody, and praised him and talked about him, +but I can't go on doing that indefinitely, can I?' + +'No,' I said; 'people might misunderstand.' + +'I don't think they would MISunderstand,' replied this astonishing girl, +without flinching. She even sought my eyes to show me that hers were +clear and full of purpose. + +'Good God!' I said to myself, but the words that fell from me were, 'He +is outside all that life.' + +'What is the use of living a life that he is outside of?' + +'Oh, if you put it that way,' I said, and set my teeth, 'I will do what +I can.' + +She held out her hand with an affectionate gesture, and I was +reluctantly compelled to press it. + +The horses broke into a trot, and we talked no more of Armour, or of +anything, until Ted Harris joined us on the Mall. + +I have rendered this conversation with Dora in detail because subsequent +events depend so closely upon it. Some may not agree that it was basis +enough for the action I thought well to take; I can only say that it was +all I was ever able to obtain. Dora was always particularly civil and +grateful about my efforts, but she gave me only one more glimpse, and +that enigmatic, of any special reason why they should be made. Perhaps +this was more than compensated for by the abounding views I had of the +situation as it lay with Ingersoll Armour, but of that, other persons, +approaching the subject without prejudice, will doubtless judge better +than I. + + + +Chapter 2.VIII. + +It was better not to inquire, so I never knew to what extent Kauffer +worked upon the vanity of ancient houses the sinful dodge I suggested to +him; but I heard before long that the line of Armour's rejected efforts +had been considerably diminished. Armour told me himself that Kauffer's +attitude had become almost conciliatory, that Kauffer had even hinted +at the acceptance of, and adhesion to, certain principles which he would +lay down as the basis of another year's contract. In talking to me about +it, Armour dwelt on these absurd stipulations only as the reason why any +idea of renewal was impossible. It was his proud theory with me that to +work for a photographer was just as dignified as to produce under any +other conditions, provided you did not stoop to ideals which for lack +of a better word might be called photographic. How he represented it to +Dora, or permitted Dora to represent it to him, I am not so certain--I +imagine there may have been admissions and qualifications. Be that as +it may, however, the fact was imperative that only three months of the +hated bond remained, and that some working substitute for the hated bond +would have to be discovered at their expiration. Simla, in short, must +be made to buy Armour's pictures, to appreciate them, if the days of +miracle were not entirely past, but to buy them any way. On one or two +occasions I had already made Simla buy things. I had cleared out young +Ludlow's stables for him in a week--he had a string of ten--when he +played polo in a straw hat and had to go home with sunstroke; and I once +auctioned off all the property costumes of the Amateur Dramatic Society +at astonishing prices. Pictures presented difficulties which I have +hinted at in an earlier chapter, but I did not despair. I began by +hauling old Lamb, puffing and blowing like a grampus, up to Amy Villa, +filling him up all the way with denunciations of Simla's philistinism +and suggestions that he alone redeemed it. + +It is a thing I am ashamed to think of, and it deserved its reward. + +Lamb criticized and patronized every blessed thing he saw, advised +Armour to beware of mannerisms and to be a little less liberal with his +colour, and heard absolutely unmoved of the horses Armour had got into +the Salon. 'I understand,' he said, with a benevolent wink, 'that about +four thousand pictures are hung every year at the Salon, and I don't +know how many thousand are rejected. Let Mr. Armour get a picture +accepted by the Academy. Then he will have something to talk about.' + +Neither did Sir William Lamb buy anything at all. + +The experiment with Lady Pilkey was even more distressing. She gushed +with fair appropriateness and great liberality, and finally fixed upon +one scene to make her own. She winningly asked the price of it. She +had never known anybody who did not understand prices. Poor Armour, the +colour of a live coal, named one hundred rupees. + +'One hundred rupees! Oh, my dear boy, I can never afford that! You must, +you must really give it to me for seventy-five. It will break my heart +if I can't have it for seventy-five.' + +'Give me the pleasure,' said Armour, 'of making you a present of it. You +have been so kind about everything, and it's so seldom one meets +anybody who really cares. So let me send it to you.' It was honest +embarrassment; he did not mean to be impertinent. + +And she did. + +Blum, of the Geological Department--Herr Blum in his own country--came +up and honestly rejoiced, and at end of an interminable pipe did +purchase a little Breton bit that I hated to see go--it was one of +the things that gave the place its air; but Blum had a large family +undergoing education at Heidelberg, and exclaimed, to Armour's keenest +anguish, that on this account he could not more do. + +Altogether, during the months of August and September, persons resident +in Simla drawing their income from Her Majesty, bought from the +eccentric young artist from nowhere, living on Summer Hill, canvases and +little wooden panels to the extent of two hundred and fifty rupees. Lady +Pilkey had asked him to lunch--she might well! and he had appeared at +three garden-parties and a picnic. It was not enough. + +It was not enough, and yet it was, in a manner, too much. Pitiful as +it was in substance, it had an extraordinary personal effect. Armour +suddenly began to turn himself out well--his apparel was of smarter cut +than mine, and his neckties in better taste. Little elegances appeared +in the studio--he offered you Scotch in a Venetian decanter and +Melachrinos from a chased silver box. The farouche element faded out of +his speech; his ideas remained as fresh and as simple as ever, but he +gave them a form, bless me! that might have been used at the Club. He +worked as hard as ever, but more variously; he tried his hand at several +new things. He said he was feeling about for something that would really +make his reputation. + +In spite of all this his little measure of success made him more +contemptuous than before of its scene and its elements. He declared that +he had a poorer idea than ever of society now that he saw the pattern +from the smart side. That his convictions on this head survived one of +the best Simla tailors shows that they must always have been strong. I +think he believed that he was doing all that he did do to make himself +socially possible with the purpose of pleasing Dora Harris. I would +not now venture to say how far Dora inspired and controlled him in +this direction, and how far the impulse was his own. The measure of +appreciation that began to seek his pictures, poor and small though it +was, gave him, on the other hand, the most unalloyed delight. He talked +of the advice of Sir William Lamb as if it were anything but that of a +pompous old ass, and he made a feast with champagne for Blum that must +have cost him quite as much as Blum paid for the Breton sketch. He +confirmed my guess that he had never in his life until he came to Simla +sold anything, so that even these small transactions were great things +to him, and the earnest of a future upon which he covered his eyes not +to gaze too raptly. He mentioned to me that Kauffer had been asked +for his address--who could it possibly be?--and looked so damped by my +humourous suggestion that it was a friend of Kauffer's in some other +line who wanted a bill paid, that I felt I had been guilty of brutality. +And all the while the quality of his wonderful output never changed or +abated. Pure and firm and prismatic it remained. I found him one day at +the very end of October, with shining eyes and fingers blue with cold, +putting the last of the afternoon light on the snows into one of the +most dramatic hill pictures I ever knew him to do. He seemed intoxicated +with his skill, and hummed the 'Marseillaise,' I remember, all the way +to Amy Villa whither I accompanied him. + +It was the last day of Kauffer's contract; and besides, all the world, +secretaries, establishments, hill captains, grass widows, shops, and +sundries, was trundling down the hill. I came to ask my young friend +what he meant to do. + +'Do?' he cried. 'Why, eat, drink, and be merry! Kauffer has paid up, and +his yoke is at the bottom of the sea. Come back and dine with me!' + +The hour we spent together in his little inner room before dinner was +served stands out among my strangest, loveliest memories of Armour. He +was divinely caught up, and absurd as it is to write, he seemed to carry +me with him. We drank each a glass of vermouth before dinner sitting +over a scented fire of deodar branches, while outside the little window +in front of me the lifted lines of the great empty Himalayan landscape +faded and fell into a blur. I remembered the solitary scarlet dahlia +that stood between us and the vast cold hills and held its colour when +all was grey but that. The hill world waited for the winter; down a +far valley we could hear a barking deer. Armour talked slowly, often +hesitating for a word, of the joy there was in beauty and the divinity +in the man who saw it with his own eyes. I have read notable pages that +brought conviction pale beside that which stole about the room from what +he said. The comment may seem fantastic, but it is a comment--I caressed +the dog. The servant clattered in with the plates, and at a shout +outside Armour left me. He came in radiant with Signor Strobo, also +radiant and carrying a violin, for hotel-keeping was not the Signor's +only accomplishment. I knew Strobo well; many a special dish had he +ordered for my little parties; and we met at Armour's fireside like the +genial old acquaintances we were. Another voice without and presently +I was nodding to Rosario and vaguely wondering why he looked +uncomfortable. + +'I'm sorry,' said Armour, as we sat down, 'I've got nothing but beer. +If I had known you were all coming, no vintage that crawls up the hill +would have been good enough for me.' He threw the bond of his wonderful +smile round us as we swallowed his stuff, and our hearts were lightened. +'You fellows,' he went on nodding at the other two, 'might happen any +day, but my friend John Philips comes to me across aerial spaces; he is +a star I've trapped--you don't do that often. Pilsener, John Philips, or +Black?' He was helping his only servant by pouring out the beer himself, +and as I declared for Black he slapped me affectionately on the back and +said my choice was good. + +The last person who had slapped me on the back was Lord Dufferin, and +I smiled softly and privately at the remembrance, and what a difference +there was. I had resented Dufferin's slap. + +We had spiced hump and jungle-fowl and a Normandy cheese, everybody will +understand that; but how shall I make plain with what exultation and +simplicity we ate and drank, how the four candid selves of us sat around +the table in a cloud of tobacco and cheered each other on, Armour always +far in front turning handsprings as he went. Scraps come back to me, but +the whole queer night has receded and taken its place among those dreams +that insist at times upon having been realities. Rosario told us stories +Kipling might have coveted of the under life of Port Said. Strobo talked +with glorious gusto of his uncle the brigand. They were liberated men; +we were all liberated men. 'Let the direction go,' cried Armour, 'and +give the senses flight, taking the image as it comes, beating the air +with happy pinions.' He must have been talking of his work, but I can +not now remember. And what made Strobo say, of life and art, 'I have +waited for ten years and five thousand pounds--now my old violin says, +"Go, handle the ladle! Go, add up the account!"' And did we really +discuss the chances of ultimate salvation for souls in the Secretariat? +I know I lifted my glass once and cried, 'I, a slave, drink to freedom!' +and Rosario clinked with me. And Strobo played wailing Hungarian airs +with sudden little shakes of hopeless laughter in them. I can not +even now hear Naches without being filled with the recollection of how +certain bare branches in me that night blossomed. + +I walked alone down the hill and along the three miles to the Club, and +at every step the tide sank in me till it cast me on my threshold at +three in the morning, just the middle-aged shell of a Secretary to the +Government of India that I was when I set forth. Next day when my head +clerk brought me the files we avoided one another's glances; and it was +quite three weeks before I could bring myself to address him with the +dignity and distance prescribed for his station as 'Mr.' Rosario. + + + +Chapter 2.IX. + +I went of course to Calcutta for the four winter months. Harris and I +were together at the Club. It was the year, I remember, of the great +shindy as to whether foreign consuls should continue to be made +honourary members, in view of the sentiments some of them were freely +reflecting from Europe upon the subject of a war in South Africa which +was none of theirs. Certainly, feeling as they did, it would have been +better if they had swaggered less about a club that stood for British +Government; but I did not vote to withdraw the invitation. We can not, +after all, take notice of every idle word that drops from Latin or +Teutonic tongues; it isn't our way; but it was a liverish cold weather +on various accounts, and the public temper was short. I heard from Dora +oftener, Harris declared, than he did. She was spending the winter +with friends in Agra, and Armour, of course, was there too, living at +Laurie's Hotel, and painting, Dora assured me, with immense energy. +It was just the place for Armour, a sumptuous dynasty wrecked in white +marble and buried in desert sands for three hundred years; and I was +glad to hear that he was making the most of it. It was quite by the way, +but I had lent him the money to go there--somebody had to lend it to +him--and when he asked me to decide whether he should take his passage +for Marseilles or use it for this other purpose I could hardly hesitate, +believing in him, as I did, to urge him to paint a little more of India +before he went. I frankly despaired of his ever being able to pay his +way in Simla without Kauffer, but that was no reason why he should not +make a few more notes for further use at home, where I sometimes saw +for him, when his desultory and experimental days were over and some +definiteness and order had come into his work, a Bond Street exhibition. + +I have not said all this time what I thought of Ingersoll Armour and +Dora Harris together, because their connection seemed too vague and +fantastic and impossible to hold for an instant before a steady gaze. I +have no wish to justify myself when I write that I preferred to keep my +eyes averted, enjoying perhaps just such a measure of vision as would +enter at a corner of them. This may or may not have been immoral under +the circumstances--the event did not prove it so--but for urgent private +reasons I could not be the person to destroy the idyll, if indeed its +destruction were possible, that flourished there in the corner of +my eye. Besides, had not I myself planted and watered it? But it was +foolish to expect other people, people who are forever on the lookout +for trousseaux and wedding-bells, and who considered these two as mere +man and maid, and had no sight of them as engaging young spirits in +happy conjunction--it was foolish to expect such people to show equal +consideration. Christmas was barely over before the lady with whom Miss +Harris was staying found it her duty to communicate to Edward Harris the +fact that dear Dora's charming friendship--she was sure it was nothing +more--with the young artist--Mrs. Poulton believed Mr. Harris would +understand who was meant--was exciting a good deal of comment in the +station, and WOULD dear Mr. Harris please write to Dora himself, as Mrs. +Poulton was beginning to feel so responsible? + +I saw the letter; Harris showed it to me when he sat down to breakfast +with the long face of a man in a domestic difficulty, and we settled +together whom we should ask to put his daughter up in Calcutta. It +should be the wife of a man in his own department of course; it is to +one's Deputy Secretary that one looks for succour at times like this; +and naturally one never looks in vain. Mrs. Symons would be delighted. +I conjured up Dora's rage on receipt of the telegram. She loathed the +Symonses. + +She came, but not at the jerk of a wire; she arrived a week later, with +a face of great propriety and a smile of great unconcern. Harris, having +got her effectually out of harm's way, shirked further insistence, and +I have reason to believe that Armour was never even mentioned between +them. + +Dora applied herself to the gaieties of the season with the zest of +a debutante; she seemed really refreshed, revitalized. She had never +looked better, happier. I met her again for the first time at one of +the Thursday dances at Government House. In the glance she gave me I was +glad to detect no suspicion of collusion. She plainly could not dream +that Edward Harris in his nefarious exercise of parental authority had +acted upon any hint from me. It was rather sweet. + +Out in the veranda, away from the blare of the Viceroy's band, she told +me very delicately and with the most charming ellipses how Armour had +been filling her life in Agra, how it had all been, for these two, a +dream and a vision. There is a place below the bridge there, where the +cattle come down from the waste pastures across the yellow sands to +drink and stand in the low water of the Jumna, to stand and switch their +tails while their herdsmen on the bank coax them back with 'Ari!' 'Ari!' +'Ari!' long and high, faint and musical; and the minarets of Akbar's +fort rise beyond against the throbbing sky and the sun fills it all. +This place I shall never see more distinctly than I saw it that night on +the veranda at Government House, Calcutta, with the conviction, like a +margin for the picture, that its foreground had been very often occupied +by the woman I profoundly worshiped and Ingersoll Armour. She told me +that he had sent me a sketch of it, and I very much wished he hadn't. +One felt that the gift would carry a trifle of irony. + +'He has told me,' she said once brusquely, 'how good you have been to +him.' + +'Is he coming to Simla again?' I asked. + +'Oh yes! And please take it from me that this time he will conquer the +place. He has undertaken to do it.' + +'At your request?' + +'At my persuasion--at my long entreaty. They must recognize him--they +must be taught. I have set my heart on it.' + +'Does he himself very much care?' I asked remembering the night of the +thirty-first of October. + +'Yes, he does care. He despises it, of course, but in a way he cares. +I've been trying to make him care more. A human being isn't an orchid; +he must draw something from the soil he grows in.' + +'If he were stable,' I mused; 'if he had a fixed ambition somewhere in +the firmament. But his purpose is a will-o'-the-wisp.' + +'I think he has an ambition,' said Miss Harris, into the dark. + +'Ah! Then we must continue,' I said--'continue to push from behind.' + +Dora did not reply. She is a person of energy and determination, and +might have been expected to offer to cooperate gladly. But she didn't. + +'He is painting a large picture for next season's exhibition,' she +informed me. 'I was not allowed to see it or to know anything about it, +but he declares it will bring Simla down.' + +'I hope not,' I said, piously. + +'Oh, I hope so. I have told him,' Dora continued, slowly, 'that a great +deal depends on it.' + +'Here is Mrs. Symons,' I was able to return, 'and I am afraid she is +looking for you.' + +March came, and the city lay white under its own dust. The electric fans +began to purr in the Club, and Lent brought the flagging season to a +full stop. I had to go that year on tour through the famine district +with the Member, and we escaped, gasping, from the Plains about the +middle of April. Simla was crimson with rhododendron blossoms, and +seemed a spur of Arcady. There had been the usual number of flittings +from one house to another, and among them I heard with satisfaction +that Armour no longer occupied Amy Villa. I would not for the world have +blurred my recollections of that last evening--I could not have gone +there again. + +'He is staying with Sir William Lamb,' said Dora, handing me my cup of +tea. 'And I am quite jealous. Sir William, only Sir William, has been +allowed to see the exhibition picture.' + +'What does that portend?' I said, thoughtfully. + +'I don't know. Sir William was here yesterday simply swelling with his +impression of it. He says it's the finest thing that has been done in +India. I told you he would conquer them.' + +'You did,' and without thinking I added, 'I hope you won't be sorry that +you asked him to.' It must have been an inspiration. + +Armour, those weeks before the exhibition, seemed invisible. Dora +reported him torn with the incapacity of the bazaar frame-maker to +follow a design, and otherwise excessively occupied, and there was no +lack of demands upon my own time. Besides, my ardour to be of assistance +to the young man found a slight damper in the fact that he was staying +with Sir William Lamb. What competence had I to be of use to the guest +of Sir William Lamb? + +'I do not for a moment think he will be there,' said Dora, on the day +of the private view as we went along the Mall towards the Town Hall +together. 'He will not run with an open mouth to his success. He will +take it from us later.' + +But he was there. We entered precisely at the dramatic moment of his +presentation by Sir William Lamb to the Viceroy. He stood embarrassed +and smiling in a little circle of compliments and congratulation. Behind +him and a little to the left hung his picture, large and predominant, +and in the corner of the frame was stuck the red ticket that signified +the Viceroy's gold medal. We saw that, I think, before we saw anything +else. Then with as little haste as was decent, considering His +Excellency's proximity, we walked within range of the picture. + +I am not particularly pleased, even now, to have the task of describing +the thing. Its subject was an old Mahomedan priest with a green turban +and a white beard exhorting a rabble of followers. I heard myself saying +to Dora that it was very well painted indeed, very conscientiously +painted, and that is certainly what struck me. The expression of the +fire-eater's face was extremely characteristic; his arm was flung +out with a gesture that perfectly matched. The group of listeners was +carefully composed and most 'naturally'; that is the only word that +would come to me. + +I glanced almost timidly at Dora. She was regarding it with a deep +vertical line between her handsome brows. + +'What--on earth--has he done with himself?' she demanded, but before I +could reply Armour was by our side. + +'Well?' he said, looking at Dora. + +'It--it's very nice,' she stammered, 'but I miss YOU.' + +'She only means, you know,' I rushed in, 'that you've put in everything +that was never there before. Accuracy of detail, you know, and so forth. +'Pon my word, there's some drawing in that!' + +'No,' said Dora, calmly, 'what I complain of is that he has left out +everything that was there before. But he has won the gold medal, and I +congratulate him.' + +'Well,' I said, uneasily, 'don't congratulate me. I didn't do it. +Positively I am not to blame.' + +'His Excellency says that it reminds him of an incident in one of Mrs. +Steel's novels,' said Armour, just turning his head to ascertain His +Excellency's whereabouts. + +'Dear me, so it does,' I exclaimed, eagerly, 'one couldn't name the +chapter--it's the general feeling.' I went on to discourse of the +general feeling. Words came generously, questions with point, comments +with intelligence. I swamped the situation and so carried it off. + +'The Viceroy has bought the thing,' Armour went on, looking at Dora, +'and has commissioned me to paint another. The only restriction he makes +is--' + +'That it shall be of the same size?' asked Dora. + +'That it must deal with some phase of native life.' + +Miss Harris walked to a point behind us, and stood there with her eyes +fixed upon the picture. I glanced at her once; her gaze was steady, but +perfectly blank. Then she joined us again, and struck into the stream of +my volubility. + +'I am delighted,' she said, pleasantly, to Armour. 'You have done +exactly what I wanted you to do. You have won the Viceroy's medal, and +all the reputation there is to win in this place. Come and dine +tonight, and we will rejoice together. But wasn't it--for you--a little +difficult?' + +He looked at her as if she had offered him a cup, and then dashed it +from his lips; but the occasion was not one, of course, for crying out. + +'Oh no,' he said, putting on an excellent face. 'But it took a hideous +time.' + + + +Chapter 2.X. + +Within a fortnight I was surprised and a little irritated to receive +from Armour the amount of my loan in full. It was not in accordance +with my preconceived idea of him that he should return it at all. I had +arranged in my own mind that he should be governed by the most honest +impulses and the most approved intentions up to the point of departure, +but that he should never find it quite convenient to pay, and that in +order to effect his final shipment to other shores I should be compelled +to lend him some more money. In the far future, when he should be famous +and I an obscure pauper on pension, my generous imagination permitted me +to see the loan repaid; but not till then. These are perhaps stereotyped +and conventional lines to conceive him on, but I hardly think that +anybody who has followed my little account to this point will think them +unjustifiable. I looked at his cheque with disgust. That a man turns out +better than you expected is no reason why you such not be annoyed that +your conception of him is shattered. You may be gratified on general +grounds, but distinctly put out on personal ones, especially when your +conception pointed to his inevitable removal. That was the way I felt. + +The cheque stood for so much more than its money value. It stood for a +possible, nay, a probable capacity in Armour to take his place in the +stable body of society, to recognize and make demands, to become a +taxpayer, a churchgoer, a householder, a husband. As I gazed, the +signature changed from that of a gnome with luminous eyes who inhabited +an inaccessible crag among the rhododendrons to that of a prosperous +artist-bourgeois with a silk hat for Sundays. I have in some small +degree the psychological knack, I saw the possibilities of the situation +with immense clearness; and I cursed the cheque. + +Coincidence is odious, tells on the nerves. I never felt it more so than +a week later, when I read in the 'Pioneer' the announcement of the death +of my old friend Fry, Superintendent of the School of Art in Calcutta. +The paragraph in which the journal dismissed poor Fry to his reward was +not unkind, but it distinctly implied that the removal of Fry should +include the removal of his ideas and methods, and the substitution of +something rather more up to date. It remarked that the Bengali student +had been pinned down long enough to drawing plaster casts, and declared +that something should be done to awake within him the creative idea. I +remember the phrase, it seemed so directly to suggest that the person to +awake it should be Ingersoll Armour. + +I turned the matter over in my mind; indeed, for the best part of an +hour my brain revolved with little else. The billet was an excellent +one, with very decent pay and charming quarters. It carried a pension, +it was the completest sort of provision. There was a long vacation, with +opportunities for original effort, and I had heard Fry call the work +interesting. Fry was the kind of man to be interested in anything that +gave him a living, but there was no reason why a more captious spirit, +in view of the great advantages, should not accommodate itself to the +routine that might present itself. The post was in the gift of the +Government of Bengal, but that was no reason why the Government of +Bengal should not be grateful in the difficulty of making a choice for a +hint from us. The difficulty was really great. They would have to +write home and advertise in the 'Athenaeum'--for some reason +Indian Governments always advertise educational appointments in +the 'Athenaeum'; it is a habit which dates from the days of John +Company--and that would mean delay. And then the result might be a +disappointment. Might Armour not also be a disappointment? That I really +could not say. A new man is always a speculation, and departments, like +individuals, have got to take their luck. + +The Viceroy was so delighted--everybody was so delighted--with the medal +picture that the merest breath blown among them would secure Armour's +nomination. Should I blow that breath? These happy thoughts must always +occur to somebody. This one had occurred to me. Ten to one it +would occur to nobody else, and last of all to Armour himself. The +advertisement might already be on its way home to the 'Athenaeum'. + +It would make everything possible. It would throw a very different +complexion over the idyll. It would turn that interlacing wreath of +laurels and of poppies into the strongest bond in the world. + +I would simply have nothing to do with it. + +But there was no harm I asking Armour to dine with me; I sent the note +off by messenger after breakfast and told the steward to put a magnum +of Pommery to cool at seven precisely. I had some idea, I suppose, of +drinking with Armour to his eternal discomfiture. Then I went to the +office with a mind cleared of responsibility and comfortably pervaded +with the glow of good intentions. + +The moment I saw the young man, punctual and immediate and a little +uncomfortable about the cuffs, I regretted not having asked one or two +more fellows. It might have spoiled the occasion, but it would have +saved the situation. That single glance of my accustomed eye--alas! +that it was so well accustomed--revealed him anxious and screwed up, +as nervous as a cat, but determined, revealed--how well I knew the +signs!--that he had something confidential and important and highly +personal to communicate, a matter in which I could, if I only would, be +of the greatest possible assistance. From these appearances twenty years +had taught me to fly to any burrow, but your dinner-table offers no +retreat; you are hoist, so to speak, on your own carving-fork. There are +men, of course, and even women, who have scruples about taking advantage +of so intimate and unguarded an opportunity, but Armour, I rapidly +decided, was not one of these. His sophistication was progressing, but +it had not reached that point. He wanted something--I flew instantly to +the mad conclusion that he wanted Dora. I did not pause to inquire why +he should ask her of me. It had seemed for a long time eminently proper +that anybody who wanted Dora should ask her of me. The application was +impossible, but applications nearly always were impossible. Nobody knew +that better than the Secretary to the Government of India in the Home +Department. + +I squared my shoulders and we got through the soup. It was necessary to +apologize for the fish. 'I suppose one must remember,' I said, 'that it +has to climb six thousand feet,' when suddenly he burst out. + +'Sir William Lamb tells me,' he said, and stopped to swallow some wine, +'that there is something very good going in Calcutta and that I should +ask you to help me to get it. May I?' + +So the miserable idea--the happy thought--had occurred to somebody else. + +'Is there?' I said, with interest and attention. + +'It's something in the School of Art. A man named Fry has died.' + +'Ah!' I said, 'a man named Fry. He, I think was Director of that +institution.' I looked at Armour in the considering, measuring way with +which we suggest to candidates for posts that their fitness to fill them +is not to be absolutely taken for granted. 'Fry was a man of fifty-six,' +I said. + +'I am thirty.' He certainly did not look it, but years often fall +lightly upon a temperament. + +'It's a vile climate.' + +'I know. Is it too vile, do you think,' he said anxiously, 'to ask a +lady to share?' + +'Lots of ladies do share it,' I replied, with amazing calmness; 'but I +must decline absolutely to enter into that.' + +My frown was so forbidding that he couldn't and didn't dare to go on. +He looked dashed and disappointed; he was really a fool of an applicant, +quite ready to retire from the siege on the first intimation that the +gates were not to be thrown open at his approach. + +'Do you think you would like teaching?' I asked. + +'I can teach. Miss--my only pupil here has made capital progress.' + +'I am afraid you must not measure the Bengali art student by the +standard of Miss Harris,' I replied coldly. He WAS a fool. We talked of +other things. I led him on to betray his ludicrous lack of knowledge +of the world in various directions. At other times it had irritated +me, that night it gave me purest pleasure. I agreed with him about +everything. + +As he selected his smoke to go home with I said, 'Send your application +in to the Director of Public Instruction, Bengal--Lamb will tell you +how--and I'll see what I can do.' + +They were only too thankful to get him. As a student it seemed he had +been diligent both in London and Paris; he possessed diplomas or +some such things bearing names which were bound to have weight with a +Department of Public Instruction anywhere. I felt particularly thankful +for this, for I was committed to him if he had not a rag to show. + +The matter was settled in three weeks, during which Armour became +more and more the fashion in Simla. He was given every opportunity of +experiment in the society of which he was about to become a permanent +item. He dined out four or five times a week, and learned exactly what +to talk about. He surprised me one day with a piece of news of my own +department, which was a liberty of a very serious kind, but I forgave +him upon finding that it was not true. He rode Lamb's weight-carriers, +to cross which his short legs were barely adequate, and apart from +this disadvantage he did not ride them badly. Only one thing marred the +completeness of the transformation--he didn't dismiss the dog. The dog, +fundamentally, was still and ever his companion. It was a suspicious +circumstance if we had known; but we saw in it only a kind heart, and +ignored it. + +I saw little of Dora Harris at this time. Making no doubt that she was +enjoying her triumph as she deserved, I took the liberty of +supposing that she would hardly wish to share so intimate a source of +satisfaction. I met them both several times at people's houses--certain +things had apparently been taken for granted--but I was only one of +the little circle that wondered how soon it might venture upon open +congratulations. The rest of us knew as much, it seemed, as Edward +Harris did. Lady Pilkey asked him point-blank, and he said what his +daughter found to like in the fellow the Lord only knew, and he was glad +to say that at present he had no announcement to make. Lady Pilkey +told me she thought it very romantic--like marrying a newspaper +correspondent--but I pointed to a lifelong task, with a pension +attached, of teaching fat young Bengalis to draw, and asked her if she +saw extravagant romance in that. + +They wrote up from Calcutta that they would like to have a look at +Armour before making the final recommendation, and he left us, I +remember, by the mail tonga of the third of June. He dropped into my +office to say goodbye, but I was busy with the Member and could see +nobody, so he left a card with 'P.P.C.' on it. I kept the card +by accident, and I keep it still by design, for the sake of that +inscription. + +Strobo had given up his hotel in Simla to start one in Calcutta. It +never occurred to me that Armour might go to Strobo's; but it was, of +course, the natural thing for him to do, especially as Strobo happened +to be in Calcutta himself at the time. He went and stayed with Strobo, +and every day he and the Signor, clad in bath-towels, lay in closed +rooms under punkahs and had iced drinks in the long tumblers of the +East, and smoked and talked away the burden of the hours. + +Strobo was in Calcutta to meet a friend, an Austrian, who was shortly +leaving India in the Messagerie Maritimes steamer Dupleix after +agreeable wanderings disguised as a fakir in Tibet; and to this friend +was attached, in what capacity I never thought well to inquire, a lady +who was a Pole, and played and sang as well as Strobo fiddled. I believe +they dined together every night, this precious quartet, and exchanged +in various tongues their impressions of India under British control. +'A houri in stays,' the lady who was a Pole described it. I believe she +herself was a houri without them. And at midnight, when the south wind +was cool and strong from the river, Strobo and Armour would walk up +Chowringhee Road and look at the red brick School of Art from the +outside in the light of the street lamps, as a preliminary to our +friend's final acceptance of the task of superintending it from within. + +We in Simla, of course, knew nothing of all this at the time; the +details leaked out later when Strobo came up again. I began to feel some +joyful anxiety when in a letter dated a week after Armour's arrival in +Calcutta, the Director of Public Instruction wrote to inquire whether he +had yet left Simla; but the sweet blow did not fall with any precision +or certainty until the newspaper arrived containing his name immediately +under that of Herr Vanrig and Mme. Dansky in the list of passengers who +had sailed per S.S. Dupleix on the fifteenth of June for Colombo. There +it was, 'I. Armour,' as significant as ever to two persons intimately +concerned with it, but no longer a wrapping of mystery, rather a +radiating centre of light. Its power of illumination was such that it +tried my eyes. I closed them to recall the outlines of the School of +Art--it had been built in a fit of economy--and the headings of the last +Director's report, which I had kindly sent after Armour to Calcutta. +Perhaps that had been the last straw. + +The real meaning of the task of implanting Western ideals in the Eastern +mind rose before me when I thought of Armour's doing it--how they would +dwindle in the process, and how he must go on handling them and looking +at them withered and shrunken for twenty-odd years. I understood--there +was enough left in me to understand--Armour's terrified escape. I was +happy in the thought of him, sailing down the Bay. The possibilities +of marriage, social position, assured income, support in old age, the +strands in the bond that held him, the bond that holds us all, had been +untwisting, untwisting, from the third of June to the fifteenth. The +strand that stood for Dora doubtless was the last to break, but it did +not detract from my beatitude to know that even this consideration, +before the Dupleix and liberty, failed to hold. + +I kept out of Miss Harris's way so studiously for the next week or two +that she was kind enough in the end to feel compelled to send for me. I +went with misgivings--I expected, as may be imagined, to be very deeply +distressed. She met me with a storm of gay reproaches. I had never seen +her in better health or spirits. My surprise must have been more evident +than I supposed or intended, for before I went away she told me the +whole story. By that time she had heard from Ceylon, a delicious letter +with a pen-and-ink sketch at the top. I have it still; it infallibly +brought the man back to me. But it was all over; she assured me +with shining eyes that it was. The reason of her plainly boundless +thankfulness that Armour had run away from the School of Art did not +come to the surface until I was just going. Then I gathered that if he +had taken the post she would have felt compelled, compelled by all she +had done for him, to share its honours with him; and this, ever since +at her bidding he had begun to gather such things up, was precisely what +she had lost all inclination to do. + +We were married the following October. We had a big, gorgeous official +wedding, which we both enjoyed enormously. I took furlough, and we went +home, but we found London very expensive and the country very slow; and +with my K.C.S.I. came the offer of the Membership, so we went back to +Simla for three perfectly unnecessary years, which we now look back upon +with pleasure and regret. I fear that we, no more than Ingersoll Armour, +were quite whole-hearted Bohemians; but I don't know that we really ever +pretended to be. + + + + +3. The Hesitation of Miss Anderson. + + +Chapter 3.I. + +When it became known that Madeline Anderson had finally decided to go +abroad for two years, her little circle in New York naturally talked +a good deal, in review, about her curious reason for never having gone +before. So much that happened afterward, so much that I am going to +tell, depends upon this reason for not going before, that I also must +talk about it and explain it; I could never bring it out just as we went +along. It would have been a curious reason in connection with anybody, +but doubly so as explaining the behaviour of Miss Anderson, whose +profile gave you the impression that she was anything but the +shuttlecock of her emotions. Shortly, her reason was a convict, Number +1596, who, up to February in that year, had been working, or rather +waiting, out his sentence in the State penitentiary. So long as he +worked or waited, Madeline remained in New York, but when in February +death gave him his quittance, she took her freedom too, with wide +intentions and many coupons. + +Earlier in his career Number 1596 had been known in New York society +as Mr. Frederick Prendergast, and for a little while he was disapproved +there on the score of having engaged himself to a Miss Anderson, +Madeline Anderson, whom nobody knew anything about. There was her +own little circle, as I have said, and it lacked neither dignity nor +refinement, but I doubt whether any member of it was valeted from +London, or could imply, in conversation, a personal acquaintance with +Yvette Guilbert. There is no need, however, to insist that there are +many persons of comfortable income and much cultivation in New York, +who would not be met by strangers having what are called the 'best' +introductions there. The best so often fails to include the better. It +may be accepted that Madeline Anderson and her people were of these, and +that she wondered sometimes during the brief days of her engagement what +it would be like to belong to the brilliant little world about her +that had its visiting list in London, Paris, or St. Petersburg, and was +immensely entertained by the gaucheries of the great ones of the earth. + +Then came, with the most unexceptionable introductions, Miss Violet +Forde, from a Sloane Square address, London. She came leaning on the arm +of a brother, the only relative she had in the world, and so brilliant +was the form of these young people that it occurred to nobody to imagine +that it had the most precarious pecuniary foundation, must have faded +and shrivelled indeed, after another year or two of anything but +hospitality as generous as that of New York. Well-nourished and +undimmed, however, it concealed for them admirably the fact that it +was the hospitality they were after, and not the bracing climate or the +desire to see the fascinating Americans of London and Paris at home. +New York found them agreeable specimens of high-spirited young English +people, and played with them indefinitely. Miss Forde, when she sat +imperturbably on a cushion in the middle of the floor after dinner +and sang to a guitar the songs of Albert Chevalier, was an anomaly in +English decorum that was as pleasing to observe as it was amusing to +criticize. + +The Americans she met delighted in drawing her out--it was a pastime +that took the lead at dinner-parties, to an extent which her hostess +often thought preposterous--and she responded with naivete and vigour, +perfectly aware that she was scoring all along the line. Upon many +charming people she made the impression that she was a type of the most +finished class of what they called 'English society girls,' that she +represented the best they could do over there in this direction. As +a matter of fact she might have sat to any of those 'black and white' +artists, who draw townish young women of London, saying cynical things +to young men in the weekly papers. That was her type, and if you look +for her picture there, you will see that her face was very accurately +oval, with eyes that knew their value, and other features that didn't +very much matter, except in so far as they expressed a very full +conception of the satisfactions of this life, and a wide philosophy as +to methods of obtaining them. + +Frederick Prendergast was unacquainted with the popular pictures I +have mentioned, having a very reasonable preference for the illustrated +papers of his own country; otherwise--there is no telling--he might +have observed the resemblance and escaped the State prison, whither he +assuredly never would have gone had he married Madeline Anderson--as +he fully intended to do when Miss Forde came over. He was worth at that +time a great deal of money, besides being more personable than any one +would have believed who knew him as '1596.' His fiancee was never too +obtrusively in evidence, and if Miss Forde thought of Miss Anderson with +any scruple, it was probably to reflect that if she could not take care +of these things she did not deserve to have them. This at all events was +how her attitude expressed itself practically; and the upshot was that +Miss Anderson lost them. There came a day when Frederick Prendergast, +in much discomfort of mind, took to Violet the news that Madeline had +brought their engagement to an end. She, Violet, gave him some tea, and +they talked frankly of the absurd misconception of the relations between +them upon which his dismissal was founded; and Prendergast went away +much comforted and wholly disposed to respect Miss Anderson's startling +wishes. She, with what both the others thought excellent taste, +persuaded her mother and sister to move to Brooklyn; and so far as the +thoroughfares and social theatres of New York were concerned, the city +over the river might have been a nunnery which had closed its gates upon +her. It was only in imagination that she heard Frederick Prendergast's +wedding-bells when, two months later, he was united to Miss Forde in +Grace Church, and that after the fact, their melody being brought to her +inner sense next day by the marriage notice in the 'Tribune'. + +It would be painful, in view of what we know of Frederick Prendergast, +to dwell upon what Madeline Anderson undeniably felt. Besides her +emotions were not destructively acute, they only lasted longer than +any one could have either expected or approved. She suffered for him as +well; she saw as plainly as he did the first sordid consequences of his +mistake the afternoon he came to solicit her friendship, having lost +other claims; and it was then perhaps, that her responsibility in +allowing Violet Forde to spoil his life for him began to suggest itself +to her. Up to that time she had thought of the matter differently, as +she would have said, selfishly. He was not permitted to come again; but +he went away lightened, inasmuch as he had added his burden to hers. + +When a year later the national credit involved that of Prendergast's +firm, Madeline read financial articles in the newspapers with heavy +concern, surprising her family with views on 'sound money'; and when, +shortly afterward, his partners brought that unhappy young man before +the criminal courts for an irregular use of the firm's signature, which +further involved it beyond hope of extrication, there was no moment of +the day which did not find her, in spirit, beside him there. + +The case dragged on through appeal, and the decision of the lower courts +was not reversed. The day this became known the fact also transpired +that poor Prendergast would never live to complete his ten years' term +of imprisonment. He went to prison with hardly more than one lung, and +in the most favourable physical condition to get rid of the other. Mrs. +Prendergast wept a little over the installation, and assured Frederick +that it was perfectly absurd; they were certain to get him out again; +people always got people out again in America. She took him grapes and +flowers once a week for about a month, and then she sailed for Europe. +She put it about that her stay was to be as brief as was consistent with +the transaction of certain necessary business in London; but she never +came back, and Madeline Anderson had taken her place, in so far as +the grapes and flowers were concerned, for many months, when the +announcement of his wife's death reached Prendergast in an English +paper published in Paris. About a year after that it began to be thought +singular how he picked up in health, and Madeline's mother and sister +occasionally romanced about the possibility of his recovering and +marrying her after all--they had an enormous opinion of the artistic +virtue of forgiveness--but it was not a contingency ever seriously +contemplated by Miss Anderson herself. Her affection, pricked on by +remorse, had long satisfied itself with the duties of her ministry. If +she would not leave him until he died, it was because there was no one +but herself to brighten the long day in the prison hospital for him, +because she had thrown him into the arms of the woman who had deserted +him, because he represented in her fancy her life's only budding towards +the sun. Her patience lasted through six years, which was four years +longer than any doctor had given Frederick Prendergast to live; but when +one last morning she found an empty bed, and learned that Number 1596 +had been discharged in his coffin, she rose from the shock with the +sense of a task fully performed and a well-developed desire to see what +else there might be in the world. + +She announced her intention of travelling for a year or two with a maid, +and her family expressed the usual acquiescence. It would help her, they +said, to 'shake it off'; but they said that to one another. They were +not aware--and it would have spoiled an ideal for them if they had +been--that she had shaken it off, quite completely, into Prendergast's +grave. + +This was the curious reason why Miss Anderson's travels were so long +postponed. + + + +Chapter 3.II. + +It was Madeline's fancy to enjoy the contrast between West and East +in all its sharpness, so she and Brookes embarked at San Francisco for +Yokohama. Their wanderings in Japan were ideal, in spite of Brookes's +ungrateful statement that she could have done with fewer eggs and more +bacon; and Madeline prolonged the appeal of the country to her sense +of humour and fantasy, putting off her departure for India from week to +week. She went at last in March; and found herself down with fever at +Benares in the middle of one particularly hot April, two months after +the last of her fellow travellers had sailed from Bombay, haunted on her +baking pillow by pictorial views of the burning ghat and the vultures. +The station doctor, using appalling language to her punkah-coolie, +ordered her to the hills; and thus it was that she went to Simla, where +she had no intention of going, and where this story really begins. + +Brookes has always declared that Providence in sending Miss Anderson to +Simla had it in mind to prevent a tragedy; but as to that there is +room for a difference of opinion: besides I can not be anticipated by +Brookes. + +'It's the oddest place imaginable, and in many ways the most +delightful,' Madeline wrote to her sister Adele, 'this microcosm of +Indian official society withdrawn from all the world, and playing at +being a municipality on three Himalayan mountaintops. You can't imagine +its individuality, its airy, unsubstantial, superior poise. How can I +explain to you elderly gentlemen, whose faces express daily electric +communications with the Secretary of State, playing tennis violently +every single afternoon in striped flannels--writing letters of +admonition to the Amir all day long, and in the evening, with the +assistance of yellow wigs and make-up sticks from the Calcutta +hair-dresser, imagining that they produce things, poor dears, only a +LITTLE less well done than is done at the Lyceum? Nothing is beyond +them. I assure you they are contemplating at the moment 'The Second Mrs. +Tanqueray'. The effect of remoteness from the world, I suppose, and +the enormous mutual appreciation of people who have watched each other +climb. For to arrive officially at Simla they have had to climb in more +ways than one...It is all so hilarious, so high-spirited, so young +and yet, my word! what a cult of official dignity underlying! I saw a +staff-officer in full uniform, red and white feathers and all, going +to the birthday dinner at the Viceroy's the other evening in a +perambulator--rickshaw, you know, such as they have in Japan. That is +typical of the place. All the honours and dignities--and a perambulator +to put them in--or a ridiculous little white-washed house made of mud +and tin, and calling itself Warwick Castle, Blenheim, Abbotsford! They +haven't a very good hold, these Simla residences, and sometimes they +slip fifty yards or so down the mountain-side, but the chimneys (bad pun +coming) are never any more out of drawing than they were before. + +'Yet--never forget--the queer little place has a nobility, drawn I +suppose from high standards of conduct in essentials. + +'...This matter of precedence is a bore for an outsider. I am very tired +of being taken in to dinner by subalterns, because I have no "official +position." Something of the kind was offered me, by the way, the other +day, by a little gunner with red eyelids, in the Ordnance Department, +named McDermott--Captain McDermott. He took my declining very +cheerfully, said he knew Americans didn't like Englishmen, who hadn't +been taught to pronounce their "g's," but hoped I would change my mind +before the rains, when he was goin' down. Of course I sha'n't. The red +eyelids alone...I am living in a boarding-house precisely under the +deodars, and have "tiffin" with Mrs. Hauksbee every day when neither +of us are having it anywhere else. And I've been told the original of +"General Bangs," "that most immoral man." You remember, don't you, the +heliograph incident--I needn't quote it. It really happened! and the +General still lives, none the worse--perhaps rather greater. Quite half +the people seem materializations of Kipling, and it's very interesting; +but one mustn't say so if one wants to be popular. Talking of +materializations, I saw the original of Crawford's Mr. Isaacs, too, the +other day. He used to be a diamond agent among the native princes when +Crawford knew him. When I saw him he was auctioning off his collection +of curios and things. These types of novelists look wonderfully little +impaired; I suppose it's the dry air. + +'P.S.--Brookes is also quite happy. She was much struck, on arriving, by +an apparent anomaly in nature. "Have you noticed, ma'am," said she, "how +at this height all the birds are crows and monkeys?"' + +Miss Anderson described Simla exhaustively in her letters to New +York. She touched upon almost every feature, from Mrs. Mickie and Mrs. +Gammidge, whose husbands were perspiring in the Plains, and nobody +telling them anything, to the much larger number of ladies interested in +the work of the Young Women's Christian Association; from the 'type' of +the Military Secretary to the Viceroy to that of Ali Buksh, who sold raw +turquoises in a little carved shop in the bazaar. I should like to quote +more of her letters, but if I did I should find nothing about Colonel +Horace Innes, who represented--she often acknowledged to herself--her +only serious interest. Miss Anderson took the world at its own +light valuation as it came; but she had a scale of recognitions and +acceptances, which she kept apart for the very few, and Innes had +claimed a place in it the first time they met. It seems a trifle +ungrateful that she should have left him out, since it was he who gave +her a standard by which to measure the frivolity of Simla. He went to +gymkhanas--if he knew she was going--but he towered almost pictorially +above them; and when he talked to Madeline his shoulders expressed a +resentment of possible interruptions that isolated him still further. +I would not suggest that he was superior by conviction; he was only +intent, whereas most of the other people were extremely diffused, +and discriminating, while the intimacies of the rest were practically +coextensive with Government House list. Neither, for his part, would he +admit that the tone of Simla was as wholly flippant as I have implied. +They often talked about it; he recognized it as a feature likely to +compel the attention of people from other parts of the world; and +one afternoon he asked her, with some directness, if she could see no +tragedies underneath. + +'Tragedies of the heart?' she asked. 'Oh, I can not take them seriously. +The emotion is so ephemeral! A woman came to tea with me three days +ago, and made me her confessor. It was unexpected; if it hadn't been, I +wouldn't have asked her to tea. She was so unhappy that she forgot about +the rouge, and it all came off on her handkerchief when she cried. The +man likes somebody else better this season. Well, I gave her nougat and +cheap cynicisms, and she allowed herself to be comforted! Why, the loves +of kitchen-maids are more dignified.' + +They were riding on the broad four-mile road, blasted out of the rock, +that winds round Jakko. The deodars stood thick above them, with the +sunlight filtering through; a thousand feet below lay the little +square fields, yellow and green, of the King of Koti. The purple-brown +Himalayas shouldered the eye out to the horizon, and there the Snows +lifted themselves, hardly more palpable than the drifted clouds, except +for a gleam of ice in their whiteness. A low stone wall ran along the +verge of the precipice, and, looking down, they saw tangled patches +of the white wild rose of the Himalayas, waving and drooping over the +abyss. + +'I am afraid,' said Innes, 'you are not even upon the fringe of the +situation.' + +'It's the situation as I see it.' + +'Then--excuse me--you do not see deep enough. That poor lady suffered, +I suppose, to the extent of her capacity. You would not have have +increased it.' + +'I don't know, I should have preferred not to measure it.' + +'Besides, that was not quite the sort of thing I had in mind. I was +thinking more of the--separations.' + +'Ah!' said Madeline. + +'It's not fair to ask women to live much in India. Sometimes it's the +children, sometimes it's ill health, sometimes it's natural antipathy to +the place; there's always a reason to take them away.' + +'Yes,' said Madeline, turning a glance of scrutiny on him. His face was +impassive; he was watching mechanically for a chance to slay a teasing +green spider-fly. + +'That is the beginning of the tragedy I was thinking of. Time does the +rest, time and the aridity of separations. How many men and women +can hold themselves together with letters? I don't mean aging or any +physical change. I don't mean change at all.' + +'No,' said Madeline, and this time, though her curiosity was greater, +she did not look at him. + +'No. The mind could accustom itself to expect that, and so forestall +the blow, if it really would be a blow, which I doubt. For myself, I'm +pretty sure that nothing of that kind could have much effect upon one's +feeling, if it were the real thing.' He spoke practically to himself, as +if he had reasoned this out many times. + +'Oh, no!' said Madeline. + +'But separation can do a worse thing than that. It can REINTRODUCE +people, having deprived them of their mutual illusion under which they +married. If they lived together the illusion would go, I suppose, but +custom and comfort would step in to prevent a jar. There never would be +that awful revelation of indifference.' + +He stopped sharply, and the hope went through Madeline's mind that her +face expressed no personal concern for him. There was a small red stain +in the brown of his cheek as he looked at her to find out, and he added, +'I've known--in Bombay--one or two bad cases of that. But, of course, it +is the wife who suffers most. Shall we canter on?' + +'In a minute,' said Madeline, and he drew his rein again. + +She could not let this be the last word; he must not imagine that she +had seen, through the simple crystal of his convictions, the personal +situation that gave them to him. + +'Of course,' she said, thoughtfully, 'you know the Anglo-Indian world +and I don't. You must have observed this that you speak of it; it sounds +only too probable. And I confess it makes my little impression very +vulgar and superficial.' She turned her head and a candid smile to him. +'All the same, I fancy that the people who are capable of suffering much +that way are the exceptions. And--I don't care--I believe there is more +cheap sentiment in this place than the other kind. What do you think I +heard a woman say the other day at a tiffin-party? "No man has touched +my heart since I've been married," she proclaimed, "except my husband!" +AT A TIFFIN-party!' + +She heard the relief in Innes's laugh and was satisfied. + +'How does it happen,' he said, 'that women nowadays are critical of the +world so young?' + +'I shall be thirty in September, and we no longer look at society +through a tambour-frame,' she said, hardily. + +'And I shall be forty-three next month, but hitherto I have known it to +produce nothing like you,' he returned, and if there was ambiguity in +his phrase there was none in his face. + +Miss Anderson made with her head her little smiling gesture--Simla +called it very American--which expressed that all chivalrous speech was +to be taken for granted and meant nothing whatever; and as they turned +into the Ladies' Mile gave her horse his head, and herself a chance +for meditation. She thought of the matter again that evening before +her little fire of snapping deodar twigs, thought of it intently. +She remembered it all with perfect distinctness; she might have been +listening to a telephonic reproduction. + +It was the almost intimate glimpse Innes had given her of himself, and +it brought her an excitement which she did not think of analyzing. She +wrung from every sentence its last possibility of unconscious meaning, +and she found when she had finished that it was eleven o'clock. + +Then she went to bed, preferring not to call Brookes, with the somewhat +foolish feeling of being unable to account for her evening. Her last +reflection before she slept shaped itself in her mind in definite words. + +'There are no children,' it ran, 'and her health has always been good, +he says. She must have left him after that first six months in Lucknow, +because of a natural antipathy to the country--and when she condescended +to come out again for a winter he met the different lady he thinks +about. With little hard lines around the mouth and common conventional +habits of thought, full of subservience to his official superiors, and +perfectly uninterested in him except as the source of supplies. But I +don't know why I should WANT her to be so disagreeable. + +As a matter of fact, Mrs. Innes, travelling at the moment with the +mails from London to Bombay, was hastening to present to Miss Anderson +features astonishingly different. + + + +Chapter 3.III. + +The lady guests at Peliti's--Mrs. Jack Owen and the rest--were giving +a tea in the hotel pavilion. They had the band, the wife of the +Commander-in-Chief, the governess from Viceregal Lodge and one +little Viceregal girl, three A.D.C.'s, one member of council, and the +Archdeacon. These were the main features, moving among a hundred or so +of people more miscellaneous, who, like the ladies at Peliti's, had come +up out of the seething Plains to the Paradise of the summer capital. The +Pavilion overhung the Mall; looking down one could see the coming +and going of leisurely Government peons in scarlet and gold, Cashmiri +vendors of great bales of embroideries and skins, big-turbaned Pahari +horse-dealers, chaffering in groups, and here and there a mounted +Secretary-sahib trotting to the Club. Beyond, the hills dipped blue +and bluer to the plains, and against them hung a single waving yellow +laburnum, a note of imagination. Madeline Anderson was looking at +it when Mrs. Mickie and Mrs. Gammidge came up with an affectionate +observation upon the cut of her skirt, after which Mrs. Mickie harked +back to what they had been talking about before. + +'She's straight enough now, I suppose,' this lady said. + +'She goes down. But she gives people a good deal of latitude for +speculation.' + +'Who is this?' asked Madeline. 'I ask for information, to keep out of +her way. I find I am developing the most shocking curiosity. I must be +in a position to check it.' + +The ladies exchanged hardly perceptible glances. Then Mrs. Gammidge +said, 'Mrs. Innes,' and looked as if, for the moment, at any rate, she +would withhold further judgment. + +'But you mustn't avoid the poor lady,' put in Mrs. Mickie, 'simply +because of her past. It wouldn't be fair. Besides--' + +'Her past?' Madeline made one little effort to look indifferent, and +then let the question leap up in her. + +'My dear,' said Mrs. Gammidge, with brief impatience, 'he married her in +Cairo, and she was--dancing there. Case of chivalry, I believe, though +there are different versions. Awful row in the regiment--he had to take +a year's leave. Then he succeeded to the command, and the Twenty-third +were ordered out here. She came with him to Lucknow--and made slaves +of every one of them. They'll swear to you now that she was staying +at Shepheard's with an invalid mother when he met her. And now she's +accepted like everybody else; and that's all there is about it.' + +'There's nothing in that,' said Madeline, determinedly, 'to prove that +she wasn't--respectable.' + +'N--no. Of course not,' and again the eye of Mrs. Gammidge met that of +Mrs. Mickie. + +'Though, you see love,' added the latter lady, 'it would have been +nicer for his people--they've never spoken to him since--if she had been +making her living otherwise in Cairo.' + +'As a barmaid, for instance,' said Madeline, sarcastically. + +'As a barmaid, for instance,' repeated Mrs. Gammidge, calmly. + +'But Simla isn't related to him--Simla doesn't care!' Mrs. Mickie +exclaimed. 'Everybody will be as polite as possible when she turns +up. You'll see. You knew, didn't you, that she was coming out in the +Caledonia?' + +'No,' said Madeline. She looked carefully where she was going to put her +coffee-cup, and then she glanced out again at the laburnum hanging over +the plains. 'I--I am glad to hear it. These separations you take so +lightly out here are miserable, tragic.' + +The other ladies did not exchange glances this time. Miss Anderson's +change of tone was too marked for comment which she might have detected. + +'Colonel Innes got the telegram this morning. She wired from Brindisi,' +Mrs. Gammidge said. + +'Does he seem pleased?' asked Mrs. Mickie, demurely. + +'He said he was afraid she would find it very hot coming up here from +Bombay. And, of course, he is worried about a house. When a man has been +living for months at the Club--' + +'Of course, poor fellow! I do love that dear old Colonel Innes, though I +can't say I know him a bit. He won't take the trouble to be nice to me, +but I am perfectly certain he must be the dearest old thing inside +of him. Worth any dozen of these little bow-wows that run round after +rickshaws,' said Mrs. Mickie, with candour. + +'I think he's a ridiculous old glacier,' Mrs. Gammidge remarked, and +Mrs. Mickie looked at Madeline and said, 'Slap her!' + +'What for?' asked Miss Anderson, with composure. 'I dare say he +is--occasionally. It isn't a bad thing to be, I should think, in Indian +temperatures.' + +'I guess you got it that time, dear lady,' said Mrs. Mickie to Mrs. +Gammidge, as Madeline slipped toward the door. + +'Meant to be cross, did she? How silly of her! If she gives her little +heart away like that often, people will begin to make remarks.' + +'The worst of that girl is,' Mrs. Mickie continued, 'that you never can +depend upon her. For days together she'll be just as giddy and jolly as +anybody and then suddenly she'll give you a nasty superior bit of +ice down the back of your neck like that. I've got her coming to tea +tomorrow afternoon,' Mrs. Mickie added, with sudden gloom, 'and little +Lord Billy and all that set are coming. They'll throw buns at each +other--I know they will. What, in heaven's name, made me ask her?' + +'Oh, she'll have recovered by then. You must make allowance for the +shock we gave her, poor dear. Consider how you would feel if Lady +Worsley suddenly appeared upon the scene, and demanded devotion from Sir +Frank.' + +'She wouldn't get it,' Mrs. Mickie dimpled candidly. 'Frank always loses +his heart and his conscience at the same time. But you don't suppose +there's anything serious in this affair? Pure pretty platonics, I should +call it.' + +Mrs. Gammidge lifted her eyebrows. 'I dare say that is what they imagine +it. Well, they're never in the same room for two minutes without being +aware of it, and their absorption when they get in a corner--I saw her +keep the Viceroy waiting, the other night after dinner, while Colonel +Innes finished a sentence. And then she was annoyed at the interruption. +Here's Kitty Vesey, lookin' SUCH a dog! Hello, Kitty! where did you get +that hat, where did you get that tile? But that wasn't the colour of +your hair last week, Kitty!' + +'Don't feel any kind of a dog'--Mrs. Vesey's pout, though becoming, was +genuine. 'I'm in a perfectly furious rage, my dears, and I'm coming home +to cry, just as soon as I've had an ice. What do you think--they won't +let me have Val for Captain Wynne's part in 'The Outcast Pearl'--they +say he's been tried before, and he's a stick. Did you ever hear of such +brutes? They want me to act with Major Dalton, and he's MUCH too old for +the part.' + +'Kitten,' said Mrs. Mickie, with conviction, 'Valentine Drake on the +stage would be fatal to your affection for him.' + +'I don't care, I won't act with anybody else--I'll throw up the part. +Haven't I got to make love to the man? How am I to play up to such an +unkissable-looking animal as Major Dalton? I shall CERTAINLY throw up +the part.' + +'Don't do anything rash, Kitty. If you do, they'll probably offer it to +me, and I warn you I won't give it back to you.' + +'Oh, refuse it, like a dear! I am dying to put them in a hole. It's +jealousy, that's what it is. Goodbye, Mrs. Jack, I've had a lovely time. +Val and I have been explaining our affection to the Archdeacon, and he +says it's perfectly innocent. We're going to get him to put it on paper +to produce when Jimmy sues for a divorce, aren't we, Val?' + +'You're not going?' said Mrs. Jack Owen. + +'Oh, yes, I must. But I've enjoyed myself awfully, and so has everybody +I've been talking to. I say, Mickie, dear--about tomorrow afternoon--I +suppose I may bring Val?' + +'Oh, dear, yes,' Mrs. Mickie replied. 'But you must let me hold his +hand.' + +'I don't know which of you is the most ridiculous,' Mrs. Owen remarked; +'I shall write to both your husbands this very night,' but as the group +shifted and left her alone with Mrs. Gammidge, she said she didn't know +whether Mrs. Vesey would be quite so chirpy three weeks hence. 'When +Mrs. Innes comes out,' she added in explanation. 'Oh, yes, Valentine +Drake is quite her property. My own idea is that Kitty won't be in it.' + +Where the road past Peliti's dips to the Mall Madeline met Horace Innes. +When she appeared in her rickshaw he dismounted, and gave the reins to +his syce. She saw in his eyes the look of a person who has been all +day lapsing into meditation and rousing himself from it. 'You are very +late,' she said as he came up. + +'Oh, I'm not going; at least, you are just coming away, aren't you? I +think it is too late. I'll turn back with you.' + +'Do,' she said, and looked at his capable, sensitive hand as he laid +it on the side of her little carriage. Miss Anderson had not the +accomplishment of palm-reading, but she took general manual impressions. +She had observed Colonel Innes's hand before, but it had never offered +itself so intimately to her inspection. That, perhaps, was why the +conviction seemed new to her, as she thought 'He is admirable--and it is +all there.' + +When they got to the level Mall he kept his hold, which was a perfectly +natural and proper thing for him to do, walking alongside; but she still +looked at it. + +'I have heard your good news,' she said, smiling congratulation at him. + +'My good news? Oh, about my wife, of course. Yes, she ought to be here +by the end of the month. I thought of writing to tell you when the +telegram came, and then I--didn't. The files drove it out of my head, I +fancy.' + +'Heavy day?' + +'Yes,' he said, absently. They went along together in an intimacy of +silence, and Madeline was quite aware of the effort with which she said: + +'I shall look forward to meeting Mrs. Innes.' + +It was plain that his smile was perfunctory, but he put it on with +creditable alacrity. + +'She will be delighted. My wife is a clever woman,' he went on, 'very +bright and attractive. She keeps people well amused.' + +'She must be a great success in India, then.' + +'I think she is liked. She has a tremendous fund of humour and spirits. +A fellow feels terribly dull beside her sometimes.' + +Madeline cast a quick glance at him, but he was only occupied to find +other matters with which he might commend his wife. + +'She is very fond of animals,' he said, 'and she sings and plays +well--really extremely well.' + +'That must be charming,' murmured Madeline, privately iterating, 'He +doesn't mean to damn her--he doesn't mean to damn her.' 'Have you a +photograph of her?' + +'Quantities of them,' he said, with simplicity. + +'You have never shown me one. But how could you?' she added in haste; +'a photograph is always about the size of a door nowadays. It is simply +impossible to keep one's friends and relations in a pocketbook as one +used to do.' + +They might have stopped there, but some demon of persistence drove +Madeline on. She besought help from her imagination; she was not for the +moment honest. It was an impulse--an equivocal impulse--born doubtless +of the equivocal situation, and it ended badly. + +'She will bring something of the spring out to you,' said Madeline--'the +spring in England. How many years is it since you have seen it? There +will be a breath of the cowslips about her, and in her eyes the soft wet +of the English sky. Oh, you will be very glad to see her.' The girl was +well aware of her insincerity, but only dimly of her cruelty. She was +drawn on by something stronger than her sense of honesty and humanity, a +determination to see, to know, that swept these things away. + +Innes's hand tightened on the rickshaw, and he made at first no answer. +Then he said: + +'She has been staying in town, you know.' + +There was just a quiver of Madeline's eyelid; it said nothing of the +natural rapacity behind. This man's testimony was coming out in throes, +and yet--it must be said--again she probed. + +'Then she will put you in touch again,' she cried; 'you will remember +when you see her all the vigour of great issues and the fascination of +great personalities. For a little while, anyway, after she comes, you +will be in a world--far away from here--where people talk and think and +live.' + +He looked at her in wonder, not understanding, as indeed how could he? + +'Why,' he said, 'you speak of what YOU have done'; and before the truth +of this she cast down her eyes and turned a hot, deep red, and had +nothing to say. + +'No,' he said, 'my wife is not like that.' + +He walked along in absorption, from which he roused himself with +resentment in his voice. + +'I can not leave such a fabric of illusion in your mind. It irritates me +that it should be there--about anybody belonging to me. My wife is not +in the least what you imagine her. She has her virtues, but she is--like +the rest. I can not hope that you will take to her, and she won't +like you either--we never care about the same people. And we shall see +nothing of you--nothing. I can hardly believe that I am saying this of +my own wife, but--I wish that she had stayed in England.' + +'Mrs. Mickie!' cried Madeline to a passing rickshaw, 'what are you +rushing on like that for? Just go quietly and peaceably along with us, +please, and tell us what Mrs. Vesey decided to do about her part in 'The +Outcast Pearl'. I'm dining out tonight--I must know.' And Mrs. Mickie +was kind enough to accompany them all the rest of the way. + +Miss Anderson dined out, and preferred to suppose that she had no time +to think until she was on her way home along the empty road round Jakko +at eleven o'clock that night. Then it pleased her to get out of her +rickshaw and walk. There was an opulent moon, the vast hills curving +down to the plains were all grey and silvery, and the deodars overhead +fretted the road with dramatic shadows. About her hung the great +stillness in a mighty loneliness in which little Simla is set, and it +freed her from what had happened, so that she could look at it and cry +out. She actually did speak, pausing in the little pavilion on the road +where the nursemaids gather in the daytime, but very low, so that her +words fell round her even in that silence, and hardly a deodar was +aware. 'I will not go now,' she said. 'I will stay and realize that he +is another woman's husband. That should cure me if anything will--to see +him surrounded by the commonplaces of married life, that kind of married +life. I will stay till she comes and a fortnight after. Besides, I want +to see her--I want to see how far she comes short.' She was silent for +a moment, and the moonlight played upon her smile of quiet triumph. +'He cares too,' she said; 'he cares too, but he doesn't know it, and +I promise you one thing, Madeline Anderson, you won't help him to find +out. And in five weeks I will go away and leave my love where I found +it--on a mountaintop in the middle of Asia!' + + + +Chapter 3.IV. + +Madeline did her best to make certain changes delicately, imperceptibly, +so that Innes would not, above all things, be perplexed into seeking for +their reason. The walks and rides came to a vague conclusion, and Miss +Anderson no longer kept the Viceroy or anybody else waiting, while Innes +finished what he had to say to her in public, since his opportunities +for talking to her seemed to become gradually more and more like +everybody else's. So long as she had been mistress of herself she was +indifferent to the very tolerant and good-natured gossip of the hill +capital; but as soon as she found her citadel undermined, the lightest +kind of comment became a contingency unbearable. In arranging to make +it impossible, she was really over-considerate and over-careful. Her +soldier never thought of analyzing his bad luck or searching for motive +in it. To him the combinations of circumstances that seemed always to +deprive him of former pleasures were simply among the things that might +happen. Grieving, she left him under that impression for the sake of its +expediency, and tried to make it by being more than ever agreeable on +the occasions when he came and demanded a cup of tea, and would not be +denied. After all, she consoled herself, no situation was improved by +being turned too suddenly upside down. + +She did not wholly withdraw his privilege of taking counsel with her, +and he continued to go away freshened and calmed, leaving her to toss +little sad reflections into the fire, and tremulously wonder whether the +jewel of her love had flashed ever so little behind the eyes. They both +saw it a conspicuous thing that as those three weeks went on, neither he +nor she alluded even remotely to Mrs. Innes, but the fact remained, and +they allowed it to remain. + +Nevertheless, Madeline knew precisely when that lady was expected, and +as she sauntered in the bazaar one morning, and heard Innes's steps and +voice behind her, her mind became one acute surmise as to whether he +could possibly postpone the announcement any longer. But he immediately +made it plain that this was his business in stopping to speak to her. +'Good morning,' he said, and then, 'My wife comes tomorrow.' He had +not told her a bit of personal news, he had made her an official +communication, as briefly as it could be done, and he would have raised +his hat and gone on without more words if Madeline had not thwarted him. +'What a stupidity for him to be haunted by afterward!' was the essence +of the thought that visited her; and she put out a detaining hand. + +'Really! By the Bombay mail, I suppose--no, an hour or so later; private +tongas are always as much as that behind the mail.' + +'About eleven, I fancy. You--you are not inclined for a canter round +Summer Hill before breakfast?' + +'I am terrified of Summer Hill. The Turk always misbehaves there. +Yesterday he got one leg well over the khud--I WAS thankful he had four. +Tell me, are you ready for Mrs. Innes--everything in the house? Is there +anything I can do? + +'Oh, thanks very much! I don't think so. The house isn't ready, as a +matter of fact, but two or three people have offered to put us up for a +day or so until it is. I've left it open till my wife comes, as I dare +say she has already arranged to go to somebody. What are you buying? +Country tobacco, upon my word! For your men? That's subversive of all +discipline!' + +The lines on his face relaxed; he looked at her with fond recognition of +another delightful thing in her. + +'You give sugar-cane to your horses,' she declared; 'why shouldn't I +give tobacco to mine? Goodbye; I hope Mrs. Innes will like "Two Gables". +There are roses waiting for her in the garden, at all events.' + +'Are there?' he said. 'I didn't notice. Goodbye, then.' + +He went on to his office thinking of the roses, and that they were in +his garden, and that Madeline had seen them there. He thought that if +they were good roses--in fact, any kind of roses--they should be taken +care of, and he asked a Deputy Assistant Inspector-General of Ordnance +whether he knew of a gardener that was worth anything. + +'Most of them are mere coolies,' said Colonel Innes, 'and I've got some +roses in this little place I've taken that I want to look after.' + +Next day Madeline took Brookes, and 'The Amazing Marriage', and a +lunch-basket, and went out to Mashobra, where the deodars shadow hardly +any scandal at all, and the Snows come, with perceptible confidence, a +little nearer. + +'They almost step,' she said to Brookes, looking at them, 'out of the +realm of the imagination.' + +Brookes said that they did indeed, and hoped that she hadn't by any +chance forgotten the mustard. + +'The wind is keen off the glaciers over there--anybody would think of a +condiment,' Miss Anderson remarked in deprecation, and to this Brookes +made no response. It was a liberty she often felt compelled to take. + +The Snows appealed to Madeline even more than did Carintha, Countess +of Fleetwood, to whose fortunes she gave long pauses while she looked +across their summits at renunciation, and fancied her spirit made strong +and equal to its task. She was glad of their sanctuary; she did not know +where she should find such another. Perhaps the spectacle was more than +ever sublime in its alternative to the one she had come away to postpone +the sight of; at all events it drove the reunion of the Inneses from her +mind several times for five minutes together, during which she thought +of Horace by himself, and went over, by way of preparation for her +departure, all that had come and gone between them. There had been +luminous moments, especially as they irradiated him, and she dwelt on +these. There was no reason why she should not preserve in London or in +New York a careful memory of them. + +So the lights were twinkling all up and down and round about Simla +when she cantered back to it and it was late when she started for the +Worsleys, where she was dining. One little lighted house looked much +like another perched on the mountainside, and the wooden board painted +'Branksome Hall, Maj.-Gen. T.P. Worsley, R.E.,' nailed to the most +conspicuous tree from the main road, was invisible in the darkness. +Madeline arrived in consequence at the wrong dinner-party, and was +acclaimed and redirected with much gaiety, which gave her a further +agreeable impression of the insouciance of Simla, but made her later +still at the Worsleys. So that half the people were already seated when +she at last appeared, and her hostess had just time to cry, 'My dear, +we thought the langurs must have eaten you! Captain Gordon, you are not +abandoned after all. You know Miss Anderson?' when she found herself +before her soup. + +Captain Gordon heard her account of herself with complacence, and +declared, wiping his moustache, that a similar experience had befallen +him only a fortnight before. + +'Did you ever hear the story of that absent-minded chap, Sir James +Jackson, who went to the RIGHT dinner-party by mistake?' he asked, 'and +apologized like mad, by Jove! and insisted he couldn't stay. The people +nearly had to tie him down in his--' Captain Gordon stopped, arrested by +his companion's sudden and complete inattention. + +'I see a lady,' interrupted Madeline, with odd distinctness, 'curiously +like somebody I have known before.' Her eyes convinced themselves, and +then refused to be convinced of the inconceivable fact that they were +resting on Violet Prendergast. It was at first too amazing, too amazing +only. Then an old forgotten feeling rose in her bosom; the hand on +the stem of her wine-glass grew tense. The sensation fell away; she +remembered her emancipation, the years arose and reassured her during +which Violet Prendergast, living or dead, had been to her of absolutely +no importance. Yet there was a little aroused tremour in her voice as +she went on, 'She is on the General's right--he must have taken her in. +Can you see from where you are sitting?' + +'These narrow oval tables are a nuisance that way, aren't they? You +don't know who you're dining with till the end of the function. Oh! I +see--that's Mrs. Innes, just out, and fresh as paint, isn't she? The +Colonel'--Captain Gordon craned his head again--'is sitting fourth from +me on this side.' + +'Mrs. Innes! Really!' said Madeline. 'Then--then of course I must be +mistaken.' + +She removed her eyes almost stealthily from the other woman's face +and fixed them on the pattern of the table-cloth. Her brain guided her +clearly through the tumult of her perception, and no emotion could be +observed in the smiling attention which she gave to Captain Gordon's +account of the afternoon's tandem racing; but there was a furious +beating in her breast, and she thought she could never draw a breath +long enough to control it. It helped her that there was food to swallow, +wine to drink, and Captain Gordon to listen to; and under cover of these +things she gradually, consciously, prepared herself for the shock of +encounter which should be conclusive. Presently she leaned a little +forward and let her glance, in which no outsider could see the steady +recognition, rest upon the lady on the General's right, until that +person's agreeable blue eyes wandered down the table and met it. +Perhaps Madeline's own eyelids fluttered a little as she saw the sudden +stricture in the face that received her message, and the grimace with +which it uttered, pallid with apprehension, its response to a pleasantry +of General Worsley's. She was not consummate in her self-control, but +she was able at all events to send the glance travelling prettily on +with a casual smile for an intervening friend, and bring it back to her +dinner-roll without mischief. It did not adventure again; she knew, and +she set herself to hold her knowledge, to look at it and understand it, +while the mechanical part of her made up its mind about the entrees, and +sympathized with Captain Gordon on his hard luck in having three ponies +laid up at once. She did not look again, although she felt the watching +of the other woman, and was quite aware of the moment at which Mrs. +Innes allowed herself the reprieve of believing that at the Worsley's +dinner-party at least there would be no scandal. The belief had +its reflex action, doing something to calm her. How could there +be--scandal--she asked herself, and dismissed with relief the +denunciations which crowded vague but insistent in her brain. Even then +she had not grasped the salient points of the situation; she was +too much occupied with its irony as it affected her personally; her +impressions circled steadily round the word 'twice' and the unimaginable +coincidence. Her resentment filled her, and her indignation was like +a clear flame behind her smiling face. Robbed twice, once in New York +and--oh! preposterous--the second time in Simla! Robbed of the same +things by the same hand! She perceived in the shock of it only a +monstrous fatality, a ludicrously wicked chance. This may have been due +to the necessity of listening to Captain Gordon. + +At all events it was only as she passed Colonel Innes on her way to the +drawing-room and saw ahead of her the very modish receding back of Mrs. +Innes that she realized other things--crime and freedom. + +It was the reversion of power; it brought her a great exultation. She +sat down under it in a corner, hoping to be left alone, with a white +face and shining eyes. Power and opportunity and purpose--righteous +purpose! + +The circumstances had come to her in a flash; she brought them up again +steadily and scrutinized them. The case was absolutely clear. Frank +Prendergast had been dead just seven months. Colonel Innes imagined +himself married four years. Violet Prendergast was a bigamist, and +Horace Innes had no wife. + +That was the marvellous transcendent fact; that was what lifted her and +carried her on great pulsing waves that rolled beyond the walls of the +little fripperied drawing-room and its collection of low-necked women, +out into her life, which had not these boundaries. She lived again in a +possible world. There was no stone wall between herself and joy. + +The old Mussulman butler who offered her coffee looked at her with +aroused curiosity--here was certainly a memsahib under the favour of +God--and as she stirred it, the shadow that Violet Prendergast had +thrown upon her life faded out of her mind in the light that was there. +Then she looked up and met that lady's vivid blue eyes. Mrs. Innes's +colour had not returned, but there was a recklessness in the lines of +her mouth. In the way she held her chin, expressing that she had been +reflecting on old scores, and anticipated the worst. Meeting this +vigilance Miss Anderson experienced a slight recoil. Her happiness, she +realized, had been brought to her in the hands of ugly circumstance. + +'And so melodramatic,' she told herself. 'It is really almost vulgar. In +a story I should have no patience with it.' But she went on stirring her +coffee with a little uncontrollable smile. + +A moment later she had to contemplate the circumstance that her hostess +was addressing her. Mrs. Innes wished to be introduced. Mrs. Innes, +incarnate, conscious sensation, was smiling at her, saying that she must +know so great a friend of her husband's. He made so few friends, and she +was so grateful to anybody who was good to him. Eyes and voice tolerably +in rein, aware of the situation at every point, she had a meretricious +daring; and it occurred to Madeline, looking at her, that she was after +all a fairly competent second-class adventuress. She would not refuse +the cue. It would make so little difference. + +'On the contrary, I am tremendously indebted to Colonel Innes. He has +been so very kind about ponies and jhampanies and things. Simla is +full of pitfalls for a stranger, don't you think?' And Miss Anderson, +unclosing her fan, turned her reposeful head a little in the direction +of three married schoolgirls voluble on her left. + +'Not when you get to know the language. You must learn the language; +it's indispensable. But of course it depends on how long you mean to +stay.' + +'I think I will learn the language,' said Madeline. + +'But General Worsley told me you were leaving Simla in a fortnight.' + +'Oh no. My plans are very indefinite; but I shall stay much longer than +that.' + +'It is Miss Anderson, isn't it?--Miss Madeline Anderson, of New +York--no, Brooklyn?' + +Madeline looked at her. 'Did not the General say so?' she asked. + +'Yes, he did. But one looks to make quite sure.' + +'I can understand that.' + +Mrs. Innes leaned forward with one elbow on her knee. + +It was not a graceful attitude, but it gave the casual air to the +conversation which was desirable. + +'What are you going to do?' she said. + +'My plans are as indefinite as possible, really,' Madeline returned. +'I may spend the cold weather in Calcutta, or go into camp with the +Dovedells--I should like that.' + +'Mrs. Innes,' cried the nearest schoolgirl, 'we are coming tomorrow to +see all the lovely things in your boxes, may we?' + +'Do, duckies. But mind, no copying of them by durzies in the veranda. +They're all Paris things--Coulter's--and you know he doesn't copy well, +does he? Oh, dear! here are the men--they always come too soon, don't +they? So glad to have had even a little chat, Miss Anderson. I'll come +and see you tomorrow. You know newcomers in India always make the first +calls. I shall find you at home, sha'n't I?' + +'By all means,' Madeline said. + +Mrs. Innes crossed the room, crying out that the heat was perfectly +absurd for Simla, it must be cooler outside; and as Captain Valentine +Drake followed her into the semi-darkness of the veranda, the three +married schoolgirls looked at each other and smiled. + +'Don't be naughty,' said Captain Gordon, leaning over the sofa from +behind. 'They're very dear friends, and they've been separated for two +years.' + +Madeline heard this as plainly as they did. She noted disdainfully how +it all fell in. + +'How absent you are tonight!' Horace Innes exclaimed, when Miss Anderson +had asked him a trivial question for the third time. + +'Hush!' she said. 'Mrs. Scallepa is going to sing;' and as Mrs. Scallepa +sang she let her eyes play over him with a light in them so tender, that +once catching it the felt a sudden answering throb, and looked again; +but after that her eyes were on the floor. + +'We are staying here,' he said a quarter of an hour later, as he saw her +into her rickshaw; 'and I think I must see you to your quarters. It's +very dark, and there is an ugly little slip half-way between this and +the Mall. + +He ran upstairs to get his coat and stick, and a white face like an +apparition suddenly hung itself on the edge of Madeline's rickshaw-hood. + +'Don't tell him tonight,' it said, hoarsely. + +'Are you ready, Colonel Innes? Then good night, everybody,' cried +Madeline. + +She was not at all sure that she would not tell Horace Innes 'tonight'. + + + +Chapter 3.V. + +'My wife,' said Colonel Innes, 'is looking extremely well.' + +'She seems so, indeed,' Madeline replied. + +'She is delighted with "Two Gables". Likes it better, she says, than any +other house we could have got.' + +'What a good thing!' + +'It was a record trip for the Caledonia, thirteen days from Brindisi to +Bombay. Was she telling you about the voyage?' + +'No,' said Madeline impatiently, 'she didn't mention it. How shall I +tell the men to put down the hood, please? A rickshaw is detestable with +the hood up--stifling! Thanks. I beg your pardon. The Caledonia made a +good run?' + +'Thirteen days. Wonderful weather, of course, which was luck for Violet. +She is an atrocious sailor.' + +Madeline fancied she heard repose and reassurance in his voice. +Her thought cried, 'It is not so bad as he expected!' We can not be +surprised that she failed to see in herself the alleviation of that +first evening. + +'She has brought quantities of things for the house with her,' Innes +went on, 'as well as three dachshund puppies,' and he laughed. 'Wouldn't +you like one? What can we do with three--and the terrier, and Brutus?' + +'Oh, thank you, no.' + +How could he laugh? How could he speak pleasantly of these intimate +details of his bondage? How could he conceive that she would accept-- + +'Already she has arranged four dinner-parties! It will be a relief not +to have to think of that sort of thing--to be able to leave it to her.' + +'Mrs. Innes must have great energy. To drive all the way up from Kalka +by noon and appear at a dinner-party at night--wonderful!' + +'Oh, great energy,' Horace said. + +'She will take you everywhere--to all the functions. She will insist on +your duty to society.' + +Madeline felt that she must get him somehow back into his slough of +despond. His freedom paralyzed her. And he returned with a pathetic +change of tone. + +'I suppose there is no alternative. Violet is very good about being +willing to go alone, or with somebody else; but I never think it quite +fair on one's wife to impose on her the necessity of going about with +other men.' + +'Mrs. Worsley introduced us after dinner,' said Madeline. + +She kept disparagement out of her mind, but he could not help perceiving +aloofness. + +'Yes?' + +The monosyllable told her sensitive ear that while he admitted her +consideration in going on with the subject, he was willing to recognize +that there was no more to say, and have done with it. She gathered up +her scruples and repugnances in a firm grasp. She would not let him +throw his own shadow, as an effectual obstacle, between himself and +liberty. + +'I am going to ask you something,' she said; it might come naturally +enough from another man with whom your friendship was as candid as it +is with me; but there is an awkwardness in it from a woman. You must +believe I have a good reason. Will you tell me about your first meeting +with Mrs. Innes, when--when you became engaged?' + +She knew she was daring a good deal; but when a man's prison is to be +brought down about his ears, one might as well begin, she thought, at +the foundation. + +For a moment Innes did not speak, and then his words came slowly. + +I find it difficult,' he said, 'to answer you. How can it matter--it is +impossible. I suppose you have heard some story, and it is like you to +want to be in a position to negative it. Ignore it instead. She has very +successfully championed herself. Believe nothing to her disadvantage +that may be said about that--that time. I was pleased to marry her, and +she was pleased to marry me. But for God's sake don't let us talk about +it!' + +As he spoke Madeline saw the vivid clearness of the situation grow +blurred and confused. It was as if her point of view had suddenly +changed and her eyes failed her. Her eager impulse had beat less and +less strongly from the Worsley's door; now it seemed to shrink away in +fetters. Her eyes filled with vaguely resentful tears, which sprang, +if she could have traced them, from the fact that the man she loved was +loyal to his own mistake, and the formless premonition that he might +continue to be. She contorted her lip to keep her emotion back, and +deliberately turned away from a matter in which she was not mistress, +and which contained ugly possibilities of buffeting. She would wait a +little, and though consideration for Violet Prendergast had nothing to +do with it, she would not tell him tonight. + +'I am sorry,' she said; and, after a moment, 'Did I tell you that I have +changed my plans?' + +'You are not going so soon?' she took all the comfort there was in his +eagerness. + +'I am not going at all for the present. I have abandoned my intentions +and my dates. I mean to drift for a little while. I have been too--too +conscientious.' + +'Are you quite serious--do you mean it?' + +'Indeed I do.' + +'And in less than a fortnight you will not go out of one's life. You +will stay on--you summer day! It's hard to believe in luck like that. I +sent a poor devil of a sepoy a reprieve last week--one knows now how he +must have felt about it.' + +'Does it make all that difference?' Madeline asked, softly. + +'It makes a difference,' he answered, controlling his words, 'that I am +glad you can not conceive, since that would mean that your life has been +as barren as mine.' He seemed to refrain from saying more, and then he +added, 'You must be careful when you plant your friendship that you mean +it to stay, and blossom. It will not come easily up by the roots, and it +will leave an ugly hole.' + +He was helping her out of her rickshaw, and as they followed the servant +who carried her wraps the few yards to the door, she left her hand +lightly on his arm. It was the seal, he thought, of her unwritten bond +that there should be no uprooting of the single flower he cherished; and +he went back almost buoyantly because of it to the woman who had been +sitting in the sackcloth and ashes of misfortune, turning over the +expedients for which his step might make occasion. + +By the time the monkeys began to scramble about the roof in the early +creeping of the dawn among the deodars, Madeline had groped her way to +a tolerably clear conception of what might happen. The impeding +circumstance everywhere, it must be acknowledged, was Frederick +Prendergast's coffin. The case, had convict No. 1596 been still alive +and working out his debt to society, would have been transcendentally +simple, she told herself. Even a convict has a right--a prospective +right--to his wife, and no honest man should be compelled to retain a +criminal's property. This was an odd reflection, perhaps, to be made by +Madeline Anderson, but the situation as a whole might be described as +curious. And there was no doubt about the coffin. + + + +Chapter 3.VI. + +The veranda of which Miss Anderson's little sitting-room claimed its +section hung over the road, and it seemed to her that she heard the +sound of Mrs. Innes's arrival about ten minutes after breakfast. + +On the contrary, she had spent two whole hours contemplating, with very +fixed attention, first the domestic circumstances of Colonel Horace +Innes and their possible development, and then, with a pang of +profoundest acknowledgment, the moral qualities which he would bring to +bear upon them. She was further from knowing what course she personally +intended to pursue than ever, when she heard the wheels roll up +underneath; and she had worked herself into a state of sufficient +detachment from the whole problem to reflect upon the absurdity of a +bigamist rattling forth to discuss her probable ruin in the fanciful +gaiety of a rickshaw. The circumstances had its value though; it +lightened all responsibility for the lady concerned. As Madeline +heard her jump out and give pronounced orders for the securing of an +accompanying dachshund, it did not seem to matter so particularly what +became of Violet Prendergast. + +Mrs. Innes's footsteps came briskly along the veranda. Madeline noted +that there was no lagging. 'Number seven,' she said aloud; as she passed +other doors, 'Number eight--number nine! Ah! there you are.' The +door was open. 'I wouldn't let them bring up my card for fear of some +mistake. How do you do? Now please don't get up--you look so comfortable +with your book. What is it? Oh, yes, of course, THAT. People were +talking about it a good deal when I left London, but I haven't read it. +Is it good?' + +'I like it,' said Madeline. She half rose as Mrs. Innes entered; but as +the lady did not seem to miss the ceremony of greeting, she was glad to +sink back in her chair. + +'And how do you like Simla? Charming in many ways, isn't it? A little +too flippant, I always say--rather TOO much champagne and silliness. But +awfully bracing.' + +'The Snows are magnificent,' Madeline said, 'when you can see them. And +there's a lot of good work done here.' + +'Aren't they divine? I did nothing, absolutely nothing, my first season +but paint them. And the shops--they're not bad, are they, for the size +of the place? Though today, upon my soul, there doesn't seem to be a +yard of white spotted veiling among them.' + +'That is annoying,' said Madeline, 'if you want spotted veiling.' + +'Isn't it? Well'--Mrs. Innes take a deep breath--'you DIDN'T tell him +last night?' + +'N--no,' said Madeline, with deliberation. + +'I WAS grateful. I knew I could rely upon you not to. It would have been +too cruel when we have only just been reunited--dear Horace would have +had to sleep in the--' + +'Pray--' + +'Well, Horace is the soul of honour. Is your ayah in there?' Mrs. Innes +nodded towards the bedroom door. 'You can not imagine what long ears she +has.' + +'I have no ayah. There is only Brookes;' and as that excellent woman +passed through the room with a towel over her arm, Madeline said, 'You +can go now, Brookes, and see about that alpaca. Take the rickshaw; it +looks very threatening.' + +'Maid! You ARE a swell! There are only four genuine maids in Simla that +I know of--the rest are really nurse-girls. What a comfort she must be! +THE luxury of all others that I long for; but alas! army pay, you know. +I did once bring a dear thing out with me from Nice--you should have +seen Horace's face.' + +'I couldn't very well go about quite alone; it would be uncomfortable.' + +'Except that you Americans are so perfectly independent.' + +'On the contrary. If I could order about a servant the way an +Englishwoman does--' + +'Say you are not going to tell him! I've got such a lot of other calls +to make,' exclaimed Mrs. Innes. 'Dear Lady Bloomfield won't understand +it if I don't call today, especially after the baby. What people in +that position want with more babies I can not comprehend. Of course you +haven't noticed it, but a baby is such a shock to Simla.' + +'Don't let me keep you,' Madeline said, rising. + +'But you haven't promised. Do promise, Miss Anderson. You gain nothing +by telling him, except your revenge; and I should think by this time +you would have forgiven me for taking Frederick away from you. He didn't +turn out so well! You can't still bear me malice over that convict in +Sing Sing.' + +'For his sake, poor fellow, I might.' + +'Coming along I said to myself, "She CAN score off me badly, but surely +she doesn't want to so much as all that." Besides, I really only took +your leavings, you know. You threw poor Fred Prendergast over.' + +'I am not prepared to discuss that,' Madeline said, at no pains to +smooth the curve out of her lip. + +'Then I thought, "Perhaps--you never can tell with people--she will +think it her DUTY to make a fuss."' + +'That is a possible point of view.' + +'I know. You think I'm an imposter on society and I ought to be exposed, +and I suppose you could shut every door in Simla against me if you +liked. But you are a friend of my husband's, Miss Anderson. You would +not turn his whole married life into a scandal and ruin his career?' + +'Ruin his career?' + +'Of course. Government is awfully particular. It mayn't be his fault +in the least, but no man is likely to get any big position with a cloud +over his domestic affairs. Horace would resign, naturally.' + +'Or take long leave,' Mrs. Innes added to herself, but she did not give +Madeline this alternative. A line or two of nervous irritation marked +themselves about her eyes, and her colour had faded. Her hat was less +becoming than it had been, and she had pulled a button off her glove. + +'Besides,' she went on quickly, 'it isn't as if you could do any good, +you know. The harm was done once for all when I let him think he'd +married me. I thought then--well, I had to take it or leave it--and +every week I expected to hear of Frederick's death. Then I meant to tell +Horace myself, and have the ceremony over again. He couldn't refuse. +And all these years it's been like living on a volcano, in the fear of +meeting New York people. Out here there never are any, but in England I +dye my hair, and alter my complexion.' + +'Why did you change your mind,' Madeline asked, 'about telling Colonel +Innes?' + +'I haven't! Why should I change my mind? For my own protection, I mean +to get things put straight instantly--when the time comes.' + +'When the time comes,' Madeline repeated; and her eyes, as she fixed +them on Mrs. Innes, were suddenly so lightened with a new idea that she +dropped the lids over them as she waited for the answer. + +'When poor Frederick does pass away,' Mrs. Innes said, with an air of +observing the proprieties. 'When they put him in prison it was a matter +of months, the doctors said. That was one reason why I went abroad. I +couldn't bear to stay there and see him dying by inches, poor fellow.' + +'Couldn't you?' + +'Oh, I couldn't. And the idea of the hard labour made me SICK. But +it seems to have improved his health, and now--there is no telling! I +sometimes believe he will live out his sentence. Should you think that +possible in the case of a man with half a lung?' + +'I have no knowledge of pulmonary disease,' Madeline said. She forced +the words from her lips and carefully looked away, taking this second +key to the situation mechanically, and for a moment groping with it. + +'What arrangement did you make to be informed about--about him?' she +asked, and instantly regretted having gone so perilously near provoking +a direct question. + +'I subscribe to the "New York World". I used to see lots of things in +it--about the shock the news of my death gave him--' + +A flash of hysterical amusement shot into Mrs. Innes's eyes, and she +questioned Madeline's face to see whether it responded to her humour. +Then she put her own features straight behind her handkerchief and went +on. + +'And about his failing health, and then about his being so much better. +But nothing now for ages.' + +'Did the "World" tell you,' asked Miss Anderson, with sudden interest, +'that Mr. Prendergast came into a considerable fortune before--about two +years ago?' + +Mrs. Innes's face turned suddenly blank. 'How much?' she exclaimed. + +'About five hundred thousand dollars, I believe. Left him by a cousin. +Then you didn't know?' + +'That must have been Gordon Prendergast--the engineer!' Mrs. Innes said, +with excitement. 'Fancy that! Leaving money to a relation in Sing Sing! +Hadn't altered his will, I suppose. Who could possibly,' and her face +fell visibly, 'have foreseen such a thing?' + +'No one, I think,' said Madeline, through a little edged smile. 'On that +point you will hardly be criticized.' + +Mrs. Innes, with clasped hands, was sunk in thought. She raised her eyes +with a conviction in them which she evidently felt to be pathetic. + +'After all,' she said, 'there is something in what the padres say +about our reaping the reward of our misdeeds in this world--some of us, +anyway. If I had stayed in New York--' + +'Yes?' said Madeline. 'I shall wake up presently,' she reflected, 'and +find that I have been dreaming melodrama.' But that was a fantastic +underscoring of her experience. She knew very well she was making it. + +Mrs. Innes, again wrapped in astonished contemplation, did not reply. +Then she jumped to her feet with a gesture that cast fortunes back into +the lap of fate. + +'One thing is certain,' she said; 'I can't do anything NOW, can I?' + +Madeline laid hold of silence and made armour with it. At all events, +she must have time to think. + +'I decline to advise you,' she said, and she spoke with a barely +perceptive movement of her lips only. The rest of her face was stone. + +'How unkind and unforgiving you are! Must people would think the loss of +a hundred thousand pounds about punishment enough for what I have done. +You don't seem to see it. But on top of that you won't refuse to promise +not to tell Horace?' + +'I will not bind myself in any way whatever.' + +'Not even when you know that the moment I hear of the--death I intend +to--to--' + +'Make an honest man of him? Not even when I know that.' + +'Do you want me to go down on my knees to you?' + +Madeline glanced at the flowered fabric involved and said, 'I wouldn't, +I think.' + +'And this is to hang over me the whole season? I shall enjoy +nothing--absolutely NOTHING.' The blue eyes were suddenly eclipsed +by angry tears, which the advent of a servant with cards checked as +suddenly. + +'Goodbye, then, dear,' cried Mrs. Innes, as if in response to the +advancing rustle of skirts in the veranda. 'So glad to have found you +at home. Dear me, has Trilby made her way up--and I gave such particular +orders! Oh, you NAUGHTY dog!' + + + +Chapter 3.VII. + +From the complication that surged round Miss Anderson's waking hours +one point emerged, and gave her a perch for congratulation. That was +the determination she had shown in refusing to let Frederick Prendergast +leave her his money, or any part of it. + +It has been said that he had outlived her tenderness, if not her care, +and this fact, which she never found it necessary to communicate to +poor Frederick himself, naturally made his desire in the matter sharply +distasteful. She was even unaware of the disposition he had made of his +ironical fortune, a reflection which brought her thankfulness that there +was something she did not know. 'If I had let him do it,' she thought, +'I should have felt compelled to tell her everything, instantly. And +think of discussing it with her!' This was quite a fortnight later, and +Mrs. Innes still occupied her remarkable position only in her own mind +and Madeline's, still knowing herself the wife of 1596 and of 1596 only, +and still unaware that 1596 was in his grave. Simla had gone on with its +dances and dinners and gymkhanas quite as if no crucial experience were +hanging over the heads of three of the people one met 'everywhere,' and +the three people continued to be met everywhere, although only one +of them was unconscious. The women tried to avoid each other without +accenting it, exchanging light words only as occasion demanded, but they +were not clever enough for Mrs. Gammidge and Mrs. Mickie, who went +about saying that Mrs. Innes's treatment of Madeline Anderson was as +ridiculous as it was inexplicable. 'Did you ever know her to be jealous +of anybody before?' demanded Mrs. Mickie, to which Mrs. Gammidge +responded, with her customary humour, that the Colonel had never, in the +memory of the oldest inhabitant, been known to give her occasion. + +'Well,' declared Mrs. Mickie, 'if friendships--UNSENTIMENTAL +friendships--between men and women are not understood in Simla, I'd like +to be told what is understood.' + +Between them they gave Madeline a noble support, for which--although she +did not particularly require it, and they did not venture to offer it in +so many words--she was grateful. A breath of public criticism from +any point of view would have blown over the toppling structure she was +defending against her conscience. The siege was severe and obstinate, +with an undermining conviction ever at work that in the end she would +yield; in the end she would go away, at least as far as Bombay or +Calcutta, and from there send to Mrs. Innes the news of her liberation. +It would not be necessary, after all, or even excusable, to tell Horace. +His wife would do that quickly enough--at least, she had said she +would. If she didn't--well, if she didn't, nothing would be possible but +another letter, giving HIM the simple facts, she, Madeline, carefully +out of the way of his path of duty--at all events, at Calcutta or +Bombay. But there was no danger that Mrs. Innes would lose the advantage +of confession, of throwing herself on his generosity--and at this +point Madeline usually felt her defenses against her better nature +considerably strengthened, and the date of her sacrifice grow vague +again. + +Meanwhile, she was astonished to observe that, in spite of her threat +to the contrary, Mrs. Innes appeared to be enjoying herself particularly +well. Madeline had frequent occasion for private comment on the +advantages of a temperament that could find satisfaction in dancing +through whole programmes at the very door, so to speak, of the criminal +courts; and it can not be denied that this capacity of Mrs. Innes's went +far to increase the vacillation with which Miss Anderson considered +her duty towards that lady. If she had shown traces of a single hour +of genuine suffering, there would have been an end to Madeline's +hesitation. But beyond an occasional watchful glance at conversations in +which she might be figuring dramatically, and upon which she instantly +turned her back as soon as she was perceived, Mrs. Innes gave no sign +even of preoccupation. If she had bad half-hours, they occurred between +the teas and tennises, the picnics, riding-parties, luncheons, and other +entertainments, at which you could always count upon meeting her; and in +that case they must have been short. She looked extremely well, and +her admirable frocks gave an accent even to 'Birthday' functions at +Viceregal Lodge, which were quite hopelessly general. If any one +could have compelled a revelation of her mind, I think it would have +transpired that her anxieties about Capt. Valentine Drake and Mrs. Vesey +gave her no leisure for lesser ones. These for a few days had been keen +and indignant--Captain Drake had so far forgotten himself as to ride +with Mrs. Vesey twice since Mrs. Innes's arrival--and any display of +poverty of spirit was naturally impossible under the circumstances. The +moment was a critical one; Captain Drake seemed inclined to place her +in the category of old, unexacting friends--ladies who looked on and +smiled, content to give him tea on rainy days, and call him by his +Christian name, with perhaps the privilege of a tapping finger on his +shoulder, and an occasional order about a rickshaw. Mrs. Violet was not +an introspective person, or she might have discovered here that the most +stable part of her self-respect was her EXIGENCE with Captain Drake. + +She found out quickly enough, however, that she did not mean to discard +it. She threw herself, therefore--her fine shoulders and arms, her +pretty clothes, her hilarity, her complexion, her eyelashes, and all +that appertained to her--into the critical task of making other men +believe, at Captain Drake's expense, that they were quite as fond of her +as he was. Mrs. Vesey took opposite measures, and the Club laid bets on +the result. + +The Club was not prepossessed by Captain Drake. He said too little and +he implied too much. He had magnificent shoulders, which he bent a great +deal over secluded sofas, and a very languid interest in matters over +which ordinary men were enthusiastic. He seemed to believe that if he +smiled all the way across his face, he would damage a conventionality. +His clothes were unexceptionable, and he always did the right thing, +though bored by the necessity. He was good-looking in an ugly way, which +gave him an air of restrained capacity for melodrama, and made women +think him interesting. Somebody with a knack of disparagement said that +he was too much expressed. It rather added to his unpopularity that he +was a man whom women usually took with preposterous seriousness--all but +Kitty Vesey, who charmed and held him by her outrageous liberties. +When Mrs. Vesey chaffed him, he felt picturesque. He was also aware of +inspiring entertainment for the lookers-on, with the feeling at such +times that he, too, was an amused spectator. This was, of course, their +public attitude. In private there was sentiment, and they talked about +the tyranny of society, or delivered themselves of ideas suggested by +works of fiction which everybody simply HAD to read. + +For a week Mrs. Innes looked on, apparently indifferent, rather +apparently not observing; and an Assistant Secretary in the Home +Department began to fancy that his patience in teaching the three +dachshund puppies tricks was really appreciated. He was an on-coming +Assistant Secretary, with other conspicuous parts, and hitherto his time +had been too valuable to spend upon ladies' dachshunds. Mrs. Innes +had selected him well. There came an evening when, at a dance at the +Lieutenant-Governor's, Mrs. Innes was so absorbed in what the Assistant +Secretary was saying to her, as she passed on his arm, that she did +not see Captain Drake in the corridor at all, although he had carefully +broken an engagement to walk with Kitty Vesey that very afternoon, +as the beginning of gradual and painless reform in her direction. His +unrewarded virtue rose up and surprised him with the distinctness of +its resentment; and while his expression was successfully amused, +his shoulders and the back of his neck, as well as the hand on +his moustache, spoke of discipline which promised to be efficient. +Reflection assured him that discipline was after all deserved, and a +quarter of an hour later found him wagging his tail, so to speak, over +Mrs. Innes's programme in a corner pleasantly isolated. The other chair +was occupied by the Assistant Secretary. Captain Drake represented an +interruption, and was obliged to take a step towards the nearest lamp to +read the card. Three dances were rather ostentatiously left, and Drake +initialled them all. He brought back the card with a bow, which spoke +of dignity under bitter usage, together with the inflexible intention of +courteous self-control, and turned away. + +'Oh, if you please, Captain Drake--let me see what you've done. All +those? But--' + +'Isn't it after eleven, Mrs. Innes?' asked the Assistant Secretary, with +a timid smile. He was enjoying himself, but he had a respect for vested +interests, and those of Captain Drake were so well known that he felt a +little like a buccaneer. + +'Dear me, so it is!' Mrs. Innes glanced at one of her bracelets. +'Then, Captain Drake, I'm sorry'--she carefully crossed out the three +'V.D.'s'--'I promised all the dances I had left after ten to Mr. +Holmcroft. Most of the others I gave away at the gymkhana--really. Why +weren't you there? That Persian tutor again! I'm afraid you are working +too hard. And what did the Rani do, Mr. Holmcroft? It's like the Arabian +Nights, only with real jewels--' + +'Oh, I say, Holmcroft, this is too much luck, you know. Regular +sweepstakes, by Jove!' And Captain Drake lingered on the fringe of the +situation. + +'Perhaps I have been greedy,' said the Assistant Secretary, +deprecatingly. 'I'll--' + +'Not in the very least! That is,' exclaimed Mrs. Violet, pouting, 'if +I'M to be considered. We'll sit out all but the waltzes, and you shall +tell me official secrets about the Rani. She put us up once, she's a +delicious old thing. Gave us string beds to sleep on and gold plate to +eat from, and swore about every other word. She had been investing in +Government paper, and it had dropped three points. "Just my damn luck!" +she said. Wasn't it exquisite? Captain Drake--' + +'Mrs. Innes--' + +'I don't want to be rude, but you're a dreadful embarrassment. Mr. +Holmcroft won't tell you official secrets!' + +'If she would only behave!' thought Madeline, looking on, 'I would tell +her--indeed I would--at once.' + +Colonel Innes detached himself from a group of men in mess dress as she +appeared with the Worsleys, and let himself drift with the tide that +brought them always together. + +'You are looking tired--ill,' she said, seriously, as they sought +the unconfessed solace of each other's eyes. 'Last night it was the +Commander-in-Chief's, and the night before the dance at Peliti's. +And again tonight. And you are not like those of us who can rest +next morning--you have always your heavy office work!' She spoke with +indignant, tender reproach, and he gave himself up to hearing it. 'You +will have to take leave and go away,' she insisted, foolishly. + +'Leave! Good heavens, no! I wish all our fellows were as fit as I am. +And--' + +'Yes?' she said. + +'Don't pity me, dear friend. I don't think it's good for me. The world +really uses me very well.' + +'Then it's all right, I suppose,' Madeline said, with sudden depression. + +'Of course it is. You are dining with us on the eighth?' + +'I'm afraid not, I'm engaged.' + +'Engaged again? Don't you WANT to break bread in my house, Miss +Anderson?' She was silent, and he insisted, 'Tell me,' he said. + +She gave him instead a kind, mysterious smile. + +'I will explain to you what I feel about that some day,' she said; +'some day soon. I can't accept Mrs. Innes's invitation for the eighth, +but--Brookes and I are going to take tea with the fakir's monkeys on the +top of Jakko tomorrow afternoon.' + +'Anybody else, or only Brookes?' + +'Only Brookes.' And she thought she had abandoned coquetry! + +'Then may I come?' + +'Indeed you may.' + +'I really don't know,' reflected Madeline, as she caught another glimpse +of Mrs. Innes vigorously dancing the reel opposite little Lord Billy in +his Highland uniform, with her hands on her flowered-satin hips, 'that I +am behaving very well myself.' + + + +Chapter 3.VIII. + +Horace Innes looked round his wife's drawing-room as if he were making +an inventory of it, carefully giving each article its value, which +happened, however, to have nothing to do with rupees. Madeline Anderson +had been saying something the day before about the intimacy and accuracy +with which people's walls expressed them, and though the commonplace was +not new to him, this was the first time it had ever led him to scan his +wife's. What he saw may be imagined, but his only distinct reflection +was that he had no idea that she had been photographed so variously or +had so many friends who wore resplendent Staff uniforms. The relation of +cheapness in porcelain ornaments to the lady's individuality was beyond +him, and he could not analyze his feelings of sitting in the midst of +her poverty of spirit. Indeed, thinking of his ordinary unsusceptibility +to such things, he told himself sharply that he was adding an +affectation of discomfort to the others that he had to bear; and that +if Madeline had not given him the idea it would never have entered his +mind. The less, he mused, that one had to do with finicking feelings +in this world the better. They were well enough for people who were +tolerably conditioned in essentials--he preferred this vagueness, even +with himself, in connection with his marriage--otherwise they added +pricks. Besides he had that other matter to think of. + +He thought of the other matter with such obvious irritation that the +butler coming in to say that the 'English water' was finished, and how +many dozen should he order, put a chair in its place instead, closed +the door softly again, and went away. It was not good for the dignity of +butlers to ask questions of any sort with a look of that kind under the +eyebrows of the sahib. The matter was not serious, Colonel Innes told +himself, but he would prefer by comparison to deal with matters that +were serious. He knew Simla well enough to attach no overwhelming +importance to things said about women at the Club, where the broadest +charity prevailed underneath, and the idle comment of the moment had +an intrinsic value as a distraction rather than a reflective one as +a criticism. This consideration, however, was more philosophical +in connection with other men's wives. He found very little in it to +palliate what he had overheard, submerged in the 'Times of India', that +afternoon. And to put an edge on it, the thing had been said by one of +his own juniors. Luckily the boy had left the room without discovering +who was behind the 'Times of India'. Innes felt that he should be +grateful for having been spared the exigency of defending his wife +against a flippant word to which she had very probably laid herself +open. He was very angry, and it is perhaps not surprising that he did +not pause to consider how far his anger was due to the humiliating +necessity of speaking to her about it. She was coming at last though; +she was in the hall. He would get it over quickly. + +'Goodbye!' said Mrs. Innes at the door. 'No, I can't possibly let you +come in to tea. I don't know how you have the conscience after drinking +three cups at Mrs. Mickie's, where I had no business to take you! +Tomorrow? Oh, all right if you want to VERY badly. But I won't promise +you strawberries--they're nearly all gone.' + +There was the sound of a departing pony's trot, and Mrs. Innes came into +the drawing-room. + +'Good heavens, Horace! what are you sitting there for like a--like a +ghost? Why didn't you make a noise or something, and why aren't you at +office? I can't tell you how you startled me.' + +'It is early,' Colonel Innes said. 'We are neither of us in the house, +as a rule, at this hour.' + +'Coincidence!' Violet turned a cool, searching glance on her husband, +and held herself ready. 'I came home early because I want to alter the +lace on my yellow bodice for tonight. It's too disgusting as it is. But +I was rather glad to get away from Mrs. Mickie's lot. So rowdy!' + +'And I came because I had a special reason for wanting to speak to you.' + +Mrs. Violet's lips parted, and her breath, in spite of herself, came a +little faster. + +'As we are dining out tonight, I thought that if I didn't catch you now +I might not have another opportunity--till tomorrow morning.' + +'And it's always a pity to spoil one's breakfast. I can tell from your +manner, mon ami, it's something disagreeable. What have I been and gone +and done?' + +She was dancing, poor thing, in her little vulgar way, on hot iron. But +her eyes kept their inconsistent coolness. + +'I heard something today which you are not in the way of hearing. You +have--probably--no conception that it could be said.' + +'Then she has been telling other people. ABSOLUTELY the worst thing she +could do!' Mrs. Innes exclaimed privately, sitting unmoved, her face a +little too expectant. + +'You won't be prepared for it--you may be shocked and hurt by it. +Indeed, I think there is no need to repeat it to you. But I must put you +on your guard. Men are coarser, you know, than women; they are apt to +put their own interpretation--' + +'What is it?' + +There was a physical gasp, a sharpness in her voice that brought Innes's +eyes from the floor to her face. + +'I am sorry,' he said, 'but--don't overestimate it, don't let it worry +you. It was simply a very impertinent--a very disagreeable reference +to you and Mr. Holmcroft, I think, in connection with the Dovedell's +picnic. It was a particularly silly thing as well, and I am sure no one +would attach any importance to it, but it was said openly at the Club, +and--' + +'Who said it?' Mrs. Innes demanded. + +A flood of colour rushed over her face. Horace marked that she blushed. + +'I don't know whether I ought to tell you, Violet. It certainly was not +meant for your ears.' + +'If I'm not to know who said it, I don't see why I should pay any +attention to it. Mere idle rumour--' + +Innes bit his lip. + +'Captain Gordon said it,' he replied. + +'Bobby Gordon! DO tell me what he said! I'm dying to know. Was he very +disagreeable? I DID give his dance away on Thursday night.' + +Innes looked at her with the curious distrust which she often inspired +in him. He had a feeling that he would like to put her out of the room +into a place by herself, and keep her there. + +'I won't repeat what he said.' Colonel Innes took up the 'Saturday +Review'. + +'Oh, do, Horace! I particularly want to know.' + +Innes said nothing. + +'Horace! Was it--was it anything about Mr. Holmcroft being my +Secretariat baa-lamb?' + +'If you adorn your guess with a little profanity,' said Innes, acidly, +'you won't be far wrong.' + +Mrs. Violet burst into a peal of laughter. + +'Why, you old goose!' she articulated, behind her handkerchief; 'he said +that to ME.' + +Innes laid down the 'Saturday Review'. + +'To you!' he repeated; 'Gordon said it to you!' + +'Rather!' Mrs. Violet was still mirthful. 'I'm not sure that he didn't +call poor little Homie something worse than that. It's the purest +jealousy on his part--nothing to make a fuss about.' + +The fourth skin which enables so many of us to be callous to all but the +relative meaning of careless phrases had not been given to Innes, and +her words fell upon his bare sense of propriety. + +'Jealous,' he said, 'of a married woman? I find that difficult to +understand.' + +Violet's face straightened out. + +'Don't be absurd, Horace. These boys are always jealous of somebody or +other--it's the occupation of their lives! I really don't see how one +can prevent it.' + +'It seems to me that a self-respecting woman should see how. Your point +of view in these matters is incomprehensible.' + +'Perhaps,' Violet was driven by righteous anger to say, 'you find Miss +Anderson's easier to understand.' + +Colonel Innes's face took its regimental disciplinary look, and, though +his eyes were aroused, his words were quiet with repression. + +'I see no reason to discuss Miss Anderson with you,' he said. 'She has +nothing to do with what we are talking about.' + +'Oh, don't you, really! Hasn't she, indeed! I take it you are trying to +make me believe that compromising things are said about Mr. Holmcroft +and me at the Club. Well, I advise you to keep your ears open a little +more, and listen to the things said about you and Madeline Anderson +there. But I don't suppose you would be in such a hurry to repeat them +to HER.' + +Innes turned very white, and the rigidity of his face gave place to +heavy dismay. His look was that of a man upon whom misfortune had fallen +out of a clear sky. For an instant he stared at his wife. When he spoke +his voice was altered. + +'For God's sake!' he said, 'let us have done with this pitiful +wrangling. I dare say you can take care of yourself; at all events, I +only meant to warn you. But now you must tell me exactly what you mean +by this that you have said--this--about--' + +'The fat's in the fire,' was Mrs. Innes's reflection. + +'Certainly, I'll tell you--' + +'Don't shout, please!' + +'I mean simply that all Simla is talking about your affair with Miss +Anderson. You may imagine that because you are fifteen years older than +she is things won't be thought of, but they are, and I hear it's been +spoken about at Viceregal Lodge. I KNOW Lady Bloomfield has noticed it, +for she herself mentioned it to me. I told her I hadn't the slightest +objection, and neither have I, but there's an old proverb about people +in glass houses. What are you going to do?' + +Colonel Innes's expression was certainly alarming, and he had made a +step toward her that had menace in it. + +'I am going out,' he said, and turned and left her to her triumph. + + + +Chapter 3.IX. + +She--Violet--had unspeakably vulgarized it, but it must be true--it must +be, to some extent, true. She may even have lied about it, but the truth +was there, fundamentally, in the mere fact that it had been suggested +to her imagination. Madeline's name, which had come to be for him an +epitome of what was finest and most valuable, most to be lived for, +was dropping from men's lips into a kind of an abyss of dishonourable +suggestion. There was no way out of it or around it. It was a cloud +which encompassed them, suddenly blackening down. + +There was nothing that he could do--nothing. Except, yes, of +course--that was obvious, as obvious as any other plain duty. Through +his selfishness it had a beginning; in spite of his selfishness it +should have an end. That went without saying. No more walks or rides. In +a conventional way, perhaps--but nothing deliberate, designed--and never +alone together. Gossip about flippant married women was bad enough, but +that it should concern itself with an unprotected creature like Madeline +was monstrous, incredible. He strode fiercely into the road round Jakko, +and no little harmless snake, if it had crawled across his path, +would have failed to suffer a quick fate under the guidance of his +imagination. But there was nothing for him to kill, and he turned upon +himself. + +The sun went down into the Punjab and left great blue-and-purple hill +worlds barring the passage behind him. The deodars sank waist deep into +filmy shadow, and the yellow afterlight lay silently among the branches. +A pink-haunched monkey lopading across the road with a great show of +prudence seemed to have strayed into an unfamiliar country, and +the rustling twigs behind him made an episode of sound. The road in +perpetual curve between its little stone parapet and the broad flank of +the hill rose and fell under the deodars; Innes took its slopes and its +steepnesses with even, unslackened stride, aware of no difference, aware +of little indeed except the physical necessity of movement, spurred on +by a futile instinct that the end of his walk would be the end of his +trouble--his amazing, black, menacing trouble. A pony's trot behind him +struck through the silence like percussion-caps; all Jakko seemed to +echo with it; and it came nearer--insistent, purposeful--but he +was hardly aware of it until the creature pulled up beside him, and +Madeline, slipping quickly off, said-- + +'I'm coming too.' + +He took off his hat and stared at her. She seemed to represent a climax. + +'I'm coming too,' she said. 'I'm tired of picking flies off the Turk, +and he's really unbearable about them tonight. Here, syce.' She threw +the reins to the man and turned to Innes with a smile of relief. 'I +would much rather do a walk. Why--you want me to come too, don't you?' + +His face was all one negative, and under the unexpectedness of it and +the amazement of it her questioning eyes slowly filled with sudden, +uncontrollable tears, so that she had to lower them, and look steadily +at the hoof-marks in the road while she waited for his answer. + +'You know how I feel about seeing you--how glad I always am,' he +stammered. 'But there are reasons--' + +'Reasons?' she repeated, half audibly. + +'I don't know how to tell you. I will write. But let me put you up +again--' + +'I will not,' Madeline said, with a sob, 'I won't be sent home like +a child. I am going to walk, but--but I can quite well go alone.' She +started forward, and her foot caught in her habit so that she made an +awkward stumble and came down on her knee. In rising she stumbled again, +and his quick arm was necessary. Looking down at her, he saw that she +was crying bitterly. The tension had lasted long, and the snap had come +when she least expected it. + +'Stop,' Innes said, firmly, hardly daring to turn his head and ascertain +the blessed fact that they were still alone. 'Stop instantly. You +shall not go by yourself.' He flicked the dust off her habit with +his pocket-handkerchief. 'Come, please; we will go on together.' Her +distress seemed to make things simple again. It was as if the cloud that +hung over them had melted as she wept, and lifted, and drifted a little +further on. For the moment, naturally, nothing mattered except that she +should be comforted. As she walked by his side shaken with her effort +at self-control, he had to resist the impulse to touch her. His hand +tingled to do its part in soothing her, his arm ached to protect her, +while he vaguely felt an element of right, of justice, in her tears; +they were in a manner his own. What he did was to turn and ask the syce +following if he had loosened the Turk's saddle-girths. + +'I shall be better--in a moment,' Madeline said, and he answered, 'Of +course'; but they walked on and said nothing more until the road ran out +from under the last deodar and round the first bare boulder that marked +the beginning of the Ladies' Mile. It lay rolled out before them, the +Ladies' Mile, sinuous and grey and empty, along the face of the cliff; +they could see from one end of it to the other. It was the bleak side of +Jakko; even tonight there was a fresh springing coldness in it blowing +over from the hidden snows behind the rims of the nearer hills. Madeline +held up her face to it, and gave herself a moment of its grateful +discipline. + +'I have been as foolish as possible,' she said, 'as foolish as possible. +I have distressed you. Well, I couldn't help it--that is all there is to +be said. Now if you will tell me--what is in your mind--what you spoke +of writing--I will mount again and go home. It doesn't matter--I know +you didn't mean to be unkind.' Her lip was trembling again, and he knew +it, and dared not look at it. + +'How can you ask me to tell you--miserable things!' he exclaimed. 'How +can I find the words? And I have only just been told--I can hardly +myself conceive it--' + +'I am not a child in her teens that my ears should be guarded from +miserable things. I have come of age, I have entered into my inheritance +of the world's bitterness with the rest. I can listen,' Madeline said. +'Why not?' + +He looked to her with grave tenderness. 'You think yourself very old, +and very wise about the world,' he said; 'but you are a woman, and you +will be hurt. And when I think that a little ordinary forethought on my +part would have protected you, I feel like the criminal I am.' + +'Don't make too much of it,' she said, simply. 'I have a presentiment--' + +'I'll tell you,' Innes said, slowly; 'I won't niggle about it. The +people of this place--idiots!--are unable to believe that a man and a +woman can be to each other what we are.' + +'Yes?' said Madeline. She paused beside the parapet and looked down at +the indistinct little fields below, and the blurred masses of white wild +roses waving midway against the precipice. + +'They can not understand that there can be any higher plane of +intercourse between us than the one they know. They won't see--they +can't see--that the satisfaction we find in being together is of a +different nature.' + +'I see,' said Madeline. She had raised her eyes, and they sought +the solemn lines of the horizon. She looked as if she saw something +infinitely lifted above the pettiness he retailed to her. + +'So they say--good God, why should I tell you what they say!' It +suddenly flashed upon him that the embodiment of it in words would be at +once, from him, sacrilegious and ludicrous. It flashed upon him that her +natural anger would bring him pain, and that if she laughed--it was so +hard to tell when she would laugh--it would be as if she struck him. +He cast about him dumb and helpless while she kept her invincibly +quiet gaze upon the farther hills. She was thinking that this breath of +gossip, now that it had blown, was a very slight affair compared with +Horace Innes's misery--which he did not seem to understand. Then her +soul rose up in her, brushing everything aside, and forgetting, alas! +the vow it had once made to her. + +'I think I know,' she said. 'They are indeed foolish. They say that +we--love each other. Is not that what they say?' + +He looked in amazement into her tender eyes and caught at the little +mocking smile about her lips. Suddenly the world grew light about him, +the shadows fled away. Somewhere down in the valley, he remembered +afterward, a hill-flute made music. When he spoke it was almost in a +whisper, lest he should disturb some newly perceived lovely thing that +had wings, and might leave him. 'Oh, Madeline,' he said, 'is it true?' +She only smiled on in gladness that took no heed of any apprehension, +any fear or scruple, and he himself keeping his eyes upon her face, +said, 'It is true.' + +So they stood for a little time in silence while she resisted her great +opportunity. She resisted it to the end, and presently beckoned to the +syce, who came up leading the pony. Innes mounted her mechanically and +said, 'Is that all right?' as she put her foot in the stirrup, without +knowing that he had spoken. + +'Goodbye,' she said; 'I am going away--immediately. It will be better. +And listen--I have known this for weeks--and I have gone on seeing you. +And I hope I am not any more wicked than I feel. Goodbye.' + +'Goodbye,' he said, taking his hand from the pony's neck, and she rode +buoyantly away. He, turning to breast the road again, saw darkness +gathering over the end of it, and drawing nearer. + +At eleven o'clock next morning Brookes rose from her packing to take +a note addressed to her mistress from the hand of a messenger in the +Imperial red and gold. It ran: + +'Dear Miss Anderson--I write to tell you that I have obtained three +weeks' leave, and I am going into the interior to shoot, starting this +afternoon. You spoke yesterday of leaving Simla almost immediately. I +trust you will not do this, as it would be extremely risky to venture +down to the Plains just now. In ten days the rains will have broken, +when it will be safe. Pray wait till then. + +'Yours sincerely, + +'Horace Innes.' + +Involuntarily the letter found its way to Madeline's lips, and remained +there until she saw the maid observing her with intelligence. + +'Brookes,' she said, 'I am strongly advised not to start until the rains +break. I think, on the whole, that we won't.' + +'Indeed, miss,' returned Brookes, 'Mrs. Sergeant Simmons told me that +it was courting cholera to go--and nothing short of it. I must say I'm +thankful.' + + + +Chapter 3.X. + +A week later Colonel Innes had got his leave, and had left Simla for the +snow-line by what is facetiously known as 'the carriage road to Tibet.' +Madeline had done as she was bidden, and was waiting for the rains to +break. Another day had come without them. To write and tell Innes, to +write to tell Violet, to go away and leave the situation as she +found it; she had lived and moved and slept and awakened to these +alternatives. At the moment she slept. + +It was early, very early in the morning. The hills all about seemed +still unaware of it, standing in the greyness, compact, silent, +immutable, as if they slept with their eyes open. Nothing spoke of the +oncoming sun, nothing was yet surprised. The hill world lifted itself +unconscious in a pale solution of daylight, and only on the sky-line, +very far away, it rippled into a cloud. The flimsy town clinging steeply +roof above roof to the slope, mounting to the saddle and slipping over +on the other side, cut the dawn with innumerable little lines and angles +all in one tone like a pencil drawing. + +There was no feeling in it, no expression. It had a temporary air in +that light, like trampled snow, and even the big Secretariat buildings +that raised themselves here and there out of the huddling bazaar looked +trivial, childish enterprises in the simple revelation of the morning. +A cold silence was abroad, which a crow now and then vainly tried to +disturb with a note of tentative enterprise, forced, premature. It +announced that the sun would probably rise, but nothing more. In the +little dark shops of the wood-carvers an occasional indefinite figure +moved, groping among last night's tools, or an old woman in a red sari +washed a brass dish over the shallow open drain that ran past her door. +At the tonga terminus, below the Mall, a couple of coughing syces, +muffled in their blankets, pulled one of these vehicles out of the +shed. They pushed it about sleepily, with clumsy futility; nothing else +stirred or spoke at all in Simla. Nothing disturbed Miss Anderson asleep +in her hotel. + +A brown figure in a loin-cloth, with a burden, appeared where the road +turned down from the Mall, and then another, and several following. They +were coolies, and they carried luggage. + +The first to arrive beside the tonga bent and loosed the trunk he +brought, which slipped from his back to the ground. The syces looked at +him, saying nothing, and he straightened himself against the wall of the +hillside, also in silence. It was too early for conversation. Thus did +all the others. + +When the last portmanteau had been deposited, a khaki-coloured heap on +the shed floor rose up as a broad-shouldered Punjabi driver, and walked +round the luggage, looking at it. + +'And you, owls' brethren,' he said, with sarcasm, addressing the first +coolie, 'you have undertaken to carry these matter fifty-eight kos to +Kalka, have you?' + +'Na,' replied the coolie, stolidly, and spat. + +'How else, then, is it to be taken?' the driver cried, with anger in +his argument. 'Behold the memsahib has ordered but one tonga, and a +fool-thing of an ekka. Here is work for six tongas! What reason is there +in this?' + +The coolie folded his naked arms, and dug in the dust with an +unconcerned toe. + +'I, what can I do?' he said, 'It is the order of the memsahib.' + +Ram Singh grunted and said no more. A rickshaw was coming down from the +Mall, and the memsahib was in it. + +Ten minutes later the ponies stood in their traces under the iron bar, +and the lady sat in the tonga behind Ram Singh. Her runners, in uniform, +waited beside the empty rickshaw with a puzzled look, at which she +laughed, and threw a rupee to the head man. + +The luggage was piled and corded on three ekkas behind, and their +cross-legged drivers, too, were ready. + +'Chellao!' she cried, crisply, and Ram Singh imperturbably lifted the +reins. The little procession clanked and jingled along the hillside, +always tending down, and broke upon the early grey melancholy with a +forced and futile cheerfulness, too early, like everything else. As +it passed the last of Simla's little gardens, spread like a +pocket-handkerchief on the side of the hill, the lady leaned forward and +looked back as if she wished to impress the place upon her memory. Her +expression was that of a person going forth without demur into the +day's hazards, ready to cope with them, yet there was some regret in the +backward look. + +'It's a place,' she said aloud, 'where EVERYBODY has a good time!' + +Then the Amusement Club went out of sight behind a curve; and she +settled herself more comfortably among her cushions, and drew a wrap +round her to meet the chill wind of the valley. It was all behind +her. The lady looked out as the ponies galloped up to the first +changing-place, and, seeing a saddled horse held by a syce, cramped +herself a little into one corner to make room. The seat would just hold +two. + +Ram Singh salaamed, getting down to harness the fresh pair, and a man +put his face in at the side of the tonga and took off his hat. + +'Are you all right?' he said. His smile was as conscious as his words +were casual. + +'Quite right. The ayah was silly about coming--didn't want to leave her +babies or something--so I had to leave her behind. Everything else is +either here or in the ekkas.' + +'The brute! Never mind--they're not much use in a railway journey. You +can pick up another at Bombay. Then I suppose I'd better get in.' + +'I suppose you better had. Unless you think of walking,' she laughed, +and he took the place beside her. + +Ram Singh again unquestioningly took up the reins. + +'Nobody else going down?' + +'Not another soul. We might just as well have started together.' + +'Oh, well, we couldn't tell. Beastly awkward if there had been anybody.' + +'Yes,' she said, but thrust up her under lip indifferently. + +Then, with the effect of turning to the business in hand, she bent her +eyes upon him understandingly and smiled in frank reference to something +that had not been mentioned. 'It's goodbye Simla, isn't it?' she +said. He smiled in response and put his hand upon her firm, round arm, +possessively, and they began to talk. + +Ram Singh, all unaware, kept his horses at their steady clanking +downward gallop, and Simla, clinging to the hilltops, was brushed by the +first rays of the sun. + +It came a gloriously clear morning; early riders round Jakko saw the +real India lying beyond the outer ranges, flat and blue and pictured +with forests and rivers like a map. The plains were pretty and +interesting in this aspect, but nobody found them attractive. Sensitive +people liked it better when the heat mist veiled them and it was +possible to look abroad without a sudden painful thought of contrasting +temperatures. We may suppose that the inhabitants of Paradise sometimes +grieve over their luck. Even Madeline Anderson, whose heart knew no +constriction at the remembrance of brother or husband at some cruel +point in the blue expanse, had come to turn her head more willingly the +other way, towards the hills rolling up to the snows, being a woman who +suffered by proxy, and by observation, and by Rudyard Kipling. + +On this particular morning, however, she had not elected to do either. +She slept late instead, and was glad to sleep. I might as well say at +once that on the night before she had made up her mind, had brought +herself to the point, and had written to Mrs. Innes, at 'Two Gables', +all the facts, in so far as she was acquainted with them, connected with +Frederick Prendergast's death. She was very much ashamed of herself, +poor girl; she was aware that, through her postponement, Horace Innes +would now see his problem in all its bitterness, make his choice with +his eyes wide open. If it had only happened before he knew--anything +about her! + +She charged herself with having deliberately waited, and then spent an +exhausting hour trying to believe that she had drifted unconsciously to +the point of their mutual confession. Whatever the truth was, she did +not hesitate to recognize a new voice in her private counsels from that +hour, urging her in one way or another to bring matters to an end. +It was a strong instinct; looking at the facts, she saw it was the +gambler's. When she tried to think of the ethical considerations +involved she saw only the chances. The air seemed to throb with them all +night; she had to count them finally to get rid of them. + +Brookes was up betimes, however, and sent off the letter. It went duly, +by Surnoo, to Mrs. Innes at 'Two Gables'. Madeline woke at seven with a +start, and asked if it had gone, then slept again contentedly. So far +as she was concerned the thing was finished. The breakfast gong had +sounded, and the English mail had arrived before she opened her +eyes again upon the day's issues; she gave it her somewhat desultory +attention while Brookes did her hair. There was only one scrap of news. +Adele mentioned in a postscript that poor Mr. Prendergast's money was +likely to go to a distant relative, it having transpired that he died +without leaving a will. + +'She is sure, absolutely sure,' Madeline mused, 'to answer my letter in +person. She will be here within an hour. I shall have this to tell her, +too. How pleased she will be! She will come into it all, I suppose--if +she is allowed. Though she won't be allowed, that is if--' But there +speculation began, and Madeline had forbidden herself speculation, if +not once and for all, at least many times and for fifteen minutes. + +No reasonable purpose would be served by Mrs. Innes's visit, Madeline +reflected, as she sat waiting in the little room opening on the veranda; +but she would come, of course she would come. She would require the +satisfaction of the verbal assurance; she would hope to extract more +details; she would want the objectionable gratification of talking if +over. + +In spite of any assurance, she would believe that Madeline had not told +her before in order to make her miserable a little longer than she +need be; but, after all, her impression about that did not particularly +matter. It couldn't possibly be a pleasant interview, yet Madeline found +herself impatient for it. + +'Surnoo,' she said of her messenger, 'must be idling on his way back +in the bazaar. I must try to remember to fine him two pice. Surnoo is +incorrigible.' + +She forgot, however, to fine Surnoo. The pad of his bare feet sounded +along the veranda almost immediately, and the look in his Pahari eyes +was that of expected reproach, and ability to defend himself against it. + +He held out two letters at arm's-length, for as he was expected to bring +only one there was a fault in this; and all his domestic traditions told +him that he might be chastened. One was addressed to Madeline in Mrs. +Innes's handwriting; the other, she saw with astonishment, was her own +communication to that lady, her own letter returned. Surnoo explained +volubly all the way along the veranda, and in the flood of his unknown +tongue Madeline caught a sentence or two. + +'The memsahib was not,' said Surnoo. Clearly he could not deliver a +letter to a memsahib who was not. 'Therefore,' Surnoo continued, 'I have +brought back your honour's letter, and the other I had from the hand of +the memsahib's runner, the runner with one eye, who was on the road to +bring it here. More I do not know, but it appears that the memsahib has +gone to her father and mother in Belaat, being very sorrowful because +the Colonel-sahib has left her to shoot.' + +'The letter will tell me,' said Madeline to herself, fingering it. +'Enough, Surnoo.' + +The man went away, and Madeline closed and locked the door of her +sitting-room. The letter would tell her--what? She glanced about her +with dissatisfaction, and sought the greater privacy of her bedroom, +where also she locked the door and drew the muslin curtain across the +window. She laid the letter on the dressing-table and kept her eyes upon +it while she unfastened, with trembling hands, the brooch at her neck +and the belt at her waist. She did one or two other meaningless things, +as if she wanted to gain time, to fortify her nerves even against an +exhibition before herself. + +Then she sat down with her back towards the light and opened the letter. +It had a pink look and a scented air. Even in her beating suspense +Madeline held it a little farther away from her, as she unfolded it, and +it ran: + +'Dear Miss Anderson--What will you say, I wonder, and what will Simla +say, when you know that Captain Drake and I have determined to DISREGARD +CONVENTIONALITIES, and live henceforward only for one another! I am all +packed up, and long before this meets your eye we shall have taken +the step which society condemns, but which I have a feeling that +you, knowing my storm-tossed history, will be broad-minded enough +to sympathize with, at least to some extent. That is the reason I am +writing to you rather than to any of my own chums, and also of course to +have the satisfaction of telling you that I no longer care what you do +about letting out the secret of my marriage to Frederick Prendergast. I +am now ABOVE AND BEYOND IT. Any way you look at it, I do not see that I +am much to blame. As I never have been Colonel Innes's wife there can +be no harm in leaving him, though if he had ever been sympathetic, or +understood me the LEAST LITTLE BIT, I might have felt bound to him. But +he has never been able to evoke the finer parts of my nature, and when +this is the case marriage is a mere miserable fleshly failure. You +may say, "Why try it a third time?"--but my union with Val will be +different. I have never been fond of the opposite sex--so far as that +goes I should have made a very good nun--but for a long time Valentine +Drake has been the only man I cared to have come within a mile of me, +and lately we have discovered that we are absolutely necessary to each +other's existence on the higher plane. I don't care much what +Simla thinks, but if you happen to be talking about it to dear Lady +Bloomfield, you might just mention this. Val has eight hundred a year of +his own, so it is perfectly practicable. Of course, he will send in his +papers. WHATEVER HAPPENS, Val and I will never bind ourselves in any +way. We both think it wrong and enslaving. I have nothing more to add, +except that I am depending on you to explain to Simla that I never was +Mrs. Innes. + +'Yours sincerely, + +'Violet Prendergast. + +'P.S.--I have written to Horace, telling him everything about +everything, and sent my letter off to him in the wilds by a runner. If +you see him you might try and smooth him down. I don't want him coming +after Val with a revolver.' + +Madeline read this communication through twice. Then quietly and +deliberately she lay down upon the bed, and drew herself out of the +control of her heart by the hard labour of thought. When she rose, she +had decided that there were only two things for her to do, and she +began at once to do them, continuing her refuge in action. She threw her +little rooms open again, and walked methodically round the outer one, +collecting the odds and ends of Indian fabrics with which she had +garnished it. + +As the maid came in, she looked up from folding them. + +'I have news, Brookes,' she said, 'that necessitates my going home at +once. No, it is not bad news, but--important. I will go now and see +about the tonga. We must start tomorrow morning.' + +Brookes called Surnoo, and the rickshaw came round. + +Madeline looked at her watch. + +'The telegraph office,' she said; 'and as quickly as may be.' + +As the runners panted over the Mall, up and down and on, Madeline said +to herself, 'She shall have her chance. She shall choose.' + +The four reeking Paharis pulled up at the telegraph office, and Madeline +sped up the steps. There was a table, with forms printed 'Indian +Telegraphs,' and the usual bottle of thickened ink and pair of rusty +pens. She sat down to her intention as if she dared not let it cool; she +wrote her message swiftly, she had worded it on the way. + +'To Mrs. Innes, Dak Bungalow, Solon. + +'From M. Anderson, Simla. + +'Frederick Prendergast died on January 7th, at Sing Sing. Your letter +considered confidential if you return. Prendergast left no will. + +'M. Anderson.' + +'Send this "urgent," Babu,' she said to the clerk, 'and repeat it to the +railway station, Kalka. Shall I fill up another form? No? Very well.' + +At the door she turned and came back. + +'It is now eleven o'clock,' she said. 'The person I am telegraphing to +is on her way down to get tonight's train at Kalka. I am hoping to catch +her half-way at Solon. Do you think I can?' + +'I think so, madam. Oyess! It is the custom to stop at Solon for tiffin. +The telegram can arrive there. All urgent telegram going very quick.' + +'And in any case,' said Madeline, 'it can not fail to reach her at +Kalka?' + +'Not possible to fail, madam.' + +'She will have her chance,' she said to herself, on her way to the post +office to order her tonga. And with a little nauseated shudder at the +thought of the letter in her pocket, she added, 'It is amazing. I +should have thought her too good a woman of business!' After which she +concentrated her whole attention upon the necessities of departure. Her +single immediate apprehension was that Horace Innes might, by some magic +of circumstances, be transported back into Simla before she could get +out of it. That such a contingency was physically impossible made no +difference to her nerves, and to the last Brookes was the hurrying +victim of unnecessary promptings. + +The little rambling hotel of Kalka, where the railway spreads out over +the plains, raises its white-washed shelter under the very walls of the +Himalayas. Madeline, just arrived, lay back in a long wicker chair on +the veranda, and looked up at them as they mounted green and grey and +silent under the beating of the first of the rains. Everywhere was a +luxury of silence, the place was steeped in it, drowned in it. A feeding +cow flicked an automatic tail under a tree. Near the low mud wall that +strolled irresolutely between the house and the hills leaned a bush +with a few single pink roses; their petals were floating down under +the battering drops. A draggled bee tried to climb to a dry place on a +pillar of the veranda. Above all, the hills, immediate, towering, all +grey and green, solidly ideal, with phantasies of mist. Everything +drippingly soft and silent. Suddenly the venetian blind that hung before +the door of a bedroom farther on swayed out before a hand variously +ringed to emit a lady in a pink lawn dress with apt embroideries. +Madeline's half-closed eyes opened very wide, and for an instant she and +the lady, to whom I must once more refer as Mrs. Innes, confronted each +other. Then Mrs. Innes's countenance expanded, and she took three or +four light steps forward. + +'Oh, you dear thing!' she exclaimed. 'I thought you were in Simla! +Imagine you being here! Do you know you have SAVED me!' + +Madeline regarded her in silence, while a pallor spread over her face +and lips, and her features grew sharp with a presage of pain. + +'Have I?' she stammered. She could not think. + +'Indeed you have. I don't know how to be grateful enough to you. Your +telegram of yesterday reached me at Solon. We had just sat down to +tiffin. Nothing will ever shake my faith in providence again! My dear, +THINK of it--after all I've been through, my darling Val--and one +hundred thousand pounds!' + +'Well?' + +'Well--I stayed behind there last night, and Val came on here and made +the necessary arrangement, and--' + +'Yes?' + +'And we were married this morning. Good heavens! What's the matter with +you! Here--oh, Brookes! Water, salts--anything!' + +Brookes, I know, would think that I should dwell at greater length upon +Miss Anderson's attack of faintness in Kalka, and the various measures +which were resorted to for her succour, but perhaps the feelings and +expedients of any really capable lady's-maid under the circumstances may +be taken for granted. I feel more seriously called upon to explain that +Colonel Horace Innes, shortly after these last events, took two years' +furlough to England, during which he made a very interesting tour in +the United States with the lady with now bears his name by inalienable +right. Captain and Mrs. Valentine Drake are getting the most that is to +be had out of Frederick Prendergast's fortune with courage in London and +the European capitals, where Mrs. Drake is sometimes mentioned as a +lady with a romantic past. They have not returned to Simla, where the +situation has never been properly understood. People always supposed +that Mrs. Drake ran away that June morning with her present husband, who +must have been tremendously fond of her to have married her 'after the +divorce.' She is also occasionally mentioned in undertones as 'the +first Mrs. Innes.' All of which we know to be quite erroneous, like most +scandal. + +Mrs. Mickie and Mrs. Gammidge, in retirement, are superintending the +education of their children in Bedford, where it is cheap and practical. +They converse when they meet about the iniquitous prices of dressmakers +and the degeneracy of the kind of cook obtainable in England at +eighteen pounds a year. Mrs. Gammidge has grown rather portly and +very ritualistic. They seldom speak of Simla, and when they do, if too +reminiscent a spark appears in Mrs. Mickie's eye, Mrs. Gammidge changes +the subject. Kitty Vesey still fills her dance cards at Viceregal +functions, though people do not quote her as they used to, and +subalterns imagine themselves vastly witty about her colour, which is +unimpaired. People often commend her, however, for her good nature to +debutantes, and it is admitted that she may still ride with credit in +'affinity stakes'--and occasionally win them. + + + + +4. The Pool in the Desert. + +I knew Anna Chichele and Judy Harbottle so well, and they figured so +vividly at one time against the rather empty landscape of life in a +frontier station, that my affection for one of them used to seem little +more, or less, than a variant upon my affection for the other. That +recollection, however, bears examination badly; Judy was much the better +sort, and it is Judy's part in it that draws me into telling the story. +Conveying Judy is what I tremble at: her part was simple. Looking +back--and not so very far--her part has the relief of high comedy with +the proximity of tears; but looking closely, I find that it is mostly +Judy, and what she did is entirely second, in my untarnished picture, to +what she was. Still I do not think I can dissuade myself from putting it +down. + +They would, of course, inevitably have found each other sooner or later, +Mrs. Harbottle and Mrs. Chichele, but it was I who actually introduced +them; my palmy veranda in Rawul Pindi; where the teacups used to +assemble, was the scene of it. I presided behind my samovar over +the early formalities that were almost at once to drop from their +friendship, like the sheath of some bursting flower. I deliberately +brought them together, so the birth was not accidental, and my interest +in it quite legitimately maternal. We always had tea in the veranda in +Rawul Pindi, the drawing-room was painted blue, blue for thirty feet up +to the whitewashed cotton ceiling; nothing of any value in the way of a +human relation, I am sure, could have originated there. The veranda +was spacious and open, their mutual observation had room and freedom; +I watched it to and fro. I had not long to wait for my reward; the +beautiful candour I expected between them was not ten minutes in coming. +For the sake of it I had taken some trouble, but when I perceived it +revealing I went and sat down beside Judy's husband, Robert Harbottle, +and talked about Pharaoh's split hoof. It was only fair; and when next +day I got their impressions of one another, I felt single-minded and +deserving. + +I knew it would be a satisfactory sort of thing to do, but perhaps it +was rather more for Judy's sake than for Anna's that I did it. Mrs. +Harbottle was only twenty-seven then and Robert a major, but he had +brought her to India out of an episode too colour-flushed to tone with +English hedges; their marriage had come, in short, of his divorce, and +as too natural a consequence. In India it is well known that the eye +becomes accustomed to primitive pigments and high lights; the aesthetic +consideration, if nothing else, demanded Robert's exchange. He was lucky +to get a Piffer regiment, and the Twelfth were lucky to get him; we were +all lucky, I thought, to get Judy. It was an opinion, of course, a good +deal challenged, even in Rawul Pindi, where it was thought, especially +in the beginning, that acquiescence was the most the Harbottles could +hope for. That is not enough in India; cordiality is the common right. +I could not have Judy preserving her atmosphere at our tea-parties and +gymkhanas. Not that there were two minds among us about 'the case'; it +was a preposterous case, sentimentally undignified, from some points of +view deplorable. I chose to reserve my point of view, from which I saw +it, on Judy's behalf, merely quixotic, preferring on Robert's just to +close my eyes. There is no doubt that his first wife was odious to a +degree which it is simply pleasanter not to recount, but her malignity +must almost have amounted to a sense of humour. Her detestation of her +cousin Judy Thynne dated much further back than Robert's attachment. +That began in Paris, where Judy, a young widow, was developing a real +vein at Julian's. I am entirely convinced that there was nothing, as +people say, 'in it,' Judy had not a thought at that time that was not +based on Chinese white and permeated with good-fellowship; but there was +a good deal of it, and no doubt the turgid imagination of the first +Mrs. Harbottle dealt with it honestly enough. At all events, she saw +her opportunity, and the depths of her indifference to Robert bubbled +up venomously into the suit. That it was undefended was the senseless +mystery; decency ordained that he and Judy should have made a fight, +even in the hope that it would be a losing one. The reason it had to +be a losing one--the reason so immensely criticized--was that the +petitioning lady obstinately refused to bring her action against any +other set of circumstances than those to which, I have no doubt, Judy +contributed every indiscretion. It is hard to imagine Robert Harbottle +refusing her any sort of justification that the law demands short of +beating her, but her malice would accept nothing of which the account +did not go for final settlement to Judy Thynne. If her husband wanted +his liberty, he should have it, she declared, at that price and no +other. Major Harbottle did indeed deeply long for his liberty, and his +interesting friend, Mrs. Thynne, had, one can only say, the most vivid +commiseration for his bondage. Whatever chance they had of winning, to +win would be, for the end they had at heart, to lose, so they simply +abstained, as it were, from comment upon the detestable procedure which +terminated in the rule absolute. I have often wondered whether the whole +business would not have been more defensible if there had been on Judy's +part any emotional spring for the leap they made. I offer my conviction +that there was none, that she was only extravagantly affected by the +ideals of the Quarter--it is a transporting atmosphere--and held a view +of comradeship which permitted the reversal of the modern situation +filled by a blameless correspondent. Robert, of course, was tremendously +in love with her; but my theory is that she married him as the logical +outcome of her sacrifice and by no means the smallest part of it. + +It was all quite unimaginable, as so many things are, but the upshot of +it brought Judy to Rawul Pindi, as I have said, where I for one thought +her mistake insignificant compared with her value. It would have +been great, her value, anywhere; in the middle of the Punjab it was +incalculable. To explain why would be to explain British India, but +I hope it will appear; and I am quite willing, remember, to take the +responsibility if it does not. + +Somers Chichele, Anna's son, it is absurd to think, must have been about +fifteen then, reflecting at Winchester with the other 'men' upon the +comparative merits of tinned sardines and jam roll, and whether a packet +of real Egyptians was not worth the sacrifice of either. His father was +colonel of the Twelfth; his mother was still charming. It was the year +before Dick Forsyth came down from the neighbourhood of Sheikhbudin with +a brevet and a good deal of personal damage. I mention him because he +proved Anna's charm in the only conclusive way before the eyes of us +all; and the station, I remember, was edified to observe that if Mrs. +Chichele came out of the matter 'straight'--one relapses so easily into +the simple definitions of those parts--which she undoubtedly did, she +owed it in no small degree to Judy Harbottle. This one feels to be +hardly a legitimate reference, but it is something tangible to lay hold +upon in trying to describe the web of volitions which began to weave +itself between the two that afternoon on my veranda and which afterward +became so strong a bond. I was delighted with the thing; its simplicity +and sincerity stood out among our conventional little compromises at +friendship like an ideal. She and Judy had the assurance of one another; +they made upon one another the finest and often the most unconscionable +demands. One met them walking at odd hours in queer places, of which I +imagine they were not much aware. They would turn deliberately off the +Maidan and away from the bandstand to be rid of our irrelevant bows; +they did their duty by the rest of us, but the most egregious among us, +the Deputy-Commissioner for selection, could see that he hardly counted. +I thought I understood, but that may have been my fatuity; certainly +when their husbands inquired what on earth they had been talking of, it +usually transpired that they had found an infinite amount to say about +nothing. It was a little worrying to hear Colonel Chichele and Major +Harbottle describe their wives as 'pals,' but the fact could not be +denied, and after all we were in the Punjab. They were pals too, but the +terms were different. + +People discussed it according to their lights, and girls said in pretty +wonderment that Mrs. Harbottle and Mrs. Chichele were like men, they +never kissed each other. I think Judy prescribed these conditions. Anna +was far more a person who did as the world told her. But it was a poor +negation to describe all that they never did; there was no common little +convention of attachment that did not seem to be tacitly omitted between +them. I hope one did not too cynically observe that they offered these +to their husbands instead; the redeeming observation was their husbands' +complete satisfaction. This they maintained to the end. In the +natural order of things Robert Harbottle should have paid heavily for +interfering as he did in Paris between a woman and what she was entitled +to live for. As a matter of fact he never paid anything at all; I doubt +whether he ever knew himself a debtor. Judy kept her temperament under +like a current and swam with the tides of the surface, taking refreshing +dips only now and then which one traced in her eyes and her hair when +she and Robert came back from leave. That sort of thing is lost in the +sands of India, but it makes an oasis as it travels, and it sometimes +seemed to me a curious pity that she and Anna should sit in the shade of +it together, while Robert and Peter Chichele, their titular companions, +blundered on in the desert. But after all, if you are born blind--and +the men were both immensely liked, and the shooting was good. + +Ten years later Somers joined. The Twelfth were at Peshawur. Robert +Harbottle was Lieutenant-Colonel by that time and had the regiment. +Distinction had incrusted, in the Indian way, upon Peter Chichele, its +former colonel; he was General Commanding the District and K.C.B. So +we were all still together in Peshawur. It was great luck for the +Chicheles, Sir Peter's having the district, though his father's old +regiment would have made it pleasant enough for the boy in any case. He +came to us, I mean, of course, to two or three of us, with the interest +that hangs about a victim of circumstances; we understood that he +wasn't a 'born soldier.' Anna had told me on the contrary that he was +a sacrifice to family tradition made inevitable by the General's +unfortunate investments. Bellona's bridegroom was not a role he fancied, +though he would make a kind of compromise as best man; he would agree, +she said, to be a war correspondent and write picturesque specials +for the London halfpenny press. There was the humour of the poor boy's +despair in it, but she conveyed it, I remember, in exactly the same tone +with which she had said to me years before that he wanted to drive a +milk-cart. She carried quite her half of the family tradition, though +she could talk of sacrifice and make her eyes wistful, contemplating +for Somers the limitations of the drill-book and the camp of exercise, +proclaiming and insisting upon what she would have done if she could +only have chosen for him. Anna Chichele saw things that way. With more +than a passable sense of all that was involved, if she could have made +her son an artist in life or a commander-in-chief, if she could have +given him the seeing eye or Order of the Star of India, she would not +have hesitated for an instant. Judy, with her single mind, cried out, +almost at sight of him, upon them both, I mean both Anna and Sir Peter. +Not that the boy carried his condemnation badly, or even obviously; I +venture that no one noticed it in the mess; but it was naturally plain +to those of us who were under the same. He had put in his two years with +a British regiment at Meerut--they nurse subalterns that way for the +Indian army--and his eyes no longer played with the tinsel vision +of India; they looked instead into the arid stretch beyond. This +preoccupation conveyed to the Surgeon-Major's wife the suggestion that +Mr. Chichele was the victim of a hopeless attachment. Mrs. Harbottle +made no such mistake; she saw simply, I imagine, the beginnings of +her own hunger and thirst in him, looking back as she told us across a +decade of dusty sunsets to remember them. The decade was there, close to +the memory of all of us; we put, from Judy herself downward, an absurd +amount of confidence in it. + +She looked so well the night she met him. It was English mail day; +she depended a great deal upon her letters, and I suppose somebody had +written her a word that brought her that happy, still excitement that +is the inner mystery of words. He went straight to her with some speech +about his mother having given him leave, and for twenty minutes she +patronized him on a sofa as his mother would not have dreamed of doing. + +Anna Chichele, from the other side of the room, smiled on the pair. + +'I depend on you and Judy to be good to him while we are away,' she +said. She and Sir Peter were going on leave at the end of the week to +Scotland, as usual, for the shooting. + +Following her glance I felt incapable of the proportion she assigned me. +'I will see after his socks with pleasure,' I said. 'I think, don't you, +we may leave the rest to Judy?' + +Her eyes remained upon the boy, and I saw the passion rise in them, +at which I turned mine elsewhere. Who can look unperturbed upon such a +privacy of nature as that? + +'Poor old Judy!' she went on. 'She never would be bothered with him +in all his dear hobble-dehoy time; she resented his claims, the +unreasonable creature, used to limit me to three anecdotes a week; +and now she has him on her hands, if you like. See the pretty air +of deference in the way he listens to her! He has nice manners, the +villain, if he is a Chichele!' + +'Oh, you have improved Sir Peter's,' I said kindly. + +'I do hope Judy will think him worth while. I can't quite expect that he +will be up to her, bless him, she is so much cleverer, isn't she, than +any of us? But if she will just be herself with him it will make such a +difference.' + +The other two crossed the room to us at that, and Judy gaily made Somers +over to his mother, trailing off to find Robert in the billiard-room. + +'Well, what has Mrs. Harbottle been telling you?' Anna asked him. + +The young man's eye followed Judy, his hand went musingly to his +moustache. + +'She was telling me,' he said, 'that people in India were sepulchers of +themselves, but that now and then one came who could roll away another's +stone.' + +'It sounds promising,' said Lady Chichele to me. + +'It sounds cryptic,' I laughed to Somers, but I saw that he had the key. + +I can not say that I attended diligently to Mr. Chichele's socks, but +the part corresponding was freely assigned me. After his people went I +saw him often. He pretended to find qualities in my tea, implied that he +found them in my talk. As a matter of fact it was my inquiring attitude +that he loved, the knowledge that there was no detail that he could give +me about himself, his impressions and experiences, that was unlikely to +interest me. I would not for the world imply that he was egotistical or +complacent, absolutely the reverse, but he possessed an articulate soul +which found its happiness in expression, and I liked to listen. I feel +that these are complicated words to explain a very simple relation, +and I pause to wonder what is left to me if I wished to describe his +commerce with Mrs. Harbottle. Luckily there is an alternative; one +needn't do it. I wish I had somewhere on paper Judy's own account of it +at this period, however. It is a thing she would have enjoyed writing +and more enjoyed communicating, at this period. + +There was a grave reticence in his talk about her which amused me in the +beginning. Mrs. Harbottle had been for ten years important enough to us +all, but her serious significance, the light and the beauty in her, +had plainly been reserved for the discovery of this sensitive and +intelligent person not very long from Sandhurst and exactly twenty-six. +I was barely allowed a familiar reference, and anything approaching a +flippancy was met with penetrating silence. I was almost rebuked for +lightly suggesting that she must occasionally find herself bored in +Peshawur. + +'I think not anywhere,' said Mr. Chichele; 'Mrs. Harbottle is one of the +few people who sound the privilege of living.' + +This to me, who had counted Mrs. Harbottle's yawns on so many occasions! +It became presently necessary to be careful, tactful, in one's +implications about Mrs. Harbottle, and to recognize a certain +distinction in the fact that one was the only person with whom Mr. +Chichele discussed her at all. + +The day came when we talked of Robert; it was bound to come in the +progress of any understanding and affectionate colloquy which had his +wife for inspiration. I was familiar, of course, with Somers's opinion +that the Colonel was an awfully good sort; that had been among the +preliminaries and become understood as the base of all references. And I +liked Robert Harbottle very well myself. When his adjutant called him a +born leader of men, however, I felt compelled to look at the statement +consideringly. + +'In a tight place,' I said--dear me, what expressions had the freedom of +our little frontier drawing-rooms!--'I would as soon depend on him as on +anybody. But as for leadership--' + +'He is such a good fellow that nobody here does justice to his soldierly +qualities,' said Mr. Chichele, 'except Mrs. Harbottle.' + +'Has she been telling you about them?' I inquired. + +'Well,' he hesitated, 'she told me about the Mulla Nulla affair. She is +rather proud of that. Any woman would be.' + +'Poor dear Judy!' I mused. + +Somers said nothing, but looked at me, removing his cigarette, as if my +words would be the better of explanation. + +'She has taken refuge in them--in Bob Harbottle's soldierly +qualities--ever since she married him,' I continued. + +'Taken refuge,' he repeated, coldly, but at my uncompromising glance his +eyes fell. + +'Well?' I said. + +'You mean--' + +'Oh, I mean what I say,' I laughed. 'Your cigarette has gone out--have +another.' + +'I think her devotion to him splendid.' + +'Quite splendid. Have you seen the things he brought her from the Simla +Art Exhibition? He said they were nice bits of colour, and she has hung +them in the drawing-room, where she will have to look at them every day. +Let us admire her--dear Judy.' + +'Oh,' he said, with a fine air of detachment, 'do you think they are so +necessary, those agreements?' + +'Well,' I replied, 'we see that they are not indispensable. More sugar? +I have only given you one lump. And we know, at all events,' I added, +unguardedly, 'that she could never have had an illusion about him.' + +The young man looked up quickly. 'Is that story true?' he asked. + +'There was a story, but most of us have forgotten it. Who told you?' + +'The doctor.' + +'The Surgeon-Major,' I said, 'has an accurate memory and a sense of +proportion. As I suppose you were bound to get it from somebody, I am +glad you got it from him.' + +I was not prepared to go on, and saw with some relief that Somers was +not either. His silence, as he smoked, seemed to me deliberate; and I +had oddly enough at this moment for the first time the impression that +he was a man and not a boy. Then the Harbottles themselves joined us, +very cheery after a gallop from the Wazir-Bagh. We talked of old times, +old friendships, good swords that were broken, names that had carried +far, and Somers effaced himself in the perfect manner of the British +subaltern. It was a long, pleasant gossip, and I thought Judy seemed +rather glad to let her husband dictate its level, which, of course, he +did. I noticed when the three rode away together that the Colonel was +beginning to sit down rather solidly on his big New Zealander; and I +watched the dusk come over from the foothills for a long time thinking +more kindly than I had spoken of Robert Harbottle. + +I have often wondered how far happiness is contributed to a temperament +like Judy Harbottle's, and how far it creates its own; but I doubt +whether, on either count, she found as much in any other winter of her +life except perhaps the remote ones by the Seine. Those ardent hours +of hers, when everything she said was touched with the flame of her +individuality, came oftener; she suddenly cleaned up her palate and +began to translate in one study after another the language of the +frontier country, that spoke only in stones and in shadows under the +stones and in sunlight over them. There is nothing in the Academy of +this year, at all events, that I would exchange for the one she gave me. +She lived her physical life at a pace which carried us all along +with her; she hunted and drove and danced and dined with such sincere +intention as convinced us all that in hunting and driving and dancing +and dining there were satisfactions that had been somehow overlooked. +The Surgeon-Major's wife said it was delightful to meet Mrs. Harbottle, +she seemed to enjoy everything so thoroughly; the Surgeon-Major looked +at her critically and asked her if she were quite sure she hadn't a +night temperature. He was a Scotchman. One night Colonel Harbottle, +hearing her give away the last extra, charged her with renewing her +youth. + +'No, Bob,' she said, 'only imitating it.' + +Ah, that question of her youth. It was so near her--still, she told +me once, she heard the beat of its flying, and the pulse in her veins +answered the false signal. That was afterward, when she told the truth. +She was not so happy when she indulged herself otherwise. As when she +asked one to remember that she was a middle-aged woman, with middle-aged +thoughts and satisfactions. + +'I am now really happiest,' she declared, 'when the Commissioner takes +me in to dinner, when the General Commanding leads me to the dance.' + +She did her best to make it an honest conviction. I offered her a recent +success not crowned by the Academy, and she put it down on the table. +'By and by,' she said. 'At present I am reading Pascal and Bossuet.' +Well, she was reading Pascal and Bossuet. She grieved aloud that most +of our activities in India were so indomitably youthful, owing to the +accident that most of us were always so young. 'There is no dignified +distraction in this country,' she complained, 'for respectable ladies +nearing forty.' She seemed to like to make these declarations in the +presence of Somers Chichele, who would look at her with a little queer +smile--a bad translation, I imagine, of what he felt. + +She gave herself so generously to her seniors that somebody said Mrs. +Harbottle's girdle was hung with brass hats. It seems flippant to add +that her complexion was as honest as the day, but the fact is that the +year before Judy had felt compelled, like the rest of us, to repair just +a little the ravages of the climate. If she had never done it one would +not have looked twice at the absurdity when she said of the powder-puff +in the dressing-room, 'I have raised that thing to the level of an +immorality,' and sailed in to dance with an uncompromising expression +and a face uncompromised. I have not spoken of her beauty; for one +thing it was not always there, and there were people who would deny +it altogether, or whose considered comment was, 'I wouldn't call +her plain.' They, of course, were people in whom she declined to be +interested, but even for those of us who could evoke some demonstration +of her vivid self her face would not always light in correspondence. +When it did there was none that I liked better to look at; and I envied +Somers Chichele his way to make it the pale, shining thing that would +hold him lifted, in return, for hours together, with I know not what +mystic power of a moon upon the tide. And he? Oh, he was dark and +delicate, by nature simple, sincere, delightfully intelligent. His +common title to charm was the rather sweet seriousness that rested on +his upper lip, and a certain winning gratification in his attention; +but he had a subtler one in his eyes, which must be always seeking and +smiling over what they found; those eyes of perpetual inquiry for the +exquisite which ask so little help to create it. A personality to button +up in a uniform, good heavens! + +As I begin to think of them together I remember how the maternal note +appeared in her talk about him. + +'His youth is pathetic,' she told me, 'but there is nothing that he does +not understand.' + +'Don't apologize, Judy,' I said. We were so brusque on the frontier. +Besides, the matter still suffered a jocular presentment. Mrs. Harbottle +and Mr. Chichele were still 'great friends'; we could still put them +next each other at our dinner-parties without the feeling that it would +be 'marked.' There was still nothing unusual in the fact that when Mrs. +Harbottle was there Mr. Chichele might be taken for granted. We were so +broad-minded also, on the frontier. + +It grew more obvious, the maternal note. I began positively to dread it, +almost as much, I imagine, as Somers did. She took her privileges all in +Anna's name, she exercised her authority quite as Lady Chichele's proxy. +She went to the very limit. 'Anna Chichele,' she said actually in his +presence, 'is a fortunate woman. She has all kinds of cleverness, and +she has her tall son. I have only one little talent, and I have no tall +son.' Now it was not in nature that she could have had a son as tall as +Somers, nor was that desire in her eyes. All civilization implies a good +deal of farce, but this was a poor refuge, a cheap device; I was glad +when it fell away from her sincerity, when the day came on which she +looked into my fire and said simply, 'An attachment like ours has no +terms.' + +'I wonder,' I said. + +'For what comes and goes,' she went on dreamily, 'how could there be a +formula?' + +'Look here, Judy,' I said, 'you know me very well. What if the flesh +leaps with the spirit?' + +She looked at me, very white. 'Oh no,' she said, 'no.' + +I waited, but there seemed nothing more that she could say; and in the +silence the futile negative seemed to wander round the room repeating +itself like an echo, 'Oh no, no.' I poked the fire presently to drown +the sound of it. Judy sat still, with her feet crossed and her hands +thrust into the pockets of her coat, staring into the coals. + +'Can you live independently, satisfied with your interests and +occupations?' she demanded at last. 'Yes, I know you can. I can't. I +must exist more than half in other people. It is what they think and +feel that matters to me, just as much as what I think and feel. The best +of life is in that communication.' + +'It has always been a passion with you, Judy,' I replied. 'I can imagine +how much you must miss--' + +'Whom?' + +'Anna Chichele,' I said softly. + +She got up and walked about the room, fixing here and there an intent +regard upon things which she did not see. 'Oh, I do,' she said at one +point, with the effect of pulling herself together. She took another +turn or two, and then finding herself near the door she went out. I felt +as profoundly humiliated for her as if she had staggered. + +The next night was one of those that stand out so vividly, for no +reason that one can identify, in one's memory. We were dining with the +Harbottles, a small party, for a tourist they had with them. Judy and I +and Somers and the traveller had drifted out into the veranda, where the +scent of Japanese lilies came and went on the spring wind to trouble the +souls of any taken unawares. There was a brightness beyond the foothills +where the moon was coming, and I remember how one tall clump swayed +out against it, and seemed in passionate perfume to lay a burden on the +breast. Judy moved away from it and sat clasping her knees on the edge +of the veranda. Somers, when his eyes were not upon her, looked always +at the lily. + +Even the spirit of the globe-trotter was stirred, and he said, 'I think +you Anglo-Indians live in a kind of little paradise.' + +There was an instant's silence, and then Judy turned her face into the +lamplight from the drawing-room. 'With everything but the essentials,' +she said. + +We stayed late; Mr. Chichele and ourselves were the last to go. +Judy walked with us along the moonlit drive to the gate, which is so +unnecessary a luxury in India that the servants always leave it open. +She swung the stiff halves together. + +'Now,' she said, 'it is shut.' + +'And I,' said Somers Chichele, softly and quickly, 'am on the other +side.' + +Even over that depth she could flash him a smile. 'It is the business of +my life,' she gave him in return, 'to keep this gate shut.' I felt as +if they had forgotten us. Somers mounted and rode off without a word. We +were walking in a different direction. Looking back, I saw Judy leaning +immovable on the gate, while Somers turned in his saddle, apparently +to repeat the form of lifting his hat. And all about them stretched +the stones of Kabul valley, vague and formless in the tide of the +moonlight... + +Next day a note from Mrs. Harbottle informed me that she had gone to +Bombay for a fortnight. In a postscript she wrote, 'I shall wait for the +Chicheles there, and come back with them.' I remember reflecting that +if she could not induce herself to take a passage to England in the ship +that brought them, it seemed the right thing to do. + +She did come back with them. I met the party at the station. I knew +Somers would meet them, and it seemed to me, so imminent did disaster +loom, that someone else should be there, someone to offer a covering +movement or a flank support wherever it might be most needed. And among +all our smiling faces disaster did come, or the cold premonition of it. +We were all perfect, but Somers's lip trembled. Deprived for a fortnight +he was eager for the draft, and he was only twenty-six. His lip +trembled, and there, under the flickering station-lamps, suddenly stood +that of which there never could be again any denial, for those of us who +saw. + +Did we make, I wonder, even a pretense of disguising the consternation +that sprang up among us, like an armed thing, ready to kill any further +suggestion of the truth? I don't know. Anna Chichele's unfinished +sentence dropped as if someone had given her a blow upon the mouth. +Coolies were piling the luggage into a hired carriage at the edge of the +platform. She walked mechanically after them, and would have stepped in +with it but for the sight of her own gleaming landau drawn up within a +yard or two, and the General waiting. We all got home somehow, taking it +with us, and I gave Lady Chichele twenty-four hours to come to me +with her face all one question and her heart all one fear. She came in +twelve. + +'Have you seen it--long?' Prepared as I was her directness was +demoralizing. + +'It isn't a mortal disease.' + +'Oh, for Heaven's sake--' + +'Well, not with certainty, for more than a month.' + +She made a little spasmodic movement with her hands, then dropped them +pitifully. 'Couldn't you do ANYthing?' + +I looked at her, and she said at once, 'No, of course you couldn't.' + +For a moment or two I took my share of the heavy sense of it, my trivial +share, which yet was an experience sufficiently exciting. 'I am afraid +it will have to be faced,' I said. + +'What will happen?' Anna cried. 'Oh, what will happen?' + +'Why not the usual thing?' Lady Chichele looked up quickly as if at a +reminder. 'The ambiguous attachment of the country,' I went on, limping +but courageous, 'half declared, half admitted, that leads vaguely +nowhere, and finally perishes as the man's life enriches itself--the +thing we have seen so often.' + +'Whatever Judy is capable of it won't be the usual thing. You know +that.' + +I had to confess in silence that I did. + +'It flashed at me--the difference in her--in Bombay.' She pressed her +lips together and then went on unsteadily. 'In her eyes, her voice. She +was mannered, extravagant, elaborate. With me! All the way up I wondered +and worried. But I never thought--' She stopped; her voice simply shook +itself into silence. I called a servant. + +'I am going to give you a good stiff peg,' I said. I apologize for +the 'peg,' but not for the whisky and soda. It is a beverage on the +frontier, of which the vulgarity is lost in the value. While it was +coming I tried to talk of other things, but she would only nod absently +in the pauses. + +'Last night we dined with him, it was guest night at the mess, and she +was there. I watched her, and she knew it. I don't know whether she +tried, but anyway, she failed. The covenant between them was written +on her forehead whenever she looked at him, though that was seldom. She +dared not look at him. And the little conversation that they had--you +would have laughed--it was a comedy of stutters. The facile Mrs. +Harbottle!' + +'You do well to be angry, naturally,' I said; 'but it would be fatal to +let yourself go, Anna.' + +'Angry?' Oh, I am SICK. The misery of it! The terror of it! If it were +anybody but Judy! Can't you imagine the passion of a temperament like +that in a woman who has all these years been feeding on herself? I tell +you she will take him from my very arms. And he will go--to I dare not +imagine what catastrophe! Who can prevent it? Who can prevent it?' + +'There is you,' I said. + +Lady Chichele laughed hysterically. 'I think you ought to say, "There +are you." I--what can I do? Do you realize that it's JUDY? My friend--my +other self? Do you think we can drag all that out of it? Do you think a +tie like that can be broken by an accident--by a misfortune? With it +all I ADORE Judy Harbottle. I love her, as I have always loved her, +and--it's damnable, but I don't know whether, whatever happened, I +wouldn't go on loving her.' + +'Finish your peg,' I said. She was sobbing. + +'Where I blame myself most,' she went on, 'is for not seeing in him +all that makes him mature to her--that makes her forget the absurd +difference between them, and take him simply and sincerely as I know she +does, as the contemporary of her soul if not of her body. I saw none of +that. Could I, as his mother? Would he show it to me? I thought him just +a charming boy, clever, too, of course, with nice instincts and well +plucked; we were always proud of that, with his delicate physique. Just +a boy! I haven't yet stopped thinking how different he looks without his +curls. And I thought she would be just kind and gracious and delightful +to him because he was my son.' + +'There, of course,' I said, 'is the only chance.' + +'Where--what?' + +'He is your son.' + +'Would you have me appeal to her? Do you know I don't think I could?' + +'Dear me, no. Your case must present itself. It must spring upon her +and grow before her out of your silence, and if you can manage it, your +confidence. There is a great deal, after all, remember, to hold her in +that. I can't somehow imagine her failing you. Otherwise--' + +Lady Chichele and I exchanged a glance of candid admission. + +'Otherwise she would be capable of sacrificing everything--everything. +Of gathering her life into an hour. I know. And do you know if the thing +were less impossible, less grotesque, I should not be so much afraid? +I mean that the ABSOLUTE indefensibility of it might bring her a +recklessness and a momentum which might--' + +'Send her over the verge,' I said. 'Well, go home and ask her to +dinner.' + +There was a good deal more to say, of course, than I have thought proper +to put down here, but before Anna went I saw that she was keyed up to +the heroic part. This was none the less to her credit because it was the +only part, the dictation of a sense of expediency that despaired while +it dictated. The noble thing was her capacity to take it, and, amid +all that warred in her, to carry it out on the brave high lines of her +inspiration. It seemed a literal inspiration, so perfectly calculated +that it was hard not to think sometimes, when one saw them together, +that Anna had been lulled into a simple resumption of the old relation. +Then from the least thing possible--the lift of an eyelid--it flashed +upon one that between these two every moment was dramatic, and one took +up the word with a curious sense of detachment and futility, but with +one's heart beating like a trip-hammer with the mad excitement of it. +The acute thing was the splendid sincerity of Judy Harbottle's response. +For days she was profoundly on her guard, then suddenly she seemed to +become practically, vividly aware of what I must go on calling the great +chance, and passionately to fling herself upon it. It was the strangest +cooperation without a word or a sign to show it conscious--a playing +together for stakes that could not be admitted, a thing to hang upon +breathless. It was there between them--the tenable ground of what they +were to each other: they occupied it with almost an equal eye upon +the tide that threatened, while I from my mainland tower also made an +anguished calculation of the chances. I think in spite of the menace, +they found real beatitudes; so keenly did they set about the business +that it brought them moments finer than any they could count in the +years that were behind them, the flat and colourless years that were +gone. Once or twice the wild idea even visited me that it was, after +all, the projection of his mother in Somers that had so seized Judy +Harbottle, and that the original was all that was needed to help the +happy process of detachment. Somers himself at the time was a good deal +away on escort duty: they had a clear field. + +I can not tell exactly when--between Mrs. Harbottle and myself--it +became a matter for reference more or less overt, I mean her defined +problem, the thing that went about between her and the sun. It will be +imagined that it did not come up like the weather; indeed, it was hardly +ever to be envisaged and never to be held; but it was always there, and +out of our joint consciousness it would sometimes leap and pass, without +shape or face. It might slip between two sentences, or it might remain, +a dogging shadow, for an hour. Or a week would go by while, with +a strong hand, she held it out of sight altogether and talked of +Anna--always of Anna. Her eyes shone with the things she told me then: +she seemed to keep herself under the influence of them as if they had +the power of narcotics. At the end of a time like this she turned to me +in the door as she was going and stood silent, as if she could neither +go nor stay. I had been able to make nothing of her that afternoon: she +had seemed preoccupied with the pattern of the carpet which she traced +continually with her riding crop, and finally I, too, had relapsed. She +sat haggard, with the fight forever in her eyes, and the day seemed to +sombre about her in her corner. When she turned in the door, I looked up +with sudden prescience of a crisis. + +'Don't jump,' she said, 'it was only to tell you that I have persuaded +Robert to apply for furlough. Eighteen months. From the first of April. +Don't touch me.' I suppose I made a movement towards her. Certainly +I wanted to throw my arms about her; with the instinct, I suppose, to +steady her in her great resolution. + +'At the end of that time, as you know, he will be retired. I had some +trouble, he is so keen on the regiment, but I think--I have succeeded. +You might mention it to Anna.' + +'Haven't you?' sprang past my lips. + +'I can't. It would be like taking an oath to tell her, and--I can't take +an oath to go. But I mean to.' + +'There is nothing to be said,' I brought out, feeling indeed that there +was not. 'But I congratulate you, Judy.' + +'No, there is nothing to be said. And you congratulate me, no doubt!' + +She stood for a moment quivering in the isolation she made for herself; +and I felt a primitive angry revolt against the delicate trafficking +of souls that could end in such ravage and disaster. The price was too +heavy; I would have denuded her, at the moment, of all that had led +her into this, and turned her out a clod with fine shoulders like fifty +other women in Peshawur. Then, perhaps, because I held myself silent and +remote and she had no emotion of fear from me, she did not immediately +go. + +'It will beat itself away, I suppose, like the rest of the unreasonable +pain of the world,' she said at last; and that, of course, brought me to +her side. 'Things will go back to their proportions. This,' she +touched an open rose, 'will claim its beauty again. And life will +become--perhaps--what it was before.' Still I found nothing to say, +I could only put my arm in hers and walk with her to the edge of the +veranda where the syce was holding her horse. She stroked the animal's +neck. 'Everything in me answered him,' she informed me, with the grave +intelligence of a patient who relates a symptom past. As she took the +reins she turned to me again. 'His spirit came to mine like a homing +bird,' she said, and in her smile even the pale reflection of happiness +was sweet and stirring. It left me hanging in imagination over the +source and the stream, a little blessed in the mere understanding. + +Too much blessed for confidence, or any safe feeling that the source +was bound. Rather I saw it leaping over every obstacle, flashing to its +destiny. As I drove to the Club next day I decided that I would not +tell Anna Chichele of Colonel Harbottle's projected furlough. If to Judy +telling her would be like taking an oath that they would go, to me it +would at least be like assuming sponsorship for their intention. That +would be heavy indeed. From the first of April--we were then in March. +Anna would hear it soon enough from the General, would see it soon +enough, almost, in the 'Gazette', when it would have passed into +irrecoverable fact. So I went by her with locked lips, kept out of the +way of those eyes of the mother that asked and asked, and would have +seen clear to any depth, any hiding-place of knowledge like that. As I +pulled up at the Club I saw Colonel Harbottle talking concernedly to the +wife of our Second-in-Command, and was reminded that I had not heard +for some days how Major Watkins was going on. So I, too, approached Mrs. +Watkins in her victoria to ask. Robert Harbottle kindly forestalled her +reply. 'Hard luck, isn't it? Watkins has been ordered home at once. Just +settled into their new house, too--last of the kit came up from Calcutta +yesterday, didn't it, Mrs. Watkins? But it's sound to go--Peshawur is +the worst hole in Asia to shake off dysentery in.' + +We agreed upon this and discussed the sale-list of her new furniture +that Mrs. Watkins would have to send round the station, and considered +the chances of a trooper--to the Watkinses with two children and not +a penny but his pay it did make it easier not to have to go by a +liner--and Colonel Harbottle and I were halfway to the reading-room +before the significance of Major Watkins's sick-leave flashed upon me. + +'But this,' I cried, 'will make a difference to your plans. You won't--' + +'Be able to ask for that furlough Judy wants. Rather not. I'm afraid +she's disappointed--she was tremendously set on going--but it doesn't +matter tuppence to me.' + +I sought out Mrs. Harbottle, at the end of the room. She looked radiant; +she sat on the edge of the table and swung a light-hearted heel. She +was talking to people who in themselves were a witness to high spirits, +Captain the Hon. Freddy Gisborne, Mrs. Flamboys. + +At sight of me her face clouded, fell suddenly into the old weary lines. +It made me feel somehow a little sick; I went back to my cart and drove +home. + +For more than a week I did not see her except when I met her riding +with Somers Chichele along the peach-bordered road that leads to the +Wazir-Bagh. The trees were all in blossom and made a picture that might +well catch dreaming hearts into a beatitude that would correspond. +The air was full of spring and the scent of violets, those wonderful +Peshawur violets that grow in great clumps, tall and double. Gracious +clouds came and trailed across the frontier barrier; blue as an idyll it +rose about us; the city smiled in her gardens. + +She had it all in her face, poor Judy, all the spring softness and more, +the morning she came, intensely controlled, to announce her defeat. I +was in the drawing-room doing the flowers; I put them down to look at +her. The wonderful telegram from Simla arrived--that was the wonderful +part--at the same time; I remembered how the red, white, and blue turban +of the telegraph peon bobbed up behind her shoulder in the veranda. I +signed and laid it on the table; I suppose it seemed hardly likely that +anything could be important enough to interfere at the moment with my +impression of what love, unbound and victorious, could do with a face I +thought I knew. Love sat there careless of the issue, full of delight. +Love proclaimed that between him and Judith Harbottle it was all +over--she had met him, alas, in too narrow a place--and I marvelled +at the paradox with which he softened every curve and underlined every +vivid note of personality in token that it had just begun. He sat there +in great serenity, and though I knew that somewhere behind lurked a +vanquished woman, I saw her through such a radiance that I could not be +sure of seeing her at all... + +She went back to the very first of it; she seemed herself intensely +interested in the facts; and there is no use in pretending that, while +she talked, the moral consideration was at all present with me either; +it wasn't. Her extremity was the thing that absorbed us; she even, +in tender thoughtfulness, diagnosed it from its definite beautiful +beginning. + +'It was there, in my heart, when I woke one morning, exquisite and +strange, the assurance of a gift. How had it come there, while I slept? +I assure you when I closed my eyes it did not exist for me... Yes, of +course, I had seen him, but only somewhere at dinner... As the day went +on it changed--it turned into a clear pool, into a flower. And I--think +of my not understanding! I was pleased with it! For a long time, for +days, I never dreamed that it could be anything but a little secret joy. +Then, suddenly--oh, I had not been perceiving enough!--it was in all my +veins, a tide, an efflorescence, a thing of my very life. + +'Then--it was a little late--I understood, and since-- + +'I began by hating it--being furious, furious--and afraid, too. +Sometimes it was like a low cloud, hovering and travelling always with +me, sometimes like a beast of prey that went a little way off and sat +looking at me.... + +'I have--done my best. But there is nothing to do, to kill, to abolish. +How can I say, "I will not let you in," when it is already there? How +can I assume indifference when this thing is imposed upon every moment +of my day? And it has grown so sweet--the longing--that--isn't it +strange?--I could more willingly give him up than the desire of him. +That seems as impossible to part with as life itself.' + +She sat reflective for a moment, and I saw her eyes slowly fill. + +Don't--don't CRY, Judy,' I faltered, wanting to horribly, myself. + +She smiled them dry. + +'Not now. But I am giving myself, I suppose, to many tears.' + +'God help you,' I said. What else was there to say? + +'There is no such person,' she replied, gaily. 'There is only a blessed +devil.' + +'Then you go all the way--to the logical conclusion?' + +She hardly hesitated. 'To the logical conclusion. What poor words!' + +'May I ask--when?' + +'I should like to tell you that quite definitely, and I think I can. The +English mail leaves tonight.' + +'And you have arranged to take it?' + +'We have arranged nothing. Do you know'--she smiled as if at the fresh +colours of an idyll--'we have not even come to the admission? There has +been between us no word, no vision. Ah, we have gone in bonds, and dumb! +Hours we have had, exquisite hours of the spirit, but never a moment of +the heart, a moment confessed. It was mine to give--that moment, and he +has waited--I know--wondering whether perhaps it would ever come. And +today--we are going for a ride today, and I do not think we shall come +back.' + +'O Judy,' I cried, catching at her sleeve, 'he is only a boy!' + +'There were times when I thought that conclusive. Now the misery of it +has gone to sleep; don't waken it. It pleases me to believe that the +years are a convention. I never had any dignity, you know, and I seem +to have missed the moral deliverance. I only want--oh, you know what I +want. Why don't you open your telegram?' + +I had been folding and fingering the brown envelope as if it had been a +scrap of waste paper. + +'It is probably from Mrs. Watkins about the victoria,' I said, +feeling its profound irrelevance. 'I wired an offer to her in Bombay. +However'--and I read the telegram, the little solving telegram from +Army Headquarters. I turned my back on her to read it again, and then I +replaced it very carefully and put it in my pocket. It was a moment to +take hold of with both hands, crying on all one's gods for steadiness. + +'How white you look!' said Mrs. Harbottle, with concern. 'Not bad news?' + +'On the contrary, excellent news. Judy, will you stay to lunch?' + +She looked at me, hesitating. 'Won't it seem rather a compromise on your +part? When you ought to be rousing the city--' + +'I don't intend to rouse the city,' I said. + +'I have given you the chance.' + +'Thank you,' I said, grimly, 'but the only real favour you can do me is +to stay to lunch.' It was then just on one. + +'I'll stay,' she said, 'if you will promise not to make any sort of +effort. I shouldn't mind, but it would distress you.' + +'I promise absolutely,' I said, and ironical joy rose up in me, and the +telegram burned in my pocket. + +She would talk of it, though I found it hard to let her go on, knowing +and knowing and knowing as I did that for that day at least it could not +be. There was very little about herself that she wanted to tell me; she +was there confessed a woman whom joy had overcome; it was understood +that we both accepted that situation. But in the details which she asked +me to take charge of it was plain that she also kept a watchful eye upon +fate--matters of business. + +We were in the drawing-room. The little round clock in its Armritsar +case marked half-past three. Judy put down her coffee cup and rose to +go. As she glanced at the clock the light deepened in her eyes, and I, +with her hand in mine, felt like an agent of the Destroyer--for it was +half-past three--consumed myself with fear lest the blow had miscarried. +Then as we stood, suddenly, the sound of hoofs at a gallop on the drive, +and my husband threw himself off at the door and tore through the hall +to his room; and in the certainty that overwhelmed me even Judy, for an +instant, stood dim and remote. + +'Major Jim seems to be in a hurry,' said Mrs. Harbottle, lightly. 'I +have always liked your husband. I wonder whether he will say tomorrow +that he always liked me.' + +'Dear Judy, I don't think he will be occupied with you tomorrow.' + +'Oh, surely, just a little, if I go tonight.' + +'You won't go tonight.' + +She looked at me helplessly. I felt as if I were insisting upon her +abasement instead of her salvation. 'I wish--' + +'You're not going--you're not! You can't! Look!' + +I pulled it out of my pocket and thrust it at her--the telegram. +It came, against every regulation, from my good friend the Deputy +Adjutant-General, in Simla, and it read, 'Row Khurram 12th probably +ordered front three hours' time.' + +Her face changed--how my heart leaped to see it change!--and that took +command there which will command trampling, even in the women of the +camp, at news like this. + +'What luck that Bob couldn't take his furlough!' she exclaimed, +single-thoughted. 'But you have known this for hours'--there was even +something of the Colonel's wife, authority, incisiveness. 'Why didn't +you tell me? Ah--I see.' + +I stood before her abashed, and that was ridiculous, while she measured +me as if I presented in myself the woman I took her to be. 'It wasn't +like that,' she said. I had to defend myself. 'Judy,' I said, 'if you +weren't in honour bound to Anna, how could I know that you would be in +honour bound to the regiment? There was a train at three.' + +'I beg to assure you that you have overcalculated,' said Mrs. Harbottle. +Her eyes were hard and proud. 'And I am not sure'--a deep red swept over +her face, a man's blush--'in the light of this I am not sure that I am +not in honour bound to Anna.' + +We had reached the veranda, and at her signal her coachman drove quickly +up. 'You have kept me here three hours when there was the whole of +Bob's kit to see to,' she said, as she flung herself in; 'you might have +thought of that.' + +It was a more than usually tedious campaign, and Colonel Robert +Harbottle was ambushed and shot in a place where one must believe pure +boredom induced him to take his men. The incident was relieved, the +newspapers said--and they are seldom so clever in finding relief for +such incidents--by the dash and courage shown by Lieutenant Chichele, +who, in one of those feats which it has lately been the fashion to +criticize, carried the mortally wounded body of his Colonel out of range +at conspicuous risk of depriving the Queen of another officer. I helped +Judy with her silent packing; she had forgiven me long before that; and +she settled almost at once into the flat in Chelsea which has since been +credited with so delightful an atmosphere, went back straight into her +own world. I have always kept her first letters about it, always shall. +For months after, while the expedition still raged after snipers and +rifle-thieves, I discussed with Lady Chichele the probable outcome of it +all. I have sometimes felt ashamed of leaping as straight as I did with +Anna to what we thought the inevitable. I based no calculation on all +Mrs. Harbottle had gone back to, just as I had based no calculation +on her ten years' companionship in arms when I kept her from the three +o'clock train. This last was a retrospection in which Anna naturally +could not join me; she never knew, poor dear, how fortunate as to its +moment was the campaign she deplored, and nothing to this day can have +disturbed her conviction that the bond she was at such magnificent pains +to strengthen, held against the strain, as long, happily, as the supreme +need existed. 'How right you were!' she often said. 'She did, after +all, love me best, dear, wonderful Judy!' Her distress about poor +Robert Harbottle was genuine enough, but one could not be surprised at +a certain ambiguity; one tear for Robert, so to speak, and two for her +boy. It could hardly be, for him, a marriage after his mother's heart. +And she laid down with some emphasis that Somers was brilliantly +entitled to all he was likely to get--which was natural, too... + +I had been from the beginning so much 'in it' that Anna showed me, a +year later, though I don't believe she liked doing it, the letter in +part of which Mrs. Harbottle shall finally excuse herself. + +'Somers will give you this,' I read, 'and with it take back your son. +You will not find, I know, anything grotesque in the charming enthusiasm +with which he has offered his life to me; you understand too well, you +are too kind. And if you wonder that I can so render up a dear thing +which I might keep and would once have taken, think how sweet in the +desert is the pool, and how barren was the prospect from Balclutha.' + +It was like her to abandon in pride a happiness that asked so much less +humiliation; I don't know why, but it was like her. And of course, when +one thought of it, she had consulted all sorts of high expediencies. But +I sat silent with remembrance, quieting a pang in my heart, trying not +to calculate how much it had cost Judy Harbottle to take her second +chance. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Pool in the Desert, by Sara Jeanette Duncan + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POOL IN THE DESERT *** + +***** This file should be named 1168.txt or 1168.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/6/1168/ + +Produced by Sue Asscher + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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A Mother in India + + +Chapter 1.I + +There were times when we had to go without puddings to pay John's +uniform bills, and always I did the facings myself with a cloth-ball +to save getting new ones. I would have polished his sword, too, if +I had been allowed; I adored his sword. And once, I remember, we +painted and varnished our own dog-cart, and very smart it looked, to +save fifty rupees. We had nothing but our pay--John had his company +when we were married, but what is that?--and life was made up of +small knowing economies, much more amusing in recollection than in +practise. We were sodden poor, and that is a fact, poor and +conscientious, which was worse. A big fat spider of a money-lender +came one day into the veranda and tempted us--we lived in a hut, but +it had a veranda--and John threatened to report him to the police. +Poor when everybody else had enough to live in the open-handed +Indian fashion, that was what made it so hard; we were alone in our +sordid little ways. When the expectation of Cecily came to us we +made out to be delighted, knowing that the whole station pitied us, +and when Cecily came herself, with a swamping burst of expense, we +kept up the pretense splendidly. She was peevish, poor little +thing, and she threatened convulsions from the beginning, but we +both knew that it was abnormal not to love her a great deal, more +than life, immediately and increasingly; and we applied ourselves +honestly to do it, with the thermometer at a hundred and two, and +the nurse leaving at the end of a fortnight because she discovered +that I had only six of everything for the table. To find out a +husband's virtues, you must marry a poor man. The regiment was +under-officered as usual, and John had to take parade at daylight +quite three times a week; but he walked up and down the veranda with +Cecily constantly till two in the morning, when a little coolness +came. I usually lay awake the rest of the night in fear that a +scorpion would drop from the ceiling on her. Nevertheless, we were +of excellent mind towards Cecily; we were in such terror, not so +much of failing in our duty towards her as towards the ideal +standard of mankind. We were very anxious indeed not to come short. +To be found too small for one's place in nature would have been +odious. We would talk about her for an hour at a time, even when +John's charger was threatening glanders and I could see his mind +perpetually wandering to the stable. I would say to John that she +had brought a new element into our lives--she had indeed!--and John +would reply, 'I know what you mean,' and go on to prophesy that she +would 'bind us together.' We didn't need binding together; we were +more to each other, there in the desolation of that arid frontier +outpost, than most husbands and wives; but it seemed a proper and +hopeful thing to believe, so we believed it. Of course, the real +experience would have come, we weren't monsters; but fate curtailed +the opportunity. She was just five weeks old when the doctor told +us that we must either pack her home immediately or lose her, and +the very next day John went down with enteric. So Cecily was sent +to England with a sergeant's wife who had lost her twins, and I +settled down under the direction of a native doctor, to fight for my +husband's life, without ice or proper food, or sickroom comforts of +any sort. Ah! Fort Samila, with the sun glaring up from the sand!-- +however, it is a long time ago now. I trusted the baby willingly to +Mrs. Berry and to Providence, and did not fret; my capacity for +worry, I suppose, was completely absorbed. Mrs. Berry's letter, +describing the child's improvement on the voyage and safe arrival +came, I remember, the day on which John was allowed his first solid +mouthful; it had been a long siege. 'Poor little wretch!' he said +when I read it aloud; and after that Cecily became an episode. + +She had gone to my husband's people; it was the best arrangement. +We were lucky that it was possible; so many children had to be sent +to strangers and hirelings. Since an unfortunate infant must be +brought into the world and set adrift, the haven of its grandmother +and its Aunt Emma and its Aunt Alice certainly seemed providential. +I had absolutely no cause for anxiety, as I often told people, +wondering that I did not feel a little all the same. Nothing, I +knew, could exceed the conscientious devotion of all three Farnham +ladies to the child. She would appear upon their somewhat barren +horizon as a new and interesting duty, and the small additional +income she also represented would be almost nominal compensation for +the care she would receive. They were excellent persons of the kind +that talk about matins and vespers, and attend both. They helped +little charities and gave little teas, and wrote little notes, and +made deprecating allowance for the eccentricities of their titled or +moneyed acquaintances. They were the subdued, smiling, +unimaginatively dressed women on a small definite income that you +meet at every rectory garden-party in the country, a little +snobbish, a little priggish, wholly conventional, but apart from +these weaknesses, sound and simple and dignified, managing their two +small servants with a display of the most exact traditions, and +keeping a somewhat vague and belated but constant eye upon the +doings of their country as chronicled in a bi-weekly paper. They +were all immensely interested in royalty, and would read paragraphs +aloud to each other about how the Princess Beatrice or the Princess +Maud had opened a fancy bazaar, looking remarkably well in plain +grey poplin trimmed with Irish lace--an industry which, as is well +known, the Royal Family has set its heart on rehabilitating. Upon +which Mrs. Farnham's comment invariably would be, 'How thoughtful of +them, dear!' and Alice would usually say, 'Well, if I were a +princess, I should like something nicer than plain grey poplin.' +Alice, being the youngest, was not always expected to think before +she spoke. Alice painted in water-colours, but Emma was supposed to +have the most common sense. + +They took turns in writing to us with the greatest regularity about +Cecily; only once, I think, did they miss the weekly mail, and that +was when she threatened diphtheria and they thought we had better be +kept in ignorance. The kind and affectionate terms of these letters +never altered except with the facts they described--teething, +creeping, measles, cheeks growing round and rosy, all were conveyed +in the same smooth, pat, and proper phrases, so absolutely empty of +any glimpse of the child's personality that after the first few +months it was like reading about a somewhat uninteresting infant in +a book. I was sure Cecily was not uninteresting, but her +chroniclers were. We used to wade through the long, thin sheets and +saw how much more satisfactory it would be when Cecily could write +to us herself. Meanwhile we noted her weekly progress with much the +feeling one would have about a far-away little bit of property that +was giving no trouble and coming on exceedingly well. We would take +possession of Cecily at our convenience; till then, it was +gratifying to hear of our unearned increment in dear little dimples +and sweet little curls. + +She was nearly four when I saw her again. We were home on three +months' leave; John had just got his first brevet for doing +something which he does not allow me to talk about in the Black +Mountain country; and we were fearfully pleased with ourselves. I +remember that excitement lasted well up to Port Said. As far as the +Canal, Cecily was only one of the pleasures and interests we were +going home to: John's majority was the thing that really gave +savour to life. But the first faint line of Europe brought my child +to my horizon; and all the rest of the way she kept her place, +holding out her little arms to me, beckoning me on. Her four +motherless years brought compunction to my heart and tears to my +eyes; she should have all the compensation that could be. I +suddenly realized how ready I was--how ready!--to have her back. I +rebelled fiercely against John's decision that we must not take her +with us on our return to the frontier; privately, I resolved to +dispute it, and, if necessary, I saw myself abducting the child--my +own child. My days and nights as the ship crept on were full of a +long ache to possess her; the defrauded tenderness of the last four +years rose up in me and sometimes caught at my throat. I could +think and talk and dream of nothing else. John indulged me as much +as was reasonable, and only once betrayed by a yawn that the subject +was not for him endlessly absorbing. Then I cried and he +apologized. 'You know,' he said, 'it isn't exactly the same thing. +I'm not her mother.' At which I dried my tears and expanded, proud +and pacified. I was her mother! + +Then the rainy little station and Alice, all-embracing in a damp +waterproof, and the drive in the fly, and John's mother at the gate +and a necessary pause while I kissed John's mother. Dear thing, she +wanted to hold our hands and look into our faces and tell us how +little we had changed for all our hardships; and on the way to the +house she actually stopped to point out some alterations in the +flower-borders. At last the drawing-room door and the smiling +housemaid turning the handle and the unforgettable picture of a +little girl, a little girl unlike anything we had imagined, starting +bravely to trot across the room with the little speech that had been +taught her. Half-way she came; I suppose our regards were too +fixed, too absorbed, for there she stopped with a wail of terror at +the strange faces, and ran straight back to the outstretched arms of +her Aunt Emma. The most natural thing in the world, no doubt. I +walked over to a chair opposite with my hand-bag and umbrella and +sat down--a spectator, aloof and silent. Aunt Emma fondled and +quieted the child, apologizing for her to me, coaxing her to look +up, but the little figure still shook with sobs, hiding its face in +the bosom that it knew. I smiled politely, like any other stranger, +at Emma's deprecations, and sat impassive, looking at my alleged +baby breaking her heart at the sight of her mother. It is not +amusing even now to remember the anger that I felt. I did not touch +her or speak to her; I simply sat observing my alien possession, in +the frock I had not made and the sash I had not chosen, being coaxed +and kissed and protected and petted by its Aunt Emma. Presently I +asked to be taken to my room, and there I locked myself in for two +atrocious hours. Just once my heart beat high, when a tiny knock +came and a timid, docile little voice said that tea was ready. But +I heard the rustle of a skirt, and guessed the directing angel in +Aunt Emma, and responded, 'Thank you, dear, run away and say that I +am coming,' with a pleasant visitor's inflection which I was able to +sustain for the rest of afternoon. + +'She goes to bed at seven,' said Emma. + +'Oh, does she?' said I. 'A very good hour, I should think.' + +'She sleeps in my room,' said Mrs. Farnham. + +'We give her mutton broth very often, but seldom stock soup,' said +Aunt Emma. 'Mamma thinks it is too stimulating.' + +'Indeed?' said I, to all of it. + +They took me up to see her in her crib, and pointed out, as she lay +asleep, that though she had 'a general look' of me, her features +were distinctively Farnham. + +'Won't you kiss her?' asked Alice. 'You haven't kissed her yet, and +she is used to so much affection.' + +'I don't think I could take such an advantage of her,' I said. + +They looked at each other, and Mrs. Farnham said that I was plainly +worn out. I mustn't sit up to prayers. + +If I had been given anything like reasonable time I might have made +a fight for it, but four weeks--it took a month each way in those +days--was too absurdly little; I could do nothing. But I would not +stay at mamma's. It was more than I would ask of myself, that daily +disappointment under the mask of gratified discovery, for long. + +I spent an approving, unnatural week, in my farcical character, +bridling my resentment and hiding my mortification with pretty +phrases; and then I went up to town and drowned my sorrows in the +summer sales. I took John with me. I may have been Cecily's mother +in theory, but I was John's wife in fact. + +We went back to the frontier, and the regiment saw a lot of service. +That meant medals and fun for my husband, but economy and anxiety +for me, though I managed to be allowed as close to the firing line +as any woman. + +Once the Colonel's wife and I, sitting in Fort Samila, actually +heard the rifles of a punitive expedition cracking on the other side +of the river--that was a bad moment. My man came in after fifteen +hours' fighting, and went sound asleep, sitting before his food with +his knife and fork in his hands. But service makes heavy demands +besides those on your wife's nerves. We had saved two thousand +rupees, I remember, against another run home, and it all went like +powder, in the Mirzai expedition; and the run home diminished to a +month in a boarding-house in the hills. + +Meanwhile, however, we had begun to correspond with our daughter, in +large round words of one syllable, behind which, of course, was +plain the patient guiding hand of Aunt Emma. One could hear Aunt +Emma suggesting what would be nice to say, trying to instil a little +pale affection for the far-off papa and mamma. There was so little +Cecily and so much Emma--of course, it could not be otherwise--that +I used to take, I fear, but a perfunctory joy in these letters. +When we went home again I stipulated absolutely that she was to +write to us without any sort of supervision--the child was ten. + +'But the spelling!' cried Aunt Emma, with lifted eyebrows. + +'Her letters aren't exercises,' I was obliged to retort; 'she will +do the best she can.' + +We found her a docile little girl, with nice manners, a thoroughly +unobjectionable child. I saw quite clearly that I could not have +brought her up so well; indeed, there were moments when I fancied +that Cecily, contrasting me with her aunts, wondered a little what +my bringing up could have been like. With this reserve of criticism +on Cecily's part, however, we got on very tolerably, largely because +I found it impossible to assume any responsibility towards her, and +in moments of doubt or discipline referred her to her aunts. We +spent a pleasant summer with a little girl in the house whose +interest in us was amusing, and whose outings it was gratifying to +arrange; but when we went back, I had no desire to take her with us. +I thought her very much better where she was. + +Then came the period which is filled, in a subordinate degree, with +Cecily's letters. I do not wish to claim more than I ought; they +were not my only or even my principal interest in life. It was a +long period; it lasted till she was twenty-one. John had had +promotion in the meantime, and there was rather more money, but he +had earned his second brevet with a bullet through one lung, and the +doctors ordered our leave to be spent in South Africa. We had +photographs, we knew she had grown tall and athletic and comely, and +the letters were always very creditable. I had the unusual and +qualified privilege of watching my daughter's development from ten +to twenty-one, at a distance of four thousand miles, by means of the +written word. I wrote myself as provocatively as possible; I sought +for every string, but the vibration that came back across the seas +to me was always other than the one I looked for, and sometimes +there was none. Nevertheless, Mrs. Farnham wrote me that Cecily +very much valued my communications. Once when I had described an +unusual excursion in a native state, I learned that she had read my +letter aloud to the sewing circle. After that I abandoned +description, and confined myself to such intimate personal details +as no sewing circle could find amusing. The child's own letters +were simply a mirror of the ideas of the Farnham ladies; that must +have been so, it was not altogether my jaundiced eye. Alice and +Emma and grandmamma paraded the pages in turn. I very early gave up +hope of discoveries in my daughter, though as much of the original +as I could detect was satisfactorily simple and sturdy. I found +little things to criticize, of course, tendencies to correct; and by +return post I criticized and corrected, but the distance and the +deliberation seemed to touch my maxims with a kind of arid +frivolity, and sometimes I tore them up. One quick, warm-blooded +scolding would have been worth a sheaf of them. My studied little +phrases could only inoculate her with a dislike for me without +protecting her from anything under the sun. + +However, I found she didn't dislike me, when John and I went home at +last to bring her out. She received me with just a hint of +kindness, perhaps, but on the whole very well. + + + +Chapter 1.II + +John was recalled, of course, before the end of our furlough, which +knocked various things on the head; but that is the sort of thing +one learned to take with philosophy in any lengthened term of Her +Majesty's service. Besides, there is usually sugar for the pill; +and in this case it was a Staff command bigger than anything we +expected for at least five years to come. The excitement of it when +it was explained to her gave Cecily a charming colour. She took a +good deal of interest in the General, her papa; I think she had an +idea that his distinction would alleviate the situation in India, +however it might present itself. She accepted that prospective +situation calmly; it had been placed before her all her life. There +would always be a time when she should go and live with papa and +mamma in India, and so long as she was of an age to receive the idea +with rebel tears she was assured that papa and mamma would give her +a pony. The pony was no longer added to the prospect; it was +absorbed no doubt in the general list of attractions calculated to +reconcile a young lady to a parental roof with which she had no +practical acquaintance. At all events, when I feared the +embarrassment and dismay of a pathetic parting with darling +grandmamma and the aunties, and the sweet cat and the dear vicar and +all the other objects of affection, I found an agreeable unexpected +philosophy. + +I may add that while I anticipated such broken-hearted farewells I +was quite prepared to take them easily. Time, I imagined, had +brought philosophy to me also, equally agreeable and equally +unexpected. + +It was a Bombay ship, full of returning Anglo-Indians. I looked up +and down the long saloon tables with a sense of relief and of +solace; I was again among my own people. They belonged to Bengal +and to Burma, to Madras and to the Punjab, but they were all my +people. I could pick out a score that I knew in fact, and there +were none that in imagination I didn't know. The look of wider seas +and skies, the casual experienced glance, the touch of irony and of +tolerance, how well I knew it and how well I liked it! Dear old +England, sitting in our wake, seemed to hold by comparison a great +many soft, unsophisticated people, immensely occupied about very +particular trifles. How difficult it had been, all the summer, to +be interested! These of my long acquaintance belonged to my +country's Executive, acute, alert, with the marks of travail on +them. Gladly I went in and out of the women's cabins and listened +to the argot of the men; my own ruling, administering, soldiering +little lot. + +Cecily looked at them askance. To her the atmosphere was alien, and +I perceived that gently and privately she registered objections. +She cast a disapproving eye upon the wife of a Conservator of +Forests, who scanned with interest a distant funnel and laid a small +wager that it belonged to the Messageries Maritimes. She looked +with a straightened lip at the crisply stepping women who walked the +deck in short and rather shabby skirts with their hands in their +jacket-pockets talking transfers and promotions; and having got up +at six to make a water-colour sketch of the sunrise, she came to me +in profound indignation to say that she had met a man in his +pyjamas; no doubt; poor wretch, on his way to be shaved. I was +unable to convince her he was not expected to visit the barber in +all his clothes. + +At the end of the third day she told me that she wished these people +wouldn't talk to her; she didn't like them. I had turned in the +hour we left the Channel and had not left my berth since, so +possibly I was not in the most amiable mood to receive a douche of +cold water. 'I must try to remember, dear,' I said, ' that you have +been brought up altogether in the society of pussies and vicars and +elderly ladies, and of course you miss them. But you must have a +little patience. I shall be up tomorrow, if this beastly sea +continues to go down; and then we will try to find somebody suitable +to introduce to you.' + +'Thank you, mamma,' said my daughter, without a ray of suspicion. +Then she added consideringly, 'Aunt Emma and Aunt Alice do seem +quite elderly ladies beside you, and yet you are older than either +of them aren't you? I wonder how that is.' + +It was so innocent, so admirable, that I laughed at my own expense; +while Cecily, doing her hair, considered me gravely. 'I wish you +would tell me why you laugh, mamma,' quoth she; 'you laugh so +often.' + +We had not to wait after all for my good offices of the next +morning. Cecily came down at ten o'clock that night quite happy and +excited; she had been talking to a bishop, such a dear bishop. The +bishop had been showing her his collection of photographs, and she +had promised to play the harmonium for him at the eleven-o'clock +service in the morning. 'Bless me!' said I, 'is it Sunday?' It +seemed she had got on very well indeed with the bishop, who knew the +married sister, at Tunbridge, of her very greatest friend. Cecily +herself did not know the married sister, but that didn't matter--it +was a link. The bishop was charming. 'Well, my love,' said I--I +was teaching myself to use these forms of address for fear she would +feel an unkind lack of them, but it was difficult--'I am glad that +somebody from my part of the world has impressed you favourably at +last. I wish we had more bishops.' + +'Oh, but my bishop doesn't belong to your part of the world,' +responded my daughter sleepily. 'He is travelling for his health.' + +It was the most unexpected and delightful thing to be packed into +one's chair next morning by Dacres Tottenham. As I emerged from the +music saloon after breakfast--Cecily had stayed below to look over +her hymns and consider with her bishop the possibility of an anthem- +-Dacres's face was the first I saw; it simply illuminated, for me, +that portion of the deck. I noticed with pleasure the quick toss of +the cigar overboard as he recognized and bore down upon me. We were +immense friends; John liked him too. He was one of those people who +make a tremendous difference; in all our three hundred passengers +there could be no one like him, certainly no one whom I could be +more glad to see. We plunged at once into immediate personal +affairs, we would get at the heart of them later. He gave his vivid +word to everything he had seen and done; we laughed and exclaimed +and were silent in a concert of admirable understanding. We were +still unravelling, still demanding and explaining when the ship's +bell began to ring for church, and almost simultaneously Cecily +advanced towards us. She had a proper Sunday hat on, with flowers +under the brim, and a church-going frock; she wore gloves and +clasped a prayer-book. Most of the women who filed past to the +summons of the bell were going down as they were, in cotton blouses +and serge skirts, in tweed caps or anything, as to a kind of family +prayers. I knew exactly how they would lean against the pillars of +the saloon during the psalms. This young lady would be little less +than a rebuke to them. I surveyed her approach; she positively +walked as if it were Sunday. + +'My dear,' I said, 'how endimanchee you look! The bishop will be +very pleased with you. This gentleman is Mr. Tottenham, who +administers Her Majesty's pleasure in parts of India about +Allahabad. My daughter, Dacres.' She was certainly looking very +fresh, and her calm grey eyes had the repose in them that has never +known itself to be disturbed about anything. I wondered whether she +bowed so distantly also because it was Sunday, and then I remembered +that Dacres was a young man, and that the Farnham ladies had +probably taught her that it was right to be very distant with young +men. + +'It is almost eleven, mamma.' + +'Yes, dear. I see you are going to church.' + +'Are you not coming, mamma?' + +I was well wrapped up in an extremely comfortable corner. I had 'La +Duchesse Bleue' uncut in my lap, and an agreeable person to talk to. +I fear that in any case I should not been inclined to attend the +service, but there was something in my daughter's intonation that +made me distinctly hostile to the idea. I am putting things down as +they were, extenuating nothing. + +'I think not, dear.' + +'I've turned up two such nice seats.' + +'Stay, Miss Farnham, and keep us in countenance,' said Dacres, with +his charming smile. The smile displaced a look of discreet and +amused observation. Dacres had an eye always for a situation, and +this one was even newer to him than to me. + +'No, no. She must run away and not bully her mamma,' I said. 'When +she comes back we will see how much she remembers of the sermon;' +and as the flat tinkle from the companion began to show signs of +diminishing, Cecily, with one grieved glance, hastened down. + +'You amazing lady!' said Dacres. 'A daughter--and such a tall +daughter! I somehow never--' + +'You knew we had one?' + +'There was theory of that kind, I remember, about ten years ago. +Since then--excuse me--I don't think you've mentioned her.' + +'You talk as if she were a skeleton in the closet!' + +'You DIDN'T talk--as if she were.' + +'I think she was, in a way, poor child. But the resurrection day +hasn't confounded me as I deserved. She's a very good girl.' + +'If you had asked me to pick out your daughter--' + +'She would have been the last you would indicate! Quite so,' I +said. 'She is like her father's people. I can't help that.' + +'I shouldn't think you would if you could,' Dacres remarked +absently; but the sea air, perhaps, enabled me to digest his +thoughtlessness with a smile. + +'No,' I said, 'I am just as well pleased. I think a resemblance to +me would confuse me, often.' + +There was a trace of scrutiny in Dacres's glance. 'Don't you find +yourself in sympathy with her?' he asked. + +'My dear boy, I have seen her just twice in twenty-one years! You +see, I've always stuck to John.' + +'But between mother and daughter--I may be old-fashioned, but I had +an idea that there was an instinct that might be depended on.' + +'I am depending on it,' I said, and let my eyes follow the little +blue waves that chased past the hand-rail. 'We are making very good +speed, aren't we? Thirty-five knots since last night at ten. Are +you in the sweep?' + +'I never bet on the way out--can't afford it. Am I old-fashioned?' +he insisted. + +'Probably. Men are very slow in changing their philosophy about +women. I fancy their idea of the maternal relation is firmest fixed +of all.' + +'We see it a beatitude!' he cried. + +'I know,' I said wearily, 'and you never modify the view.' + +Dacres contemplated the portion of the deck that lay between us. +His eyes were discreetly lowered, but I saw embarrassment and +speculation and a hint of criticism in them. + +'Tell me more about it,' said he. + +'Oh, for heaven's sake don't be sympathetic!' I exclaimed. 'Lend me +a little philosophy instead. There is nothing to tell. There she +is and there I am, in the most intimate relation in the world, +constituted when she is twenty-one and I am forty.' Dacres started +slightly at the ominous word; so little do men realize that the +women they like can ever pass out of the constated years of +attraction. 'I find the young lady very tolerable, very creditable, +very nice. I find the relation atrocious. There you have it. I +would like to break the relation into pieces,' I went on recklessly, +'and throw it into the sea. Such things should be tempered to one. +I should feel it much less if she occupied another cabin, and would +consent to call me Elizabeth or Jane. It is not as if I had been +her mother always. One grows fastidious at forty--new intimacies +are only possible then on a basis of temperament--' + +I paused; it seemed to me that I was making excuses, and I had not +the least desire in the world to do that. + +'How awfully rough on the girl!' said Dacres Tottenham. + +'That consideration has also occurred to me,' I said candidly, +'though I have perhaps been even more struck by its converse.' + +'You had no earthly business to be her mother,' said my friend, with +irritation. + +I shrugged my shoulders--what would you have done?--and opened 'La +Duchesse Bleue'. + + + +Chapter 1.III + +Mrs. Morgan, wife of a judge of the High Court of Bombay, and I sat +amidships on the cool side in the Suez Canal. She was outlining +'Soiled Linen' in chain-stitch on a green canvas bag; I was admiring +the Egyptian sands. 'How charming,' said I, 'is this solitary +desert in the endless oasis we are compelled to cross!' + +'Oasis in the desert, you mean,' said Mrs. Morgan; 'I haven't +noticed any, but I happened to look up this morning as I was putting +on my stockings, and I saw through my port-hole the most lovely +mirage.' + +I had been at school with Mrs. Morgan more than twenty years agone, +but she had come to the special enjoyment of the dignities of life +while I still liked doing things. Mrs. Morgan was the kind of +person to make one realize how distressing a medium is middle age. +Contemplating her precipitous lap, to which conventional attitudes +were certainly more becoming, I crossed my own knees with energy, +and once more resolved to be young until I was old. + +'How perfectly delightful for you to be taking Cecily out!' said +Mrs. Morgan placidly. + +'Isn't it?' I responded, watching the gliding sands. + +'But she was born in sixty-nine--that makes her twenty-one. Quite +time, I should say.' + +'Oh, we couldn't put it off any longer. I mean--her father has such +a horror of early debuts. He simply would not hear of her coming +before.' + +'Doesn't want her to marry in India, I dare say--the only one,' +purred Mrs. Morgan. + +'Oh, I don't know. It isn't such a bad place. I was brought out +there to marry, and I married. I've found it very satisfactory.' + +'You always did say exactly what you thought, Helena,' said Mrs. +Morgan excusingly. + +'I haven't much patience with people who bring their daughters out +to give them the chance they never would have in England, and then +go about devoutly hoping they won't marry in India,' I said. 'I +shall be very pleased if Cecily does as well as your girls have +done.' + +'Mary in the Indian Civil and Jessie in the Imperial Service +Troops,' sighed Mrs. Morgan complacently. 'And both, my dear, +within a year. It WAS a blow.' + +'Oh, it must have been!' I said civilly. + +There was no use in bandying words with Emily Morgan. + +'There is nothing in the world like the satisfaction and pleasure +one takes in one's daughters,' Mrs. Morgan went on limpidly. 'And +one can be in such CLOSE sympathy with one's girls. I have never +regretted having no sons.' + +'Dear me, yes. To watch oneself growing up again--call back the +lovely April of one's prime, etcetera--to read every thought and +anticipate every wish--there is no more golden privilege in life, +dear Emily. Such a direct and natural avenue for affection, such a +wide field for interest!' + +I paused, lost in the volume of my admirable sentiments. + +'How beautifully you talk, Helena! I wish I had the gift.' + +'It doesn't mean very much,' I said truthfully. + +'Oh, I think it's everything! And how companionable a girl is! I +quite envy you, this season, having Cecily constantly with you and +taking her about everywhere. Something quite new for you, isn't +it?' + +'Absolutely,' said I; 'I am looking forward to it immensely. But it +is likely she will make her own friends, don't you think?' I added +anxiously. + +'Hardly the first season. My girls didn't. I was practically their +only intimate for months. Don't be afraid; you won't be obliged to +go shares in Cecily with anybody for a good long while,' added Mrs. +Morgan kindly. 'I know just how you feel about THAT.' + +The muddy water of the Ditch chafed up from under us against its +banks with a smell that enabled me to hide the emotions Mrs. Morgan +evoked behind my handkerchief. The pale desert was pictorial with +the drifting, deepening purple shadows of clouds, and in the midst a +blue glimmer of the Bitter Lakes, with a white sail on them. A +little frantic Arab boy ran alongside keeping pace with the ship. +Except for the smell, it was like a dream, we moved so quietly; on, +gently on and on between the ridgy clay banks and the rows of piles. +Peace was on the ship; you could hear what the Fourth in his white +ducks said to the quartermaster in his blue denims; you could count +the strokes of the electric bell in the wheel-house; peace was on +the ship as she pushed on, an ever-venturing, double-funneled +impertinence, through the sands of the ages. My eyes wandered along +a plank-line in the deck till they were arrested by a petticoat I +knew, when they returned of their own accord. I seemed to be always +seeing that petticoat. + +'I think,' resumed Mrs. Morgan, whose glance had wandered in the +same direction, 'that Cecily is a very fine type of our English +girls. With those dark grey eyes, a LITTLE prominent possibly, and +that good colour--it's rather high now perhaps, but she will lose +quite enough of it in India--and those regular features, she would +make a splendid Britannia. Do you know, I fancy she must have a +great deal of character. Has she?' + +'Any amount. And all of it good,' I responded, with private +dejection. + +'No faults at all?' chaffed Mrs. Morgan. + +I shook my head. 'Nothing,' I said sadly, 'that I can put my finger +on. But I hope to discover a few later. The sun may bring them +out.' + +'Like freckles. Well, you are a lucky woman. Mine had plenty, I +assure you. Untidiness was no name for Jessie, and Mary--I'm SORRY +to say that Mary sometimes fibbed.' + +'How lovable of her! Cecily's neatness is a painful example to me, +and I don't believe she would tell a fib to save my life.' + +'Tell me,' said Mrs. Morgan, as the lunch-bell rang and she gathered +her occupation into her work-basket, 'who is that talking to her?' + +'Oh, an old friend,' I replied easily; 'Dacres Tottenham, a dear +fellow, and most benevolent. He is trying on my behalf to reconcile +her to the life she'll have to lead in India.' + +'She won't need much reconciling, if she's like most girls,' +observed Mrs. Morgan, 'but he seems to be trying very hard.' + +That was quite the way I took it--on my behalf--for several days. +When people have understood you very adequately for ten years you do +not expect them to boggle at any problem you may present at the end +of the decade. I thought Dacres was moved by a fine sense of +compassion. I thought that with his admirable perception he had put +a finger on the little comedy of fruitfulness in my life that +laughed so bitterly at the tragedy of the barren woman, and was +attempting, by delicate manipulation, to make it easier. I really +thought so. Then I observed that myself had preposterously deceived +me, that it wasn't like that at all. When Mr. Tottenham joined us, +Cecily and me, I saw that he listened more than he talked, with an +ear specially cocked to register any small irony which might appear +in my remarks to my daughter. Naturally he registered more than +there were, to make up perhaps for dear Cecily's obviously not +registering any. I could see, too, that he was suspicious of any +flavour of kindness; finally, to avoid the strictures of his upper +lip, which really, dear fellow, began to bore me, I talked +exclusively about the distant sails and the Red Sea littoral. When +he no longer joined us as we sat or walked together, I perceived +that his hostility was fixed and his parti pris. He was brimful of +compassion, but it was all for Cecily, none for the situation or for +me. (She would have marvelled, placidly, why he pitied her. I am +glad I can say that.) The primitive man in him rose up as Pope of +nature and excommunicated me as a creature recusant to her +functions. Then deliberately Dacres undertook an office of +consolation; and I fell to wondering, while Mrs. Morgan spoke her +convictions plainly out, how far an impulse of reparation for a +misfortune with which he had nothing to do might carry a man. + +I began to watch the affair with an interest which even to me seemed +queer. It was not detached, but it was semi-detached, and, of +course, on the side for which I seem, in this history, to be +perpetually apologizing. With certain limitations it didn't matter +an atom whom Cecily married. So that he was sound and decent, with +reasonable prospects, her simple requirements and ours for her would +be quite met. There was the ghost of a consolation in that; one +needn't be anxious or exacting. + +I could predict with a certain amount of confidence that in her +first season she would probably receive three or four proposals, any +one of which she might accept with as much propriety and +satisfaction as any other one. For Cecily it was so simple; +prearranged by nature like her digestion, one could not see any +logical basis for difficulties. A nice upstanding sapper, a dashing +Bengal Lancer--oh, I could think of half a dozen types that would +answer excellently. She was the kind of young person, and that was +the summing up of it, to marry a type and be typically happy. I +hoped and expected that she would. But Dacres! + +Dacres should exercise the greatest possible discretion. He was not +a person who could throw the dice indifferently with fate. He could +respond to so much, and he would inevitably, sooner or later, demand +so much response! He was governed by a preposterously exacting +temperament, and he wore his nerves outside. And what vision he +had! How he explored the world he lived in and drew out of it all +there was, all there was! I could see him in the years to come +ranging alone the fields that were sweet and the horizons that +lifted for him, and ever returning to pace the common dusty mortal +road by the side of a purblind wife. On general principles, as a +case to point at, it would be a conspicuous pity. Nor would it lack +the aspect of a particular, a personal misfortune. Dacres was +occupied in quite the natural normal degree with his charming self; +he would pass his misery on, and who would deserve to escape it less +than his mother-in-law? + +I listened to Emily Morgan, who gleaned in the ship more information +about Dacres Tottenham's people, pay, and prospects than I had ever +acquired, and I kept an eye upon the pair which was, I flattered +myself, quite maternal. I watched them without acute anxiety, +deploring the threatening destiny, but hardly nearer to it than one +is in the stalls to the stage. My moments of real concern for +Dacres were mingled more with anger than with sorrow--it seemed +inexcusable that he, with his infallible divining-rod for +temperament, should be on the point of making such an ass of +himself. Though I talk of the stage there was nothing at all +dramatic to reward my attention, mine and Emily Morgan's. To my +imagination, excited by its idea of what Dacres Tottenham's +courtship ought to be, the attentions he paid to Cecily were most +humdrum. He threw rings into buckets with her--she was good at +that--and quoits upon the 'bull' board; he found her chair after the +decks were swabbed in the morning and established her in it; he +paced the deck with her at convenient times and seasons. They were +humdrum, but they were constant and cumulative. Cecily took them +with an even breath that perfectly matched. There was hardly +anything, on her part, to note--a little discreet observation of his +comings and goings, eyes scarcely lifted from her book, and later +just a hint of proprietorship, as the evening she came up to me on +deck, our first night in the Indian Ocean. I was lying in my long +chair looking at the thick, low stars and thinking it was a long +time since I had seen John. + +'Dearest mamma, out here and nothing over your shoulders! You ARE +imprudent. Where is your wrap? Mr. Tottenham, will you please +fetch mamma's wrap for her?' + +'If mamma so instructs me,' he said audaciously. + +'Do as Cecily tells you,' I laughed, and he went and did it, while I +by the light of a quartermaster's lantern distinctly saw my daughter +blush. + +Another time, when Cecily came down to undress, she bent over me as +I lay in the lower berth with unusual solicitude. I had been +dozing, and I jumped. + +'What is it, child?' I said. 'Is the ship on fire?' + +'No, mamma, the ship is not on fire. There is nothing wrong. I'm +so sorry I startled you. But Mr. Tottenham has been telling me all +about what you did for the soldiers the time plague broke out in the +lines at Mian-Mir. I think it was splendid, mamma, and so does he.' + +'Oh, Lord!' I groaned. 'Good night.' + + + +Chapter 1.IV. + +It remained in my mind, that little thing that Dacres had taken the +trouble to tell my daughter; I thought about it a good deal. It +seemed to me the most serious and convincing circumstances that had +yet offered itself to my consideration. Dacres was no longer +content to bring solace and support to the more appealing figure of +the situation; he must set to work, bless him! to improve the +situation itself. He must try to induce Miss Farnham, by telling +her everything he could remember to my credit, to think as well of +her mother as possible, in spite of the strange and secret blows +which that mother might be supposed to sit up at night to deliver to +her. Cecily thought very well of me already; indeed, with private +reservations as to my manners and--no, NOT my morals, I believe I +exceeded her expectations of what a perfectly new and untrained +mother would be likely to prove. It was my theory that she found me +all she could understand me to be. The maternal virtues of the +outside were certainly mine; I put them on with care every morning +and wore them with patience all day. Dacres, I assured myself, must +have allowed his preconception to lead him absurdly by the nose not +to see that the girl was satisfied, that my impatience, my +impotence, did not at all make her miserable. Evidently, however, +he had created our relations differently; evidently he had set +himself to their amelioration. There was portent in it; things +seemed to be closing in. I bit off a quarter of an inch of wooden +pen-handle in considering whether or not I should mention it in my +letter to John, and decided that it would be better just perhaps to +drop a hint. Though I could not expect John to receive it with any +sort of perturbation. Men are different; he would probably think +Tottenham well enough able to look after himself. + +I had embarked on my letter, there at the end of a corner-table of +the saloon, when I saw Dacres saunter through. He wore a very +conscious and elaborately purposeless air; and it jumped with my +mood that he had nothing less than the crisis of his life in his +pocket, and was looking for me. As he advanced towards me between +the long tables doubt left me and alarm assailed me. 'I'm glad to +find you in a quiet corner,' said he, seating himself, and confirmed +my worst anticipations. + +'I'm writing to John,' I said, and again applied myself to my pen- +handle. It is a trick Cecily has since done her best in vain to +cure me of. + +'I am going to interrupt you,' he said. 'I have not had an +opportunity of talking to you for some time.' + +'I like that!' I exclaimed derisively. + +'And I want to tell you that I am very much charmed with Cecily.' + +'Well,' I said, 'I am not going to gratify you by saying anything +against her.' + +'You don't deserve her, you know.' + +'I won't dispute that. But, if you don't mind--I'm not sure that +I'll stand being abused, dear boy.' + +'I quite see it isn't any use. Though one spoke with the tongues of +men and of angels--' + +'And had not charity,' I continued for him. 'Precisely. I won't go +on, but your quotation is very apt.' + +'I so bow down before her simplicity. It makes a wide and beautiful +margin for the rest of her character. She is a girl Ruskin would +have loved.' + +'I wonder,' said I. 'He did seem fond of the simple type, didn't +he?' + +'Her mind is so clear, so transparent. The motive spring of +everything she says and does is so direct. Don't you find you can +most completely depend upon her?' + +'Oh yes,' I said; 'certainly. I nearly always know what she is +going to say before she says it, and under given circumstances I can +tell precisely what she will do.' + +'I fancy her sense of duty is very beautifully developed.' + +'It is,' I said. 'There is hardly a day when I do not come in +contact with it.' + +'Well, that is surely a good thing. And I find that calm poise of +hers very restful.' + +'I would not have believed that so many virtues could reside in one +young lady,' I said, taking refuge in flippancy, 'and to think that +she should be my daughter!' + +'As I believe you know, that seems to me rather a cruel stroke of +destiny, Mrs. Farnham.' + +'Oh yes, I know! You have a constructive imagination, Dacres. You +don't seem to see that the girl is protected by her limitations, +like a tortoise. She lives within them quite secure and happy and +content. How determined you are to be sorry for her!' + +Mr. Tottenham looked at the end of this lively exchange as though he +sought for a polite way of conveying to me that I rather was the +limited person. He looked as if he wished he could say things. The +first of them would be, I saw, that he had quite a different +conception of Cecily, that it was illuminated by many trifles, +nuances of feeling and expression, which he had noticed in his talks +with her whenever they had skirted the subject of her adoption by +her mother. He knew her, he was longing to say, better than I did; +when it would have been natural to reply that one could not hope to +compete in such a direction with an intelligent young man, and we +should at once have been upon delicate and difficult ground. So it +was as well perhaps that he kept silence until he said, as he had +come prepared to say, 'Well, I want to put that beyond a doubt--her +happiness--if I'm good enough. I want her, please, and I only hope +that she will be half as willing to come as you are likely to be to +let her go.' + +It was a shock when it came, plump, like that; and I was horrified +to feel how completely every other consideration was lost for the +instant in the immense relief that it prefigured. To be my whole +complete self again, without the feeling that a fraction of me was +masquerading about in Cecily! To be freed at once, or almost, from +an exacting condition and an impossible ideal! 'Oh!' I exclaimed, +and my eyes positively filled. 'You ARE good, Dacres, but I +couldn't let you do that.' + +His undisguised stare brought me back to a sense of the proportion +of things. I saw that in the combination of influences that had +brought Mr. Tottenham to the point of proposing to marry my daughter +consideration for me, if it had a place, would be fantastic. +Inwardly I laughed at the egotism of raw nerves that had conjured it +up, even for an instant, as a reason for gratitude. The situation +was not so peculiar, not so interesting, as that. But I answered +his stare with a smile; what I had said might very well stand. + +'Do you imagine,' he said, seeing that I did not mean to amplify it, +'that I want to marry her out of any sort of GOODness?' + +'Benevolence is your weakness, Dacres.' + +'I see. You think one's motive is to withdraw her from a relation +which ought to be the most natural in the world, but which is, in +her particular and painful case, the most equivocal.' + +'Well, come,' I remonstrated. 'You have dropped one or two things, +you know, in the heat of your indignation, not badly calculated to +give one that idea. The eloquent statement you have just made, for +instance--it carries all the patness of old conviction. How often +have you rehearsed it?' + +I am a fairly long-suffering person, but I began to feel a little +annoyed with my would-be son-in-law. If the relation were achieved +it would give him no prescriptive right to bully me; and we were +still in very early anticipation of that. + +'Ah!' he said disarmingly. 'Don't let us quarrel. I'm sorry you +think that; because it isn't likely to bring your favour to my +project, and I want you friendly and helpful. Oh, confound it!' he +exclaimed, with sudden temper. 'You ought to be. I don't +understand this aloofness. I half suspect it's pose. You +undervalue Cecily--well, you have no business to undervalue me. You +know me better than anybody in the world. Now are you going to help +me to marry your daughter?' + +'I don't think so,' I said slowly, after a moment's silence, which +he sat through like a mutinous schoolboy. 'I might tell you that I +don't care a button whom you marry, but that would not be true. I +do care more or less. As you say, I know you pretty well. I'd a +little rather you didn't make a mess of it; and if you must I should +distinctly prefer not to have the spectacle under my nose for the +rest of my life. I can't hinder you, but I won't help you.' + +'And what possesses you to imagine that in marrying Cecily I should +make a mess of it? Shouldn't your first consideration be whether +SHE would?' + +'Perhaps it should, but, you see, it isn't. Cecily would be happy +with anybody who made her comfortable. You would ask a good deal +more than that, you know.' + +Dacres, at this, took me up promptly. Life, he said, the heart of +life, had particularly little to say to temperament. By the heart +of life I suppose he meant married love. He explained that its +roots asked other sustenance, and that it throve best of all on +simple elemental goodness. So long as a man sought in women mere +casual companionship, perhaps the most exquisite thing to be +experienced was the stimulus of some spiritual feminine counterpart; +but when he desired of one woman that she should be always and +intimately with him, the background of his life, the mother of his +children, he was better advised to avoid nerves and sensibilities, +and try for the repose of the common--the uncommon--domestic +virtues. Ah, he said, they were sweet, like lavender. (Already, I +told him, he smelled the housekeeper's linen-chest.) But I did not +interrupt him much; I couldn't, he was too absorbed. To +temperamental pairing, he declared, the century owed its breed of +decadents. I asked him if he had ever really recognized one; and he +retorted that if he hadn't he didn't wish to make a beginning in his +own family. In a quarter of an hour he repudiated the theories of a +lifetime, a gratifying triumph for simple elemental goodness. +Having denied the value of the subtler pretensions to charm in woman +as you marry her, he went artlessly on to endow Cecily with as many +of them as could possibly be desirable. He actually persuaded +himself to say that it was lovely to see the reflections of life in +her tranquil spirit; and when I looked at him incredulously he grew +angry, and hinted that Cecily's sensitiveness to reflections and +other things might be a trifle beyond her mother's ken. 'She +responds instantly, intimately, to the beautiful everywhere,' he +declared. + +'Aren't the opportunities of life on board ship rather limited to +demonstrate that?' I inquired. 'I know--you mean sunsets. Cecily +is very fond of sunsets. She is always asking me to come and look +at them.' + +'I was thinking of last night's sunset,' he confessed. 'We looked +at it together.' + +'What did she say?' I asked idly. + +'Nothing very much. That's just the point. Another girl would have +raved and gushed.' + +'Oh, well, Cecily never does that,' I responded. 'Nevertheless she +is a very ordinary human instrument. I hope I shall have no +temptation ten years hence to remind you that I warned you of her +quality.' + +'I wish, not in the least for my own profit, for I am well convinced +already, but simply to win your cordiality and your approval--never +did an unexceptional wooer receive such niggard encouragement!--I +wish there were some sort of test for her quality. I would be proud +to stand by it, and you would be convinced. I can't find words to +describe my objection to your state of mind.' + +The thing seemed to me to be a foregone conclusion. I saw it +accomplished, with all its possibilities of disastrous commonplace. +I saw all that I have here taken the trouble to foreshadow. So far +as I was concerned, Dacres's burden would add itself to my +philosophies, voila tout. I should always be a little uncomfortable +about it, because it had been taken from my back; but it would not +be a matter for the wringing of hands. And yet--the hatefulness of +the mistake! Dacres's bold talk of a test made no suggestion. +Should my invention be more fertile? I thought of something. + +'You have said nothing to her yet?' I asked. + +'Nothing. I don't think she suspects for a moment. She treats me +as if no such fell design were possible. I'm none too confident, +you know,' he added, with longer face. + +'We go straight to Agra. Could you come to Agra?' + +'Ideal!' he cried. 'The memory of Mumtaz! The garden of the Taj! +I've always wanted to love under the same moon as Shah Jehan. How +thoughtful of you!' + +'You must spend a few days with us in Agra,' I continued. 'And as +you say, it is the very place to shrine your happiness, if it comes +to pass there.' + +'Well, I am glad to have extracted a word of kindness from you at +last,' said Dacres, as the stewards came to lay the table. 'But I +wish,' he added regretfully, 'you could have thought of a test.' + + + +Chapter 1.V. + +Four days later we were in Agra. A time there was when the name +would have been the key of dreams to me; now it stood for John's +headquarters. I was rejoiced to think I would look again upon the +Taj; and the prospect of living with it was a real enchantment; but +I pondered most the kind of house that would be provided for the +General Commanding the District, how many the dining-room would +seat, and whether it would have a roof of thatch or of corrugated +iron--I prayed against corrugated iron. I confess these my +preoccupations. I was forty, and at forty the practical +considerations of life hold their own even against domes of marble, +world-renowned, and set about with gardens where the bulbul sings to +the rose. I smiled across the years at the raptures of my first +vision of the place at twenty-one, just Cecily's age. Would I now +sit under Arjamand's cypresses till two o'clock in the morning to +see the wonder of her tomb at a particular angle of the moon? Would +I climb one of her tall white ministering minarets to see anything +whatever? I very greatly feared that I would not. Alas for the +aging of sentiment, of interest! Keep your touch with life and your +seat in the saddle as long as you will, the world is no new toy at +forty. But Cecily was twenty-one, Cecily who sat stolidly finishing +her lunch while Dacres Tottenham talked about Akbar and his +philosophy. 'The sort of man,' he said, 'that Carlyle might have +smoked a pipe with.' + +'But surely,' said Cecily reflectively, 'tobacco was not discovered +in England then. Akbar came to the throne in 1526.' + +'Nor Carlyle either for that matter,' I hastened to observe. +'Nevertheless, I think Mr. Tottenham's proposition must stand.' + +'Thanks, Mrs. Farnham,' said Dacres. 'But imagine Miss Farnham's +remembering Akbar's date! I'm sure you didn't!' + +'Let us hope she doesn't know too much about him,' I cried gaily, +'or there will be nothing to tell!' + +'Oh, really and truly very little!' said Cecily, 'but as soon as we +heard papa would be stationed here Aunt Emma made me read up about +those old Moguls and people. I think I remember the dynasty. +Baber, wasn't he the first? And then Humayon, and after him Akbar, +and then Jehangir, and then Shah Jehan. But I've forgotten every +date but Akbar's.' + +She smiled her smile of brilliant health and even spirits as she +made the damaging admission, and she was so good to look at, sitting +there simple and wholesome and fresh, peeling her banana with her +well-shaped fingers, that we swallowed the dynasty as it were whole, +and smiled back upon her. John, I may say, was extremely pleased +with Cecily; he said she was a very satisfactory human +accomplishment. One would have thought, positively, the way he +plumed himself over his handsome daughter, that he alone was +responsible for her. But John, having received his family, +straightway set off with his Staff on a tour of inspection, and +thereby takes himself out of this history. I sometimes think that +if he had stayed--but there has never been the lightest +recrimination between us about it, and I am not going to hint one +now. + +'Did you read,' asked Dacres, 'what he and the Court poet wrote over +the entrance gate to the big mosque at Fattehpur-Sikri? It's rather +nice. "The world is a looking-glass, wherein the image has come and +is gone--take as thine own nothing more than what thou lookest +upon."' + +My daughter's thoughtful gaze was, of course, fixed upon the +speaker, and in his own glance I saw a sudden ray of consciousness; +but Cecily transferred her eyes to the opposite wall, deeply +considering, and while Dacres and I smiled across the table, I saw +that she had perceived no reason for blushing. It was a singularly +narrow escape. + +'No,' she said, 'I didn't; what a curious proverb for an emperor to +make! He couldn't possibly have been able to see all his +possessions at once.' + +'If you have finished,' Dacres addressed her, 'do let me show you +what your plain and immediate duty is to the garden. The garden +waits for you--all the roses expectant--' + +'Why, there isn't one!' cried Cecily, pinning on her hat. It was +pleasing, and just a trifle pathetic, the way he hurried her out of +the scope of any little dart; he would not have her even within +range of amused observation. Would he continue, I wondered vaguely, +as, with my elbows on the table, I tore into strips the lemon-leaf +that floated in my finger-bowl--would he continue, through life, to +shelter her from his other clever friends as now he attempted to +shelter her from her mother? In that case he would have to domicile +her, poor dear, behind the curtain, like the native ladies--a good +price to pay for a protection of which, bless her heart! she would +be all unaware. I had quite stopped bemoaning the affair; perhaps +the comments of my husband, who treated it with broad approval and +satisfaction, did something to soothe my sensibilities. At all +events, I had gradually come to occupy a high fatalistic ground +towards the pair. If it was written upon their foreheads that they +should marry, the inscription was none of mine; and, of course, it +was true, as John had indignantly stated, that Dacres might do very +much worse. One's interest in Dacres Tottenham's problematical +future had in no way diminished; but the young man was so positive, +so full of intention, so disinclined to discussion--he had not +reopened the subject since that morning in the saloon of the +Caledonia--that one's feeling about it rather took the attenuated +form of a shrug. I am afraid, too, that the pleasurable excitement +of such an impending event had a little supervened; even at forty +there is no disallowing the natural interests of one's sex. As I +sat there pulling my lemon-leaf to pieces, I should not have been +surprised or in the least put about if the two had returned radiant +from the lawn to demand my blessing. As to the test of quality that +I had obligingly invented for Dacres on the spur of the moment +without his knowledge or connivance, it had some time ago faded into +what he apprehended it to be--a mere idyllic opportunity, a charming +background, a frame for his project, of prettier sentiment than the +funnels and the hand-rails of a ship. + +Mr. Tottenham had ten days to spend with us. He knew the place +well; it belonged to the province to whose service he was dedicated, +and he claimed with impressive authority the privilege of showing it +to Cecily by degrees--the Hall of Audience today, the Jessamine +Tower tomorrow, the tomb of Akbar another, and the Deserted City yet +another day. We arranged the expeditions in conference, Dacres +insisting only upon the order of them, which I saw was to be +cumulative, with the Taj at the very end, on the night precisely of +the full of the moon, with a better chance of roses. I had no +special views, but Cecily contributed some; that we should do the +Hall of Audience in the morning, so as not to interfere with the +club tennis in the afternoon, that we should bicycle to Akbar's tomb +and take a cold luncheon--if we were sure there would be no snakes-- +to the Deserted City, to all of which Dacres gave loyal assent. I +endorsed everything; I was the encouraging chorus, only stipulating +that my number should be swelled from day to day by the addition of +such persons as I should approve. Cecily, for instance, wanted to +invite the Bakewells because we had come out in the same ship with +them; but I could not endure the Bakewells, and it seemed to me that +our having made the voyage with them was the best possible reason +for declining to lay eyes on them for the rest of our natural lives. +'Mamma has such strong prejudices,' Cecily remarked, as she +reluctantly gave up the idea; and I waited to see whether the +graceless Tottenham would unmurmuringly take down the Bakewells. +How strong must be the sentiment that turns a man into a boa- +constrictor without a pang of transmigration! But no, this time he +was faithful to the principles of his pre-Cecilian existence. 'They +are rather Boojums,' he declared. 'You would think so, too, if you +knew them better. It is that kind of excellent person that makes +the real burden of India.' I could have patted him on the back. + +Thanks to the rest of the chorus, which proved abundantly available, +I was no immediate witness to Cecily's introduction to the glorious +fragments which sustain in Agra the memory of the moguls. I may as +well say that I arranged with care that if anybody must be standing +by when Dacres disclosed them, it should not be I. If Cecily had +squinted, I should have been sorry, but I would have found in it no +personal humiliation. There were other imperfections of vision, +however, for which I felt responsible and ashamed; and with Dacres, +though the situation, Heaven knows, was none of my seeking, I had a +little the feeling of a dealer who offers a defective bibelot to a +connoisseur. My charming daughter--I was fifty times congratulated +upon her appearance and her manners--had many excellent qualities +and capacities which she never inherited from me; but she could see +no more than the bulk, no further than the perspective; she could +register exactly as much as a camera. + +This was a curious thing, perhaps, to displease my maternal vanity, +but it did; I had really rather she squinted; and when there was +anything to look at I kept out of the way. I can not tell +precisely, therefore, what the incidents were that contributed to +make Mr. Tottenham, on our return from these expeditions, so +thoughtful, with a thoughtfulness which increased, towards the end +of them, to a positive gravity. This would disappear during dinner +under the influence of food and drink. He would talk nightly with +new enthusiasm and fresh hope--or did I imagine it?--of the +loveliness he had arranged to reveal on the following day. If again +my imagination did not lead me astray, I fancied this occurred later +and later in the course of the meal as the week went on; as if his +state required more stimulus as time progressed. One evening, when +I expected it to flag altogether, I had a whim to order champagne +and observe the effect; but I am glad to say that I reproved myself, +and refrained. + +Cecily, meanwhile, was conducting herself in a manner which left +nothing to be desired. If, as I sometimes thought, she took Dacres +very much for granted, she took him calmly for granted; she seemed a +prey to none of those fluttering uncertainties, those suspended +judgments and elaborate indifferences which translate themselves so +plainly in a young lady receiving addresses. She turned herself out +very freshly and very well; she was always ready for everything, and +I am sure that no glance of Dacres Tottenham's found aught but +direct and decorous response. His society on these occasions gave +her solid pleasure; so did the drive and the lunch; the +satisfactions were apparently upon the same plane. She was aware of +the plum, if I may be permitted a brusque but irresistible simile; +and with her mouth open, her eyes modestly closed, and her head in a +convenient position, she waited, placidly, until it should fall in. +The Farnham ladies would have been delighted with the result of +their labours in the sweet reason and eminent propriety of this +attitude. Thinking of my idiotic sufferings when John began to fix +himself upon my horizon, I pondered profoundly the power of nature +in differentiation. + +One evening, the last, I think, but one, I had occasion to go to my +daughter's room, and found her writing in her commonplace-book. She +had a commonplace-book, as well as a Where Is It? an engagement- +book, an account-book, a diary, a Daily Sunshine, and others with +purposes too various to remember. 'Dearest mamma,' she said, as I +was departing, 'there is only one "p" in "opulence", isn't there?' + +'Yes,' I replied, with my hand on the door-handle, and added +curiously, for it was an odd word in Cecily's mouth, 'Why?' + +She hardly hesitated. 'Oh,' she said, 'I am just writing down one +or two things Mr. Tottenham said about Agra before I forget them. +They seemed so true.' + +'He has a descriptive touch,' I remarked. + +'I think he describes beautifully. Would you like to hear what he +said today?' + +'I would,' I replied, sincerely. + +'"Agra,"' read this astonishing young lady, '"is India's one pure +idyll. Elsewhere she offers other things, foolish opulence, tawdry +pageant, treachery of eunuchs and jealousies of harems, thefts of +kings' jewels and barbaric retributions; but they are all actual, +visualized, or part of a past that shows to the backward glance +hardly more relief and vitality than a Persian painting"--I should +like to see a Persian painting--"but here the immortal tombs and +pleasure-houses rise out of colour delicate and subtle; the vision +holds across three hundred years; the print of the court is still in +the dust of the city."' + +'Did you really let him go on like that?' I exclaimed. 'It has the +license of a lecture!' + +'I encouraged him to. Of course he didn't say it straight off. He +said it naturally; he stopped now and then to cough. I didn't +understand it all; but I think I have remembered every word.' + +'You have a remarkable memory. I'm glad he stopped to cough. Is +there any more?' + +'One little bit. "Here the moguls wrought their passions into +marble, and held them up with great refrains from their religion, +and set them about with gardens; and here they stand in the twilight +of the glory of those kings and the noonday splendour of their +own."' + +'How clever of you!' I exclaimed. 'How wonderfully clever of you to +remember!' + +'I had to ask him to repeat one or two sentences. He didn't like +that. But this is nothing. I used to learn pages letter-perfect +for Aunt Emma. She was very particular. I think it is worth +preserving, don't you?' + +'Dear Cecily,' I responded, 'you have a frugal mind.' + +There was nothing else to respond. I could not tell her just how +practical I thought her, or how pathetic her little book. + + + +Chapter 1.VI. + +We drove together, after dinner, to the Taj. The moonlight lay in +an empty splendour over the broad sandy road, with the acacias +pricking up on each side of it and the gardens of the station +bungalows stretching back into clusters of crisp shadows. It was an +exquisite February night, very still. Nothing seemed abroad but two +or three pariah dogs, upon vague and errant business, and the +Executive Engineer going swiftly home from the club on his bicycle. +Even the little shops of the bazaar were dark and empty; only here +and there a light showed barred behind the carved balconies of the +upper rooms, and there was hardly any tom-tomming. The last long +slope of the road showed us the river curving to the left, through a +silent white waste that stretched indefinitely into the moonlight on +one side, and was crowned by Akbar's fort on the other. His long +high line of turrets and battlements still guarded a hint of their +evening rose, and dim and exquisite above them hovered the three +dome-bubbles of the Pearl Mosque. It was a night of perfect +illusion, and the illusion was mysterious, delicate, and faint. I +sat silent as we rolled along, twenty years nearer to the original +joy of things when John and I drove through the same old dream. + +Dacres, too, seemed preoccupied; only Cecily was, as they say, +herself. Cecily was really more than herself, she exhibited an +unusual flow of spirits. She talked continually, she pointed out +this and that, she asked who lived here and who lived there. At +regular intervals of about four minutes she demanded if it wasn't +simply too lovely. She sat straight up with her vigorous profile +and her smart hat; and the silhouette of her personality sharply +refused to mingle with the dust of any dynasty. She was a contrast, +a protest; positively she was an indignity. 'Do lean back, dear +child,' I exclaimed at last. 'You interfere with the landscape.' + +She leaned back, but she went on interfering with it in terms of +sincerest enthusiasm. + +When we stopped at the great archway of entrance I begged to be left +in the carriage. What else could one do, when the golden moment had +come, but sit in the carriage and measure it? They climbed the +broad stone steps together and passed under the lofty gravures into +the garden, and I waited. I waited and remembered. I am not, as +perhaps by this time is evident, a person of overwhelming sentiment, +but I think the smile upon my lips was gentle. So plainly I could +see, beyond the massive archway and across a score of years, all +that they saw at that moment--Arjamand's garden, and the long +straight tank of marble cleaving it full of sleeping water and the +shadows of the marshaling cypresses; her wide dark garden of roses +and of pomegranates, and at the end the Vision, marvellous, aerial, +the soul of something--is it beauty? is it sorrow?--that great white +pride of love in mourning such as only here in all the round of our +little world lifts itself to the stars, the unpaintable, +indescribable Taj Mahal. A gentle breath stole out with a scent of +jessamine and such a memory! I closed my eyes and felt the warm +luxury of a tear. + +Thinking of the two in the garden, my mood was very kind, very +conniving. How foolish after all were my cherry-stone theories of +taste and temperament before that uncalculating thing which sways a +world and builds a Taj Mahal! Was it probable that Arjamand and her +Emperor had loved fastidiously, and yet how they had loved! I +wandered away into consideration of the blind forces which move the +world, in which comely young persons like my daughter Cecily had +such a place; I speculated vaguely upon the value of the subtler +gifts of sympathy and insight which seemed indeed, at that +enveloping moment, to be mere flowers strewn upon the tide of deeper +emotions. The garden sent me a fragrance of roses; the moon sailed +higher and picked out the little kiosks set along the wall. It was +a charming, charming thing to wait, there at the portal of the +silvered, scented garden, for an idyll to come forth. + +When they reappeared, Dacres and my daughter, they came with casual +steps and cheerful voices. They might have been a couple of +tourists. The moonlight fell full upon them on the platform under +the arch. It showed Dacres measuring with his stick the length of +the Sanskrit letters which declared the stately texts, and Cecily's +expression of polite, perfunctory interest. They looked up at the +height above them; they looked back at the vision behind. Then they +sauntered towards the carriage, he offering a formal hand to help +her down the uncertain steps, she gracefully accepting it. + +'You--you have not been long,' said I. 'I hope you didn't hurry on +my account.' + +'Miss Farnham found the marble a little cold under foot,' replied +Dacres, putting Miss Farnham in. + +'You see,' explained Cecily, 'I stupidly forgot to change into +thicker soles. I have only my slippers. But, mamma, how lovely it +is! Do let us come again in the daytime. I am dying to make a +sketch of it.' + +Mr. Tottenham was to leave us on the following day. In the morning, +after 'little breakfast,' as we say in India, he sought me in the +room I had set aside to be particularly my own. + +Again I was writing to John, but this time I waited for precisely +his interruption. I had got no further than 'My dearest husband,' +and my pen-handle was a fringe. + +'Another fine day,' I said, as if the old, old Indian joke could +give him ease, poor man! + +'Yes,' said he, 'we are having lovely weather.' + +He had forgotten that it was a joke. Then he lapsed into silence +while I renewed my attentions to my pen. + +'I say,' he said at last, with so strained a look about his mouth +that it was almost a contortion, 'I haven't done it, you know.' + +'No,' I responded, cheerfully, 'and you're not going to. Is that +it? Well!' + +'Frankly--' said he. + +'Dear me, yes! Anything else between you and me would be +grotesque,' I interrupted, 'after all these years.' + +'I don't think it would be a success,' he said, looking at me +resolutely with his clear blue eyes, in which still lay, alas! the +possibility of many delusions. + +'No,' I said, 'I never did, you know. But the prospect had begun to +impose upon me.' + +'To say how right you were would seem, under the circumstances, the +most hateful form of flattery.' + +'Yes,' I said, 'I think I can dispense with your verbal +endorsement.' I felt a little bitter. It was, of course, better +that the connoisseur should have discovered the flaw before +concluding the transaction; but although I had pointed it out myself +I was not entirely pleased to have the article returned. + +'I am infinitely ashamed that it should have taken me all these +days--day after day and each contributory--to discover what you saw +so easily and so completely.' + +'You forget that I am her mother,' I could not resist the temptation +of saying. + +'Oh, for God's sake don't jeer! Please be absolutely direct, and +tell me if you have reason to believe that to the extent of a +thought, of a breath--to any extent at all--she cares.' + +He was, I could see, very deeply moved; he had not arrived at this +point without trouble and disorder not lightly to be put on or off. +Yet I did not hurry to his relief, I was still possessed by a vague +feeling of offense. I reflected that any mother would be, and I +quite plumed myself upon my annoyance. It was so satisfactory, when +one had a daughter, to know the sensations of even any mother. Nor +was it soothing to remember that the young man's whole attitude +towards Cecily had been based upon criticism of me, even though he +sat before me whipped with his own lash. His temerity had been +stupid and obstinate; I could not regret his punishment. + +I kept him waiting long enough to think all this, and then I +replied, 'I have not the least means of knowing.' + +I can not say what he expected, but he squared his shoulders as if +he had received a blow and might receive another. Then he looked at +me with a flash of the old indignation. 'You are not near enough to +her for that!' he exclaimed. + +'I am not near enough to her for that.' + +Silence fell between us. A crow perched upon an opened venetian and +cawed lustily. For years afterward I never heard a crow caw without +a sense of vain, distressing experiment. Dacres got up and began to +walk about the room. I very soon put a stop to that. 'I can't talk +to a pendulum,' I said, but I could not persuade him to sit down +again. + +'Candidly,' he said at length, 'do you think she would have me?' + +'I regret to say that I think she would. But you would not dream of +asking her.' + +'Why not? She is a dear girl,' he responded inconsequently. + +'You could not possibly stand it.' + +Then Mr. Tottenham delivered himself of this remarkable phrase: 'I +could stand it,' he said, 'as well as you can.' + +There was far from being any joy in the irony with which I regarded +him and under which I saw him gather up his resolution to go; +nevertheless I did nothing to make it easy for him. I refrained +from imparting my private conviction that Cecily would accept the +first presentable substitute that appeared, although it was strong. +I made no reference to my daughter's large fund of philosophy and +small balance of sentiment. I did not even--though this was +reprehensible--confess the test, the test of quality in these ten +days with the marble archives of the Moguls, which I had almost +wantonly suggested, which he had so unconsciously accepted, so +disastrously applied. I gave him quite fifteen minutes of his bad +quarter of an hour, and when it was over I wrote truthfully but +furiously to John. . .. + +That was ten years ago. We have since attained the shades of +retirement, and our daughter is still with us when she is not with +Aunt Emma and Aunt Alice--grandmamma has passed away. Mr. +Tottenham's dumb departure that day in February--it was the year +John got his C.B.--was followed, I am thankful to say, by none of +the symptoms of unrequited affection on Cecily's part. Not for ten +minutes, so far as I was aware, was she the maid forlorn. I think +her self-respect was of too robust a character, thanks to the Misses +Farnham. Still less, of course, had she any reproaches to serve +upon her mother, although for a long time I thought I detected--or +was it my guilty conscience?--a spark of shrewdness in the glance +she bent upon me when the talk was of Mr. Tottenham and the +probabilities of his return to Agra. So well did she sustain her +experience, or so little did she feel it, that I believe the +impression went abroad that Dacres had been sent disconsolate away. +One astonishing conversation I had with her some six months later, +which turned upon the point of a particularly desirable offer. She +told me something then, without any sort of embarrassment, but quite +lucidly and directly, that edified me much to hear. She said that +while she was quite sure that Mr. Tottenham thought of her only as a +friend--she had never had the least reason for any other impression- +-he had done her a service for which she could not thank him enough- +-in showing her what a husband might be. He had given her a +standard; it might be high, but it was unalterable. She didn't know +whether she could describe it, but Mr. Tottenham was different from +the kind of man you seemed to meet in India. He had his own ways of +looking at things, and he talked so well. He had given her an +ideal, and she intended to profit by it. To know that men like Mr. +Tottenham existed, and to marry any other kind would be an act of +folly which she did not intend to commit. No, Major the Hon. Hugh +Taverel did not come near it--very far short, indeed! He had talked +to her during the whole of dinner the night before about jackal- +hunting with a bobbery pack--not at all an elevated mind. Yes, he +might be a very good fellow, but as a companion for life she was +sure he would not be at all suitable. She would wait. + +And she has waited. I never thought she would, but she has. From +time to time men have wished to take her from us, but the standard +has been inexorable, and none of them have reached it. When Dacres +married the charming American whom he caught like a butterfly upon +her Eastern tour, Cecily sent them as a wedding present an alabaster +model of the Taj, and I let her do it--the gift was so exquisitely +appropriate. I suppose he never looks at it without being reminded +that he didn't marry Miss Farnham, and I hope that he remembers that +he owes it to Miss Farnham's mother. So much I think I might claim; +it is really very little considering what it stands for. Cecily is +permanently with us--I believe she considers herself an intimate. I +am very reasonable about lending her to her aunts, but she takes no +sort of advantage of my liberality; she says she knows her duty is +at home. She is growing into a firm and solid English maiden lady, +with a good colour and great decision of character. That she always +had. + +I point out to John, when she takes our crumpets away from us, that +she gets it from him. I could never take away anybody's crumpets, +merely because they were indigestible, least of all my own parents'. +She has acquired a distinct affection for us, by some means best +known to herself; but I should have no objection to that if she +would not rearrange my bonnet-strings. That is a fond liberty to +which I take exception; but it is one thing to take exception and +another to express it. + +Our daughter is with us, permanently with us. She declares that she +intends to be the prop of our declining years; she makes the +statement often, and always as if it were humorous. Nevertheless I +sometimes notice a spirit of inquiry, a note of investigation in her +encounters with the opposite sex that suggests an expectation not +yet extinct that another and perhaps a more appreciative Dacres +Tottenham may flash across her field of vision--alas, how +improbable! Myself I can not imagine why she should wish it; I have +grown in my old age into a perfect horror of cultivated young men; +but if such a person should by a miracle at any time appear, I think +it is extremely improbable that I will interfere on his behalf. + + + + +2. An Impossible Ideal. + + + +Chapter 2.I. + +To understand how we prized him, Dora Harris and I, it is necessary +to know Simla. I suppose people think of that place, if they ever +do think of it, as an agreeable retreat in the wilds of the +Himalayas where deodars and scandals grow, and where the Viceroy if +he likes may take off his decorations and go about in flannels. I +know how useless it would be to try to give a more faithful +impression, and I will hold back from the attempt as far as I can. +Besides, my little story is itself an explanation of Simla. +Ingersoll Armour might have appeared almost anywhere else without +making social history. He came and bloomed among us in the +wilderness, and such and such things happened. It sounds too rude a +generalization to say that Simla is a wilderness; I hasten to add +that it is a waste as highly cultivated as you like, producing many +things more admirable than Ingersoll Armour. Still he bloomed there +conspicuously alone. Perhaps there would have been nothing to tell +if we had not tried to gather him. That was wrong; Nature in Simla +expects you to be content with cocked hats. + +There are artists almost everywhere and people who paint even in the +Himalayas, though Miss Harris and I in our superior way went yearly +to the Simla Fine Arts Exhibition chiefly to amuse ourselves by +scoffing. It was easy to say clever things about the poor little +exhibits; and one was grateful to the show on this account, for +nothing is more depressing east of Suez than the absence of +provocation to say clever things. There one afternoon in May as we +marched about enjoying ourselves, we came upon Ingersoll Armour, not +in the flesh, but in half a dozen studies hanging in the least +conspicuous corner and quite the worst light in the room. + +'Eh, what?' said I, and Dora exclaimed: + +'I SAY!' + +'Sent out from home,' I said, ever the oracle. + +'Not at all,' replied Dora. 'Look, they are Indian subjects. SIMLA +subjects,' she went on, with excitement. + +I turned up the catalogue. 'Ninety-seven, "Kasumti Bazaar"; ninety- +eight, "Clouds on the Chor"; ninety-nine, "The House of a Friend"-- +Lord, what apricot blossoms! Yes, they're all Simla.' + +'For goodness' sake,' said Dora, 'who painted them? You've got the +catalogue!' + +'"I. Armour,"' I read. + +'"I. Armour,"' she repeated, and we looked at each other, saying in +plain silence that to the small world of Simla I. Armour was +unknown. + +'Not on Government House list, I venture to believe,' said Dora. +That in itself may show to what depths we sink. Yet it was a +trenchant and a reasonable speculation. + +'It may be a newcomer,' I suggested, but she shook her head. 'All +newcomers call upon us,' she said. 'There in the middle of the Mall +we escape none of them. He isn't a calling person.' + +'Why do you say "he"? You are very confident with your pronouns. +There's a delicacy of feeling--' + +'Which exactly does not suggest a women. We are undermined by +delicacy of feeling; we're not strong enough to express it with +brushes. A man can make it a quality, a decorative characteristic, +and so we see it. With a woman it's everything--all over the place- +-and of no effect. Oh, I assure you, I. Armour is a man.' + +'Who shall stand against you! Let him be a man. He has taste.' + +'Taste!' exclaimed Miss Harris, violently, and from the corners of +her mouth I gathered that I had said one of those things which she +would store up and produce to prove that I was not, for all my +pretensions, a person of the truest feeling. 'He sees things.' + +'There's an intensity,' I ventured. + +'That's better. Yes, an intensity. A perfect passion of colour. +Look at that.' She indicated a patch of hillsides perhaps six +inches by four, in which the light seemed to come and go as it does +in a sapphire. + +We stood and gazed. It was a tremendous thing; only half a dozen +studies with feeling and knowledge in them, but there in that remote +fastness thrice barred against the arts a tremendous thing, a +banquet for our famished eyes. What they would have said to us in +London is a different matter, and how good they really were I do not +find the courage to pronounce, but they had merit enough to prick +our sense of beauty delightfully where we found them--oh, they were +good! + +'Heaven send it isn't a Tommy,' said Dora, with a falling +countenance. 'There is something absolutely inaccessible about a +Tommy.' + +'How could it be?' I asked. + +'Oh, there are some inspired ones. But it isn't--that's French +technique. It's an Englishman or an American who has worked in +Paris. What in the name of fortune is he doing here?' + +'Oh,' I said, 'we have had them, you know. Val Prinsep came out at +the time of the Prince of Wales's visit.' + +'Do you remember that?' + +'It's a matter of history,' I said, evasively, 'and Edwin Weeks +travelled through India not so many years ago. I saw his studio in +Paris afterward. Between his own canvases and Ahmedabad balconies +and Delhi embroideries and Burmese Buddhas and other things he +seemed to have carried off the whole place.' + +'But they don't come up here ever. They come in the cold weather, +and as they can get plenty of snow and ice at home, they stay down +in the plains with the palm-trees.' + +'Precisely; they do,' I said. + +'And besides,' Dora went on, with increasing excitement, 'this isn't +a master. You see, he doesn't send a single picture--only these +tiny things. And there's a certain tentativeness'--Miss Harris, her +parasol handle pressed against her lips, looked at me with an +eagerness that was a pleasure to look at in itself. + +'A certain weakness, almost a lack of confidence, in the drawing,' I +said. + +'What does that signify?' + +'Why, immaturity, of course--not enough discipline.' + +'He's a student. Not that it amounts to a defect, you know'--she +was as jealous already as if she possessed the things--'only a sign +to read by. I should be grateful for more signs. Why should a +student come to Simla?' + +'To teach, perhaps,' I suggested. Naturally one sought only among +reasons of utility. + +'It's the Kensington person who teaches. When they have worked in +the ateliers and learned as much as this they never do. They paint +fans and menu cards, and starve, but they don't teach.' + +Sir William Lamb, Member of Council for the Department of Finance, +was borne by the stream to our sides. The simile will hardly stand +conscientious examination, for the stream was a thin one and did no +more than trickle past, while Sir William weighed fifteen stone, and +was so eminent that it could never inconvenience him at its deepest. +Dora detached her gaze from the pictures and turned her back upon +them; I saw the measure of precaution. It was unavailing, however. +'What have we here?' said Sir William. Dora removed her person from +his line of vision, and he saw what we had there. + +'The work of a friend of yours?' Sir William was spoken of as a +'cautious' man. He had risen to his present distinction on +stepping-stones of mistakes he conspicuously had not made. + +'No,' said Dora, 'we were wondering who the artist could be.' + +Sir William looked at the studies, and had a happy thought. 'If you +ask me, I should say a child of ten,' he said. He was also known as +a man of humour. + +'Miss Harris had just remarked a certain immaturity,' I ventured. + +'Oh, well,' said Sir William, 'this isn't the Royal Academy, is it? +I always say it's very good of people to send their things here at +all. And some of them are not half bad--I should call this year's +average very high indeed.' + +'Are you pleased with the picture that has taken your prize, Sir +William?' asked Dora. + +'I have bought it.' Sir William's chest underwent before our eyes +an expansion of conscious virtue. Living is so expensive in Simla; +the purchase of a merely decorative object takes almost the +proportion of an act of religion, even by a Member of Council +drawing four hundred pounds a month. + +'First-rate it is, first-rate. Have you seen it? "Our Camp in +Tirah." Natives cooking in the foreground, fellows standing about +smoking, and a whole pile of tinned stores dumped down in one +corner, exactly as they would be, don't you know! Oh, I think the +Committee made a very good choice indeed, a very good choice.' + +Sir William moved on, and Dora was free to send me an expressive +glance. 'Isn't that just LIKE this place?' she demanded. 'Let me +see, the Viceroy's medal, the Society's silver medal, five prizes +from Members of Council. Highly Commended's as thick as +blackberries, and these perfectly fresh, original, admirable things +completely ignored. What an absurd, impossible corner of the earth +it is!' + +'You look very cross, you two,' said Mrs. Sinclair, trailing past. +'Come and see the crazy china exhibit, all made of little bits, you +know. They say the photograph frames are simply lovely.' + +Mrs. Sinclair's invitation was not sincere. Miss Harris was able to +answer it with a laugh and a wave. We remained beside the serious +fact of exhibits 97-103. + +'Who are the judges this year?' I asked, not that I did not know +precisely who they were likely to be. There is a custom in these +matters, and I had been part of Simla for eleven years. + +Dora took the catalogue from my hand and turned its pages over. + +'Mr. Cathcart, of course; the Private Secretary to the Viceroy would +be on the Committee almost ex officio, wouldn't he? Impossible to +conceive a Private Secretary to the Viceroy whose opinion would not +be valuable upon any head. The member for Public Works--I suppose +he can build bridges, or could once, therefore he can draw, or could +once; besides, look at his precedence and his pay! General Haycock- +-isn't he head of the Ordnance Department? I can't think of any +other reason for putting him on. Oh yes--he's a K.C.B., and he is +inventing a way of taking coloured photographs. Mr. Tilley, the old +gentleman that teaches elementary drawing to the little girls in the +diocesan school, that's all right. And Mr. Jay, of course, because +Mr. Jay's water-colours are the mainstay of the exhibition, and he +must be given a chance of expressing his opinion of them.' She +handed me back the catalogue. 'I have never been really angry with +them before,' she said. + +'Are you really angry now?' I asked. + +'Furious,' Dora replied, and indeed her face expressed indignation. +Its lines were quite tense, and a spark shone oddly in the middle of +the eyes. One could not credit her with beauty, but as her lady +friends were fond of saying, there was something 'more' in her face. +I saw a good deal more at this moment, and it gave me pleasure, as +all her feelings did when they came out like that. I hasten to add +that she was not unpleasing; her features had a symmetry and a +mobility, and her eyes could take any transient charm they chose to +endow themselves with; though there were moments when she compared +very badly with the other young ladies of Simla with their high +spirits and their pretty complexions, very badly indeed. Those were +occasions when the gay monotony of the place pressed, I imagine, a +little heavily upon her, and the dullness she felt translated itself +in her expression. But she was by no means unpleasing. + +'I must go and see Lady Pilkey's picture,' I said. + +'What is the use?' said Dora. 'It's a landscape in oils--a view of +the Himalayas, near Narkanda. There are the snows in the +background, very thin and visionary through a gap in the trees, and +two hills, one hill on each side. Dark green trees, pine-trees, +with a dead one in the left foreground covered with a brilliant red +creeper. Right foreground occupied by a mountain path and a +solitary native figure with its back turned. Society's silver +medal' + +'When did you see it?' I asked. + +'I haven't seen it--this year. But I saw the one she sent last, and +the one the year before that. You can trust my memory, really.' + +'No,' I said, 'I can't. I'm dining there tonight. I must have an +original impression.' + +'Congratulate her on the warm blaze of colour in the foreground. +It's perfectly safe,' urged Miss Harris, but I felt compelled to go +myself to see lady Pilkey's landscape. When I returned I found her +still sitting in grave absorption before the studies that had taken +us so by surprise. Her face was full of a soft new light; I had +never before seen the spring touched in her that could flood it like +that. + +'You were very nearly right,' I announced; 'but the blaze of colour +was in the middle distance, and there was a torrent in the +foreground that quite put it out. And the picture does take the +Society's silver medal.' + +'I can not decide,' she replied without looking at me, 'between the +Kattiawar fair thing and those hills in the rain. I can only have +one--father won't hear of more than one.' + +'You can have two,' I said bluntly, so deeply interested I was in +the effect the things had on her. 'And I will have a third for +myself. I can't withstand those apricot-trees.' + +I thought there was moisture in the eyes she turned upon me, an +unusual thing--a most unusual thing--in Dora Harris; but she winked +it back, if it was there, too quickly for any certainty. + +'You are a dear,' she said. Once or twice before she had called me +a dear. It reminded me, as nothing else ever did, that I was a +contemporary of her father's. It is a feeble confession, but I have +known myself refrain from doing occasional agreeable things +apprehending that she might call me a dear. + + + +Chapter 2.II. + +Dora had been out three seasons when these things happened. I +remember sharing Edward Harris's anxiety in no slight degree as to +how the situation would resolve itself when she came, the situation +consisting so considerably in his eyes of the second Mrs. Harris, +who had complicated it further with three little red-cheeked boys, +all of the age to be led about the station on very small ponies, and +not under any circumstances to be allowed in the drawing-room when +one went to tea with their mother. No one, except perhaps poor Ted +himself, was more interested than I to observe how the situation did +resolve itself, in the decision of Mrs. Harris that the boys, the +two eldest at least, must positively begin the race for the +competitive examinations of the future without further delay, and +that she must as positively be domiciled in England 'to be near' +them, at all events until they had well made the start. I should +have been glad to see them ride their ponies up and down the Mall a +bit longer, poor little chaps; they were still very cherubic to be +invited to take a view of competitive examinations, however distant; +but Mrs. Harris's conviction was not to be overcome. So they went +home to begin, and she went with them, leaving Dora in possession of +her father, her father's house, his pay, his precedence, and all +that was his. Not that I would suggest any friction; I am convinced +that there was nothing like that--at least, nothing that met the +eye, or the ear. Dora adored the three little boys and was +extremely kind to their mother. She regarded this lady, I have +reason to believe, with the greatest indulgence, and behaved towards +her with the greatest consideration; I mean she had unerring +intuitions as to just when, on afternoons when Mrs. Harris was at +home from dusk till dinner, she should be dying for a walk. One +could imagine her looking with her grey eyes at dear mamma's horizon +and deciding that papa was certainly not enough to fill it by +himself, deciding at the same time that he was never likely to be +ousted there, only accompanied, in a less important and entirely +innocent degree. It may be surprising that any one should fly from +so broad-minded a step-daughter; but the happy family party lasted a +bare three months. I think Mrs. Harris had a perception--she was +the kind of woman who arrived obscurely at very correct conclusions- +-that she was contributing to her step-daughter's amusement in a +manner which her most benevolent intentions had not contemplated, +and she was not by any means the little person to go on doing that +indefinitely, perhaps increasingly. Besides, it was in the natural +order of things that Dora should marry, and Mrs. Harris doubtless +foresaw a comfortable return for herself in the course of a year or +two, when the usual promising junior in 'the Department' should gild +his own prospects and promote the general well-being by acquiring +its head for a father-in-law. Things always worked out if you gave +them time. How much time you ought to give them was doubtless by +now a pretty constant query with the little lady in her foggy exile; +for two years had already passed and Dora had found no connection +with any young man of the Department more permanent than those +prescribed at dinners and at dances. It is doubtful, indeed, if she +had had the opportunity. There was no absolute means of knowing; +but if offers were made they never transpired, and Mrs. Harris, far +away in England, nourished a certainty that they never were made. +Speaking with her intimate knowledge of the sex she declared that +Dora frightened the men, that her cleverness was of a kind to +paralyze any sentiment of the sort that might be expected. It +depended upon Mrs. Harris's humour whether this was Dora's +misfortune or her crime. She, Dora, never frightened me, and by the +time her cleverness dawned upon me, my sentiment about her had +become too robust to be paralyzed. On the contrary, the agreeable +stimulus it gave me was one of the things I counted most valuable in +my life out there. It hardly mattered, however, that I should +confess this; I was not a young man in Harris's department. I had a +department of my own; and Dora, though she frisked with me +gloriously and bullied continually, must ever have been aware of the +formidable fact that I joined the Service two years before Edward +Harris did. The daughter of three generations of bureaucrats was +not likely to forget that at one time her father had been junior to +me in the same office, though in the course of time and the march of +opportunity he had his own show now, and we nodded to each other on +the Mall with an equal sense of the divine right of secretaries. It +may seem irrelevant, but I feel compelled to explain here that I had +remained a bachelor while Harris had married twice, and that I had +kept up my cricket, while Harris had let his figure take all the +soft curves of middle age. Nevertheless the fact remained. +Sometimes I fancied it gave a certain piquancy to my relations with +his daughter, but I could never believe that the laugh was on my +side. + +If we met at dinner-parties, it would be sometimes Edward Harris and +sometimes myself who would take the dullest and stoutest woman down. +If she fell to him, the next in precedence was bestowed upon me, and +there might not be a pin to choose between them for phlegm and +inflation. It is a preposterous mistake to suppose that the married +ladies of Simla are in the majority brilliant and fascinating +creatures, who say things in French for greater convenience, and +lead a man on. After fifteen years I am ready to swear that I have +been led on to nothing more compromising than a subscription to the +Young Women's Christian Association, though no one could have been +more docile or more intelligent. During one viceroyalty of happy +memory half a dozen clever and amusing men and women came together +in Simla--it was a mere fortuitous occurrence, aided by a joyous +ruler who hated being bored as none before or ever since have hated +it--and the place has lived socially upon the reputation of that +meteoric term ever since. Whereas the domestic virtues are no more +deeply rooted anywhere than under the deodars; nor could any one, I +hasten to add, chronicle the fact with more profound satisfaction +than myself. A dinner-party, however, is not a favourable setting +for the domestic virtues; it does them so little justice that one +could sometimes almost wish them left at home, and I was talking of +Simla dinner-parties, where I have encountered so many. How often +have I been consulted as to the best school for boys in England, or +instructed as to how much I should let my man charge me for shoe- +blacking, or advised as to the most effectual way of preventing the +butler from stealing my cheroots, while Dora Harris, remote as a +star, talked to a cavalry subaltern about wind-galls and splints! +At these moments I felt my seniority bitterly; to give Dora to a +cavalry subaltern was such plain waste. + +It was an infinite pleasure to know any one as well as I seemed to +know Dora Harris. She, I believe, held no one else upon the same +terms of intimacy, though she found women, of course, with whom she +fluttered and embraced; and while there were, naturally, men with +whom I exchanged the time o'day in terms more or less cordial, I am +certain that I kept all my closest thoughts for her. It is +necessary again to know Simla to understand how our friendship was +gilded by the consideration that it was on both sides perfectly +spontaneous. Social life in the poor little place is almost a pure +farce with the number of its dictated, prompted intimacies, not +controlled by general laws of expediency as at home, but each on its +own basis of hope and expectancy, broadly and ludicrously obvious as +a case by itself. There is a conspiracy of stupidity about it, for +we are all in the same hat, every one of us; there is none so +exalted that he does not urgently want a post that somebody else can +give him. So we continue to exchange our depreciated smiles, and +only privately admit that the person who most desires to be +agreeable to us is the person whom we regard with the greatest +suspicion. As between Dora Harris and myself there could be, +naturally, no ax to grind. We amused ourselves by looking on +penetratingly but tolerantly at the grinding of other people's. + +That was a very principal bond between us, that uncompromising +clearness with which we looked at the place we lived in, and on the +testimony of which we were so certain that we didn't like it. The +women were nearly all so much in heaven in Simla, the men so well +satisfied to be there too, at the top of the tree, that our +dissatisfaction gave us to one another the merit of originality, +almost proved in one another a superior mind. It was not that +either of us would have preferred to grill out our days in the +plains; we always had a saving clause for the climate, the altitude, +the scenery; it was Simla intrinsic, Simla as its other conditions +made it, with which we found such liberal fault. Again I should +have to explain Simla, at the length of an essay at least, to +justify our condemnation. This difficulty confronts me everywhere. +I must ask you instead to imagine a small colony of superior--very +superior--officials, of British origin and traditions, set on the +top of a hill, years and miles away from literature, music, +pictures, politics, existing like a harem on the gossip of the +Viceroy's intentions, and depending for amusement on tennis and +bumble-puppy, and then consider, you yourself, whether you are the +sort of person to be unquestionably happy there. If you see no +reason to the contrary, pray do not go on. There were times when +Dora declared that she couldn't breathe for want of an atmosphere, +and times when I looked round and groaned at the cheerful +congratulatory aridity in every man's eye--men who had done things +at Oxford in my own year, and come out like me to be mummified into +a last state like this. Thank Heaven, there was never any cheerful +congratulation in my eye; one could always put there, when the +thought inspired it, a saving spark of rank ingratitude instead. + +It was as if we had the most desirable things--roses, cool airs, far +snowy ranges--to build what we like with, and we built Simla-- +altitude, 7,000, population 2,500, headquarters of the Government of +India during the summer months. An ark it was, of course; an ark of +refuge from the horrible heat that surged below, and I wondered as I +climbed the steeps of Summer Hill in search of I. Armour's +inaccessible address, whether he was to be the dove bearing +beautiful testimony of a world coming nearer. I rejected the +simile, however, as over-sanguine; we had been too long abandoned on +our Ararat. + + + +Chapter 2.III. + +A dog of no sort of caste stood in the veranda and barked at me +offensively. I picked up a stone, and he vanished like the dog of a +dream into the house. It was such a small house that it wasn't on +the municipal map at all: it looked as if someone had built it for +amusement with anything that was lying about. Nevertheless, it had +a name, it was called Amy Villa, freshly painted in white letters on +a shiny black board, and nailed against the nearest tree in the +orthodox Simla fashion. It looked as if the owner of the place had +named it as a duty towards his tenant, the board was so new, and in +that case the reflection presented itself that the tenant might have +cooperated to call it something else. It was disconcerting somehow +to find that our dove had perched, even temporarily, in Amy Villa. +Nor was it soothing to discover that the small white object stuck in +the corner of the board was Mr. Ingersoll Armour's card. + +In Simla we do not stick our cards about in that way at the mercy of +the wind and the weather; we paint our names neatly under the names +of our houses with 'I.C.S.' for Indian Civil Service, or 'P.W.D.' +for Public Works Department, or whatever designation we are entitled +to immediately after, so that there can be no mistake. This strikes +newcomers sometimes as a little professional, especially when a hand +accompanies, pointing; but it is the only possible way where there +are no streets and no numbers, but where houses are dropped about a +hilltop as if they had fallen from a pepper-pot. In sticking his +card out like that Mr. Armour seemed to imagine himself au quatrieme +or au cinquieme somewhere on the south side of the Seine; it +betrayed rather a ridiculous lack of conformity. He was high enough +up, however, to give any illusion; I had to stop to find the wind to +announce myself. There was nobody else to do it if I except the +dog. + +I walked into the veranda and shouted. Then I saw that one end of +it was partly glazed off, and inside sat a young man in his shirt- +sleeves with his back to the door. + +In reply he called out, 'That you, Rosario?' and I stood silent, +taken somewhat aback. + +There was only one Rosario in Simla, and he was a subordinate in my +own office. Again the hateful need to explain. Between subordinate +clerks and officials in Simla there is a greater gulf fixed than was +ever imagined in parable. Besides, Rosario had a plain strain of +what we call 'the country' in him, a plain strain, that is, of the +colour of the country. It was certainly the first time in my +official career that I had been mistaken for Rosario. + +Armour turned round and saw me--that I was a stranger. + +He got up at once. 'Oh,' he said, 'I thought it was Rosario. + +'It isn't,' I replied, 'my name is Philips. May I ask whether you +were expecting Mr. Rosario? I can come again, you know.' + +'Oh, it doesn't matter. Sit down. He may drop in or he may not--I +rather thought he would today. It's a pull up, isn't it, from the +Mall? Have a whisky and soda.' + +I stood on the threshold spellbound. It was just the smell that +bound me, the good old smell of oil paints and turpentine and +mediums and varnish and new canvas that you never by any chance put +your nose into in any part of Asia. It carried me back twenty years +to old haunts, old friends, old joys, ideals, theories. Ah, to be +young and have a temperament! For I had one then--that instant in +Armour's veranda proved it to me forever. + +'No thanks,' I said. 'If you don't mind I'll just have the smell.' + +The young fellow knew at once that I liked the smell. 'Well, have a +chair, anyhow,' he said, and took one himself and sat down opposite +me, letting his lean brown hands fall between his knees. + +'Do you mind,' I said, 'if for a minute I sit still and look round?' + +He understood again. + +'I haven't brought much,' he said, 'I left pretty near everything in +Paris.' + +'You have brought a world.' Then after a moment, 'Did you do that?' +I asked, nodding towards a canvas tacked against the wall. It was +the head of a half-veiled Arab woman turned away. + +The picture was in the turning away, and the shadow the head- +covering made over the cheek and lips. + +'Lord, no! That's Dagnan Bouveret. I used to take my things to +him, and one day he gave me that. You have an eye,' he added, but +without patronage. 'It's the best thing I've got.' + +I felt the warmth of an old thrill. + +'Once upon a time,' I said, 'I was allowed to have an eye.' The +wine, untasted all those years, went to my head. 'That's a vigorous +bit above,' I continued. + +'Oh, well! It isn't really up to much, you know. It's Rosario's. +He photographs mostly, but he has a notion of colour.' + +'Really?' said I, thinking with regard to my eye that the sun of +that atrocious country had put it out. 'I expect I've lost it,' I +said aloud. + +'Your eye? Oh, you'll easily get a fresh one. Do you go home for +the exhibitions?' + +'I did once,' I confessed. 'My first leave. A kind of paralysis +overtakes one here. Last time I went for the grouse.' + +He glanced at me with his light clear eyes as if for the first time +he encountered a difficulty. + +'It's a magnificent country for painting,' he said. + +'But not for pictures,' I rejoined. He paid no attention, staring +at the ground and twisting one end of his moustache. + +'The sun on those old marble tombs--broad sun and sand--' + +'You mean somewhere about Delhi.' + +'I couldn't get anywhere near it.' He was not at that moment +anywhere near me. 'But I have thought out a trick or two--I mean to +have another go when it cools off again down there.' He returned +with a smile, and I saw how delicate his face was. The smile turned +down with a little gentle mockery in its lines. I had seen that +particular smile only on the faces of one or two beautiful women. +It had a borrowed air upon a man, like a tiara or an earring. + +'There's plenty to paint,' he said, looking at me with an air of +friendly speculation. + +'Indeed, yes. And it has never been done. We are sure it has never +been done.' + +'"We"--you mean people generally?' + +'Not at all. I mean Miss Harris, Miss Harris and myself.' + +'Your daughter?' + +'My name is Philips,' I reminded him pleasantly, remembering that +the intelligence of clever people is often limited to a single art. +'Miss Harris is the daughter of Mr. Edward Harris, Secretary of the +Government of India in the Legislative Department. She is fond of +pictures. We have a good many tastes in common. We have always +suspected that India had never been painted, and when we saw your +things at the Town Hall we knew it.' + +His queer eyes dilated, and he blushed. + +'Oh,' he said, 'it's only one interpretation. It all depends on +what a fellow sees. No fellow can see everything.' + +'Till you came,' I insisted, 'nobody had seen anything.' + +He shook his head, but I could read in his face that this was not +news to him. + +'That is mainly what I came up to tell you,' I continued, 'to beg +that you will go on and on. To hope that you will stay a long time +and do a great deal. It is such an extraordinary chance that any +one should turn up who can say what the country really means.' + +He stuck his hands in his pockets with a restive movement. 'Oh, +don't make me feel responsible,' he said, 'I hate that;' and then +suddenly he remembered his manners. 'But it's certainly nice of you +to think so,' he added. + +There was something a little unusual in his inflection which led me +to ask at this point whether he was an American, and to discover +that he came from somewhere in Wisconsin, not directly, but by way +of a few years in London and Paris. This accounted in a way for the +effect of freedom in any fortune about him for which I already liked +him, and perhaps partly for the look of unembarrassed inquiry and +experiment which sat so lightly in his unlined face. He came, one +realized, out of the fermentation of new conditions; he never could +have been the product of our limits and systems and classes in +England. His surroundings, his 'things,' as he called them, were as +old as the sense of beauty, but he seemed simply to have put them +where he could see them, there was no pose in their arrangement. +They were all good, and his delight in them was plain; but he was +evidently in no sense a connoisseur beyond that of natural instinct. +Some of those he had picked up in India I could tell him about, but +I had no impression that he would remember what I said. There was +one Bokhara tapestry I examined with a good deal of interest. + +'Yes,' he said, 'they told me I shouldn't get anything as good as +that out here, so I brought it,' but I had to explain to him why it +was anomalous that this should be so. + +'It came a good many miles over desert from somewhere,' he remarked, +as I made a note of inquiry as to the present direction of trade in +woven goods from Persia, 'I had to pound it for a week to get the +dust out.' + +We spent an hour looking over work he had done down in the plains, +and then I took my leave. It did not occur to me at the moment to +ask Armour to come to the club or to offer to do anything for him; +all the hospitality, all that was worth offering seemed so much more +at his disposition than at mine. I only asked if I might come +again, mentioning somewhat shyly that I must have the opportunity of +adding, at my leisure, to those of his pictures that were already +mine by transaction with the secretary of the Art Exhibition. I +left him so astonished that this had happened, so plainly pleased, +that I was certain he had never sold anything before in his life. +This impression gave me the uplifted joy of a discoverer to add to +the satisfactions I had already drawn from the afternoon; and I +almost bounded down the hill to the Mall. I left the pi dog barking +in the veranda, and I met Mr. Rosario coming up, but in my unusual +elation I hardly paused to consider either of them further. + +The mare and her groom were waiting on the Mall, and it was only +when I got on her back that the consciousness visited me of +something forgotten. It was my mission--to propose to take Armour, +if he were 'possible,' to call upon the Harrises. Oh, well, he was +possible enough; I supposed he possessed a coat, though he hadn't +been wearing it; and I could arrange it by letter. Meanwhile, as +was only fair, I turned the mare in the direction of the drawing- +room where I had reason to believe that Miss Dora Harris was +quenching her impatience in tea. + + + +Chapter 2.IV. + +The very next morning I met Armour on my way to the office. He was +ambling along on the leanest and most ill-groomed of bazaar ponies, +and he wore a bowler. In Simla sun hats are admissible, straw hats +are presentable, and soft felt hats are superior, but you must not +wear a bowler. I might almost say that if one's glance falls upon a +bowler, one hardly looks further; the expectation of finding an +acquaintance under it is so vain. In this instance, I did look +further, fortunately, though in doing so I was compelled to notice +that the bowler was not lifted in answer to my salutation. Of no +importance in itself, of course, but betraying in Armour a certain +lack of observation. I felt the Departmental Head crumble in me, +however, as I recognized him, and I pulled the mare up in a manner +which she plainly resented. It was my opportunity to do cautiously +and delicately what I had omitted the afternoon before; but my +recollection is that I was very clumsy. + +I said something about the dust, and he said something about the +glare, and then I could think of nothing better than to ask him if +he wouldn't like to meet a few Simla people. + +'Oh, I know lots of people, thanks,' he said. 'It's kind of you to +think of it, all the same, but I've got any amount of friends here.' + +I thought of Mr. Rosario, and stood, or sat confounded. + +The mare fidgeted; I knocked a beast of a fly off her, and so gained +time. + +'This is my second season up here, you know.' + +'Your second season!' I exclaimed. 'Where on earth have you been +hiding?' + +'Well, I didn't exhibit last year, you see. I'd heard it was a kind +of a toy show, so I thought I wouldn't. I think now that was +foolish. But I got to know quite a number of families.' + +'But I am sure there are numbers that you haven't met,' I urged,' or +I should have heard of it.' + +He glanced at me with a slight flush. 'If you mean society people,' +he said, 'I don't care about that kind of thing, Mr. Philips. I'm +not adapted to it, and I don't want to be. If any one offered to +introduce me to the Viceroy, I would ask to be excused.' + +'Oh, the Viceroy,' I responded, disrespectfully, 'is neither here +nor there. But there are some people, friends of my own, who would +like very much to meet you.' + +'By the name of Harris?' he asked. I was too amazed to do anything +but nod. By the name of Harris! The Secretary of the Government of +India in the Legislative Department! The expression, not used as an +invocation, was inexcusable. + +'I remember you mentioned them yesterday.' + +'Yes,' I said, 'there's a father and daughter. Miss Harris is very +artistic.' + +His face clouded, as well it might, at the word. 'Does she paint?' +he asked, so apprehensively that I could not forbear a smile at +Dora's expense. I could assure him that she did not paint, that she +had not painted, at all events, for years, and presently I found +myself in the ridiculous position of using argument to bring a young +man to the Harrises. In the end I prevailed, I know, out of sheer +good nature on Armour's part; he was as innocent as a baby of any +sense of opportunity. + +We arranged it for the following Friday, but as luck would have it, +His Excellency sent for me at the very hour; we met the messenger. +I felt myself unlucky, but there was nothing for it but that Armour +should go alone, which he did, with neither diffidence nor alacrity, +but as if it were all in the day's work, and he had no reason to be +disobliging. + +The files were very heavy during the succeeding fortnight, and the +Viceroy quite importunate in his demand for my valuable suggestions. +I was worked off my legs, and two or three times was obliged to deny +myself in replying to notes from Dora suggesting Sunday breakfast or +afternoon tea. Finally, I shook myself free; it was the day she +wrote: + +'You must come--I can't keep it to myself any longer.' + +I half thought Armour would be there, but he wasn't; that is, he was +absent corporeally, but the spirit and expression of him littered +every convenient part. Some few things lay about that I had seen in +the studio, to call it so, but most of the little wooden panels +looked fresh, almost wet, and the air held strongly the fragrance of +Armour's north veranda. In one corner there used to be a Madonna on +a carved easel; the Madonna stood on the floor, and the easel with +working pegs in it held an unfinished canvas. Dora sat in the midst +with a distinct flush--she was inclined to be sallow--and made me +welcome in terms touched with extravagance. She did not rush, +however, upon the matter that was dyeing her cheeks, and I showed +myself as little impetuous. She poured out the tea, and we sat +there inhaling, as it were, the aroma of the thing, while keeping it +consciously in the background. + +I imagine there was no moment in the time I describe when we enjoyed +Ingersoll Armour so much as at this one, when he lay in his nimbus +half known and wholly suppressed, between us. There were later +instances, perhaps, of deeper satisfaction, but they were more or +less perplexed, and not unobscured by anxiety. That afternoon it +was all to know and to be experienced, with just a delicious +foretaste. + +I said something presently about Lady Pilkey's picnic on the morrow, +to which we had both been bidden. + +'Shall I call for you?' I asked. 'You will ride, of course.' + +'Thanks, but I've cried off--I'm going sketching.' Her eyes plainly +added, 'with Ingersoll Armour,' but she as obviously shrank from the +roughness of pitching him in that unconsidered way before us. For +some reason I refrained from taking the cue. I would not lug him in +either. + +'That is a new accomplishment,' was as much as I felt I could say +with dignity, and she responded: + +'Yes, isn't it?' + +I felt some slight indignation on Lady Pilkey's account. 'Do you +really think you ought to do things like that at the eleventh hour?' +I asked, but Dora smiled at a glance, the hypocrisy out of my face. + +'What does anything matter?' she demanded. + +I knew perfectly well the standard by which nothing mattered, and +there was no use, of course, in going on pretending that I did not. + +'I assured him that you didn't paint,' I said, accusingly. + +'Oh, I had to--otherwise what was there to go upon? He would have +been found only to be lost again. You did not contemplate that?' +Miss Harris inquired sweetly. + +'I should have thought it was the surest way of losing him.' + +'I can't think why you should be so rude. He observes progress +already.' + +'With a view to claiming and holding him, would it be of any use,' I +asked, 'for me to start in oils?' + +Miss Harris eyed me calmly. + +'I don't know,' she said, 'but it doesn't seem the same thing +somehow. I think you had better leave it to me.' + +'Indeed, I won't,' I said; 'there is too much in it,' and we smiled +across the gulf of our friendly understanding. + +I crossed to the mantelpiece and picked up one of the little wet +panels. There was that in it which explained my friend's exultation +much more plainly than words. + +'That is what I am to show him tomorrow,' she exclaimed; 'I think I +have done as he told me. I think it's pretty right.' + +Whether it was pretty right or pretty wrong, she had taken in an +extraordinary way an essence out of him. It wasn't of course good, +but his feeling was reflected in it, at once so brilliantly and so +profoundly that it was startling to see. + +'Do you think he'll be pleased?' she asked, anxiously. + +'I think he'll be astounded,' I said, reserving the rest, and she +cried in her pleasure, 'Oh, you dear man!' + +'I see you have taken possession of him,' I went on. + +'Ah, body and soul,' Dora rejoined, and it must have been something +like that. I could imagine how she did it; with what wiles of +simplicity and candid good-fellowship she had drawn him to +forgetfulness and response, and how presently his enthusiasm leaped +up to answer hers and they had been caught altogether out of the +plane of common relations, and he had gone away on that disgraceful +bazaar pony with a ratified arrangement to return next day which had +been almost taken for granted from the beginning. + +I confess, though I had helped to bring it about, the situation +didn't altogether please me. I did not dream of foolish dangers, +but it seemed to take a little too much for granted; I found myself +inwardly demanding whether, after all, a vivid capacity to make +colour conscious was a sufficient basis on which to bring to Edward +Harris's house a young man about whom we knew nothing whatever else. +An instant's regard showed the scruple fraudulent, it fled before +the rush of pleasure with which I gazed at the tokens he had left +behind him. I fell back on my wonder, which was great, that Dora +should have possessed the technique necessary to take him at a point +where he could give her so much that was valuable. + +'Oh, well,' she said when I uttered it, 'you know I made the +experiment! I found out in South Kensington--you can learn that +much there--that I never would be able to paint well enough to make +it worth while. So I dropped it and took a more general line +towards life. But I find it very easy to imagine myself dedicated +to that particular one again.' + +'You never told me,' I said. Why had I been shut out of that +experience? + +'I tell you now,' Dora replied, absently, 'when I am able to offer +you the fact with illustrations.' She laughed and dropped a still +illuminated face in the palm of her hand. 'He has wonderfully +revived me,' she declared. 'I could throw, honestly, the whole of +Simla overboard for this.' + +'Don't,' I urged, feeling, suddenly, an integral part of Simla. + +'Oh, no--what end would be served? But I don't care who knows,' she +went on with a rush, 'that in all life this is what I like best, and +people like Mr. Armour are the people I value most. Heavens, how +few of them there are! And wherever they go how the air clears up +round them! It makes me quite ill to think of the life we lead +here--the poverty of it, the preposterous dullness of it. . ..' + +'For goodness' sake,' I said, obscurely irritated, 'don't quote the +bishop. The life holds whatever we put into it.' + +'For other people it does, and for us it holds what other people put +into it,' she retorted. 'I don't know whether you think it's +adequately filled with gold lace and truffles.' + +'Why should I defend it?' I asked, not knowing indeed why. 'But it +has perhaps a dignity, you know. Ah, you are too fresh from your +baptism,' I continued, as she shook her head and went to the piano. +The quality, whatever it was, that the last fortnight had generated +in her, leaped from her fingers; she played with triumph, elation, +intention. The notes seemed an outlet for the sense of beauty and +for power to make it. I had never heard her play like that before. + +It occurred to me to ask when she had done, how far, after a +fortnight, she could throw light on Armour's aims and history, where +he had come from, and the great query with which we first received +him, what he could be doing in Simla. I gathered that she had +learned practically nothing, and had hardly concerned herself to +learn anything. What difference did it make? she asked me. Why +should we inquire? Why tack a theory of origin to a phenomenon of +joy? Let us say the wind brought him, and build him a temple. She +was very whimsical up to the furthest stretch of what could possibly +be considered tea-time. When I went away I saw her go again and sit +down at the piano. In the veranda I remembered something, stopped, +and went back. I had to go back. 'You did not tell me,' I said, +'when he was coming again.' + +'Oh, tomorrow--tomorrow, of course,' Dora paused to reply. + +I resented, as I made my way to the Club, the weight of official +duties that made it so impossible for me to keep at all closely in +touch with this young man. + + + +Chapter 2.V. + +The art of the photographer usually arouses in me all that is +splenetic, and I had not submitted myself to him for years before +Dora made such a preposterous point of it--years in which, as I +sadly explained to her, I might have submitted to the ordeal with +much more 'pleasing' results. She had often insisted before, but I +could never see that she made out a particularly good case for the +operation until one afternoon when she showed me the bold +counterfeit presentment of an Assistant Adjutant-General or some +such person, much flattered as to features but singularly faithful +in its reproduction of the straps and buttons attached. To my post +also there belongs a uniform and a cocked hat sufficiently dramatic, +but persons who serve the State primarily with the intelligence are +supposed to have a mind above buttons; and when I decided that my +photograph should compete with the Assistant Adjutant-General's, I +gave him every sartorial advantage. I gathered that the offer, +cabinet size, of this gentleman had been a spontaneous one; that +certainly could not be said of mine. Most unwillingly I turned one +morning into Kauffer's; and I can not now imagine why I did it, for +emulation of the Assistant Adjutant-General was really not motive +enough, unless it was with an instinct prepared to stumble upon +matter germane in an absurd degree to this little history. + +I had the honour to be subjected to the searching analysis of Mr. +Kauffer himself. It was he who placed the chair and arranged the +screw, he who fixed the angle of my chin and gently disposed my +fingers on my knee. He gave me, I remember, a recent portrait of +the Viceroy to fix my eye upon, doubtless with the purpose of +inspiring my countenance with the devotion which would sit suitably +upon one of His Excellency's slaves, and when it was all over he +conducted me into another apartment in order that I might see the +very latest viceregal group--a domestic one, including the Staff. +The walls of the room contained what is usually there, the enlarged +photograph, the coloured photograph, the amateur theatrical group, +the group of His Excellency's Executive Council, the native +dignitary with a diamond-tipped aigrette in the front of his turban. +The copy in oils of some old Italian landscape, very black and +yellow, also held its invariable place, and above it, very near the +ceiling, a line of canvases which, had I not been led past them to +inspect our ruler and his family, who sat transfixed on an easel in +a resplendent frame, would probably have escaped my attention. I +did proper homage to the easel, and then turned to those pictures. +It was plain enough who had painted them. Armour's broad brush +stood out all over them. They were mostly Indian sporting subjects, +the incident a trifle elliptical, the drawing unequal, but the verve +and feeling unmistakeable, and colour to send a quiver of glorious +acquiescence through you like a pang. What astonished me was the +number of them; there must have been at least a dozen, all the same +size and shape, all hanging in a line of dazzling repetition. Here +then was the explanation of Armour's seeming curious lack of output, +and plain denial of the supposition that he spent the whole of his +time in doing the little wooden 'pochade' things whose sweetness and +delicacy had so feasted our eyes elsewhere. It was part, no doubt, +of his absolutely uncommercial nature--we had experienced together +passages of the keenest embarrassment over my purchase of some of +his studies--that he had not mentioned these more serious things +exposed at Kauffer's; one had the feeling of coming unexpectedly on +treasure left upon the wayside and forgotten. + +'Hullo!' I said, at a standstill, 'I see you've got some of Mr. +Armour's work there.' + +Mr. Kauffer, with his hands behind him, made the sound which has its +counterpart in a shrug. 'Yass,' he said, 'I haf some of Mr. +Armour's work there. This one, that one, all those remaining +pictures--they are all the work of Mr. Armour.' + +'I didn't know that any of his things were to be seen outside his +studio,' I observed. + +'So? They are to be seen here. There is no objection.' + +'Why should there be any objection?' I demanded, slightly nettled. +'People must see them before they buy them.' + +'Buy them!' Kauffer's tone was distinctly exasperated. 'Who will +buy these pictures? Nobody. They are all, every one of them to +REfuse.' + +'If you know Mr. Armour well enough,' I said, 'you should advise him +to exhibit some of his local studies and sketches here. They might +sell better.' + +My words seemed unfortunately chosen. Mr. Kauffer turned an honest +angry red. + +'Do I not know Mr. Armour well enough--und better!' he exclaimed. +'What this man wass doing when I in Paris find him oudt? Shtarving, +mein Gott! I see his work. I see he paint a very goot horse, very +goot animal subject. I bring him oudt on contract, five hundred +rupees the monnth to paint for me, for my firm. Sir, it is now nine +monnth. I am yoost four tousand five hundred rupees out of my +pocket by this gentleman!' + +To enable me to cope with this astonishing tale I asked Mr. Kauffer +for a chair, which he obligingly gave me, and begged that he also +would be seated. The files at my office were my business, and this +was not, but no matter of Imperial concern seemed at the moment half +so urgently to require probing. 'Surely,' I said, 'that is an +unusual piece of enterprise for a photographic firm to employ an +artist to paint on a salary. I don't know even a regular dealer who +does it.' + +Mr. Kauffer at once and frankly explained. It was unusual and +entirely out of the regular line of business. It was, in fact, one +of the exceptional forms of enterprise inspired in this country by +the native prince. We who had to treat with the native prince +solely on lofty political lines were hardly likely to remember how +largely he bulked in the humbler relations of trade; but there was +more than one Calcutta establishment, Mr. Kauffer declared, that +would be obliged to put up its shutters without this inconstant and +difficult, but liberal customer. I waited with impatience. I could +not for the life of me see Armour's connection with the native +prince, who is seldom a patron of the arts for their own sakes. + +'Surely,' I said, 'you could not depend on the Indian nobility to +buy landscapes. They never do. I know of only one distinguished +exception, and he lives a thousand miles from here, in Bengal.' + +'No, not landscape,' returned Mr. Kauffer; 'but that Indian nobleman +will buy his portrait. We send our own man--photographic artist--to +his State, and he photograph the Chief and his arab, the Chief and +his Prime Minister, the Chief in his durbar, palace, gardens, +stables--everything. Presently the Chief goes on a big shoot. He +says he will not have a plain photograph--besides, it is difficult. +He will have a painting, and he will pay.' + +'Ah,' I said, 'I begin to see.' + +'You see? Then I send this Armour. Look!' Mr. Kauffer continued +with rising excitement, baited apparently by the unfortunate canvas +to which he pointed, 'when Armour go to make that I say you go paint +ze Maharajah of Gridigurh spearing ze wild pig. You see what he +make?' + +'Well,' I said, 'it is a wonderfully spirited, dashing thing, and +the treatment of all that cane-brake and jungle grass is superb.' + +'Ze treatment--pardon me, sir, I overboil--do you know which is ze +Maharajah?' + +'I can't say I do.' + +'Neider does he. Ze Maharajah refuse zat picture; he is a good +fellow, too. He says it is a portrait of ze pig.' + +'But it is so good,' I protested, 'of the pig.' + +'But that does not interest the Maharajah, you onderstand, no. You +see this one? Nawab of Kandore on his State elephant.' + +No doubt about it,' I said. 'I know the Nawab well, the young +scoundrel. How dignified he looks!' + +There was a note of real sorrow in Kauffer's voice. 'Dignified? +Oh, yes; dignified, but, you observe, also black. The Nawab will +not be painted black. At once it is on my hands.' + +'But he is black,' I remonstrated. 'He's the darkest native I've +ever seen among the nobility.' + +'No matter for that. He will not be black. When I photograph that +Nawab--any nawab--I do not him black make. But ziss ass of Armour-- +ach!' + +It was a fascinating subject, and I could have pursued it all along +the line of poor Armour's rejected canvases, but the need to get +away from Kauffer with his equal claim upon my sympathy was too +great. To have cracked my solemn mask by a single smile would have +been to break down irrepressibly, and never since I set foot in +India had I felt a parallel desire to laugh and to weep. There was +a pang in it which I recognize as impossible to convey, arising from +the point of contact, almost unimaginable yet so clear before me, of +the uncompromising ideals of the atelier and the naive demands of +the Oriental, with an unhappy photographer caught between and +wriggling. The situation was really monstrous, the fatuous +rejection of all that fine scheming and exquisite manipulation, and +it did not grow less so as Mr. Kauffer continued to unfold it. +Armour had not, apparently, proceeded to the scene of his labours +without instructions. In the pig-sticking delineation he had been +specially told that the Maharajah and the pig were to be in the +middle, with the rest nowhere and nothing between. Other +injunctions were as clear, and as clearly disregarded. Armour, like +the Maharajahs, had simply 'REfuse' to abandon his premeditated +conceptions of how the thing should be done. And here was the +result, for the laughter of the gods and anybody else that might +see. I asked Kauffer unguardedly if no sort of pressure could be +brought to bear upon these chaps to make them pay up. His face +beaming with hope and intelligence, he suggested that I should +approach the Foreign Office in his behalf; but this I could not +quite see my way to. The coercion of native rulers, I explained, +was a difficult and a dangerous art, and to insist, for example, +that one of them should recognize his own complexion might be to run +up a disproportionate little bill of our own. I did, however, +compound something with Kauffer; I hope it wasn't a felony. 'Look +here,' I said to Kauffer, 'this isn't official, you know, in any +way, but how would it do to write that scamp Kandore a formal letter +regretting that the portrait does not suit him, and asking his +permission to dispose of it to me? Of course it is yours to do as +you like with already, but that is no reason why you shouldn't ask. +I should like it, but the Porcha tiger beat will do as well.' + +Kauffer nearly fell upon my neck. + +'That Kandore will buy it to put in one bonfire first,' he assured +me, and I sincerely hoped for his sake that it would be the case. + +'Of course it's understood,' I bethought me to say, 'that I get it, +if I do get it, at Mr. Armour's price. I'm not a Maharajah, you +know, and it isn't a portrait of me.' + +'Of course!' said Kauffer, 'but I sink I sell you that Porcha; it is +ze best of ze two.' + + + +Chapter 2.VI. + +I ventured for a few days to keep the light which chance had shed +for me upon Armour's affairs to myself. The whole thing considered +in connection with his rare and delicate talent, seemed too +derogatory and disastrous to impart without the sense of doing him +some kind of injury in the mere statement. But there came a point +when I could no longer listen to Dora Harris's theories to account +for him, wild idealizations as most of them were of any man's +circumstances and intentions. 'Why don't you ask him point-blank?' +I said, and she replied, frowning slightly, 'Oh, I couldn't do that. +It would destroy something--I don't know what, but something +valuable--between us.' This struck me as an exaggeration, +considering how far, by that time, they must have progressed towards +intimacy, and my mouth was opened. She heard me without the +exclamations I expected, her head bent over the pencil she was +sharpening, and her silence continued after I had finished. The +touch of comedy I gave the whole thing--surely I was justified in +that!--fell flat, and I extracted from her muteness a sense of +rebuke; one would think I had been taking advantage of the poor +devil. + +At last, having broken the lead of her pencil three times, she +turned a calm, considering eye upon me. + + +'You have known this for a fortnight?' she asked. 'That doesn't +seem somehow quite fair.' + +'To whom?' I asked, and her answer startled me. + +'To either of us,' she said. + +How she advised herself to that effect is more than I can imagine, +but the print of her words is indelible, that is what she said. + +'Oh, confound it!' I exclaimed. 'I couldn't help finding out, you +know.' + +'But you could help keeping it to yourself in that--in that base +way,' she replied, and almost--the evening light was beginning to +glimmer uncertainly through the deodars--I could swear I saw the +flash of a tear on her eyelid. + +'I beg your pardon,' she went on a moment later, 'but I do hate +having to pity him. It's intolerable--that.' + +I picked up a dainty edition of Aucassin and Nicolette with the +intention of getting upon ground less emotional, and observed on the +flyleaf 'D.H. from I.A. In memory of the Hill of Stars.' I looked +appreciatively at the binding, and as soon as possible put it down. + +'He was not bound to tell me,' Dora asserted presently, in reply to +my statement that the mare had somehow picked up a nail in the +stable, and was laid up. + +'You have been very good to him,' I said. 'I think he was.' + +'His reticence was due,' she continued, as if defying contradiction, +'to a simple dislike to bore one with his personal affairs.' + +'Was it?' I assented. My tone acknowledged with all humility that +she was likely to know, and I did not deserve her doubtful glance. + +'He could not certainly,' she went on, with firmer decision, 'have +been in the least ashamed of his connection with Kauffer.' + +'He comes from a country where social distinctions are less sharp +than they are in this idiotic place,' I observed. + +'Oh, if you think it is from any lack of recognition! His +sensitiveness is beyond reason. He has met two or three men in the +Military Department here--he was aware of the nicest shade of their +patronage. But he does not care. To him life is more than a +clerkship. He sees all round people like that. They are only +figures in the landscape.' + +'Then,' I said, 'he is not at all concerned that nobody in this +Capua of ours knows him, or cares anything about him, or has bought +a scrap of his work, except our two selves.' + +'That's a different matter. I have tried to rouse in him the +feeling that it would be as well to be appreciated, even in Simla, +and I think I've succeeded. He said, after those two men had gone +away on Sunday, that he thought a certain reputation in the place +where he lived would help anybody in his work.' + +'On Sunday? Do you mean between twelve and two?' + +'Yes, he came and made a formal call. There was no reason why he +shouldn't.' + +'Now that I think of it,' I rejoined, 'he shot a card on me too, at +the Club. I was a little surprised. We didn't seem somehow to be +on those terms. One doesn't readily associate him with any +conventionality.' + +'There's no reason why he shouldn't,' said Dora again, and with this +vague comment we spoke of something else, both of us, I think, a +little disquieted and dissatisfied that he had. + +'I think,' Dora said as I went away, 'that you had better go up to +the studio and tell him what you have told me. Perhaps it doesn't +matter much, but I can't bear the thought of his not knowing.' + +'Come to Kauffer's in the morning and see the pictures,' I urged; +but she turned away, 'Oh, not with you.' + +I found my way almost at once to Amy Villa, not only because I had +been told to go there. I wanted, myself, certain satisfactions. +Armour was alone and smoking, but I had come prepared against the +contingency of one of his cigars. They were the cigars of the man +who doesn't know what he eats. With sociable promptness I lighted +one of my own. The little enclosed veranda testified to a wave of +fresh activity. The north light streamed in upon two or three fresh +canvases, the place seemed full of enthusiasm, and you could see its +source, at present quiescent under the influence of tobacco, in +Armour's face. + +'You have taken a new line,' I said, pointing to a file of camels, +still half obscured by the dust of the day, coming along a mountain +road under a dim moon. They might have been walking through time +and through history. It was a queer, simple thing, with a world of +early Aryanism in it. + +'Does that say anything? I'm glad. It was to me articulate, but I +didn't know. Oh, things have been going well with me lately. Those +two studies over there simply did themselves. That camp scene on +the left is almost a picture. I think I'll put a little more work +on it and give it a chance in Paris. I got in once, you know. +Champ de Mars. With some horses.' + +'Did you, indeed?' I said. 'Capital.' I asked him if he didn't +atrociously miss the life of the Quarter, and he surprised me by +saying that he never had lived it. He had been en pension instead +with a dear old professor of chemistry and his family at Puteaux, +and used to go in and out. A smile came into his eyes at the +rememberance, and he told me one after the other idyllic little +stories of the old professor and madame. Madame and the omelet-- +madame and the melon--M. Vibois and the maire; I sat charmed. So +long as we remained in France his humour was like this, delicate and +expansive, but an accidental allusion led us across the Channel when +he changed. He had no little stories of the time he spent in +England. Instead he let himself go in generalizations, aimed, for +they had a distinct animus, at English institutions and character, +particularly as these appear in English society. I could not +believe, from the little I had seen of him, that his experience of +English society of any degree had been intimate; what he said had +the flavour of Radical Sunday papers. The only original element was +the feeling behind, which was plainly part of him; speculation +instantly clamoured as to how far this was purely temperamental and +how far the result of painful contact. He himself, he said, though +later of the Western States, had been born under the British flag of +British parents--though his mother was an Irishwoman she came from +loyal Ulster--and he repeated the statement as if it in some way +justified his attitude towards his fellow countrymen and excused his +truculence in the ear of a servant of the empire which he had the +humour to abuse. I heard him, I confess, with impatience, it was +all so shabby and shallow, but I heard him out, and I was rewarded; +he came for an illustration in the end to Simla. 'Look,' he said, +'at what they call their "Government House list"; and look at +Strobo, Signor Strobo. Isn't Strobo a man of intelligence, isn't he +a man of benevolence? He gave ten thousand rupees last week to the +famine fund. Is Strobo on Government House list? Is he ever +invited to dine with the Viceroy? No, because Strobo keeps a hotel! +Look at Rosario--where does Rosario come in? Nowhere, because +Rosario is a clerk, and a subordinate. Yet Rosario is a man of wide +reading and a very accomplished fellow!' + +It became more or less necessary to argue then, and the commonplaces +with which I opposed him called forth a wealth of detail bearing +most picturesquely upon his stay among us. I began to think he had +never hated English rigidity and English snobbery until he came to +Simla, and that he and Strobo and Rosario had mingled their +experiences in one bitter cup. I gathered this by inference only, +he was curiously watchful and reticent as to anything that had +happened to him personally; indeed, he was careful to aver +preferences for the society of 'sincere' people like Strobo and +Rosario, that seemed to declare him more than indifferent to circles +in which he would not meet them. In the end our argument left me +ridiculously irritated--it was simply distressing to see the +platform from which he obtained so wide and exquisite a view of the +world upheld by such flimsy pillars--and my nerves were not soothed +by his proposal to walk with me to the Club. I could hardly refuse +it, however, and he came along in excellent spirits, having effected +the demolition of British social ideals, root and branch. His +mongrel dog accompanied, keeping offensively near our heels. It was +not even an honest pi, but a dog of tawdry pretensions with a +banner-like tail dishonestly got from a spaniel. On one occasion I +very nearly kicked the dog. + + + +Chapter 2.VII. + +'The fact is,' I said to Dora as we rode down to the gymkhana, 'his +personality takes possession of one. I constantly go to that little +hut of his with intentions, benevolent or otherwise, which I never +carry out.' + +'You mean,' she answered, 'that you completely forgot to reveal to +him your hateful knowledge about Kauffer.' + +'On the contrary, I didn't forget it for a moment. But the +conversation took a turn that made it quite impossible to mention.' + +'I can understand,' Miss Harris replied softly, 'how that might be. +And it doesn't in the least matter,' she went on triumphantly, +'because I've told him myself.' + +My nerves must have been a trifle strung up at the time, for this +struck me as a matter for offense. 'You thought I would trample +upon him,' I exclaimed. + +'No, no really. I disliked his not knowing it was known--rien de +plus,' she said lightly. + +'What did he say?' + +'Oh, not much. What should he say?' + +'He might have expressed a decent regret on poor Kauffer's account,' +I growled. Dora did not reply, and a glance showed her frowning. + +'I believe he apologized!' I cried, pushing, as it were, my +advantage. + +'He explained.' + +'Oh!' + +'Of course he hasn't relished the position, and of course he didn't +realize it before he came. Shall we trot?' + +I was compelled to negative the idea of trotting, since we were +descending quite the steepest pitch of the road down to Annandale. +We went on at a walk, and it occurred to me, as my contemplative +gaze fell on my own pig-skins, that we were, even for Simla, an +uncommonly well-turned-out pair. I had helped to pick Dora's hack, +and I allowed myself to reflect that he did my judgment credit. She +sat him perfectly in her wrath--she was plainly angry--not a hair +out of place. Why is it that a lady out of temper with her escort +always walks away from him? Is her horse sympathetic? Ronald, at +all events, was leading by a couple of yards, when suddenly he +shied, bounding well across the road. + +The mare, whose manners I can always answer for, simply stopped and +looked haughtily about for explanations. A path dropped into the +road from the hillside; something came scrambling and stumbling +down. + +'Oh!' cried Dora, as it emerged and was Armour on his much enduring +white pony, 'how you frightened us!' + +'Why don't you stick to the road, man?' I exclaimed. 'It isn't +usual to put ponies up and down these coolie tracks!' + +He took no notice of this rather broad hint that I was annoyed, but +fixed his eager, light, luminous eyes upon Dora. + +'I'm sorry,' he said, and added, 'I did not expect to see you +today!' + +'Not till tomorrow,' she returned. 'You remember that we are +sketching tomorrow?' + +He looked at her and smiled slightly; and then I remember noticing +that his full, arched upper lip seldom quite met its counterpart +over his teeth. This gave an unpremeditated casual effect to +everything he found to say, and made him look a dreamer at his +busiest. His smile was at the folly of her reminder. + +'I've just been looking for something that you would like,' he said, +'but it isn't much good hunting about alone. I see five times as +much when we go together.' + +He and his pony barred the way; he had an air of leisure and of +felicity; one would think we had met at an afternoon party. + +'We are on our way,' I explained, 'to the gymkhana. Miss Harris is +in one of the events. You did enter for the needle-threading race, +didn't you, with Lord Arthur? I think we must get on.' + +A slow, dull red mounted to Armour's face and seemed to put out that +curious light in his eyes. + +'Is it far?' he asked, glancing down over the tree-tops. 'I've +never been there.' + +'Why,' cried Dora, suddenly, 'you've been down!' + +'So you have,' I confirmed her. 'Your beast is damaged too.' + +'Oh, it was only a stumble,' Armour replied; 'I stuck on all right.' + +'Well,' I said, 'you had better get off now, as you didn't then, and +look at your animal's near fore. The swelling's as big as a bun +already.' + +Again he made me no answer, but looked intently and questioningly at +Dora. + +'Get off, Mr. Armour,' she said, sharply, 'and lead your horse home. +It is not fit to be ridden. Goodbye.' + +I have no doubt he did it, but neither of us were inclined to look +back to see. We pushed on under the deodars, and I was indulgent to +a trot. At the end of it Dora remarked that Mr. Armour naturally +could not be expected to know anything about riding, it was very +plucky of him to get on a horse at all, among these precipices; and +I of course agreed. + +Lord Arthur was waiting when we arrived, on his chestnut polo pony, +but Dora immediately scratched for the brilliant event in which they +were paired. Ronald, she said, was simply cooked with the heat. +Ronald had come every yard of the way on his toes and was fit for +anything, but Lord Arthur did not insist. There were young ladies +in Simla, I am glad to say, who appealed more vividly to his +imagination than Dora Harris did, and one of them speedily replaced +her, a fresh-coloured young Amazon who was staying at the Chief's. +She wandered about restlessly over the dry turf for a few minutes, +and then went and sat down in a corner of the little wooden Grand +Stand and sent me for a cup of tea. + +'Won't you come to the tent?' I asked a little ruefully, eyeing the +distance and the possible collisions between, but she shook her +head. + +'I simply couldn't bear it,' she said, and I went feeling somehow +chastened myself by the cloud that was upon her spirit. + +I found her on my return regarding the scene with a more than +usually critical eye, and a more than usually turned down lip. Yet +it was exactly the scene it always was, and always, probably, will +be. I sat down beside her and regarded it also, but more charitably +than usual. Perhaps it was rather trivial, just a lot of pretty +dresses and excited young men in white riding-breeches doing foolish +things on ponies in the shortest possible time, with one little +crowd about the Club's refreshment tent and another about the +Staff's, while the hills sat round in an indifferent circle; but it +appealed to me with a kind of family feeling that afternoon, and +inspired me with tolerance, even benevolence. + +'After all,' I said, 'it's mainly youth and high spirits--two good +things. And one knows them all.' + +'And who are they to know?' complained Dora. + +'Just decent young Englishmen and Englishwomen, out here on their +country's business,' I replied cheerfully; 'with the marks of Oxford +and Cambridge and Sandhurst and Woolwich on the men. Well-set-up +youngsters, who know what to do and how to do it. Oh, I like the +breed!' + +'I wonder,' said she, in a tone of preposterous melancholy, 'if +eventually I have to marry one of them.' + +'Not necessarily,' I said. She looked at me with interest, as if I +had contributed importantly to the matter in hand, and resumed +tapping her boot with her riding-crop. We talked of indifferent +things and had long lapses. At the close of one effort Dora threw +herself back with a deep, tumultuous sigh. 'The poverty of this +little wretched resort ties up one's tongue!' she cried. 'It is the +bottom of the cup; here one gets the very dregs of Simla's +commonplace. Let us climb out of it.' + +I thought for a moment that Ronald had been too much for her nerves +coming down, and offered to change saddles, but she would not. We +took it out of the horses all along the first upward slopes, and as +we pulled in to breathe them she turned to me paler than ever. + +'I feel better now,' she said. + +For myself I had got rid of Armour for the afternoon. I think my +irritation with him about his pony rose and delivered me from the + +too insistent thought of him. With Dora it was otherwise; she had +dismissed him; but he had never left her for a moment the whole long +afternoon. + +She flung a searching look at me. With a reckless turn of her head, +she said, 'Why didn't we take him with us?' + +'Did we want him?' I asked. + +'I think I always want him.' + +'Ah!' said I, and would have pondered this statement at some length +in silence, but that she plainly did not wish me to do so. + +'We might perfectly well have sent his pony home with one of our own +servants--he would have been delighted to walk down.' + +'He wasn't in proper kit,' I remonstrated. + +'Oh, I wish you would speak to him about that. Make him get some +tennis-flannels and riding-things.' + +'Do you propose to get him asked to places?' I inquired. + +She gave me a charmingly unguarded smile. 'I propose to induce you +to do so. I have done what I could. He has dined with us several +times, and met a few people who would, I thought, be kind to him.' + +'Oh, well,' I said, 'I have had him at the Club too, with old Lamb +and Colonel Hamilton. He made us all miserable with his shyness. +Don't ask me to do it again, please.' + +'I've sent him to call on certain people,' Dora continued, 'and I've +shown his pictures to everybody, and praised him and talked about +him, but I can't go on doing that indefinitely, can I?' + +'No,' I said; 'people might misunderstand.' + +'I don't think they would MISunderstand,' replied this astonishing +girl, without flinching. She even sought my eyes to show me that +hers were clear and full of purpose. + +'Good God!' I said to myself, but the words that fell from me were, +'He is outside all that life.' + +'What is the use of living a life that he is outside of?' + +'Oh, if you put it that way,' I said, and set my teeth, 'I will do +what I can.' + +She held out her hand with an affectionate gesture, and I was +reluctantly compelled to press it. + +The horses broke into a trot, and we talked no more of Armour, or of +anything, until Ted Harris joined us on the Mall. + +I have rendered this conversation with Dora in detail because +subsequent events depend so closely upon it. Some may not agree +that it was basis enough for the action I thought well to take; I +can only say that it was all I was ever able to obtain. Dora was +always particularly civil and grateful about my efforts, but she +gave me only one more glimpse, and that enigmatic, of any special +reason why they should be made. Perhaps this was more than +compensated for by the abounding views I had of the situation as it +lay with Ingersoll Armour, but of that, other persons, approaching +the subject without prejudice, will doubtless judge better than I. + + + +Chapter 2.VIII. + +It was better not to inquire, so I never knew to what extent Kauffer +worked upon the vanity of ancient houses the sinful dodge I +suggested to him; but I heard before long that the line of Armour's +rejected efforts had been considerably diminished. Armour told me +himself that Kauffer's attitude had become almost conciliatory, that +Kauffer had even hinted at the acceptance of, and adhesion to, +certain principles which he would lay down as the basis of another +year's contract. In talking to me about it, Armour dwelt on these +absurd stipulations only as the reason why any idea of renewal was +impossible. It was his proud theory with me that to work for a +photographer was just as dignified as to produce under any other +conditions, provided you did not stoop to ideals which for lack of a +better word might be called photographic. How he represented it to +Dora, or permitted Dora to represent it to him, I am not so certain- +-I imagine there may have been admissions and qualifications. Be +that as it may, however, the fact was imperative that only three +months of the hated bond remained, and that some working substitute +for the hated bond would have to be discovered at their expiration. +Simla, in short, must be made to buy Armour's pictures, to +appreciate them, if the days of miracle were not entirely past, but +to buy them any way. On one or two occasions I had already made +Simla buy things. I had cleared out young Ludlow's stables for him +in a week--he had a string of ten--when he played polo in a straw +hat and had to go home with sunstroke; and I once auctioned off all +the property costumes of the Amateur Dramatic Society at astonishing +prices. Pictures presented difficulties which I have hinted at in +an earlier chapter, but I did not despair. I began by hauling old +Lamb, puffing and blowing like a grampus, up to Amy Villa, filling +him up all the way with denunciations of Simla's philistinism and +suggestions that he alone redeemed it. + +It is a thing I am ashamed to think of, and it deserved its reward. + +Lamb criticized and patronized every blessed thing he saw, advised +Armour to beware of mannerisms and to be a little less liberal with +his colour, and heard absolutely unmoved of the horses Armour had +got into the Salon. 'I understand,' he said, with a benevolent +wink, 'that about four thousand pictures are hung every year at the +Salon, and I don't know how many thousand are rejected. Let Mr. +Armour get a picture accepted by the Academy. Then he will have +something to talk about.' + +Neither did Sir William Lamb buy anything at all. + +The experiment with Lady Pilkey was even more distressing. She +gushed with fair appropriateness and great liberality, and finally +fixed upon one scene to make her own. She winningly asked the price +of it. She had never known anybody who did not understand prices. +Poor Armour, the colour of a live coal, named one hundred rupees. + +'One hundred rupees! Oh, my dear boy, I can never afford that! You +must, you must really give it to me for seventy-five. It will break +my heart if I can't have it for seventy-five.' + +'Give me the pleasure,' said Armour, 'of making you a present of it. +You have been so kind about everything, and it's so seldom one meets +anybody who really cares. So let me send it to you.' It was honest +embarrassment; he did not mean to be impertinent. + +And she did. + +Blum, of the Geological Department--Herr Blum in his own country-- +came up and honestly rejoiced, and at end of an interminable pipe +did purchase a little Breton bit that I hated to see go--it was one +of the things that gave the place its air; but Blum had a large +family undergoing education at Heidelberg, and exclaimed, to +Armour's keenest anguish, that on this account he could not more do. + +Altogether, during the months of August and September, persons +resident in Simla drawing their income from Her Majesty, bought from +the eccentric young artist from nowhere, living on Summer Hill, +canvases and little wooden panels to the extent of two hundred and +fifty rupees. Lady Pilkey had asked him to lunch--she might well! +and he had appeared at three garden-parties and a picnic. It was +not enough. + +It was not enough, and yet it was, in a manner, too much. Pitiful +as it was in substance, it had an extraordinary personal effect. +Armour suddenly began to turn himself out well--his apparel was of +smarter cut than mine, and his neckties in better taste. Little +elegances appeared in the studio--he offered you Scotch in a +Venetian decanter and Melachrinos from a chased silver box. The +farouche element faded out of his speech; his ideas remained as +fresh and as simple as ever, but he gave them a form, bless me! that +might have been used at the Club. He worked as hard as ever, but +more variously; he tried his hand at several new things. He said he +was feeling about for something that would really make his +reputation. + +In spite of all this his little measure of success made him more +contemptuous than before of its scene and its elements. He declared +that he had a poorer idea than ever of society now that he saw the +pattern from the smart side. That his convictions on this head +survived one of the best Simla tailors shows that they must always +have been strong. I think he believed that he was doing all that he +did do to make himself socially possible with the purpose of +pleasing Dora Harris. I would not now venture to say how far Dora +inspired and controlled him in this direction, and how far the +impulse was his own. The measure of appreciation that began to seek +his pictures, poor and small though it was, gave him, on the other +hand, the most unalloyed delight. He talked of the advice of Sir +William Lamb as if it were anything but that of a pompous old ass, +and he made a feast with champagne for Blum that must have cost him +quite as much as Blum paid for the Breton sketch. He confirmed my +guess that he had never in his life until he came to Simla sold +anything, so that even these small transactions were great things to +him, and the earnest of a future upon which he covered his eyes not +to gaze too raptly. He mentioned to me that Kauffer had been asked +for his address--who could it possibly be?--and looked so damped by +my humourous suggestion that it was a friend of Kauffer's in some +other line who wanted a bill paid, that I felt I had been guilty of +brutality. And all the while the quality of his wonderful output +never changed or abated. Pure and firm and prismatic it remained. +I found him one day at the very end of October, with shining eyes +and fingers blue with cold, putting the last of the afternoon light +on the snows into one of the most dramatic hill pictures I ever knew +him to do. He seemed intoxicated with his skill, and hummed the +'Marseillaise,' I remember, all the way to Amy Villa whither I +accompanied him. + +It was the last day of Kauffer's contract; and besides, all the +world, secretaries, establishments, hill captains, grass widows, +shops, and sundries, was trundling down the hill. I came to ask my +young friend what he meant to do. + +'Do?' he cried. 'Why, eat, drink, and be merry! Kauffer has paid +up, and his yoke is at the bottom of the sea. Come back and dine +with me!' + +The hour we spent together in his little inner room before dinner +was served stands out among my strangest, loveliest memories of +Armour. He was divinely caught up, and absurd as it is to write, he +seemed to carry me with him. We drank each a glass of vermouth +before dinner sitting over a scented fire of deodar branches, while +outside the little window in front of me the lifted lines of the +great empty Himalayan landscape faded and fell into a blur. I +remembered the solitary scarlet dahlia that stood between us and the +vast cold hills and held its colour when all was grey but that. The +hill world waited for the winter; down a far valley we could hear a +barking deer. Armour talked slowly, often hesitating for a word, of +the joy there was in beauty and the divinity in the man who saw it +with his own eyes. I have read notable pages that brought +conviction pale beside that which stole about the room from what he +said. The comment may seem fantastic, but it is a comment--I +caressed the dog. The servant clattered in with the plates, and at +a shout outside Armour left me. He came in radiant with Signor +Strobo, also radiant and carrying a violin, for hotel-keeping was +not the Signor's only accomplishment. I knew Strobo well; many a +special dish had he ordered for my little parties; and we met at +Armour's fireside like the genial old acquaintances we were. +Another voice without and presently I was nodding to Rosario and +vaguely wondering why he looked uncomfortable. + +'I'm sorry,' said Armour, as we sat down, 'I've got nothing but +beer. If I had known you were all coming, no vintage that crawls up +the hill would have been good enough for me.' He threw the bond of +his wonderful smile round us as we swallowed his stuff, and our +hearts were lightened. 'You fellows,' he went on nodding at the +other two, 'might happen any day, but my friend John Philips comes +to me across aerial spaces; he is a star I've trapped--you don't do +that often. Pilsener, John Philips, or Black?' He was helping his +only servant by pouring out the beer himself, and as I declared for +Black he slapped me affectionately on the back and said my choice +was good. + +The last person who had slapped me on the back was Lord Dufferin, +and I smiled softly and privately at the remembrance, and what a +difference there was. I had resented Dufferin's slap. + +We had spiced hump and jungle-fowl and a Normandy cheese, everybody +will understand that; but how shall I make plain with what +exultation and simplicity we ate and drank, how the four candid +selves of us sat around the table in a cloud of tobacco and cheered +each other on, Armour always far in front turning handsprings as he +went. Scraps come back to me, but the whole queer night has receded +and taken its place among those dreams that insist at times upon +having been realities. Rosario told us stories Kipling might have +coveted of the under life of Port Said. Strobo talked with glorious +gusto of his uncle the brigand. They were liberated men; we were +all liberated men. 'Let the direction go,' cried Armour, 'and give +the senses flight, taking the image as it comes, beating the air +with happy pinions.' He must have been talking of his work, but I +can not now remember. And what made Strobo say, of life and art, 'I +have waited for ten years and five thousand pounds--now my old +violin says, "Go, handle the ladle! Go, add up the account!"' And +did we really discuss the chances of ultimate salvation for souls in +the Secretariat? I know I lifted my glass once and cried, 'I, a +slave, drink to freedom!' and Rosario clinked with me. And Strobo +played wailing Hungarian airs with sudden little shakes of hopeless +laughter in them. I can not even now hear Naches without being +filled with the recollection of how certain bare branches in me that +night blossomed. + +I walked alone down the hill and along the three miles to the Club, +and at every step the tide sank in me till it cast me on my +threshold at three in the morning, just the middle-aged shell of a +Secretary to the Government of India that I was when I set forth. +Next day when my head clerk brought me the files we avoided one +another's glances; and it was quite three weeks before I could bring +myself to address him with the dignity and distance prescribed for +his station as 'Mr.' Rosario. + + + +Chapter 2.IX. + +I went of course to Calcutta for the four winter months. Harris and +I were together at the Club. It was the year, I remember, of the +great shindy as to whether foreign consuls should continue to be +made honourary members, in view of the sentiments some of them were +freely reflecting from Europe upon the subject of a war in South +Africa which was none of theirs. Certainly, feeling as they did, it +would have been better if they had swaggered less about a club that +stood for British Government; but I did not vote to withdraw the +invitation. We can not, after all, take notice of every idle word +that drops from Latin or Teutonic tongues; it isn't our way; but it +was a liverish cold weather on various accounts, and the public +temper was short. I heard from Dora oftener, Harris declared, than +he did. She was spending the winter with friends in Agra, and +Armour, of course, was there too, living at Laurie's Hotel, and +painting, Dora assured me, with immense energy. It was just the +place for Armour, a sumptuous dynasty wrecked in white marble and +buried in desert sands for three hundred years; and I was glad to +hear that he was making the most of it. It was quite by the way, +but I had lent him the money to go there--somebody had to lend it to +him--and when he asked me to decide whether he should take his +passage for Marseilles or use it for this other purpose I could +hardly hesitate, believing in him, as I did, to urge him to paint a +little more of India before he went. I frankly despaired of his +ever being able to pay his way in Simla without Kauffer, but that +was no reason why he should not make a few more notes for further +use at home, where I sometimes saw for him, when his desultory and +experimental days were over and some definiteness and order had come +into his work, a Bond Street exhibition. + +I have not said all this time what I thought of Ingersoll Armour and +Dora Harris together, because their connection seemed too vague and +fantastic and impossible to hold for an instant before a steady +gaze. I have no wish to justify myself when I write that I +preferred to keep my eyes averted, enjoying perhaps just such a +measure of vision as would enter at a corner of them. This may or +may not have been immoral under the circumstances--the event did not +prove it so--but for urgent private reasons I could not be the +person to destroy the idyll, if indeed its destruction were +possible, that flourished there in the corner of my eye. Besides, +had not I myself planted and watered it? But it was foolish to +expect other people, people who are forever on the lookout for +trousseaux and wedding-bells, and who considered these two as mere +man and maid, and had no sight of them as engaging young spirits in +happy conjunction--it was foolish to expect such people to show +equal consideration. Christmas was barely over before the lady with +whom Miss Harris was staying found it her duty to communicate to +Edward Harris the fact that dear Dora's charming friendship--she was +sure it was nothing more--with the young artist--Mrs. Poulton +believed Mr. Harris would understand who was meant--was exciting a +good deal of comment in the station, and WOULD dear Mr. Harris +please write to Dora himself, as Mrs. Poulton was beginning to feel +so responsible? + +I saw the letter; Harris showed it to me when he sat down to +breakfast with the long face of a man in a domestic difficulty, and +we settled together whom we should ask to put his daughter up in +Calcutta. It should be the wife of a man in his own department of +course; it is to one's Deputy Secretary that one looks for succour +at times like this; and naturally one never looks in vain. Mrs. +Symons would be delighted. I conjured up Dora's rage on receipt of +the telegram. She loathed the Symonses. + +She came, but not at the jerk of a wire; she arrived a week later, +with a face of great propriety and a smile of great unconcern. +Harris, having got her effectually out of harm's way, shirked +further insistence, and I have reason to believe that Armour was +never even mentioned between them. + +Dora applied herself to the gaieties of the season with the zest of +a debutante; she seemed really refreshed, revitalized. She had +never looked better, happier. I met her again for the first time at +one of the Thursday dances at Government House. In the glance she +gave me I was glad to detect no suspicion of collusion. She plainly +could not dream that Edward Harris in his nefarious exercise of +parental authority had acted upon any hint from me. It was rather +sweet. + +Out in the veranda, away from the blare of the Viceroy's band, she +told me very delicately and with the most charming ellipses how +Armour had been filling her life in Agra, how it had all been, for +these two, a dream and a vision. There is a place below the bridge +there, where the cattle come down from the waste pastures across the +yellow sands to drink and stand in the low water of the Jumna, to +stand and switch their tails while their herdsmen on the bank coax +them back with 'Ari!' 'Ari!' 'Ari!' long and high, faint and +musical; and the minarets of Akbar's fort rise beyond against the +throbbing sky and the sun fills it all. This place I shall never +see more distinctly than I saw it that night on the veranda at +Government House, Calcutta, with the conviction, like a margin for +the picture, that its foreground had been very often occupied by the +woman I profoundly worshiped and Ingersoll Armour. She told me that +he had sent me a sketch of it, and I very much wished he hadn't. +One felt that the gift would carry a trifle of irony. + +'He has told me,' she said once brusquely, 'how good you have been +to him.' + +'Is he coming to Simla again?' I asked. + +'Oh yes! And please take it from me that this time he will conquer +the place. He has undertaken to do it.' + +'At your request?' + +'At my persuasion--at my long entreaty. They must recognize him-- +they must be taught. I have set my heart on it.' + +'Does he himself very much care?' I asked remembering the night of +the thirty-first of October. + +'Yes, he does care. He despises it, of course, but in a way he +cares. I've been trying to make him care more. A human being isn't +an orchid; he must draw something from the soil he grows in.' + +'If he were stable,' I mused; 'if he had a fixed ambition somewhere +in the firmament. But his purpose is a will-o'-the-wisp.' + +'I think he has an ambition,' said Miss Harris, into the dark. + +'Ah! Then we must continue,' I said--'continue to push from +behind.' + +Dora did not reply. She is a person of energy and determination, +and might have been expected to offer to cooperate gladly. But she +didn't. + +'He is painting a large picture for next season's exhibition,' she +informed me. 'I was not allowed to see it or to know anything about +it, but he declares it will bring Simla down.' + +'I hope not,' I said, piously. + +'Oh, I hope so. I have told him,' Dora continued, slowly, 'that a +great deal depends on it.' + +'Here is Mrs. Symons,' I was able to return, 'and I am afraid she is +looking for you.' + +March came, and the city lay white under its own dust. The electric +fans began to purr in the Club, and Lent brought the flagging season +to a full stop. I had to go that year on tour through the famine +district with the Member, and we escaped, gasping, from the Plains +about the middle of April. Simla was crimson with rhododendron +blossoms, and seemed a spur of Arcady. There had been the usual +number of flittings from one house to another, and among them I +heard with satisfaction that Armour no longer occupied Amy Villa. I +would not for the world have blurred my recollections of that last +evening--I could not have gone there again. + +'He is staying with Sir William Lamb,' said Dora, handing me my cup +of tea. 'And I am quite jealous. Sir William, only Sir William, +has been allowed to see the exhibition picture.' + +'What does that portend?' I said, thoughtfully. + +'I don't know. Sir William was here yesterday simply swelling with +his impression of it. He says it's the finest thing that has been +done in India. I told you he would conquer them.' + +'You did,' and without thinking I added, 'I hope you won't be sorry +that you asked him to.' It must have been an inspiration. + +Armour, those weeks before the exhibition, seemed invisible. Dora +reported him torn with the incapacity of the bazaar frame-maker to +follow a design, and otherwise excessively occupied, and there was +no lack of demands upon my own time. Besides, my ardour to be of +assistance to the young man found a slight damper in the fact that +he was staying with Sir William Lamb. What competence had I to be +of use to the guest of Sir William Lamb? + +'I do not for a moment think he will be there,' said Dora, on the +day of the private view as we went along the Mall towards the Town +Hall together. 'He will not run with an open mouth to his success. +He will take it from us later.' + +But he was there. We entered precisely at the dramatic moment of +his presentation by Sir William Lamb to the Viceroy. He stood +embarrassed and smiling in a little circle of compliments and +congratulation. Behind him and a little to the left hung his +picture, large and predominant, and in the corner of the frame was +stuck the red ticket that signified the Viceroy's gold medal. We +saw that, I think, before we saw anything else. Then with as little +haste as was decent, considering His Excellency's proximity, we +walked within range of the picture. + +I am not particularly pleased, even now, to have the task of +describing the thing. Its subject was an old Mahomedan priest with +a green turban and a white beard exhorting a rabble of followers. I +heard myself saying to Dora that it was very well painted indeed, +very conscientiously painted, and that is certainly what struck me. +The expression of the fire-eater's face was extremely +characteristic; his arm was flung out with a gesture that perfectly +matched. The group of listeners was carefully composed and most +'naturally'; that is the only word that would come to me. + +I glanced almost timidly at Dora. She was regarding it with a deep +vertical line between her handsome brows. + +'What--on earth--has he done with himself?' she demanded, but before +I could reply Armour was by our side. + +'Well?' he said, looking at Dora. + +'It--it's very nice,' she stammered, 'but I miss YOU.' + +'She only means, you know,' I rushed in, 'that you've put in +everything that was never there before. Accuracy of detail, you +know, and so forth. 'Pon my word, there's some drawing in that!' + +'No,' said Dora, calmly, 'what I complain of is that he has left out +everything that was there before. But he has won the gold medal, +and I congratulate him.' + +'Well,' I said, uneasily, 'don't congratulate me. I didn't do it. +Positively I am not to blame.' + +'His Excellency says that it reminds him of an incident in one of +Mrs. Steel's novels,' said Armour, just turning his head to +ascertain His Excellency's whereabouts. + +'Dear me, so it does,' I exclaimed, eagerly, 'one couldn't name the +chapter--it's the general feeling.' I went on to discourse of the +general feeling. Words came generously, questions with point, +comments with intelligence. I swamped the situation and so carried +it off. + +'The Viceroy has bought the thing,' Armour went on, looking at Dora, +'and has commissioned me to paint another. The only restriction he +makes is--' + +'That it shall be of the same size?' asked Dora. + +'That it must deal with some phase of native life.' + +Miss Harris walked to a point behind us, and stood there with her +eyes fixed upon the picture. I glanced at her once; her gaze was +steady, but perfectly blank. Then she joined us again, and struck +into the stream of my volubility. + +'I am delighted,' she said, pleasantly, to Armour. 'You have done +exactly what I wanted you to do. You have won the Viceroy's medal, +and all the reputation there is to win in this place. Come and dine +tonight, and we will rejoice together. But wasn't it--for you--a +little difficult?' + +He looked at her as if she had offered him a cup, and then dashed it +from his lips; but the occasion was not one, of course, for crying +out. + +'Oh no,' he said, putting on an excellent face. 'But it took a +hideous time.' + + + +Chapter 2.X. + +Within a fortnight I was surprised and a little irritated to receive +from Armour the amount of my loan in full. It was not in accordance +with my preconceived idea of him that he should return it at all. I +had arranged in my own mind that he should be governed by the most +honest impulses and the most approved intentions up to the point of +departure, but that he should never find it quite convenient to pay, +and that in order to effect his final shipment to other shores I +should be compelled to lend him some more money. In the far future, +when he should be famous and I an obscure pauper on pension, my +generous imagination permitted me to see the loan repaid; but not +till then. These are perhaps stereotyped and conventional lines to +conceive him on, but I hardly think that anybody who has followed my +little account to this point will think them unjustifiable. I +looked at his cheque with disgust. That a man turns out better than +you expected is no reason why you such not be annoyed that your +conception of him is shattered. You may be gratified on general +grounds, but distinctly put out on personal ones, especially when +your conception pointed to his inevitable removal. That was the way +I felt. + +The cheque stood for so much more than its money value. It stood +for a possible, nay, a probable capacity in Armour to take his place +in the stable body of society, to recognize and make demands, to +become a taxpayer, a churchgoer, a householder, a husband. As I +gazed, the signature changed from that of a gnome with luminous eyes +who inhabited an inaccessible crag among the rhododendrons to that +of a prosperous artist-bourgeois with a silk hat for Sundays. I +have in some small degree the psychological knack, I saw the +possibilities of the situation with immense clearness; and I cursed +the cheque. + +Coincidence is odious, tells on the nerves. I never felt it more so +than a week later, when I read in the 'Pioneer' the announcement of +the death of my old friend Fry, Superintendent of the School of Art +in Calcutta. The paragraph in which the journal dismissed poor Fry +to his reward was not unkind, but it distinctly implied that the +removal of Fry should include the removal of his ideas and methods, +and the substitution of something rather more up to date. It +remarked that the Bengali student had been pinned down long enough +to drawing plaster casts, and declared that something should be done +to awake within him the creative idea. I remember the phrase, it +seemed so directly to suggest that the person to awake it should be +Ingersoll Armour. + +I turned the matter over in my mind; indeed, for the best part of an +hour my brain revolved with little else. The billet was an +excellent one, with very decent pay and charming quarters. It +carried a pension, it was the completest sort of provision. There +was a long vacation, with opportunities for original effort, and I +had heard Fry call the work interesting. Fry was the kind of man to +be interested in anything that gave him a living, but there was no +reason why a more captious spirit, in view of the great advantages, +should not accommodate itself to the routine that might present +itself. The post was in the gift of the Government of Bengal, but +that was no reason why the Government of Bengal should not be +grateful in the difficulty of making a choice for a hint from us. +The difficulty was really great. They would have to write home and +advertise in the 'Athenaeum'--for some reason Indian Governments +always advertise educational appointments in the 'Athenaeum'; it is +a habit which dates from the days of John Company--and that would +mean delay. And then the result might be a disappointment. Might +Armour not also be a disappointment? That I really could not say. +A new man is always a speculation, and departments, like +individuals, have got to take their luck. + +The Viceroy was so delighted--everybody was so delighted--with the +medal picture that the merest breath blown among them would secure +Armour's nomination. Should I blow that breath? These happy +thoughts must always occur to somebody. This one had occurred to +me. Ten to one it would occur to nobody else, and last of all to +Armour himself. The advertisement might already be on its way home +to the 'Athenaeum'. + +It would make everything possible. It would throw a very different +complexion over the idyll. It would turn that interlacing wreath of +laurels and of poppies into the strongest bond in the world. + +I would simply have nothing to do with it. + +But there was no harm I asking Armour to dine with me; I sent the +note off by messenger after breakfast and told the steward to put a +magnum of Pommery to cool at seven precisely. I had some idea, I +suppose, of drinking with Armour to his eternal discomfiture. Then +I went to the office with a mind cleared of responsibility and +comfortably pervaded with the glow of good intentions. + +The moment I saw the young man, punctual and immediate and a little +uncomfortable about the cuffs, I regretted not having asked one or +two more fellows. It might have spoiled the occasion, but it would +have saved the situation. That single glance of my accustomed eye-- +alas! that it was so well accustomed--revealed him anxious and +screwed up, as nervous as a cat, but determined, revealed--how well +I knew the signs!--that he had something confidential and important +and highly personal to communicate, a matter in which I could, if I +only would, be of the greatest possible assistance. From these +appearances twenty years had taught me to fly to any burrow, but +your dinner-table offers no retreat; you are hoist, so to speak, on +your own carving-fork. There are men, of course, and even women, +who have scruples about taking advantage of so intimate and +unguarded an opportunity, but Armour, I rapidly decided, was not one +of these. His sophistication was progressing, but it had not +reached that point. He wanted something--I flew instantly to the +mad conclusion that he wanted Dora. I did not pause to inquire why +he should ask her of me. It had seemed for a long time eminently +proper that anybody who wanted Dora should ask her of me. The +application was impossible, but applications nearly always were +impossible. Nobody knew that better than the Secretary to the +Government of India in the Home Department. + +I squared my shoulders and we got through the soup. It was +necessary to apologize for the fish. 'I suppose one must remember,' +I said, 'that it has to climb six thousand feet,' when suddenly he +burst out. + +'Sir William Lamb tells me,' he said, and stopped to swallow some +wine, 'that there is something very good going in Calcutta and that +I should ask you to help me to get it. May I?' + +So the miserable idea--the happy thought--had occurred to somebody +else. + +'Is there?' I said, with interest and attention. + +'It's something in the School of Art. A man named Fry has died.' + +'Ah!' I said, 'a man named Fry. He, I think was Director of that +institution.' I looked at Armour in the considering, measuring way +with which we suggest to candidates for posts that their fitness to +fill them is not to be absolutely taken for granted. 'Fry was a man +of fifty-six,' I said. + +'I am thirty.' He certainly did not look it, but years often fall +lightly upon a temperament. + +'It's a vile climate.' + +'I know. Is it too vile, do you think,' he said anxiously, 'to ask +a lady to share?' + +'Lots of ladies do share it,' I replied, with amazing calmness; 'but +I must decline absolutely to enter into that.' + +My frown was so forbidding that he couldn't and didn't dare to go +on. He looked dashed and disappointed; he was really a fool of an +applicant, quite ready to retire from the siege on the first +intimation that the gates were not to be thrown open at his +approach. + +'Do you think you would like teaching?' I asked. + +'I can teach. Miss--my only pupil here has made capital progress.' + +'I am afraid you must not measure the Bengali art student by the +standard of Miss Harris,' I replied coldly. He WAS a fool. We +talked of other things. I led him on to betray his ludicrous lack +of knowledge of the world in various directions. At other times it +had irritated me, that night it gave me purest pleasure. I agreed +with him about everything. + +As he selected his smoke to go home with I said, 'Send your +application in to the Director of Public Instruction, Bengal--Lamb +will tell you how--and I'll see what I can do.' + +They were only too thankful to get him. As a student it seemed he +had been diligent both in London and Paris; he possessed diplomas or +some such things bearing names which were bound to have weight with +a Department of Public Instruction anywhere. I felt particularly +thankful for this, for I was committed to him if he had not a rag to +show. + +The matter was settled in three weeks, during which Armour became +more and more the fashion in Simla. He was given every opportunity +of experiment in the society of which he was about to become a +permanent item. He dined out four or five times a week, and learned +exactly what to talk about. He surprised me one day with a piece of +news of my own department, which was a liberty of a very serious +kind, but I forgave him upon finding that it was not true. He rode +Lamb's weight-carriers, to cross which his short legs were barely +adequate, and apart from this disadvantage he did not ride them +badly. Only one thing marred the completeness of the +transformation--he didn't dismiss the dog. The dog, fundamentally, +was still and ever his companion. It was a suspicious circumstance +if we had known; but we saw in it only a kind heart, and ignored it. + +I saw little of Dora Harris at this time. Making no doubt that she +was enjoying her triumph as she deserved, I took the liberty of +supposing that she would hardly wish to share so intimate a source +of satisfaction. I met them both several times at people's houses-- +certain things had apparently been taken for granted--but I was only +one of the little circle that wondered how soon it might venture +upon open congratulations. The rest of us knew as much, it seemed, +as Edward Harris did. Lady Pilkey asked him point-blank, and he +said what his daughter found to like in the fellow the Lord only +knew, and he was glad to say that at present he had no announcement +to make. Lady Pilkey told me she thought it very romantic--like +marrying a newspaper correspondent--but I pointed to a lifelong +task, with a pension attached, of teaching fat young Bengalis to +draw, and asked her if she saw extravagant romance in that. + +They wrote up from Calcutta that they would like to have a look at +Armour before making the final recommendation, and he left us, I +remember, by the mail tonga of the third of June. He dropped into +my office to say goodbye, but I was busy with the Member and could +see nobody, so he left a card with 'P.P.C.' on it. I kept the card +by accident, and I keep it still by design, for the sake of that +inscription. + +Strobo had given up his hotel in Simla to start one in Calcutta. It +never occurred to me that Armour might go to Strobo's; but it was, +of course, the natural thing for him to do, especially as Strobo +happened to be in Calcutta himself at the time. He went and stayed +with Strobo, and every day he and the Signor, clad in bath-towels, +lay in closed rooms under punkahs and had iced drinks in the long +tumblers of the East, and smoked and talked away the burden of the +hours. + +Strobo was in Calcutta to meet a friend, an Austrian, who was +shortly leaving India in the Messagerie Maritimes steamer Dupleix +after agreeable wanderings disguised as a fakir in Tibet; and to +this friend was attached, in what capacity I never thought well to +inquire, a lady who was a Pole, and played and sang as well as +Strobo fiddled. I believe they dined together every night, this +precious quartet, and exchanged in various tongues their impressions +of India under British control. 'A houri in stays,' the lady who +was a Pole described it. I believe she herself was a houri without +them. And at midnight, when the south wind was cool and strong from +the river, Strobo and Armour would walk up Chowringhee Road and look +at the red brick School of Art from the outside in the light of the +street lamps, as a preliminary to our friend's final acceptance of +the task of superintending it from within. + +We in Simla, of course, knew nothing of all this at the time; the +details leaked out later when Strobo came up again. I began to feel +some joyful anxiety when in a letter dated a week after Armour's +arrival in Calcutta, the Director of Public Instruction wrote to +inquire whether he had yet left Simla; but the sweet blow did not +fall with any precision or certainty until the newspaper arrived +containing his name immediately under that of Herr Vanrig and Mme. +Dansky in the list of passengers who had sailed per S.S. Dupleix on +the fifteenth of June for Colombo. There it was, 'I. Armour,' as +significant as ever to two persons intimately concerned with it, but +no longer a wrapping of mystery, rather a radiating centre of light. +Its power of illumination was such that it tried my eyes. I closed +them to recall the outlines of the School of Art--it had been built +in a fit of economy--and the headings of the last Director's report, +which I had kindly sent after Armour to Calcutta. Perhaps that had +been the last straw. + +The real meaning of the task of implanting Western ideals in the +Eastern mind rose before me when I thought of Armour's doing it--how +they would dwindle in the process, and how he must go on handling +them and looking at them withered and shrunken for twenty-odd years. +I understood--there was enough left in me to understand--Armour's +terrified escape. I was happy in the thought of him, sailing down +the Bay. The possibilities of marriage, social position, assured +income, support in old age, the strands in the bond that held him, +the bond that holds us all, had been untwisting, untwisting, from +the third of June to the fifteenth. The strand that stood for Dora +doubtless was the last to break, but it did not detract from my +beatitude to know that even this consideration, before the Dupleix +and liberty, failed to hold. + +I kept out of Miss Harris's way so studiously for the next week or +two that she was kind enough in the end to feel compelled to send +for me. I went with misgivings--I expected, as may be imagined, to +be very deeply distressed. She met me with a storm of gay +reproaches. I had never seen her in better health or spirits. My +surprise must have been more evident than I supposed or intended, +for before I went away she told me the whole story. By that time +she had heard from Ceylon, a delicious letter with a pen-and-ink +sketch at the top. I have it still; it infallibly brought the man +back to me. But it was all over; she assured me with shining eyes +that it was. The reason of her plainly boundless thankfulness that +Armour had run away from the School of Art did not come to the +surface until I was just going. Then I gathered that if he had +taken the post she would have felt compelled, compelled by all she +had done for him, to share its honours with him; and this, ever +since at her bidding he had begun to gather such things up, was +precisely what she had lost all inclination to do. + +We were married the following October. We had a big, gorgeous +official wedding, which we both enjoyed enormously. I took +furlough, and we went home, but we found London very expensive and +the country very slow; and with my K.C.S.I. came the offer of the +Membership, so we went back to Simla for three perfectly unnecessary +years, which we now look back upon with pleasure and regret. I fear +that we, no more than Ingersoll Armour, were quite whole-hearted +Bohemians; but I don't know that we really ever pretended to be. + + + + +3. The Hesitation of Miss Anderson. + + +Chapter 3.I. + +When it became known that Madeline Anderson had finally decided to +go abroad for two years, her little circle in New York naturally +talked a good deal, in review, about her curious reason for never +having gone before. So much that happened afterward, so much that I +am going to tell, depends upon this reason for not going before, +that I also must talk about it and explain it; I could never bring +it out just as we went along. It would have been a curious reason +in connection with anybody, but doubly so as explaining the +behaviour of Miss Anderson, whose profile gave you the impression +that she was anything but the shuttlecock of her emotions. Shortly, +her reason was a convict, Number 1596, who, up to February in that +year, had been working, or rather waiting, out his sentence in the +State penitentiary. So long as he worked or waited, Madeline +remained in New York, but when in February death gave him his +quittance, she took her freedom too, with wide intentions and many +coupons. + +Earlier in his career Number 1596 had been known in New York society +as Mr. Frederick Prendergast, and for a little while he was +disapproved there on the score of having engaged himself to a Miss +Anderson, Madeline Anderson, whom nobody knew anything about. There +was her own little circle, as I have said, and it lacked neither +dignity nor refinement, but I doubt whether any member of it was +valeted from London, or could imply, in conversation, a personal +acquaintance with Yvette Guilbert. There is no need, however, to +insist that there are many persons of comfortable income and much +cultivation in New York, who would not be met by strangers having +what are called the 'best' introductions there. The best so often +fails to include the better. It may be accepted that Madeline +Anderson and her people were of these, and that she wondered +sometimes during the brief days of her engagement what it would be +like to belong to the brilliant little world about her that had its +visiting list in London, Paris, or St. Petersburg, and was immensely +entertained by the gaucheries of the great ones of the earth. + +Then came, with the most unexceptionable introductions, Miss Violet +Forde, from a Sloane Square address, London. She came leaning on +the arm of a brother, the only relative she had in the world, and so +brilliant was the form of these young people that it occurred to +nobody to imagine that it had the most precarious pecuniary +foundation, must have faded and shrivelled indeed, after another +year or two of anything but hospitality as generous as that of New +York. Well-nourished and undimmed, however, it concealed for them +admirably the fact that it was the hospitality they were after, and +not the bracing climate or the desire to see the fascinating +Americans of London and Paris at home. New York found them +agreeable specimens of high-spirited young English people, and +played with them indefinitely. Miss Forde, when she sat +imperturbably on a cushion in the middle of the floor after dinner +and sang to a guitar the songs of Albert Chevalier, was an anomaly +in English decorum that was as pleasing to observe as it was amusing +to criticize. + +The Americans she met delighted in drawing her out--it was a pastime +that took the lead at dinner-parties, to an extent which her hostess +often thought preposterous--and she responded with naivete and +vigour, perfectly aware that she was scoring all along the line. +Upon many charming people she made the impression that she was a +type of the most finished class of what they called 'English society +girls,' that she represented the best they could do over there in +this direction. As a matter of fact she might have sat to any of +those 'black and white' artists, who draw townish young women of +London, saying cynical things to young men in the weekly papers. +That was her type, and if you look for her picture there, you will +see that her face was very accurately oval, with eyes that knew +their value, and other features that didn't very much matter, except +in so far as they expressed a very full conception of the +satisfactions of this life, and a wide philosophy as to methods of +obtaining them. + +Frederick Prendergast was unacquainted with the popular pictures I +have mentioned, having a very reasonable preference for the +illustrated papers of his own country; otherwise--there is no +telling--he might have observed the resemblance and escaped the +State prison, whither he assuredly never would have gone had he +married Madeline Anderson--as he fully intended to do when Miss +Forde came over. He was worth at that time a great deal of money, +besides being more personable than any one would have believed who +knew him as '1596.' His fiancee was never too obtrusively in +evidence, and if Miss Forde thought of Miss Anderson with any +scruple, it was probably to reflect that if she could not take care +of these things she did not deserve to have them. This at all +events was how her attitude expressed itself practically; and the +upshot was that Miss Anderson lost them. There came a day when +Frederick Prendergast, in much discomfort of mind, took to Violet +the news that Madeline had brought their engagement to an end. She, +Violet, gave him some tea, and they talked frankly of the absurd +misconception of the relations between them upon which his dismissal +was founded; and Prendergast went away much comforted and wholly +disposed to respect Miss Anderson's startling wishes. She, with +what both the others thought excellent taste, persuaded her mother +and sister to move to Brooklyn; and so far as the thoroughfares and +social theatres of New York were concerned, the city over the river +might have been a nunnery which had closed its gates upon her. It +was only in imagination that she heard Frederick Prendergast's +wedding-bells when, two months later, he was united to Miss Forde in +Grace Church, and that after the fact, their melody being brought to +her inner sense next day by the marriage notice in the 'Tribune'. + +It would be painful, in view of what we know of Frederick +Prendergast, to dwell upon what Madeline Anderson undeniably felt. +Besides her emotions were not destructively acute, they only lasted +longer than any one could have either expected or approved. She +suffered for him as well; she saw as plainly as he did the first +sordid consequences of his mistake the afternoon he came to solicit +her friendship, having lost other claims; and it was then perhaps, +that her responsibility in allowing Violet Forde to spoil his life +for him began to suggest itself to her. Up to that time she had +thought of the matter differently, as she would have said, +selfishly. He was not permitted to come again; but he went away +lightened, inasmuch as he had added his burden to hers. + +When a year later the national credit involved that of Prendergast's +firm, Madeline read financial articles in the newspapers with heavy +concern, surprising her family with views on 'sound money'; and +when, shortly afterward, his partners brought that unhappy young man +before the criminal courts for an irregular use of the firm's +signature, which further involved it beyond hope of extrication, +there was no moment of the day which did not find her, in spirit, +beside him there. + +The case dragged on through appeal, and the decision of the lower +courts was not reversed. The day this became known the fact also +transpired that poor Prendergast would never live to complete his +ten years' term of imprisonment. He went to prison with hardly more +than one lung, and in the most favourable physical condition to get +rid of the other. Mrs. Prendergast wept a little over the +installation, and assured Frederick that it was perfectly absurd; +they were certain to get him out again; people always got people out +again in America. She took him grapes and flowers once a week for +about a month, and then she sailed for Europe. She put it about +that her stay was to be as brief as was consistent with the +transaction of certain necessary business in London; but she never +came back, and Madeline Anderson had taken her place, in so far as +the grapes and flowers were concerned, for many months, when the +announcement of his wife's death reached Prendergast in an English +paper published in Paris. About a year after that it began to be +thought singular how he picked up in health, and Madeline's mother +and sister occasionally romanced about the possibility of his +recovering and marrying her after all--they had an enormous opinion +of the artistic virtue of forgiveness--but it was not a contingency +ever seriously contemplated by Miss Anderson herself. Her +affection, pricked on by remorse, had long satisfied itself with the +duties of her ministry. If she would not leave him until he died, +it was because there was no one but herself to brighten the long day +in the prison hospital for him, because she had thrown him into the +arms of the woman who had deserted him, because he represented in +her fancy her life's only budding towards the sun. Her patience +lasted through six years, which was four years longer than any +doctor had given Frederick Prendergast to live; but when one last +morning she found an empty bed, and learned that Number 1596 had +been discharged in his coffin, she rose from the shock with the +sense of a task fully performed and a well-developed desire to see +what else there might be in the world. + +She announced her intention of travelling for a year or two with a +maid, and her family expressed the usual acquiescence. It would +help her, they said, to 'shake it off'; but they said that to one +another. They were not aware--and it would have spoiled an ideal +for them if they had been--that she had shaken it off, quite +completely, into Prendergast's grave. + +This was the curious reason why Miss Anderson's travels were so long +postponed. + + + +Chapter 3.II. + +It was Madeline's fancy to enjoy the contrast between West and East +in all its sharpness, so she and Brookes embarked at San Francisco +for Yokohama. Their wanderings in Japan were ideal, in spite of +Brookes's ungrateful statement that she could have done with fewer +eggs and more bacon; and Madeline prolonged the appeal of the +country to her sense of humour and fantasy, putting off her +departure for India from week to week. She went at last in March; +and found herself down with fever at Benares in the middle of one +particularly hot April, two months after the last of her fellow +travellers had sailed from Bombay, haunted on her baking pillow by +pictorial views of the burning ghat and the vultures. The station +doctor, using appalling language to her punkah-coolie, ordered her +to the hills; and thus it was that she went to Simla, where she had +no intention of going, and where this story really begins. + +Brookes has always declared that Providence in sending Miss Anderson +to Simla had it in mind to prevent a tragedy; but as to that there +is room for a difference of opinion: besides I can not be +anticipated by Brookes. + +'It's the oddest place imaginable, and in many ways the most +delightful,' Madeline wrote to her sister Adele, 'this microcosm of +Indian official society withdrawn from all the world, and playing at +being a municipality on three Himalayan mountaintops. You can't +imagine its individuality, its airy, unsubstantial, superior poise. +How can I explain to you elderly gentlemen, whose faces express +daily electric communications with the Secretary of State, playing +tennis violently every single afternoon in striped flannels--writing +letters of admonition to the Amir all day long, and in the evening, +with the assistance of yellow wigs and make-up sticks from the +Calcutta hair-dresser, imagining that they produce things, poor +dears, only a LITTLE less well done than is done at the Lyceum? +Nothing is beyond them. I assure you they are contemplating at the +moment 'The Second Mrs. Tanqueray'. The effect of remoteness from +the world, I suppose, and the enormous mutual appreciation of people +who have watched each other climb. For to arrive officially at +Simla they have had to climb in more ways than one. . .It is all so +hilarious, so high-spirited, so young and yet, my word! what a cult +of official dignity underlying! I saw a staff-officer in full +uniform, red and white feathers and all, going to the birthday +dinner at the Viceroy's the other evening in a perambulator-- +rickshaw, you know, such as they have in Japan. That is typical of +the place. All the honours and dignities--and a perambulator to put +them in--or a ridiculous little white-washed house made of mud and +tin, and calling itself Warwick Castle, Blenheim, Abbotsford! They +haven't a very good hold, these Simla residences, and sometimes they +slip fifty yards or so down the mountain-side, but the chimneys (bad +pun coming) are never any more out of drawing than they were before. + +'Yet--never forget--the queer little place has a nobility, drawn I +suppose from high standards of conduct in essentials. + +'. . .This matter of precedence is a bore for an outsider. I am +very tired of being taken in to dinner by subalterns, because I have +no "official position." Something of the kind was offered me, by +the way, the other day, by a little gunner with red eyelids, in the +Ordnance Department, named McDermott--Captain McDermott. He took my +declining very cheerfully, said he knew Americans didn't like +Englishmen, who hadn't been taught to pronounce their "g's," but +hoped I would change my mind before the rains, when he was goin' +down. Of course I sha'n't. The red eyelids alone. . .I am living +in a boarding-house precisely under the deodars, and have "tiffin" +with Mrs. Hauksbee every day when neither of us are having it +anywhere else. And I've been told the original of "General Bangs," +"that most immoral man." You remember, don't you, the heliograph +incident--I needn't quote it. It really happened! and the General +still lives, none the worse--perhaps rather greater. Quite half the +people seem materializations of Kipling, and it's very interesting; +but one mustn't say so if one wants to be popular. Talking of +materializations, I saw the original of Crawford's Mr. Isaacs, too, +the other day. He used to be a diamond agent among the native +princes when Crawford knew him. When I saw him he was auctioning +off his collection of curios and things. These types of novelists +look wonderfully little impaired; I suppose it's the dry air. + +'P.S.--Brookes is also quite happy. She was much struck, on +arriving, by an apparent anomaly in nature. "Have you noticed, +ma'am," said she, "how at this height all the birds are crows and +monkeys?"' + +Miss Anderson described Simla exhaustively in her letters to New +York. She touched upon almost every feature, from Mrs. Mickie and +Mrs. Gammidge, whose husbands were perspiring in the Plains, and +nobody telling them anything, to the much larger number of ladies +interested in the work of the Young Women's Christian Association; +from the 'type' of the Military Secretary to the Viceroy to that of +Ali Buksh, who sold raw turquoises in a little carved shop in the +bazaar. I should like to quote more of her letters, but if I did I +should find nothing about Colonel Horace Innes, who represented--she +often acknowledged to herself--her only serious interest. Miss +Anderson took the world at its own light valuation as it came; but +she had a scale of recognitions and acceptances, which she kept +apart for the very few, and Innes had claimed a place in it the +first time they met. It seems a trifle ungrateful that she should +have left him out, since it was he who gave her a standard by which +to measure the frivolity of Simla. He went to gymkhanas--if he knew +she was going--but he towered almost pictorially above them; and +when he talked to Madeline his shoulders expressed a resentment of +possible interruptions that isolated him still further. I would not +suggest that he was superior by conviction; he was only intent, +whereas most of the other people were extremely diffused, and +discriminating, while the intimacies of the rest were practically +coextensive with Government House list. Neither, for his part, +would he admit that the tone of Simla was as wholly flippant as I +have implied. They often talked about it; he recognized it as a +feature likely to compel the attention of people from other parts of +the world; and one afternoon he asked her, with some directness, if +she could see no tragedies underneath. + +'Tragedies of the heart?' she asked. 'Oh, I can not take them +seriously. The emotion is so ephemeral! A woman came to tea with +me three days ago, and made me her confessor. It was unexpected; if +it hadn't been, I wouldn't have asked her to tea. She was so +unhappy that she forgot about the rouge, and it all came off on her +handkerchief when she cried. The man likes somebody else better +this season. Well, I gave her nougat and cheap cynicisms, and she +allowed herself to be comforted! Why, the loves of kitchen-maids +are more dignified.' + +They were riding on the broad four-mile road, blasted out of the +rock, that winds round Jakko. The deodars stood thick above them, +with the sunlight filtering through; a thousand feet below lay the +little square fields, yellow and green, of the King of Koti. The +purple-brown Himalayas shouldered the eye out to the horizon, and +there the Snows lifted themselves, hardly more palpable than the +drifted clouds, except for a gleam of ice in their whiteness. A low +stone wall ran along the verge of the precipice, and, looking down, +they saw tangled patches of the white wild rose of the Himalayas, +waving and drooping over the abyss. + +'I am afraid,' said Innes, 'you are not even upon the fringe of the +situation.' + +'It's the situation as I see it.' + +'Then--excuse me--you do not see deep enough. That poor lady +suffered, I suppose, to the extent of her capacity. You would not +have have increased it.' + +'I don't know, I should have preferred not to measure it.' + +'Besides, that was not quite the sort of thing I had in mind. I was +thinking more of the--separations.' + +'Ah!' said Madeline. + +'It's not fair to ask women to live much in India. Sometimes it's +the children, sometimes it's ill health, sometimes it's natural +antipathy to the place; there's always a reason to take them away.' + +'Yes,' said Madeline, turning a glance of scrutiny on him. His face +was impassive; he was watching mechanically for a chance to slay a +teasing green spider-fly. + +'That is the beginning of the tragedy I was thinking of. Time does +the rest, time and the aridity of separations. How many men and +women can hold themselves together with letters? I don't mean aging +or any physical change. I don't mean change at all.' + +'No,' said Madeline, and this time, though her curiosity was +greater, she did not look at him. + +'No. The mind could accustom itself to expect that, and so +forestall the blow, if it really would be a blow, which I doubt. +For myself, I'm pretty sure that nothing of that kind could have +much effect upon one's feeling, if it were the real thing.' He +spoke practically to himself, as if he had reasoned this out many +times. + +'Oh, no!' said Madeline. + +'But separation can do a worse thing than that. It can REINTRODUCE +people, having deprived them of their mutual illusion under which +they married. If they lived together the illusion would go, I +suppose, but custom and comfort would step in to prevent a jar. +There never would be that awful revelation of indifference.' + +He stopped sharply, and the hope went through Madeline's mind that +her face expressed no personal concern for him. There was a small +red stain in the brown of his cheek as he looked at her to find out, +and he added, 'I've known--in Bombay--one or two bad cases of that. +But, of course, it is the wife who suffers most. Shall we canter +on?' + +'In a minute,' said Madeline, and he drew his rein again. + +She could not let this be the last word; he must not imagine that +she had seen, through the simple crystal of his convictions, the +personal situation that gave them to him. + +'Of course,' she said, thoughtfully, 'you know the Anglo-Indian +world and I don't. You must have observed this that you speak of +it; it sounds only too probable. And I confess it makes my little +impression very vulgar and superficial.' She turned her head and a +candid smile to him. 'All the same, I fancy that the people who are +capable of suffering much that way are the exceptions. And--I don't +care--I believe there is more cheap sentiment in this place than the +other kind. What do you think I heard a woman say the other day at +a tiffin-party? "No man has touched my heart since I've been +married," she proclaimed, "except my husband!" AT A TIFFIN-party!' + +She heard the relief in Innes's laugh and was satisfied. + +'How does it happen,' he said, 'that women nowadays are critical of +the world so young?' + +'I shall be thirty in September, and we no longer look at society +through a tambour-frame,' she said, hardily. + +'And I shall be forty-three next month, but hitherto I have known it +to produce nothing like you,' he returned, and if there was +ambiguity in his phrase there was none in his face. + +Miss Anderson made with her head her little smiling gesture--Simla +called it very American--which expressed that all chivalrous speech +was to be taken for granted and meant nothing whatever; and as they +turned into the Ladies' Mile gave her horse his head, and herself a +chance for meditation. She thought of the matter again that evening +before her little fire of snapping deodar twigs, thought of it +intently. She remembered it all with perfect distinctness; she +might have been listening to a telephonic reproduction. + +It was the almost intimate glimpse Innes had given her of himself, +and it brought her an excitement which she did not think of +analyzing. She wrung from every sentence its last possibility of +unconscious meaning, and she found when she had finished that it was +eleven o'clock. + +Then she went to bed, preferring not to call Brookes, with the +somewhat foolish feeling of being unable to account for her evening. +Her last reflection before she slept shaped itself in her mind in +definite words. + +'There are no children,' it ran, 'and her health has always been +good, he says. She must have left him after that first six months +in Lucknow, because of a natural antipathy to the country--and when +she condescended to come out again for a winter he met the different +lady he thinks about. With little hard lines around the mouth and +common conventional habits of thought, full of subservience to his +official superiors, and perfectly uninterested in him except as the +source of supplies. But I don't know why I should WANT her to be so +disagreeable. + +As a matter of fact, Mrs. Innes, travelling at the moment with the +mails from London to Bombay, was hastening to present to Miss +Anderson features astonishingly different. + + + +Chapter 3.III. + +The lady guests at Peliti's--Mrs. Jack Owen and the rest--were +giving a tea in the hotel pavilion. They had the band, the wife of +the Commander-in-Chief, the governess from Viceregal Lodge and one +little Viceregal girl, three A.D.C.'s, one member of council, and +the Archdeacon. These were the main features, moving among a +hundred or so of people more miscellaneous, who, like the ladies at +Peliti's, had come up out of the seething Plains to the Paradise of +the summer capital. The Pavilion overhung the Mall; looking down +one could see the coming and going of leisurely Government peons in +scarlet and gold, Cashmiri vendors of great bales of embroideries +and skins, big-turbaned Pahari horse-dealers, chaffering in groups, +and here and there a mounted Secretary-sahib trotting to the Club. +Beyond, the hills dipped blue and bluer to the plains, and against +them hung a single waving yellow laburnum, a note of imagination. +Madeline Anderson was looking at it when Mrs. Mickie and Mrs. +Gammidge came up with an affectionate observation upon the cut of +her skirt, after which Mrs. Mickie harked back to what they had been +talking about before. + +'She's straight enough now, I suppose,' this lady said. + +'She goes down. But she gives people a good deal of latitude for +speculation.' + +'Who is this?' asked Madeline. 'I ask for information, to keep out +of her way. I find I am developing the most shocking curiosity. I +must be in a position to check it.' + +The ladies exchanged hardly perceptible glances. Then Mrs. Gammidge +said, 'Mrs. Innes,' and looked as if, for the moment, at any rate, +she would withhold further judgment. + +'But you mustn't avoid the poor lady,' put in Mrs. Mickie, 'simply +because of her past. It wouldn't be fair. Besides--' + +'Her past?' Madeline made one little effort to look indifferent, and +then let the question leap up in her. + +'My dear,' said Mrs. Gammidge, with brief impatience, 'he married +her in Cairo, and she was--dancing there. Case of chivalry, I +believe, though there are different versions. Awful row in the +regiment--he had to take a year's leave. Then he succeeded to the +command, and the Twenty-third were ordered out here. She came with +him to Lucknow--and made slaves of every one of them. They'll swear +to you now that she was staying at Shepheard's with an invalid +mother when he met her. And now she's accepted like everybody else; +and that's all there is about it.' + +'There's nothing in that,' said Madeline, determinedly, 'to prove +that she wasn't--respectable.' + +'N--no. Of course not,' and again the eye of Mrs. Gammidge met that +of Mrs. Mickie. + +'Though, you see love,' added the latter lady, 'it would have been +nicer for his people--they've never spoken to him since--if she had +been making her living otherwise in Cairo.' + +'As a barmaid, for instance,' said Madeline, sarcastically. + +'As a barmaid, for instance,' repeated Mrs. Gammidge, calmly. + +'But Simla isn't related to him--Simla doesn't care!' Mrs. Mickie +exclaimed. 'Everybody will be as polite as possible when she turns +up. You'll see. You knew, didn't you, that she was coming out in +the Caledonia?' + +'No,' said Madeline. She looked carefully where she was going to +put her coffee-cup, and then she glanced out again at the laburnum +hanging over the plains. 'I--I am glad to hear it. These +separations you take so lightly out here are miserable, tragic.' + +The other ladies did not exchange glances this time. Miss +Anderson's change of tone was too marked for comment which she might +have detected. + +'Colonel Innes got the telegram this morning. She wired from +Brindisi,' Mrs. Gammidge said. + +'Does he seem pleased?' asked Mrs. Mickie, demurely. + +'He said he was afraid she would find it very hot coming up here +from Bombay. And, of course, he is worried about a house. When a +man has been living for months at the Club--' + +'Of course, poor fellow! I do love that dear old Colonel Innes, +though I can't say I know him a bit. He won't take the trouble to +be nice to me, but I am perfectly certain he must be the dearest old +thing inside of him. Worth any dozen of these little bow-wows that +run round after rickshaws,' said Mrs. Mickie, with candour. + +'I think he's a ridiculous old glacier,' Mrs. Gammidge remarked, and +Mrs. Mickie looked at Madeline and said, 'Slap her!' + +'What for?' asked Miss Anderson, with composure. 'I dare say he is- +-occasionally. It isn't a bad thing to be, I should think, in +Indian temperatures.' + +'I guess you got it that time, dear lady,' said Mrs. Mickie to Mrs. +Gammidge, as Madeline slipped toward the door. + +'Meant to be cross, did she? How silly of her! If she gives her +little heart away like that often, people will begin to make +remarks.' + +'The worst of that girl is,' Mrs. Mickie continued, 'that you never +can depend upon her. For days together she'll be just as giddy and +jolly as anybody and then suddenly she'll give you a nasty superior +bit of ice down the back of your neck like that. I've got her +coming to tea tomorrow afternoon,' Mrs. Mickie added, with sudden +gloom, 'and little Lord Billy and all that set are coming. They'll +throw buns at each other--I know they will. What, in heaven's name, +made me ask her?' + +'Oh, she'll have recovered by then. You must make allowance for the +shock we gave her, poor dear. Consider how you would feel if Lady +Worsley suddenly appeared upon the scene, and demanded devotion from +Sir Frank.' + +'She wouldn't get it,' Mrs. Mickie dimpled candidly. 'Frank always +loses his heart and his conscience at the same time. But you don't +suppose there's anything serious in this affair? Pure pretty +platonics, I should call it.' + +Mrs. Gammidge lifted her eyebrows. 'I dare say that is what they +imagine it. Well, they're never in the same room for two minutes +without being aware of it, and their absorption when they get in a +corner--I saw her keep the Viceroy waiting, the other night after +dinner, while Colonel Innes finished a sentence. And then she was +annoyed at the interruption. Here's Kitty Vesey, lookin' SUCH a +dog! Hello, Kitty! where did you get that hat, where did you get +that tile? But that wasn't the colour of your hair last week, +Kitty!' + +'Don't feel any kind of a dog'--Mrs. Vesey's pout, though becoming, +was genuine. 'I'm in a perfectly furious rage, my dears, and I'm +coming home to cry, just as soon as I've had an ice. What do you +think--they won't let me have Val for Captain Wynne's part in 'The +Outcast Pearl'--they say he's been tried before, and he's a stick. +Did you ever hear of such brutes? They want me to act with Major +Dalton, and he's MUCH too old for the part.' + +'Kitten,' said Mrs. Mickie, with conviction, 'Valentine Drake on the +stage would be fatal to your affection for him.' + +'I don't care, I won't act with anybody else--I'll throw up the +part. Haven't I got to make love to the man? How am I to play up +to such an unkissable-looking animal as Major Dalton? I shall +CERTAINLY throw up the part.' + +'Don't do anything rash, Kitty. If you do, they'll probably offer +it to me, and I warn you I won't give it back to you.' + +'Oh, refuse it, like a dear! I am dying to put them in a hole. +It's jealousy, that's what it is. Goodbye, Mrs. Jack, I've had a +lovely time. Val and I have been explaining our affection to the +Archdeacon, and he says it's perfectly innocent. We're going to get +him to put it on paper to produce when Jimmy sues for a divorce, +aren't we, Val?' + +'You're not going?' said Mrs. Jack Owen. + +'Oh, yes, I must. But I've enjoyed myself awfully, and so has +everybody I've been talking to. I say, Mickie, dear--about tomorrow +afternoon--I suppose I may bring Val?' + +'Oh, dear, yes,' Mrs. Mickie replied. 'But you must let me hold his +hand.' + +'I don't know which of you is the most ridiculous,' Mrs. Owen +remarked; 'I shall write to both your husbands this very night,' but +as the group shifted and left her alone with Mrs. Gammidge, she said +she didn't know whether Mrs. Vesey would be quite so chirpy three +weeks hence. 'When Mrs. Innes comes out,' she added in explanation. +'Oh, yes, Valentine Drake is quite her property. My own idea is +that Kitty won't be in it.' + +Where the road past Peliti's dips to the Mall Madeline met Horace +Innes. When she appeared in her rickshaw he dismounted, and gave +the reins to his syce. She saw in his eyes the look of a person who +has been all day lapsing into meditation and rousing himself from +it. 'You are very late,' she said as he came up. + +'Oh, I'm not going; at least, you are just coming away, aren't you? +I think it is too late. I'll turn back with you.' + +'Do,' she said, and looked at his capable, sensitive hand as he laid +it on the side of her little carriage. Miss Anderson had not the +accomplishment of palm-reading, but she took general manual +impressions. She had observed Colonel Innes's hand before, but it +had never offered itself so intimately to her inspection. That, +perhaps, was why the conviction seemed new to her, as she thought +'He is admirable--and it is all there.' + +When they got to the level Mall he kept his hold, which was a +perfectly natural and proper thing for him to do, walking alongside; +but she still looked at it. + +'I have heard your good news,' she said, smiling congratulation at +him. + +'My good news? Oh, about my wife, of course. Yes, she ought to be +here by the end of the month. I thought of writing to tell you when +the telegram came, and then I--didn't. The files drove it out of my +head, I fancy.' + +'Heavy day?' + +'Yes,' he said, absently. They went along together in an intimacy +of silence, and Madeline was quite aware of the effort with which +she said: + +'I shall look forward to meeting Mrs. Innes.' + +It was plain that his smile was perfunctory, but he put it on with +creditable alacrity. + +'She will be delighted. My wife is a clever woman,' he went on, +'very bright and attractive. She keeps people well amused.' + +'She must be a great success in India, then.' + +'I think she is liked. She has a tremendous fund of humour and +spirits. A fellow feels terribly dull beside her sometimes.' + +Madeline cast a quick glance at him, but he was only occupied to +find other matters with which he might commend his wife. + +'She is very fond of animals,' he said, 'and she sings and plays +well--really extremely well.' + +'That must be charming,' murmured Madeline, privately iterating, 'He +doesn't mean to damn her--he doesn't mean to damn her.' 'Have you a +photograph of her?' + +'Quantities of them,' he said, with simplicity. + +'You have never shown me one. But how could you?' she added in +haste; 'a photograph is always about the size of a door nowadays. +It is simply impossible to keep one's friends and relations in a +pocketbook as one used to do.' + +They might have stopped there, but some demon of persistence drove +Madeline on. She besought help from her imagination; she was not +for the moment honest. It was an impulse--an equivocal impulse-- +born doubtless of the equivocal situation, and it ended badly. + +'She will bring something of the spring out to you,' said Madeline-- +'the spring in England. How many years is it since you have seen +it? There will be a breath of the cowslips about her, and in her +eyes the soft wet of the English sky. Oh, you will be very glad to +see her.' The girl was well aware of her insincerity, but only +dimly of her cruelty. She was drawn on by something stronger than +her sense of honesty and humanity, a determination to see, to know, +that swept these things away. + +Innes's hand tightened on the rickshaw, and he made at first no +answer. Then he said: + +'She has been staying in town, you know.' + +There was just a quiver of Madeline's eyelid; it said nothing of the +natural rapacity behind. This man's testimony was coming out in +throes, and yet--it must be said--again she probed. + +'Then she will put you in touch again,' she cried; 'you will +remember when you see her all the vigour of great issues and the +fascination of great personalities. For a little while, anyway, +after she comes, you will be in a world--far away from here--where +people talk and think and live.' + +He looked at her in wonder, not understanding, as indeed how could +he? + +'Why,' he said, 'you speak of what YOU have done'; and before the +truth of this she cast down her eyes and turned a hot, deep red, and +had nothing to say. + +'No,' he said, 'my wife is not like that.' + +He walked along in absorption, from which he roused himself with +resentment in his voice. + +'I can not leave such a fabric of illusion in your mind. It +irritates me that it should be there--about anybody belonging to me. +My wife is not in the least what you imagine her. She has her +virtues, but she is--like the rest. I can not hope that you will +take to her, and she won't like you either--we never care about the +same people. And we shall see nothing of you--nothing. I can +hardly believe that I am saying this of my own wife, but--I wish +that she had stayed in England.' + +'Mrs. Mickie!' cried Madeline to a passing rickshaw, 'what are you +rushing on like that for? Just go quietly and peaceably along with +us, please, and tell us what Mrs. Vesey decided to do about her part +in 'The Outcast Pearl'. I'm dining out tonight--I must know.' And +Mrs. Mickie was kind enough to accompany them all the rest of the +way. + +Miss Anderson dined out, and preferred to suppose that she had no +time to think until she was on her way home along the empty road +round Jakko at eleven o'clock that night. Then it pleased her to +get out of her rickshaw and walk. There was an opulent moon, the +vast hills curving down to the plains were all grey and silvery, and +the deodars overhead fretted the road with dramatic shadows. About +her hung the great stillness in a mighty loneliness in which little +Simla is set, and it freed her from what had happened, so that she +could look at it and cry out. She actually did speak, pausing in +the little pavilion on the road where the nursemaids gather in the +daytime, but very low, so that her words fell round her even in that +silence, and hardly a deodar was aware. 'I will not go now,' she +said. 'I will stay and realize that he is another woman's husband. +That should cure me if anything will--to see him surrounded by the +commonplaces of married life, that kind of married life. I will +stay till she comes and a fortnight after. Besides, I want to see +her--I want to see how far she comes short.' She was silent for a +moment, and the moonlight played upon her smile of quiet triumph. +'He cares too,' she said; 'he cares too, but he doesn't know it, and +I promise you one thing, Madeline Anderson, you won't help him to +find out. And in five weeks I will go away and leave my love where +I found it--on a mountaintop in the middle of Asia!' + + + +Chapter 3.IV. + +Madeline did her best to make certain changes delicately, +imperceptibly, so that Innes would not, above all things, be +perplexed into seeking for their reason. The walks and rides came +to a vague conclusion, and Miss Anderson no longer kept the Viceroy +or anybody else waiting, while Innes finished what he had to say to +her in public, since his opportunities for talking to her seemed to +become gradually more and more like everybody else's. So long as +she had been mistress of herself she was indifferent to the very +tolerant and good-natured gossip of the hill capital; but as soon as +she found her citadel undermined, the lightest kind of comment +became a contingency unbearable. In arranging to make it +impossible, she was really over-considerate and over-careful. Her +soldier never thought of analyzing his bad luck or searching for +motive in it. To him the combinations of circumstances that seemed +always to deprive him of former pleasures were simply among the +things that might happen. Grieving, she left him under that +impression for the sake of its expediency, and tried to make it by +being more than ever agreeable on the occasions when he came and +demanded a cup of tea, and would not be denied. After all, she +consoled herself, no situation was improved by being turned too +suddenly upside down. + +She did not wholly withdraw his privilege of taking counsel with +her, and he continued to go away freshened and calmed, leaving her +to toss little sad reflections into the fire, and tremulously wonder +whether the jewel of her love had flashed ever so little behind the +eyes. They both saw it a conspicuous thing that as those three +weeks went on, neither he nor she alluded even remotely to Mrs. +Innes, but the fact remained, and they allowed it to remain. + +Nevertheless, Madeline knew precisely when that lady was expected, +and as she sauntered in the bazaar one morning, and heard Innes's +steps and voice behind her, her mind became one acute surmise as to +whether he could possibly postpone the announcement any longer. But +he immediately made it plain that this was his business in stopping +to speak to her. 'Good morning,' he said, and then, 'My wife comes +tomorrow.' He had not told her a bit of personal news, he had made +her an official communication, as briefly as it could be done, and +he would have raised his hat and gone on without more words if +Madeline had not thwarted him. 'What a stupidity for him to be +haunted by afterward!' was the essence of the thought that visited +her; and she put out a detaining hand. + +'Really! By the Bombay mail, I suppose--no, an hour or so later; +private tongas are always as much as that behind the mail.' + +'About eleven, I fancy. You--you are not inclined for a canter +round Summer Hill before breakfast?' + +'I am terrified of Summer Hill. The Turk always misbehaves there. +Yesterday he got one leg well over the khud--I WAS thankful he had +four. Tell me, are you ready for Mrs. Innes--everything in the +house? Is there anything I can do? + +'Oh, thanks very much! I don't think so. The house isn't ready, as +a matter of fact, but two or three people have offered to put us up +for a day or so until it is. I've left it open till my wife comes, +as I dare say she has already arranged to go to somebody. What are +you buying? Country tobacco, upon my word! For your men? That's +subversive of all discipline!' + +The lines on his face relaxed; he looked at her with fond +recognition of another delightful thing in her. + +'You give sugar-cane to your horses,' she declared; 'why shouldn't I +give tobacco to mine? Goodbye; I hope Mrs. Innes will like "Two +Gables". There are roses waiting for her in the garden, at all +events.' + +'Are there?' he said. 'I didn't notice. Goodbye, then.' + +He went on to his office thinking of the roses, and that they were +in his garden, and that Madeline had seen them there. He thought +that if they were good roses--in fact, any kind of roses--they +should be taken care of, and he asked a Deputy Assistant Inspector- +General of Ordnance whether he knew of a gardener that was worth +anything. + +'Most of them are mere coolies,' said Colonel Innes, 'and I've got +some roses in this little place I've taken that I want to look +after.' + +Next day Madeline took Brookes, and 'The Amazing Marriage', and a +lunch-basket, and went out to Mashobra, where the deodars shadow +hardly any scandal at all, and the Snows come, with perceptible +confidence, a little nearer. + +'They almost step,' she said to Brookes, looking at them, 'out of +the realm of the imagination.' + +Brookes said that they did indeed, and hoped that she hadn't by any +chance forgotten the mustard. + +'The wind is keen off the glaciers over there--anybody would think +of a condiment,' Miss Anderson remarked in deprecation, and to this +Brookes made no response. It was a liberty she often felt compelled +to take. + +The Snows appealed to Madeline even more than did Carintha, Countess +of Fleetwood, to whose fortunes she gave long pauses while she +looked across their summits at renunciation, and fancied her spirit +made strong and equal to its task. She was glad of their sanctuary; +she did not know where she should find such another. Perhaps the +spectacle was more than ever sublime in its alternative to the one +she had come away to postpone the sight of; at all events it drove +the reunion of the Inneses from her mind several times for five +minutes together, during which she thought of Horace by himself, and +went over, by way of preparation for her departure, all that had +come and gone between them. There had been luminous moments, +especially as they irradiated him, and she dwelt on these. There +was no reason why she should not preserve in London or in New York a +careful memory of them. + +So the lights were twinkling all up and down and round about Simla +when she cantered back to it and it was late when she started for +the Worsleys, where she was dining. One little lighted house looked +much like another perched on the mountainside, and the wooden board +painted 'Branksome Hall, Maj.-Gen. T.P. Worsley, R.E.,' nailed to +the most conspicuous tree from the main road, was invisible in the +darkness. Madeline arrived in consequence at the wrong dinner- +party, and was acclaimed and redirected with much gaiety, which gave +her a further agreeable impression of the insouciance of Simla, but +made her later still at the Worsleys. So that half the people were +already seated when she at last appeared, and her hostess had just +time to cry, 'My dear, we thought the langurs must have eaten you! +Captain Gordon, you are not abandoned after all. You know Miss +Anderson?' when she found herself before her soup. + +Captain Gordon heard her account of herself with complacence, and +declared, wiping his moustache, that a similar experience had +befallen him only a fortnight before. + +'Did you ever hear the story of that absent-minded chap, Sir James +Jackson, who went to the RIGHT dinner-party by mistake?' he asked, +'and apologized like mad, by Jove! and insisted he couldn't stay. +The people nearly had to tie him down in his--' Captain Gordon +stopped, arrested by his companion's sudden and complete +inattention. + +'I see a lady,' interrupted Madeline, with odd distinctness, +'curiously like somebody I have known before.' Her eyes convinced +themselves, and then refused to be convinced of the inconceivable +fact that they were resting on Violet Prendergast. It was at first +too amazing, too amazing only. Then an old forgotten feeling rose +in her bosom; the hand on the stem of her wine-glass grew tense. +The sensation fell away; she remembered her emancipation, the years +arose and reassured her during which Violet Prendergast, living or +dead, had been to her of absolutely no importance. Yet there was a +little aroused tremour in her voice as she went on, 'She is on the +General's right--he must have taken her in. Can you see from where +you are sitting?' + +'These narrow oval tables are a nuisance that way, aren't they? You +don't know who you're dining with till the end of the function. Oh! +I see--that's Mrs. Innes, just out, and fresh as paint, isn't she? +The Colonel'--Captain Gordon craned his head again--'is sitting +fourth from me on this side.' + +'Mrs. Innes! Really!' said Madeline. 'Then--then of course I must +be mistaken.' + +She removed her eyes almost stealthily from the other woman's face +and fixed them on the pattern of the table-cloth. Her brain guided +her clearly through the tumult of her perception, and no emotion +could be observed in the smiling attention which she gave to Captain +Gordon's account of the afternoon's tandem racing; but there was a +furious beating in her breast, and she thought she could never draw +a breath long enough to control it. It helped her that there was +food to swallow, wine to drink, and Captain Gordon to listen to; and +under cover of these things she gradually, consciously, prepared +herself for the shock of encounter which should be conclusive. +Presently she leaned a little forward and let her glance, in which +no outsider could see the steady recognition, rest upon the lady on +the General's right, until that person's agreeable blue eyes +wandered down the table and met it. Perhaps Madeline's own eyelids +fluttered a little as she saw the sudden stricture in the face that +received her message, and the grimace with which it uttered, pallid +with apprehension, its response to a pleasantry of General +Worsley's. She was not consummate in her self-control, but she was +able at all events to send the glance travelling prettily on with a +casual smile for an intervening friend, and bring it back to her +dinner-roll without mischief. It did not adventure again; she knew, +and she set herself to hold her knowledge, to look at it and +understand it, while the mechanical part of her made up its mind +about the entrees, and sympathized with Captain Gordon on his hard +luck in having three ponies laid up at once. She did not look +again, although she felt the watching of the other woman, and was +quite aware of the moment at which Mrs. Innes allowed herself the +reprieve of believing that at the Worsley's dinner-party at least +there would be no scandal. The belief had its reflex action, doing +something to calm her. How could there be--scandal--she asked +herself, and dismissed with relief the denunciations which crowded +vague but insistent in her brain. Even then she had not grasped the +salient points of the situation; she was too much occupied with its +irony as it affected her personally; her impressions circled +steadily round the word 'twice' and the unimaginable coincidence. +Her resentment filled her, and her indignation was like a clear +flame behind her smiling face. Robbed twice, once in New York and-- +oh! preposterous--the second time in Simla! Robbed of the same +things by the same hand! She perceived in the shock of it only a +monstrous fatality, a ludicrously wicked chance. This may have been +due to the necessity of listening to Captain Gordon. + +At all events it was only as she passed Colonel Innes on her way to +the drawing-room and saw ahead of her the very modish receding back +of Mrs. Innes that she realized other things--crime and freedom. + +It was the reversion of power; it brought her a great exultation. +She sat down under it in a corner, hoping to be left alone, with a +white face and shining eyes. Power and opportunity and purpose-- +righteous purpose! + +The circumstances had come to her in a flash; she brought them up +again steadily and scrutinized them. The case was absolutely clear. +Frank Prendergast had been dead just seven months. Colonel Innes +imagined himself married four years. Violet Prendergast was a +bigamist, and Horace Innes had no wife. + +That was the marvellous transcendent fact; that was what lifted her +and carried her on great pulsing waves that rolled beyond the walls +of the little fripperied drawing-room and its collection of low- +necked women, out into her life, which had not these boundaries. +She lived again in a possible world. There was no stone wall +between herself and joy. + +The old Mussulman butler who offered her coffee looked at her with +aroused curiosity--here was certainly a memsahib under the favour of +God--and as she stirred it, the shadow that Violet Prendergast had +thrown upon her life faded out of her mind in the light that was +there. Then she looked up and met that lady's vivid blue eyes. +Mrs. Innes's colour had not returned, but there was a recklessness +in the lines of her mouth. In the way she held her chin, expressing +that she had been reflecting on old scores, and anticipated the +worst. Meeting this vigilance Miss Anderson experienced a slight +recoil. Her happiness, she realized, had been brought to her in the +hands of ugly circumstance. + +'And so melodramatic,' she told herself. 'It is really almost +vulgar. In a story I should have no patience with it.' But she +went on stirring her coffee with a little uncontrollable smile. + +A moment later she had to contemplate the circumstance that her +hostess was addressing her. Mrs. Innes wished to be introduced. +Mrs. Innes, incarnate, conscious sensation, was smiling at her, +saying that she must know so great a friend of her husband's. He +made so few friends, and she was so grateful to anybody who was good +to him. Eyes and voice tolerably in rein, aware of the situation at +every point, she had a meretricious daring; and it occurred to +Madeline, looking at her, that she was after all a fairly competent +second-class adventuress. She would not refuse the cue. It would +make so little difference. + +'On the contrary, I am tremendously indebted to Colonel Innes. He +has been so very kind about ponies and jhampanies and things. Simla +is full of pitfalls for a stranger, don't you think?' And Miss +Anderson, unclosing her fan, turned her reposeful head a little in +the direction of three married schoolgirls voluble on her left. + +'Not when you get to know the language. You must learn the +language; it's indispensable. But of course it depends on how long +you mean to stay.' + +'I think I will learn the language,' said Madeline. + +'But General Worsley told me you were leaving Simla in a fortnight.' + +'Oh no. My plans are very indefinite; but I shall stay much longer +than that.' + +'It is Miss Anderson, isn't it?--Miss Madeline Anderson, of New +York--no, Brooklyn?' + +Madeline looked at her. 'Did not the General say so?' she asked. + +'Yes, he did. But one looks to make quite sure.' + +'I can understand that.' + +Mrs. Innes leaned forward with one elbow on her knee. + +It was not a graceful attitude, but it gave the casual air to the +conversation which was desirable. + +'What are you going to do?' she said. + +'My plans are as indefinite as possible, really,' Madeline returned. +'I may spend the cold weather in Calcutta, or go into camp with the +Dovedells--I should like that.' + +'Mrs. Innes,' cried the nearest schoolgirl, 'we are coming tomorrow +to see all the lovely things in your boxes, may we?' + +'Do, duckies. But mind, no copying of them by durzies in the +veranda. They're all Paris things--Coulter's--and you know he +doesn't copy well, does he? Oh, dear! here are the men--they always +come too soon, don't they? So glad to have had even a little chat, +Miss Anderson. I'll come and see you tomorrow. You know newcomers +in India always make the first calls. I shall find you at home, +sha'n't I?' + +'By all means,' Madeline said. + +Mrs. Innes crossed the room, crying out that the heat was perfectly +absurd for Simla, it must be cooler outside; and as Captain +Valentine Drake followed her into the semi-darkness of the veranda, +the three married schoolgirls looked at each other and smiled. + +'Don't be naughty,' said Captain Gordon, leaning over the sofa from +behind. 'They're very dear friends, and they've been separated for +two years.' + +Madeline heard this as plainly as they did. She noted disdainfully +how it all fell in. + +'How absent you are tonight!' Horace Innes exclaimed, when Miss +Anderson had asked him a trivial question for the third time. + +'Hush!' she said. 'Mrs. Scallepa is going to sing;' and as Mrs. +Scallepa sang she let her eyes play over him with a light in them so +tender, that once catching it the felt a sudden answering throb, and +looked again; but after that her eyes were on the floor. + +'We are staying here,' he said a quarter of an hour later, as he saw +her into her rickshaw; 'and I think I must see you to your quarters. +It's very dark, and there is an ugly little slip half-way between +this and the Mall. + +He ran upstairs to get his coat and stick, and a white face like an +apparition suddenly hung itself on the edge of Madeline's rickshaw- +hood. + +'Don't tell him tonight,' it said, hoarsely. + +'Are you ready, Colonel Innes? Then good night, everybody,' cried +Madeline. + +She was not at all sure that she would not tell Horace Innes +'tonight'. + + + +Chapter 3.V. + +'My wife,' said Colonel Innes, 'is looking extremely well.' + +'She seems so, indeed,' Madeline replied. + +'She is delighted with "Two Gables". Likes it better, she says, +than any other house we could have got.' + +'What a good thing!' + +'It was a record trip for the Caledonia, thirteen days from Brindisi +to Bombay. Was she telling you about the voyage?' + +'No,' said Madeline impatiently, 'she didn't mention it. How shall +I tell the men to put down the hood, please? A rickshaw is +detestable with the hood up--stifling! Thanks. I beg your pardon. +The Caledonia made a good run?' + +'Thirteen days. Wonderful weather, of course, which was luck for +Violet. She is an atrocious sailor.' + +Madeline fancied she heard repose and reassurance in his voice. Her +thought cried, 'It is not so bad as he expected!' We can not be +surprised that she failed to see in herself the alleviation of that +first evening. + +'She has brought quantities of things for the house with her,' Innes +went on, 'as well as three dachshund puppies,' and he laughed. +'Wouldn't you like one? What can we do with three--and the terrier, +and Brutus?' + +'Oh, thank you, no.' + +How could he laugh? How could he speak pleasantly of these intimate +details of his bondage? How could he conceive that she would +accept-- + +'Already she has arranged four dinner-parties! It will be a relief +not to have to think of that sort of thing--to be able to leave it +to her.' + +'Mrs. Innes must have great energy. To drive all the way up from +Kalka by noon and appear at a dinner-party at night--wonderful!' + +'Oh, great energy,' Horace said. + +'She will take you everywhere--to all the functions. She will +insist on your duty to society.' + +Madeline felt that she must get him somehow back into his slough of +despond. His freedom paralyzed her. And he returned with a +pathetic change of tone. + +'I suppose there is no alternative. Violet is very good about being +willing to go alone, or with somebody else; but I never think it +quite fair on one's wife to impose on her the necessity of going +about with other men.' + +'Mrs. Worsley introduced us after dinner,' said Madeline. + +She kept disparagement out of her mind, but he could not help +perceiving aloofness. + +'Yes?' + +The monosyllable told her sensitive ear that while he admitted her +consideration in going on with the subject, he was willing to +recognize that there was no more to say, and have done with it. She +gathered up her scruples and repugnances in a firm grasp. She would +not let him throw his own shadow, as an effectual obstacle, between +himself and liberty. + +'I am going to ask you something,' she said; it might come naturally +enough from another man with whom your friendship was as candid as +it is with me; but there is an awkwardness in it from a woman. You +must believe I have a good reason. Will you tell me about your +first meeting with Mrs. Innes, when--when you became engaged?' + +She knew she was daring a good deal; but when a man's prison is to +be brought down about his ears, one might as well begin, she +thought, at the foundation. + +For a moment Innes did not speak, and then his words came slowly. + +I find it difficult,' he said, 'to answer you. How can it matter-- +it is impossible. I suppose you have heard some story, and it is +like you to want to be in a position to negative it. Ignore it +instead. She has very successfully championed herself. Believe +nothing to her disadvantage that may be said about that--that time. +I was pleased to marry her, and she was pleased to marry me. But +for God's sake don't let us talk about it!' + +As he spoke Madeline saw the vivid clearness of the situation grow +blurred and confused. It was as if her point of view had suddenly +changed and her eyes failed her. Her eager impulse had beat less +and less strongly from the Worsley's door; now it seemed to shrink +away in fetters. Her eyes filled with vaguely resentful tears, +which sprang, if she could have traced them, from the fact that the +man she loved was loyal to his own mistake, and the formless +premonition that he might continue to be. She contorted her lip to +keep her emotion back, and deliberately turned away from a matter in +which she was not mistress, and which contained ugly possibilities +of buffeting. She would wait a little, and though consideration for +Violet Prendergast had nothing to do with it, she would not tell him +tonight. + +'I am sorry,' she said; and, after a moment, 'Did I tell you that I +have changed my plans?' + +'You are not going so soon?' she took all the comfort there was in +his eagerness. + +'I am not going at all for the present. I have abandoned my +intentions and my dates. I mean to drift for a little while. I +have been too--too conscientious.' + +'Are you quite serious--do you mean it?' + +'Indeed I do.' + +'And in less than a fortnight you will not go out of one's life. +You will stay on--you summer day! It's hard to believe in luck like +that. I sent a poor devil of a sepoy a reprieve last week--one +knows now how he must have felt about it.' + +'Does it make all that difference?' Madeline asked, softly. + +'It makes a difference,' he answered, controlling his words, 'that I +am glad you can not conceive, since that would mean that your life +has been as barren as mine.' He seemed to refrain from saying more, +and then he added, 'You must be careful when you plant your +friendship that you mean it to stay, and blossom. It will not come +easily up by the roots, and it will leave an ugly hole.' + +He was helping her out of her rickshaw, and as they followed the +servant who carried her wraps the few yards to the door, she left +her hand lightly on his arm. It was the seal, he thought, of her +unwritten bond that there should be no uprooting of the single +flower he cherished; and he went back almost buoyantly because of it +to the woman who had been sitting in the sackcloth and ashes of +misfortune, turning over the expedients for which his step might +make occasion. + +By the time the monkeys began to scramble about the roof in the +early creeping of the dawn among the deodars, Madeline had groped +her way to a tolerably clear conception of what might happen. The +impeding circumstance everywhere, it must be acknowledged, was +Frederick Prendergast's coffin. The case, had convict No. 1596 been +still alive and working out his debt to society, would have been +transcendentally simple, she told herself. Even a convict has a +right--a prospective right--to his wife, and no honest man should be +compelled to retain a criminal's property. This was an odd +reflection, perhaps, to be made by Madeline Anderson, but the +situation as a whole might be described as curious. And there was +no doubt about the coffin. + + + +Chapter 3.VI. + +The veranda of which Miss Anderson's little sitting-room claimed its +section hung over the road, and it seemed to her that she heard the +sound of Mrs. Innes's arrival about ten minutes after breakfast. + +On the contrary, she had spent two whole hours contemplating, with +very fixed attention, first the domestic circumstances of Colonel +Horace Innes and their possible development, and then, with a pang +of profoundest acknowledgment, the moral qualities which he would +bring to bear upon them. She was further from knowing what course +she personally intended to pursue than ever, when she heard the +wheels roll up underneath; and she had worked herself into a state +of sufficient detachment from the whole problem to reflect upon the +absurdity of a bigamist rattling forth to discuss her probable ruin +in the fanciful gaiety of a rickshaw. The circumstances had its +value though; it lightened all responsibility for the lady +concerned. As Madeline heard her jump out and give pronounced +orders for the securing of an accompanying dachshund, it did not +seem to matter so particularly what became of Violet Prendergast. + +Mrs. Innes's footsteps came briskly along the veranda. Madeline +noted that there was no lagging. 'Number seven,' she said aloud; as +she passed other doors, 'Number eight--number nine! Ah! there you +are.' The door was open. 'I wouldn't let them bring up my card for +fear of some mistake. How do you do? Now please don't get up--you +look so comfortable with your book. What is it? Oh, yes, of +course, THAT. People were talking about it a good deal when I left +London, but I haven't read it. Is it good?' + +'I like it,' said Madeline. She half rose as Mrs. Innes entered; +but as the lady did not seem to miss the ceremony of greeting, she +was glad to sink back in her chair. + +'And how do you like Simla? Charming in many ways, isn't it? A +little too flippant, I always say--rather TOO much champagne and +silliness. But awfully bracing.' + +'The Snows are magnificent,' Madeline said, 'when you can see them. +And there's a lot of good work done here.' + +'Aren't they divine? I did nothing, absolutely nothing, my first +season but paint them. And the shops--they're not bad, are they, +for the size of the place? Though today, upon my soul, there +doesn't seem to be a yard of white spotted veiling among them.' + +'That is annoying,' said Madeline, 'if you want spotted veiling.' + +'Isn't it? Well'--Mrs. Innes take a deep breath--'you DIDN'T tell +him last night?' + +'N--no,' said Madeline, with deliberation. + +'I WAS grateful. I knew I could rely upon you not to. It would +have been too cruel when we have only just been reunited--dear +Horace would have had to sleep in the--' + +'Pray--' + +'Well, Horace is the soul of honour. Is your ayah in there?' Mrs. +Innes nodded towards the bedroom door. 'You can not imagine what +long ears she has.' + +'I have no ayah. There is only Brookes;' and as that excellent +woman passed through the room with a towel over her arm, Madeline +said, 'You can go now, Brookes, and see about that alpaca. Take the +rickshaw; it looks very threatening.' + +'Maid! You ARE a swell! There are only four genuine maids in Simla +that I know of--the rest are really nurse-girls. What a comfort she +must be! THE luxury of all others that I long for; but alas! army +pay, you know. I did once bring a dear thing out with me from Nice- +-you should have seen Horace's face.' + +'I couldn't very well go about quite alone; it would be +uncomfortable.' + +'Except that you Americans are so perfectly independent.' + +'On the contrary. If I could order about a servant the way an +Englishwoman does--' + +'Say you are not going to tell him! I've got such a lot of other +calls to make,' exclaimed Mrs. Innes. 'Dear Lady Bloomfield won't +understand it if I don't call today, especially after the baby. +What people in that position want with more babies I can not +comprehend. Of course you haven't noticed it, but a baby is such a +shock to Simla.' + +'Don't let me keep you,' Madeline said, rising. + +'But you haven't promised. Do promise, Miss Anderson. You gain +nothing by telling him, except your revenge; and I should think by +this time you would have forgiven me for taking Frederick away from +you. He didn't turn out so well! You can't still bear me malice +over that convict in Sing Sing.' + +'For his sake, poor fellow, I might.' + +'Coming along I said to myself, "She CAN score off me badly, but +surely she doesn't want to so much as all that." Besides, I really +only took your leavings, you know. You threw poor Fred Prendergast +over.' + +'I am not prepared to discuss that,' Madeline said, at no pains to +smooth the curve out of her lip. + +'Then I thought, "Perhaps--you never can tell with people--she will +think it her DUTY to make a fuss."' + +'That is a possible point of view.' + +'I know. You think I'm an imposter on society and I ought to be +exposed, and I suppose you could shut every door in Simla against me +if you liked. But you are a friend of my husband's, Miss Anderson. +You would not turn his whole married life into a scandal and ruin +his career?' + +'Ruin his career?' + +'Of course. Government is awfully particular. It mayn't be his +fault in the least, but no man is likely to get any big position +with a cloud over his domestic affairs. Horace would resign, +naturally.' + +'Or take long leave,' Mrs. Innes added to herself, but she did not +give Madeline this alternative. A line or two of nervous irritation +marked themselves about her eyes, and her colour had faded. Her hat +was less becoming than it had been, and she had pulled a button off +her glove. + +'Besides,' she went on quickly, 'it isn't as if you could do any +good, you know. The harm was done once for all when I let him think +he'd married me. I thought then--well, I had to take it or leave it- +-and every week I expected to hear of Frederick's death. Then I +meant to tell Horace myself, and have the ceremony over again. He +couldn't refuse. And all these years it's been like living on a +volcano, in the fear of meeting New York people. Out here there +never are any, but in England I dye my hair, and alter my +complexion.' + +'Why did you change your mind,' Madeline asked, 'about telling +Colonel Innes?' + +'I haven't! Why should I change my mind? For my own protection, I +mean to get things put straight instantly--when the time comes.' + +'When the time comes,' Madeline repeated; and her eyes, as she fixed +them on Mrs. Innes, were suddenly so lightened with a new idea that +she dropped the lids over them as she waited for the answer. + +'When poor Frederick does pass away,' Mrs. Innes said, with an air +of observing the proprieties. 'When they put him in prison it was a +matter of months, the doctors said. That was one reason why I went +abroad. I couldn't bear to stay there and see him dying by inches, +poor fellow.' + +'Couldn't you?' + +'Oh, I couldn't. And the idea of the hard labour made me SICK. But +it seems to have improved his health, and now--there is no telling! +I sometimes believe he will live out his sentence. Should you think +that possible in the case of a man with half a lung?' + +'I have no knowledge of pulmonary disease,' Madeline said. She +forced the words from her lips and carefully looked away, taking +this second key to the situation mechanically, and for a moment +groping with it. + +'What arrangement did you make to be informed about--about him?' she +asked, and instantly regretted having gone so perilously near +provoking a direct question. + +'I subscribe to the "New York World". I used to see lots of things +in it--about the shock the news of my death gave him--' + +A flash of hysterical amusement shot into Mrs. Innes's eyes, and she +questioned Madeline's face to see whether it responded to her +humour. Then she put her own features straight behind her +handkerchief and went on. + +'And about his failing health, and then about his being so much +better. But nothing now for ages.' + +'Did the "World" tell you,' asked Miss Anderson, with sudden +interest, 'that Mr. Prendergast came into a considerable fortune +before--about two years ago?' + +Mrs. Innes's face turned suddenly blank. 'How much?' she exclaimed. + +'About five hundred thousand dollars, I believe. Left him by a +cousin. Then you didn't know?' + +'That must have been Gordon Prendergast--the engineer!' Mrs. Innes +said, with excitement. 'Fancy that! Leaving money to a relation in +Sing Sing! Hadn't altered his will, I suppose. Who could +possibly,' and her face fell visibly, 'have foreseen such a thing?' + +'No one, I think,' said Madeline, through a little edged smile. 'On +that point you will hardly be criticized.' + +Mrs. Innes, with clasped hands, was sunk in thought. She raised her +eyes with a conviction in them which she evidently felt to be +pathetic. + +'After all,' she said, 'there is something in what the padres say +about our reaping the reward of our misdeeds in this world--some of +us, anyway. If I had stayed in New York--' + +'Yes?' said Madeline. 'I shall wake up presently,' she reflected, +'and find that I have been dreaming melodrama.' But that was a +fantastic underscoring of her experience. She knew very well she +was making it. + +Mrs. Innes, again wrapped in astonished contemplation, did not +reply. Then she jumped to her feet with a gesture that cast +fortunes back into the lap of fate. + +'One thing is certain,' she said; 'I can't do anything NOW, can I?' + +Madeline laid hold of silence and made armour with it. At all +events, she must have time to think. + +'I decline to advise you,' she said, and she spoke with a barely +perceptive movement of her lips only. The rest of her face was +stone. + +'How unkind and unforgiving you are! Must people would think the +loss of a hundred thousand pounds about punishment enough for what I +have done. You don't seem to see it. But on top of that you won't +refuse to promise not to tell Horace?' + +'I will not bind myself in any way whatever.' + +'Not even when you know that the moment I hear of the--death I +intend to--to--' + +'Make an honest man of him? Not even when I know that.' + +'Do you want me to go down on my knees to you?' + +Madeline glanced at the flowered fabric involved and said, 'I +wouldn't, I think.' + +'And this is to hang over me the whole season? I shall enjoy +nothing--absolutely NOTHING.' The blue eyes were suddenly eclipsed +by angry tears, which the advent of a servant with cards checked as +suddenly. + +'Goodbye, then, dear,' cried Mrs. Innes, as if in response to the +advancing rustle of skirts in the veranda. 'So glad to have found +you at home. Dear me, has Trilby made her way up--and I gave such +particular orders! Oh, you NAUGHTY dog!' + + + +Chapter 3.VII. + +>From the complication that surged round Miss Anderson's waking hours +one point emerged, and gave her a perch for congratulation. That +was the determination she had shown in refusing to let Frederick +Prendergast leave her his money, or any part of it. + +It has been said that he had outlived her tenderness, if not her +care, and this fact, which she never found it necessary to +communicate to poor Frederick himself, naturally made his desire in +the matter sharply distasteful. She was even unaware of the +disposition he had made of his ironical fortune, a reflection which +brought her thankfulness that there was something she did not know. +'If I had let him do it,' she thought, 'I should have felt compelled +to tell her everything, instantly. And think of discussing it with +her!' This was quite a fortnight later, and Mrs. Innes still +occupied her remarkable position only in her own mind and +Madeline's, still knowing herself the wife of 1596 and of 1596 only, +and still unaware that 1596 was in his grave. Simla had gone on +with its dances and dinners and gymkhanas quite as if no crucial +experience were hanging over the heads of three of the people one +met 'everywhere,' and the three people continued to be met +everywhere, although only one of them was unconscious. The women +tried to avoid each other without accenting it, exchanging light +words only as occasion demanded, but they were not clever enough for +Mrs. Gammidge and Mrs. Mickie, who went about saying that Mrs. +Innes's treatment of Madeline Anderson was as ridiculous as it was +inexplicable. 'Did you ever know her to be jealous of anybody +before?' demanded Mrs. Mickie, to which Mrs. Gammidge responded, +with her customary humour, that the Colonel had never, in the memory +of the oldest inhabitant, been known to give her occasion. + +'Well,' declared Mrs. Mickie, 'if friendships--UNSENTIMENTAL +friendships--between men and women are not understood in Simla, I'd +like to be told what is understood.' + +Between them they gave Madeline a noble support, for which--although +she did not particularly require it, and they did not venture to +offer it in so many words--she was grateful. A breath of public +criticism from any point of view would have blown over the toppling +structure she was defending against her conscience. The siege was +severe and obstinate, with an undermining conviction ever at work +that in the end she would yield; in the end she would go away, at +least as far as Bombay or Calcutta, and from there send to Mrs. +Innes the news of her liberation. It would not be necessary, after +all, or even excusable, to tell Horace. His wife would do that +quickly enough--at least, she had said she would. If she didn't-- +well, if she didn't, nothing would be possible but another letter, +giving HIM the simple facts, she, Madeline, carefully out of the way +of his path of duty--at all events, at Calcutta or Bombay. But +there was no danger that Mrs. Innes would lose the advantage of +confession, of throwing herself on his generosity--and at this point +Madeline usually felt her defenses against her better nature +considerably strengthened, and the date of her sacrifice grow vague +again. + +Meanwhile, she was astonished to observe that, in spite of her +threat to the contrary, Mrs. Innes appeared to be enjoying herself +particularly well. Madeline had frequent occasion for private +comment on the advantages of a temperament that could find +satisfaction in dancing through whole programmes at the very door, +so to speak, of the criminal courts; and it can not be denied that +this capacity of Mrs. Innes's went far to increase the vacillation +with which Miss Anderson considered her duty towards that lady. If +she had shown traces of a single hour of genuine suffering, there +would have been an end to Madeline's hesitation. But beyond an +occasional watchful glance at conversations in which she might be +figuring dramatically, and upon which she instantly turned her back +as soon as she was perceived, Mrs. Innes gave no sign even of +preoccupation. If she had bad half-hours, they occurred between the +teas and tennises, the picnics, riding-parties, luncheons, and other +entertainments, at which you could always count upon meeting her; +and in that case they must have been short. She looked extremely +well, and her admirable frocks gave an accent even to 'Birthday' +functions at Viceregal Lodge, which were quite hopelessly general. +If any one could have compelled a revelation of her mind, I think it +would have transpired that her anxieties about Capt. Valentine Drake +and Mrs. Vesey gave her no leisure for lesser ones. These for a few +days had been keen and indignant--Captain Drake had so far forgotten +himself as to ride with Mrs. Vesey twice since Mrs. Innes's arrival- +-and any display of poverty of spirit was naturally impossible under +the circumstances. The moment was a critical one; Captain Drake +seemed inclined to place her in the category of old, unexacting +friends--ladies who looked on and smiled, content to give him tea on +rainy days, and call him by his Christian name, with perhaps the +privilege of a tapping finger on his shoulder, and an occasional +order about a rickshaw. Mrs. Violet was not an introspective +person, or she might have discovered here that the most stable part +of her self-respect was her EXIGENCE with Captain Drake. + +She found out quickly enough, however, that she did not mean to +discard it. She threw herself, therefore--her fine shoulders and +arms, her pretty clothes, her hilarity, her complexion, her +eyelashes, and all that appertained to her--into the critical task +of making other men believe, at Captain Drake's expense, that they +were quite as fond of her as he was. Mrs. Vesey took opposite +measures, and the Club laid bets on the result. + +The Club was not prepossessed by Captain Drake. He said too little +and he implied too much. He had magnificent shoulders, which he +bent a great deal over secluded sofas, and a very languid interest +in matters over which ordinary men were enthusiastic. He seemed to +believe that if he smiled all the way across his face, he would +damage a conventionality. His clothes were unexceptionable, and he +always did the right thing, though bored by the necessity. He was +good-looking in an ugly way, which gave him an air of restrained +capacity for melodrama, and made women think him interesting. +Somebody with a knack of disparagement said that he was too much +expressed. It rather added to his unpopularity that he was a man +whom women usually took with preposterous seriousness--all but Kitty +Vesey, who charmed and held him by her outrageous liberties. When +Mrs. Vesey chaffed him, he felt picturesque. He was also aware of +inspiring entertainment for the lookers-on, with the feeling at such +times that he, too, was an amused spectator. This was, of course, +their public attitude. In private there was sentiment, and they +talked about the tyranny of society, or delivered themselves of +ideas suggested by works of fiction which everybody simply HAD to +read. + +For a week Mrs. Innes looked on, apparently indifferent, rather +apparently not observing; and an Assistant Secretary in the Home +Department began to fancy that his patience in teaching the three +dachshund puppies tricks was really appreciated. He was an on- +coming Assistant Secretary, with other conspicuous parts, and +hitherto his time had been too valuable to spend upon ladies' +dachshunds. Mrs. Innes had selected him well. There came an +evening when, at a dance at the Lieutenant-Governor's, Mrs. Innes +was so absorbed in what the Assistant Secretary was saying to her, +as she passed on his arm, that she did not see Captain Drake in the +corridor at all, although he had carefully broken an engagement to +walk with Kitty Vesey that very afternoon, as the beginning of +gradual and painless reform in her direction. His unrewarded virtue +rose up and surprised him with the distinctness of its resentment; +and while his expression was successfully amused, his shoulders and +the back of his neck, as well as the hand on his moustache, spoke of +discipline which promised to be efficient. Reflection assured him +that discipline was after all deserved, and a quarter of an hour +later found him wagging his tail, so to speak, over Mrs. Innes's +programme in a corner pleasantly isolated. The other chair was +occupied by the Assistant Secretary. Captain Drake represented an +interruption, and was obliged to take a step towards the nearest +lamp to read the card. Three dances were rather ostentatiously +left, and Drake initialled them all. He brought back the card with +a bow, which spoke of dignity under bitter usage, together with the +inflexible intention of courteous self-control, and turned away. + +'Oh, if you please, Captain Drake--let me see what you've done. All +those? But--' + +'Isn't it after eleven, Mrs. Innes?' asked the Assistant Secretary, +with a timid smile. He was enjoying himself, but he had a respect +for vested interests, and those of Captain Drake were so well known +that he felt a little like a buccaneer. + +'Dear me, so it is!' Mrs. Innes glanced at one of her bracelets. +'Then, Captain Drake, I'm sorry'--she carefully crossed out the +three 'V.D.'s'--'I promised all the dances I had left after ten to +Mr. Holmcroft. Most of the others I gave away at the gymkhana-- +really. Why weren't you there? That Persian tutor again! I'm +afraid you are working too hard. And what did the Rani do, Mr. +Holmcroft? It's like the Arabian Nights, only with real jewels--' + +'Oh, I say, Holmcroft, this is too much luck, you know. Regular +sweepstakes, by Jove!' And Captain Drake lingered on the fringe of +the situation. + +'Perhaps I have been greedy,' said the Assistant Secretary, +deprecatingly. 'I'll--' + +'Not in the very least! That is,' exclaimed Mrs. Violet, pouting, +'if I'M to be considered. We'll sit out all but the waltzes, and +you shall tell me official secrets about the Rani. She put us up +once, she's a delicious old thing. Gave us string beds to sleep on +and gold plate to eat from, and swore about every other word. She +had been investing in Government paper, and it had dropped three +points. "Just my damn luck!" she said. Wasn't it exquisite? +Captain Drake--' + +'Mrs. Innes--' + +'I don't want to be rude, but you're a dreadful embarrassment. Mr. +Holmcroft won't tell you official secrets!' + +'If she would only behave!' thought Madeline, looking on, 'I would +tell her--indeed I would--at once.' + +Colonel Innes detached himself from a group of men in mess dress as +she appeared with the Worsleys, and let himself drift with the tide +that brought them always together. + +'You are looking tired--ill,' she said, seriously, as they sought +the unconfessed solace of each other's eyes. 'Last night it was the +Commander-in-Chief's, and the night before the dance at Peliti's. +And again tonight. And you are not like those of us who can rest +next morning--you have always your heavy office work!' She spoke +with indignant, tender reproach, and he gave himself up to hearing +it. 'You will have to take leave and go away,' she insisted, +foolishly. + +'Leave! Good heavens, no! I wish all our fellows were as fit as I +am. And--' + +'Yes?' she said. + +'Don't pity me, dear friend. I don't think it's good for me. The +world really uses me very well.' + +'Then it's all right, I suppose,' Madeline said, with sudden +depression. + +'Of course it is. You are dining with us on the eighth?' + +'I'm afraid not, I'm engaged.' + +'Engaged again? Don't you WANT to break bread in my house, Miss +Anderson?' She was silent, and he insisted, 'Tell me,' he said. + +She gave him instead a kind, mysterious smile. + +'I will explain to you what I feel about that some day,' she said; +'some day soon. I can't accept Mrs. Innes's invitation for the +eighth, but--Brookes and I are going to take tea with the fakir's +monkeys on the top of Jakko tomorrow afternoon.' + +'Anybody else, or only Brookes?' + +'Only Brookes.' And she thought she had abandoned coquetry! + +'Then may I come?' + +'Indeed you may.' + +'I really don't know,' reflected Madeline, as she caught another +glimpse of Mrs. Innes vigorously dancing the reel opposite little +Lord Billy in his Highland uniform, with her hands on her flowered- +satin hips, 'that I am behaving very well myself.' + + + +Chapter 3.VIII. + +Horace Innes looked round his wife's drawing-room as if he were +making an inventory of it, carefully giving each article its value, +which happened, however, to have nothing to do with rupees. +Madeline Anderson had been saying something the day before about the +intimacy and accuracy with which people's walls expressed them, and +though the commonplace was not new to him, this was the first time +it had ever led him to scan his wife's. What he saw may be +imagined, but his only distinct reflection was that he had no idea +that she had been photographed so variously or had so many friends +who wore resplendent Staff uniforms. The relation of cheapness in +porcelain ornaments to the lady's individuality was beyond him, and +he could not analyze his feelings of sitting in the midst of her +poverty of spirit. Indeed, thinking of his ordinary +unsusceptibility to such things, he told himself sharply that he was +adding an affectation of discomfort to the others that he had to +bear; and that if Madeline had not given him the idea it would never +have entered his mind. The less, he mused, that one had to do with +finicking feelings in this world the better. They were well enough +for people who were tolerably conditioned in essentials--he +preferred this vagueness, even with himself, in connection with his +marriage--otherwise they added pricks. Besides he had that other +matter to think of. + +He thought of the other matter with such obvious irritation that the +butler coming in to say that the 'English water' was finished, and +how many dozen should he order, put a chair in its place instead, +closed the door softly again, and went away. It was not good for +the dignity of butlers to ask questions of any sort with a look of +that kind under the eyebrows of the sahib. The matter was not +serious, Colonel Innes told himself, but he would prefer by +comparison to deal with matters that were serious. He knew Simla +well enough to attach no overwhelming importance to things said +about women at the Club, where the broadest charity prevailed +underneath, and the idle comment of the moment had an intrinsic +value as a distraction rather than a reflective one as a criticism. +This consideration, however, was more philosophical in connection +with other men's wives. He found very little in it to palliate what +he had overheard, submerged in the 'Times of India', that afternoon. +And to put an edge on it, the thing had been said by one of his own +juniors. Luckily the boy had left the room without discovering who +was behind the 'Times of India'. Innes felt that he should be +grateful for having been spared the exigency of defending his wife +against a flippant word to which she had very probably laid herself +open. He was very angry, and it is perhaps not surprising that he +did not pause to consider how far his anger was due to the +humiliating necessity of speaking to her about it. She was coming +at last though; she was in the hall. He would get it over quickly. + +'Goodbye!' said Mrs. Innes at the door. 'No, I can't possibly let +you come in to tea. I don't know how you have the conscience after +drinking three cups at Mrs. Mickie's, where I had no business to +take you! Tomorrow? Oh, all right if you want to VERY badly. But +I won't promise you strawberries--they're nearly all gone.' + +There was the sound of a departing pony's trot, and Mrs. Innes came +into the drawing-room. + +'Good heavens, Horace! what are you sitting there for like a--like a +ghost? Why didn't you make a noise or something, and why aren't you +at office? I can't tell you how you startled me.' + +'It is early,' Colonel Innes said. 'We are neither of us in the +house, as a rule, at this hour.' + +'Coincidence!' Violet turned a cool, searching glance on her +husband, and held herself ready. 'I came home early because I want +to alter the lace on my yellow bodice for tonight. It's too +disgusting as it is. But I was rather glad to get away from Mrs. +Mickie's lot. So rowdy!' + +'And I came because I had a special reason for wanting to speak to +you.' + +Mrs. Violet's lips parted, and her breath, in spite of herself, came +a little faster. + +'As we are dining out tonight, I thought that if I didn't catch you +now I might not have another opportunity--till tomorrow morning.' + +'And it's always a pity to spoil one's breakfast. I can tell from +your manner, mon ami, it's something disagreeable. What have I been +and gone and done?' + +She was dancing, poor thing, in her little vulgar way, on hot iron. +But her eyes kept their inconsistent coolness. + +'I heard something today which you are not in the way of hearing. +You have--probably--no conception that it could be said.' + +'Then she has been telling other people. ABSOLUTELY the worst thing +she could do!' Mrs. Innes exclaimed privately, sitting unmoved, her +face a little too expectant. + +'You won't be prepared for it--you may be shocked and hurt by it. +Indeed, I think there is no need to repeat it to you. But I must +put you on your guard. Men are coarser, you know, than women; they +are apt to put their own interpretation--' + +'What is it?' + +There was a physical gasp, a sharpness in her voice that brought +Innes's eyes from the floor to her face. + +'I am sorry,' he said, 'but--don't overestimate it, don't let it +worry you. It was simply a very impertinent--a very disagreeable +reference to you and Mr. Holmcroft, I think, in connection with the +Dovedell's picnic. It was a particularly silly thing as well, and I +am sure no one would attach any importance to it, but it was said +openly at the Club, and--' + +'Who said it?' Mrs. Innes demanded. + +A flood of colour rushed over her face. Horace marked that she +blushed. + +'I don't know whether I ought to tell you, Violet. It certainly was +not meant for your ears.' + +'If I'm not to know who said it, I don't see why I should pay any +attention to it. Mere idle rumour--' + +Innes bit his lip. + +'Captain Gordon said it,' he replied. + +'Bobby Gordon! DO tell me what he said! I'm dying to know. Was he +very disagreeable? I DID give his dance away on Thursday night.' + +Innes looked at her with the curious distrust which she often +inspired in him. He had a feeling that he would like to put her out +of the room into a place by herself, and keep her there. + +'I won't repeat what he said.' Colonel Innes took up the 'Saturday +Review'. + +'Oh, do, Horace! I particularly want to know.' + +Innes said nothing. + +'Horace! Was it--was it anything about Mr. Holmcroft being my +Secretariat baa-lamb?' + +'If you adorn your guess with a little profanity,' said Innes, +acidly, 'you won't be far wrong.' + +Mrs. Violet burst into a peal of laughter. + +'Why, you old goose!' she articulated, behind her handkerchief; 'he +said that to ME.' + +Innes laid down the 'Saturday Review'. + +'To you!' he repeated; 'Gordon said it to you!' + +'Rather!' Mrs. Violet was still mirthful. 'I'm not sure that he +didn't call poor little Homie something worse than that. It's the +purest jealousy on his part--nothing to make a fuss about.' + +The fourth skin which enables so many of us to be callous to all but +the relative meaning of careless phrases had not been given to +Innes, and her words fell upon his bare sense of propriety. + +'Jealous,' he said, 'of a married woman? I find that difficult to +understand.' + +Violet's face straightened out. + +'Don't be absurd, Horace. These boys are always jealous of somebody +or other--it's the occupation of their lives! I really don't see +how one can prevent it.' + +'It seems to me that a self-respecting woman should see how. Your +point of view in these matters is incomprehensible.' + +'Perhaps,' Violet was driven by righteous anger to say, 'you find +Miss Anderson's easier to understand.' + +Colonel Innes's face took its regimental disciplinary look, and, +though his eyes were aroused, his words were quiet with repression. + +'I see no reason to discuss Miss Anderson with you,' he said. 'She +has nothing to do with what we are talking about.' + +'Oh, don't you, really! Hasn't she, indeed! I take it you are +trying to make me believe that compromising things are said about +Mr. Holmcroft and me at the Club. Well, I advise you to keep your +ears open a little more, and listen to the things said about you and +Madeline Anderson there. But I don't suppose you would be in such a +hurry to repeat them to HER.' + +Innes turned very white, and the rigidity of his face gave place to +heavy dismay. His look was that of a man upon whom misfortune had +fallen out of a clear sky. For an instant he stared at his wife. +When he spoke his voice was altered. + +'For God's sake!' he said, 'let us have done with this pitiful +wrangling. I dare say you can take care of yourself; at all events, +I only meant to warn you. But now you must tell me exactly what you +mean by this that you have said--this--about--' + +'The fat's in the fire,' was Mrs. Innes's reflection. + +'Certainly, I'll tell you--' + +'Don't shout, please!' + +'I mean simply that all Simla is talking about your affair with Miss +Anderson. You may imagine that because you are fifteen years older +than she is things won't be thought of, but they are, and I hear +it's been spoken about at Viceregal Lodge. I KNOW Lady Bloomfield +has noticed it, for she herself mentioned it to me. I told her I +hadn't the slightest objection, and neither have I, but there's an +old proverb about people in glass houses. What are you going to +do?' + +Colonel Innes's expression was certainly alarming, and he had made a +step toward her that had menace in it. + +'I am going out,' he said, and turned and left her to her triumph. + + + +Chapter 3.IX. + +She--Violet--had unspeakably vulgarized it, but it must be true--it +must be, to some extent, true. She may even have lied about it, but +the truth was there, fundamentally, in the mere fact that it had +been suggested to her imagination. Madeline's name, which had come +to be for him an epitome of what was finest and most valuable, most +to be lived for, was dropping from men's lips into a kind of an +abyss of dishonourable suggestion. There was no way out of it or +around it. It was a cloud which encompassed them, suddenly +blackening down. + +There was nothing that he could do--nothing. Except, yes, of +course--that was obvious, as obvious as any other plain duty. +Through his selfishness it had a beginning; in spite of his +selfishness it should have an end. That went without saying. No +more walks or rides. In a conventional way, perhaps--but nothing +deliberate, designed--and never alone together. Gossip about +flippant married women was bad enough, but that it should concern +itself with an unprotected creature like Madeline was monstrous, +incredible. He strode fiercely into the road round Jakko, and no +little harmless snake, if it had crawled across his path, would have +failed to suffer a quick fate under the guidance of his imagination. +But there was nothing for him to kill, and he turned upon himself. + +The sun went down into the Punjab and left great blue-and-purple +hill worlds barring the passage behind him. The deodars sank waist +deep into filmy shadow, and the yellow afterlight lay silently among +the branches. A pink-haunched monkey lopading across the road with +a great show of prudence seemed to have strayed into an unfamiliar +country, and the rustling twigs behind him made an episode of sound. +The road in perpetual curve between its little stone parapet and the +broad flank of the hill rose and fell under the deodars; Innes took +its slopes and its steepnesses with even, unslackened stride, aware +of no difference, aware of little indeed except the physical +necessity of movement, spurred on by a futile instinct that the end +of his walk would be the end of his trouble--his amazing, black, +menacing trouble. A pony's trot behind him struck through the +silence like percussion-caps; all Jakko seemed to echo with it; and +it came nearer--insistent, purposeful--but he was hardly aware of it +until the creature pulled up beside him, and Madeline, slipping +quickly off, said-- + +'I'm coming too.' + +He took off his hat and stared at her. She seemed to represent a +climax. + +'I'm coming too,' she said. 'I'm tired of picking flies off the +Turk, and he's really unbearable about them tonight. Here, syce.' +She threw the reins to the man and turned to Innes with a smile of +relief. 'I would much rather do a walk. Why--you want me to come +too, don't you?' + +His face was all one negative, and under the unexpectedness of it +and the amazement of it her questioning eyes slowly filled with +sudden, uncontrollable tears, so that she had to lower them, and +look steadily at the hoof-marks in the road while she waited for his +answer. + +'You know how I feel about seeing you--how glad I always am,' he +stammered. 'But there are reasons--' + +'Reasons?' she repeated, half audibly. + +'I don't know how to tell you. I will write. But let me put you up +again--' + +'I will not,' Madeline said, with a sob, 'I won't be sent home like +a child. I am going to walk, but--but I can quite well go alone.' +She started forward, and her foot caught in her habit so that she +made an awkward stumble and came down on her knee. In rising she +stumbled again, and his quick arm was necessary. Looking down at +her, he saw that she was crying bitterly. The tension had lasted +long, and the snap had come when she least expected it. + +'Stop,' Innes said, firmly, hardly daring to turn his head and +ascertain the blessed fact that they were still alone. 'Stop +instantly. You shall not go by yourself.' He flicked the dust off +her habit with his pocket-handkerchief. 'Come, please; we will go +on together.' Her distress seemed to make things simple again. It +was as if the cloud that hung over them had melted as she wept, and +lifted, and drifted a little further on. For the moment, naturally, +nothing mattered except that she should be comforted. As she walked +by his side shaken with her effort at self-control, he had to resist +the impulse to touch her. His hand tingled to do its part in +soothing her, his arm ached to protect her, while he vaguely felt an +element of right, of justice, in her tears; they were in a manner +his own. What he did was to turn and ask the syce following if he +had loosened the Turk's saddle-girths. + +'I shall be better--in a moment,' Madeline said, and he answered, +'Of course'; but they walked on and said nothing more until the road +ran out from under the last deodar and round the first bare boulder +that marked the beginning of the Ladies' Mile. It lay rolled out +before them, the Ladies' Mile, sinuous and grey and empty, along the +face of the cliff; they could see from one end of it to the other. +It was the bleak side of Jakko; even tonight there was a fresh +springing coldness in it blowing over from the hidden snows behind +the rims of the nearer hills. Madeline held up her face to it, and +gave herself a moment of its grateful discipline. + +'I have been as foolish as possible,' she said, 'as foolish as +possible. I have distressed you. Well, I couldn't help it--that is +all there is to be said. Now if you will tell me--what is in your +mind--what you spoke of writing--I will mount again and go home. It +doesn't matter--I know you didn't mean to be unkind.' Her lip was +trembling again, and he knew it, and dared not look at it. + +'How can you ask me to tell you--miserable things!' he exclaimed. +'How can I find the words? And I have only just been told--I can +hardly myself conceive it--' + +'I am not a child in her teens that my ears should be guarded from +miserable things. I have come of age, I have entered into my +inheritance of the world's bitterness with the rest. I can listen,' +Madeline said. 'Why not?' + +He looked to her with grave tenderness. 'You think yourself very +old, and very wise about the world,' he said; 'but you are a woman, +and you will be hurt. And when I think that a little ordinary +forethought on my part would have protected you, I feel like the +criminal I am.' + +'Don't make too much of it,' she said, simply. 'I have a +presentiment--' + +'I'll tell you,' Innes said, slowly; 'I won't niggle about it. The +people of this place--idiots!--are unable to believe that a man and +a woman can be to each other what we are.' + +'Yes?' said Madeline. She paused beside the parapet and looked down +at the indistinct little fields below, and the blurred masses of +white wild roses waving midway against the precipice. + +'They can not understand that there can be any higher plane of +intercourse between us than the one they know. They won't see--they +can't see--that the satisfaction we find in being together is of a +different nature.' + +'I see,' said Madeline. She had raised her eyes, and they sought +the solemn lines of the horizon. She looked as if she saw something +infinitely lifted above the pettiness he retailed to her. + +'So they say--good God, why should I tell you what they say!' It +suddenly flashed upon him that the embodiment of it in words would +be at once, from him, sacrilegious and ludicrous. It flashed upon +him that her natural anger would bring him pain, and that if she +laughed--it was so hard to tell when she would laugh--it would be as +if she struck him. He cast about him dumb and helpless while she +kept her invincibly quiet gaze upon the farther hills. She was +thinking that this breath of gossip, now that it had blown, was a +very slight affair compared with Horace Innes's misery--which he did +not seem to understand. Then her soul rose up in her, brushing +everything aside, and forgetting, alas! the vow it had once made to +her. + +'I think I know,' she said. 'They are indeed foolish. They say +that we--love each other. Is not that what they say?' + +He looked in amazement into her tender eyes and caught at the little +mocking smile about her lips. Suddenly the world grew light about +him, the shadows fled away. Somewhere down in the valley, he +remembered afterward, a hill-flute made music. When he spoke it was +almost in a whisper, lest he should disturb some newly perceived +lovely thing that had wings, and might leave him. 'Oh, Madeline,' +he said, 'is it true?' She only smiled on in gladness that took no +heed of any apprehension, any fear or scruple, and he himself +keeping his eyes upon her face, said, 'It is true.' + +So they stood for a little time in silence while she resisted her +great opportunity. She resisted it to the end, and presently +beckoned to the syce, who came up leading the pony. Innes mounted +her mechanically and said, 'Is that all right?' as she put her foot +in the stirrup, without knowing that he had spoken. + +'Goodbye,' she said; 'I am going away--immediately. It will be +better. And listen--I have known this for weeks--and I have gone on +seeing you. And I hope I am not any more wicked than I feel. +Goodbye.' + +'Goodbye,' he said, taking his hand from the pony's neck, and she +rode buoyantly away. He, turning to breast the road again, saw +darkness gathering over the end of it, and drawing nearer. + +At eleven o'clock next morning Brookes rose from her packing to take +a note addressed to her mistress from the hand of a messenger in the +Imperial red and gold. It ran: + +'Dear Miss Anderson--I write to tell you that I have obtained three +weeks' leave, and I am going into the interior to shoot, starting +this afternoon. You spoke yesterday of leaving Simla almost +immediately. I trust you will not do this, as it would be extremely +risky to venture down to the Plains just now. In ten days the rains +will have broken, when it will be safe. Pray wait till then. + +'Yours sincerely, + +'Horace Innes.' + +Involuntarily the letter found its way to Madeline's lips, and +remained there until she saw the maid observing her with +intelligence. + +'Brookes,' she said, 'I am strongly advised not to start until the +rains break. I think, on the whole, that we won't.' + +'Indeed, miss,' returned Brookes, 'Mrs. Sergeant Simmons told me +that it was courting cholera to go--and nothing short of it. I must +say I'm thankful.' + + + +Chapter 3.X. + +A week later Colonel Innes had got his leave, and had left Simla for +the snow-line by what is facetiously known as 'the carriage road to +Tibet.' Madeline had done as she was bidden, and was waiting for the +rains to break. Another day had come without them. To write and +tell Innes, to write to tell Violet, to go away and leave the +situation as she found it; she had lived and moved and slept and +awakened to these alternatives. At the moment she slept. + +It was early, very early in the morning. The hills all about seemed +still unaware of it, standing in the greyness, compact, silent, +immutable, as if they slept with their eyes open. Nothing spoke of +the oncoming sun, nothing was yet surprised. The hill world lifted +itself unconscious in a pale solution of daylight, and only on the +sky-line, very far away, it rippled into a cloud. The flimsy town +clinging steeply roof above roof to the slope, mounting to the +saddle and slipping over on the other side, cut the dawn with +innumerable little lines and angles all in one tone like a pencil +drawing. + +There was no feeling in it, no expression. It had a temporary air +in that light, like trampled snow, and even the big Secretariat +buildings that raised themselves here and there out of the huddling +bazaar looked trivial, childish enterprises in the simple revelation +of the morning. A cold silence was abroad, which a crow now and +then vainly tried to disturb with a note of tentative enterprise, +forced, premature. It announced that the sun would probably rise, +but nothing more. In the little dark shops of the wood-carvers an +occasional indefinite figure moved, groping among last night's +tools, or an old woman in a red sari washed a brass dish over the +shallow open drain that ran past her door. At the tonga terminus, +below the Mall, a couple of coughing syces, muffled in their +blankets, pulled one of these vehicles out of the shed. They pushed +it about sleepily, with clumsy futility; nothing else stirred or +spoke at all in Simla. Nothing disturbed Miss Anderson asleep in +her hotel. + +A brown figure in a loin-cloth, with a burden, appeared where the +road turned down from the Mall, and then another, and several +following. They were coolies, and they carried luggage. + +The first to arrive beside the tonga bent and loosed the trunk he +brought, which slipped from his back to the ground. The syces +looked at him, saying nothing, and he straightened himself against +the wall of the hillside, also in silence. It was too early for +conversation. Thus did all the others. + +When the last portmanteau had been deposited, a khaki-coloured heap +on the shed floor rose up as a broad-shouldered Punjabi driver, and +walked round the luggage, looking at it. + +'And you, owls' brethren,' he said, with sarcasm, addressing the +first coolie, 'you have undertaken to carry these matter fifty-eight +kos to Kalka, have you?' + +'Na,' replied the coolie, stolidly, and spat. + +'How else, then, is it to be taken?' the driver cried, with anger in +his argument. 'Behold the memsahib has ordered but one tonga, and a +fool-thing of an ekka. Here is work for six tongas! What reason is +there in this?' + +The coolie folded his naked arms, and dug in the dust with an +unconcerned toe. + +'I, what can I do?' he said, 'It is the order of the memsahib.' + +Ram Singh grunted and said no more. A rickshaw was coming down from +the Mall, and the memsahib was in it. + +Ten minutes later the ponies stood in their traces under the iron +bar, and the lady sat in the tonga behind Ram Singh. Her runners, +in uniform, waited beside the empty rickshaw with a puzzled look, at +which she laughed, and threw a rupee to the head man. + +The luggage was piled and corded on three ekkas behind, and their +cross-legged drivers, too, were ready. + +'Chellao!' she cried, crisply, and Ram Singh imperturbably lifted +the reins. The little procession clanked and jingled along the +hillside, always tending down, and broke upon the early grey +melancholy with a forced and futile cheerfulness, too early, like +everything else. As it passed the last of Simla's little gardens, +spread like a pocket-handkerchief on the side of the hill, the lady +leaned forward and looked back as if she wished to impress the place +upon her memory. Her expression was that of a person going forth +without demur into the day's hazards, ready to cope with them, yet +there was some regret in the backward look. + +'It's a place,' she said aloud, 'where EVERYBODY has a good time!' + +Then the Amusement Club went out of sight behind a curve; and she +settled herself more comfortably among her cushions, and drew a wrap +round her to meet the chill wind of the valley. It was all behind +her. The lady looked out as the ponies galloped up to the first +changing-place, and, seeing a saddled horse held by a syce, cramped +herself a little into one corner to make room. The seat would just +hold two. + +Ram Singh salaamed, getting down to harness the fresh pair, and a +man put his face in at the side of the tonga and took off his hat. + +'Are you all right?' he said. His smile was as conscious as his +words were casual. + +'Quite right. The ayah was silly about coming--didn't want to leave +her babies or something--so I had to leave her behind. Everything +else is either here or in the ekkas.' + +'The brute! Never mind--they're not much use in a railway journey. +You can pick up another at Bombay. Then I suppose I'd better get +in.' + +'I suppose you better had. Unless you think of walking,' she +laughed, and he took the place beside her. + +Ram Singh again unquestioningly took up the reins. + +'Nobody else going down?' + +'Not another soul. We might just as well have started together.' + +'Oh, well, we couldn't tell. Beastly awkward if there had been +anybody.' + +'Yes,' she said, but thrust up her under lip indifferently. + +Then, with the effect of turning to the business in hand, she bent +her eyes upon him understandingly and smiled in frank reference to +something that had not been mentioned. 'It's goodbye Simla, isn't +it?' she said. He smiled in response and put his hand upon her +firm, round arm, possessively, and they began to talk. + +Ram Singh, all unaware, kept his horses at their steady clanking +downward gallop, and Simla, clinging to the hilltops, was brushed by +the first rays of the sun. + +It came a gloriously clear morning; early riders round Jakko saw the +real India lying beyond the outer ranges, flat and blue and pictured +with forests and rivers like a map. The plains were pretty and +interesting in this aspect, but nobody found them attractive. +Sensitive people liked it better when the heat mist veiled them and +it was possible to look abroad without a sudden painful thought of +contrasting temperatures. We may suppose that the inhabitants of +Paradise sometimes grieve over their luck. Even Madeline Anderson, +whose heart knew no constriction at the remembrance of brother or +husband at some cruel point in the blue expanse, had come to turn +her head more willingly the other way, towards the hills rolling up +to the snows, being a woman who suffered by proxy, and by +observation, and by Rudyard Kipling. + +On this particular morning, however, she had not elected to do +either. She slept late instead, and was glad to sleep. I might as +well say at once that on the night before she had made up her mind, +had brought herself to the point, and had written to Mrs. Innes, at +'Two Gables', all the facts, in so far as she was acquainted with +them, connected with Frederick Prendergast's death. She was very +much ashamed of herself, poor girl; she was aware that, through her +postponement, Horace Innes would now see his problem in all its +bitterness, make his choice with his eyes wide open. If it had only +happened before he knew--anything about her! + +She charged herself with having deliberately waited, and then spent +an exhausting hour trying to believe that she had drifted +unconsciously to the point of their mutual confession. Whatever the +truth was, she did not hesitate to recognize a new voice in her +private counsels from that hour, urging her in one way or another to +bring matters to an end. It was a strong instinct; looking at the +facts, she saw it was the gambler's. When she tried to think of the +ethical considerations involved she saw only the chances. The air +seemed to throb with them all night; she had to count them finally +to get rid of them. + +Brookes was up betimes, however, and sent off the letter. It went +duly, by Surnoo, to Mrs. Innes at 'Two Gables'. Madeline woke at +seven with a start, and asked if it had gone, then slept again +contentedly. So far as she was concerned the thing was finished. +The breakfast gong had sounded, and the English mail had arrived +before she opened her eyes again upon the day's issues; she gave it +her somewhat desultory attention while Brookes did her hair. There +was only one scrap of news. Adele mentioned in a postscript that +poor Mr. Prendergast's money was likely to go to a distant relative, +it having transpired that he died without leaving a will. + +'She is sure, absolutely sure,' Madeline mused, 'to answer my letter +in person. She will be here within an hour. I shall have this to +tell her, too. How pleased she will be! She will come into it all, +I suppose--if she is allowed. Though she won't be allowed, that is +if--' But there speculation began, and Madeline had forbidden +herself speculation, if not once and for all, at least many times +and for fifteen minutes. + +No reasonable purpose would be served by Mrs. Innes's visit, +Madeline reflected, as she sat waiting in the little room opening on +the veranda; but she would come, of course she would come. She +would require the satisfaction of the verbal assurance; she would +hope to extract more details; she would want the objectionable +gratification of talking if over. + +In spite of any assurance, she would believe that Madeline had not +told her before in order to make her miserable a little longer than +she need be; but, after all, her impression about that did not +particularly matter. It couldn't possibly be a pleasant interview, +yet Madeline found herself impatient for it. + +'Surnoo,' she said of her messenger, 'must be idling on his way back +in the bazaar. I must try to remember to fine him two pice. Surnoo +is incorrigible.' + +She forgot, however, to fine Surnoo. The pad of his bare feet +sounded along the veranda almost immediately, and the look in his +Pahari eyes was that of expected reproach, and ability to defend +himself against it. + +He held out two letters at arm's-length, for as he was expected to +bring only one there was a fault in this; and all his domestic +traditions told him that he might be chastened. One was addressed +to Madeline in Mrs. Innes's handwriting; the other, she saw with +astonishment, was her own communication to that lady, her own letter +returned. Surnoo explained volubly all the way along the veranda, +and in the flood of his unknown tongue Madeline caught a sentence or +two. + +'The memsahib was not,' said Surnoo. Clearly he could not deliver a +letter to a memsahib who was not. 'Therefore,' Surnoo continued, 'I +have brought back your honour's letter, and the other I had from the +hand of the memsahib's runner, the runner with one eye, who was on +the road to bring it here. More I do not know, but it appears that +the memsahib has gone to her father and mother in Belaat, being very +sorrowful because the Colonel-sahib has left her to shoot.' + +'The letter will tell me,' said Madeline to herself, fingering it. +'Enough, Surnoo.' + +The man went away, and Madeline closed and locked the door of her +sitting-room. The letter would tell her--what? She glanced about +her with dissatisfaction, and sought the greater privacy of her +bedroom, where also she locked the door and drew the muslin curtain +across the window. She laid the letter on the dressing-table and +kept her eyes upon it while she unfastened, with trembling hands, +the brooch at her neck and the belt at her waist. She did one or +two other meaningless things, as if she wanted to gain time, to +fortify her nerves even against an exhibition before herself. + +Then she sat down with her back towards the light and opened the +letter. It had a pink look and a scented air. Even in her beating +suspense Madeline held it a little farther away from her, as she +unfolded it, and it ran: + +'Dear Miss Anderson--What will you say, I wonder, and what will +Simla say, when you know that Captain Drake and I have determined to +DISREGARD CONVENTIONALITIES, and live henceforward only for one +another! I am all packed up, and long before this meets your eye we +shall have taken the step which society condemns, but which I have a +feeling that you, knowing my storm-tossed history, will be broad- +minded enough to sympathize with, at least to some extent. That is +the reason I am writing to you rather than to any of my own chums, +and also of course to have the satisfaction of telling you that I no +longer care what you do about letting out the secret of my marriage +to Frederick Prendergast. I am now ABOVE AND BEYOND IT. Any way +you look at it, I do not see that I am much to blame. As I never +have been Colonel Innes's wife there can be no harm in leaving him, +though if he had ever been sympathetic, or understood me the LEAST +LITTLE BIT, I might have felt bound to him. But he has never been +able to evoke the finer parts of my nature, and when this is the +case marriage is a mere miserable fleshly failure. You may say, +"Why try it a third time?"--but my union with Val will be different. +I have never been fond of the opposite sex--so far as that goes I +should have made a very good nun--but for a long time Valentine +Drake has been the only man I cared to have come within a mile of +me, and lately we have discovered that we are absolutely necessary +to each other's existence on the higher plane. I don't care much +what Simla thinks, but if you happen to be talking about it to dear +Lady Bloomfield, you might just mention this. Val has eight hundred +a year of his own, so it is perfectly practicable. Of course, he +will send in his papers. WHATEVER HAPPENS, Val and I will never +bind ourselves in any way. We both think it wrong and enslaving. I +have nothing more to add, except that I am depending on you to +explain to Simla that I never was Mrs. Innes. + +'Yours sincerely, + +'Violet Prendergast. + +'P.S.--I have written to Horace, telling him everything about +everything, and sent my letter off to him in the wilds by a runner. +If you see him you might try and smooth him down. I don't want him +coming after Val with a revolver.' + +Madeline read this communication through twice. Then quietly and +deliberately she lay down upon the bed, and drew herself out of the +control of her heart by the hard labour of thought. When she rose, +she had decided that there were only two things for her to do, and +she began at once to do them, continuing her refuge in action. She +threw her little rooms open again, and walked methodically round the +outer one, collecting the odds and ends of Indian fabrics with which +she had garnished it. + +As the maid came in, she looked up from folding them. + +'I have news, Brookes,' she said, 'that necessitates my going home +at once. No, it is not bad news, but--important. I will go now and +see about the tonga. We must start tomorrow morning.' + +Brookes called Surnoo, and the rickshaw came round. + +Madeline looked at her watch. + +'The telegraph office,' she said; 'and as quickly as may be.' + +As the runners panted over the Mall, up and down and on, Madeline +said to herself, 'She shall have her chance. She shall choose.' + +The four reeking Paharis pulled up at the telegraph office, and +Madeline sped up the steps. There was a table, with forms printed +'Indian Telegraphs,' and the usual bottle of thickened ink and pair +of rusty pens. She sat down to her intention as if she dared not +let it cool; she wrote her message swiftly, she had worded it on the +way. + +'To Mrs. Innes, Dak Bungalow, Solon. + +'From M. Anderson, Simla. + +'Frederick Prendergast died on January 7th, at Sing Sing. Your +letter considered confidential if you return. Prendergast left no +will. + +'M. Anderson.' + +'Send this "urgent," Babu,' she said to the clerk, 'and repeat it to +the railway station, Kalka. Shall I fill up another form? No? +Very well.' + +At the door she turned and came back. + +'It is now eleven o'clock,' she said. 'The person I am telegraphing +to is on her way down to get tonight's train at Kalka. I am hoping +to catch her half-way at Solon. Do you think I can?' + +'I think so, madam. Oyess! It is the custom to stop at Solon for +tiffin. The telegram can arrive there. All urgent telegram going +very quick.' + +'And in any case,' said Madeline, 'it can not fail to reach her at +Kalka?' + +'Not possible to fail, madam.' + +'She will have her chance,' she said to herself, on her way to the +post office to order her tonga. And with a little nauseated shudder +at the thought of the letter in her pocket, she added, 'It is +amazing. I should have thought her too good a woman of business!' +After which she concentrated her whole attention upon the +necessities of departure. Her single immediate apprehension was +that Horace Innes might, by some magic of circumstances, be +transported back into Simla before she could get out of it. That +such a contingency was physically impossible made no difference to +her nerves, and to the last Brookes was the hurrying victim of +unnecessary promptings. + +The little rambling hotel of Kalka, where the railway spreads out +over the plains, raises its white-washed shelter under the very +walls of the Himalayas. Madeline, just arrived, lay back in a long +wicker chair on the veranda, and looked up at them as they mounted +green and grey and silent under the beating of the first of the +rains. Everywhere was a luxury of silence, the place was steeped in +it, drowned in it. A feeding cow flicked an automatic tail under a +tree. Near the low mud wall that strolled irresolutely between the +house and the hills leaned a bush with a few single pink roses; +their petals were floating down under the battering drops. A +draggled bee tried to climb to a dry place on a pillar of the +veranda. Above all, the hills, immediate, towering, all grey and +green, solidly ideal, with phantasies of mist. Everything +drippingly soft and silent. Suddenly the venetian blind that hung +before the door of a bedroom farther on swayed out before a hand +variously ringed to emit a lady in a pink lawn dress with apt +embroideries. Madeline's half-closed eyes opened very wide, and for +an instant she and the lady, to whom I must once more refer as Mrs. +Innes, confronted each other. Then Mrs. Innes's countenance +expanded, and she took three or four light steps forward. + +'Oh, you dear thing!' she exclaimed. 'I thought you were in Simla! +Imagine you being here! Do you know you have SAVED me!' + +Madeline regarded her in silence, while a pallor spread over her +face and lips, and her features grew sharp with a presage of pain. + +'Have I?' she stammered. She could not think. + +'Indeed you have. I don't know how to be grateful enough to you. +Your telegram of yesterday reached me at Solon. We had just sat +down to tiffin. Nothing will ever shake my faith in providence +again! My dear, THINK of it--after all I've been through, my +darling Val--and one hundred thousand pounds!' + +'Well?' + +'Well--I stayed behind there last night, and Val came on here and +made the necessary arrangement, and--' + +'Yes?' + +'And we were married this morning. Good heavens! What's the matter +with you! Here--oh, Brookes! Water, salts--anything!' + +Brookes, I know, would think that I should dwell at greater length +upon Miss Anderson's attack of faintness in Kalka, and the various +measures which were resorted to for her succour, but perhaps the +feelings and expedients of any really capable lady's-maid under the +circumstances may be taken for granted. I feel more seriously +called upon to explain that Colonel Horace Innes, shortly after +these last events, took two years' furlough to England, during which +he made a very interesting tour in the United States with the lady +with now bears his name by inalienable right. Captain and Mrs. +Valentine Drake are getting the most that is to be had out of +Frederick Prendergast's fortune with courage in London and the +European capitals, where Mrs. Drake is sometimes mentioned as a lady +with a romantic past. They have not returned to Simla, where the +situation has never been properly understood. People always +supposed that Mrs. Drake ran away that June morning with her present +husband, who must have been tremendously fond of her to have married +her 'after the divorce.' She is also occasionally mentioned in +undertones as 'the first Mrs. Innes.' All of which we know to be +quite erroneous, like most scandal. + +Mrs. Mickie and Mrs. Gammidge, in retirement, are superintending the +education of their children in Bedford, where it is cheap and +practical. They converse when they meet about the iniquitous prices +of dressmakers and the degeneracy of the kind of cook obtainable in +England at eighteen pounds a year. Mrs. Gammidge has grown rather +portly and very ritualistic. They seldom speak of Simla, and when +they do, if too reminiscent a spark appears in Mrs. Mickie's eye, +Mrs. Gammidge changes the subject. Kitty Vesey still fills her +dance cards at Viceregal functions, though people do not quote her +as they used to, and subalterns imagine themselves vastly witty +about her colour, which is unimpaired. People often commend her, +however, for her good nature to debutantes, and it is admitted that +she may still ride with credit in 'affinity stakes'--and +occasionally win them. + + + + +4. The Pool in the Desert. + +I knew Anna Chichele and Judy Harbottle so well, and they figured so +vividly at one time against the rather empty landscape of life in a +frontier station, that my affection for one of them used to seem +little more, or less, than a variant upon my affection for the +other. That recollection, however, bears examination badly; Judy +was much the better sort, and it is Judy's part in it that draws me +into telling the story. Conveying Judy is what I tremble at: her +part was simple. Looking back--and not so very far--her part has +the relief of high comedy with the proximity of tears; but looking +closely, I find that it is mostly Judy, and what she did is entirely +second, in my untarnished picture, to what she was. Still I do not +think I can dissuade myself from putting it down. + +They would, of course, inevitably have found each other sooner or +later, Mrs. Harbottle and Mrs. Chichele, but it was I who actually +introduced them; my palmy veranda in Rawul Pindi; where the teacups +used to assemble, was the scene of it. I presided behind my samovar +over the early formalities that were almost at once to drop from +their friendship, like the sheath of some bursting flower. I +deliberately brought them together, so the birth was not accidental, +and my interest in it quite legitimately maternal. We always had +tea in the veranda in Rawul Pindi, the drawing-room was painted +blue, blue for thirty feet up to the whitewashed cotton ceiling; +nothing of any value in the way of a human relation, I am sure, +could have originated there. The veranda was spacious and open, +their mutual observation had room and freedom; I watched it to and +fro. I had not long to wait for my reward; the beautiful candour I +expected between them was not ten minutes in coming. For the sake +of it I had taken some trouble, but when I perceived it revealing I +went and sat down beside Judy's husband, Robert Harbottle, and +talked about Pharaoh's split hoof. It was only fair; and when next +day I got their impressions of one another, I felt single-minded and +deserving. + +I knew it would be a satisfactory sort of thing to do, but perhaps +it was rather more for Judy's sake than for Anna's that I did it. +Mrs. Harbottle was only twenty-seven then and Robert a major, but he +had brought her to India out of an episode too colour-flushed to +tone with English hedges; their marriage had come, in short, of his +divorce, and as too natural a consequence. In India it is well +known that the eye becomes accustomed to primitive pigments and high +lights; the aesthetic consideration, if nothing else, demanded +Robert's exchange. He was lucky to get a Piffer regiment, and the +Twelfth were lucky to get him; we were all lucky, I thought, to get +Judy. It was an opinion, of course, a good deal challenged, even in +Rawul Pindi, where it was thought, especially in the beginning, that +acquiescence was the most the Harbottles could hope for. That is +not enough in India; cordiality is the common right. I could not +have Judy preserving her atmosphere at our tea-parties and +gymkhanas. Not that there were two minds among us about 'the case'; +it was a preposterous case, sentimentally undignified, from some +points of view deplorable. I chose to reserve my point of view, +from which I saw it, on Judy's behalf, merely quixotic, preferring +on Robert's just to close my eyes. There is no doubt that his first +wife was odious to a degree which it is simply pleasanter not to +recount, but her malignity must almost have amounted to a sense of +humour. Her detestation of her cousin Judy Thynne dated much +further back than Robert's attachment. That began in Paris, where +Judy, a young widow, was developing a real vein at Julian's. I am +entirely convinced that there was nothing, as people say, 'in it,' +Judy had not a thought at that time that was not based on Chinese +white and permeated with good-fellowship; but there was a good deal +of it, and no doubt the turgid imagination of the first Mrs. +Harbottle dealt with it honestly enough. At all events, she saw her +opportunity, and the depths of her indifference to Robert bubbled up +venomously into the suit. That it was undefended was the senseless +mystery; decency ordained that he and Judy should have made a fight, +even in the hope that it would be a losing one. The reason it had +to be a losing one--the reason so immensely criticized--was that the +petitioning lady obstinately refused to bring her action against any +other set of circumstances than those to which, I have no doubt, +Judy contributed every indiscretion. It is hard to imagine Robert +Harbottle refusing her any sort of justification that the law +demands short of beating her, but her malice would accept nothing of +which the account did not go for final settlement to Judy Thynne. +If her husband wanted his liberty, he should have it, she declared, +at that price and no other. Major Harbottle did indeed deeply long +for his liberty, and his interesting friend, Mrs. Thynne, had, one +can only say, the most vivid commiseration for his bondage. +Whatever chance they had of winning, to win would be, for the end +they had at heart, to lose, so they simply abstained, as it were, +from comment upon the detestable procedure which terminated in the +rule absolute. I have often wondered whether the whole business +would not have been more defensible if there had been on Judy's part +any emotional spring for the leap they made. I offer my conviction +that there was none, that she was only extravagantly affected by the +ideals of the Quarter--it is a transporting atmosphere--and held a +view of comradeship which permitted the reversal of the modern +situation filled by a blameless correspondent. Robert, of course, +was tremendously in love with her; but my theory is that she married +him as the logical outcome of her sacrifice and by no means the +smallest part of it. + +It was all quite unimaginable, as so many things are, but the upshot +of it brought Judy to Rawul Pindi, as I have said, where I for one +thought her mistake insignificant compared with her value. It would +have been great, her value, anywhere; in the middle of the Punjab it +was incalculable. To explain why would be to explain British India, +but I hope it will appear; and I am quite willing, remember, to take +the responsibility if it does not. + +Somers Chichele, Anna's son, it is absurd to think, must have been +about fifteen then, reflecting at Winchester with the other 'men' +upon the comparative merits of tinned sardines and jam roll, and +whether a packet of real Egyptians was not worth the sacrifice of +either. His father was colonel of the Twelfth; his mother was still +charming. It was the year before Dick Forsyth came down from the +neighbourhood of Sheikhbudin with a brevet and a good deal of +personal damage. I mention him because he proved Anna's charm in +the only conclusive way before the eyes of us all; and the station, +I remember, was edified to observe that if Mrs. Chichele came out of +the matter 'straight'--one relapses so easily into the simple +definitions of those parts--which she undoubtedly did, she owed it +in no small degree to Judy Harbottle. This one feels to be hardly a +legitimate reference, but it is something tangible to lay hold upon +in trying to describe the web of volitions which began to weave +itself between the two that afternoon on my veranda and which +afterward became so strong a bond. I was delighted with the thing; +its simplicity and sincerity stood out among our conventional little +compromises at friendship like an ideal. She and Judy had the +assurance of one another; they made upon one another the finest and +often the most unconscionable demands. One met them walking at odd +hours in queer places, of which I imagine they were not much aware. +They would turn deliberately off the Maidan and away from the +bandstand to be rid of our irrelevant bows; they did their duty by +the rest of us, but the most egregious among us, the Deputy- +Commissioner for selection, could see that he hardly counted. I +thought I understood, but that may have been my fatuity; certainly +when their husbands inquired what on earth they had been talking of, +it usually transpired that they had found an infinite amount to say +about nothing. It was a little worrying to hear Colonel Chichele +and Major Harbottle describe their wives as 'pals,' but the fact +could not be denied, and after all we were in the Punjab. They were +pals too, but the terms were different. + +People discussed it according to their lights, and girls said in +pretty wonderment that Mrs. Harbottle and Mrs. Chichele were like +men, they never kissed each other. I think Judy prescribed these +conditions. Anna was far more a person who did as the world told +her. But it was a poor negation to describe all that they never +did; there was no common little convention of attachment that did +not seem to be tacitly omitted between them. I hope one did not too +cynically observe that they offered these to their husbands instead; +the redeeming observation was their husbands' complete satisfaction. +This they maintained to the end. In the natural order of things +Robert Harbottle should have paid heavily for interfering as he did +in Paris between a woman and what she was entitled to live for. As +a matter of fact he never paid anything at all; I doubt whether he +ever knew himself a debtor. Judy kept her temperament under like a +current and swam with the tides of the surface, taking refreshing +dips only now and then which one traced in her eyes and her hair +when she and Robert came back from leave. That sort of thing is +lost in the sands of India, but it makes an oasis as it travels, and +it sometimes seemed to me a curious pity that she and Anna should +sit in the shade of it together, while Robert and Peter Chichele, +their titular companions, blundered on in the desert. But after +all, if you are born blind--and the men were both immensely liked, +and the shooting was good. + +Ten years later Somers joined. The Twelfth were at Peshawur. +Robert Harbottle was Lieutenant-Colonel by that time and had the +regiment. Distinction had incrusted, in the Indian way, upon Peter +Chichele, its former colonel; he was General Commanding the District +and K.C.B. So we were all still together in Peshawur. It was great +luck for the Chicheles, Sir Peter's having the district, though his +father's old regiment would have made it pleasant enough for the boy +in any case. He came to us, I mean, of course, to two or three of +us, with the interest that hangs about a victim of circumstances; we +understood that he wasn't a 'born soldier.' Anna had told me on the +contrary that he was a sacrifice to family tradition made inevitable +by the General's unfortunate investments. Bellona's bridegroom was +not a role he fancied, though he would make a kind of compromise as +best man; he would agree, she said, to be a war correspondent and +write picturesque specials for the London halfpenny press. There +was the humour of the poor boy's despair in it, but she conveyed it, +I remember, in exactly the same tone with which she had said to me +years before that he wanted to drive a milk-cart. She carried quite +her half of the family tradition, though she could talk of sacrifice +and make her eyes wistful, contemplating for Somers the limitations +of the drill-book and the camp of exercise, proclaiming and +insisting upon what she would have done if she could only have +chosen for him. Anna Chichele saw things that way. With more than +a passable sense of all that was involved, if she could have made +her son an artist in life or a commander-in-chief, if she could have +given him the seeing eye or Order of the Star of India, she would +not have hesitated for an instant. Judy, with her single mind, +cried out, almost at sight of him, upon them both, I mean both Anna +and Sir Peter. Not that the boy carried his condemnation badly, or +even obviously; I venture that no one noticed it in the mess; but it +was naturally plain to those of us who were under the same. He had +put in his two years with a British regiment at Meerut--they nurse +subalterns that way for the Indian army--and his eyes no longer +played with the tinsel vision of India; they looked instead into the +arid stretch beyond. This preoccupation conveyed to the Surgeon- +Major's wife the suggestion that Mr. Chichele was the victim of a +hopeless attachment. Mrs. Harbottle made no such mistake; she saw +simply, I imagine, the beginnings of her own hunger and thirst in +him, looking back as she told us across a decade of dusty sunsets to +remember them. The decade was there, close to the memory of all of +us; we put, from Judy herself downward, an absurd amount of +confidence in it. + +She looked so well the night she met him. It was English mail day; +she depended a great deal upon her letters, and I suppose somebody +had written her a word that brought her that happy, still excitement +that is the inner mystery of words. He went straight to her with +some speech about his mother having given him leave, and for twenty +minutes she patronized him on a sofa as his mother would not have +dreamed of doing. + +Anna Chichele, from the other side of the room, smiled on the pair. + +'I depend on you and Judy to be good to him while we are away,' she +said. She and Sir Peter were going on leave at the end of the week +to Scotland, as usual, for the shooting. + +Following her glance I felt incapable of the proportion she assigned +me. 'I will see after his socks with pleasure,' I said. 'I think, +don't you, we may leave the rest to Judy?' + +Her eyes remained upon the boy, and I saw the passion rise in them, +at which I turned mine elsewhere. Who can look unperturbed upon +such a privacy of nature as that? + +'Poor old Judy!' she went on. 'She never would be bothered with him +in all his dear hobble-dehoy time; she resented his claims, the +unreasonable creature, used to limit me to three anecdotes a week; +and now she has him on her hands, if you like. See the pretty air +of deference in the way he listens to her! He has nice manners, the +villain, if he is a Chichele!' + +'Oh, you have improved Sir Peter's,' I said kindly. + +'I do hope Judy will think him worth while. I can't quite expect +that he will be up to her, bless him, she is so much cleverer, isn't +she, than any of us? But if she will just be herself with him it +will make such a difference.' + +The other two crossed the room to us at that, and Judy gaily made +Somers over to his mother, trailing off to find Robert in the +billiard-room. + +'Well, what has Mrs. Harbottle been telling you?' Anna asked him. + +The young man's eye followed Judy, his hand went musingly to his +moustache. + +'She was telling me,' he said, 'that people in India were sepulchers +of themselves, but that now and then one came who could roll away +another's stone.' + +'It sounds promising,' said Lady Chichele to me. + +'It sounds cryptic,' I laughed to Somers, but I saw that he had the +key. + +I can not say that I attended diligently to Mr. Chichele's socks, +but the part corresponding was freely assigned me. After his people +went I saw him often. He pretended to find qualities in my tea, +implied that he found them in my talk. As a matter of fact it was +my inquiring attitude that he loved, the knowledge that there was no +detail that he could give me about himself, his impressions and +experiences, that was unlikely to interest me. I would not for the +world imply that he was egotistical or complacent, absolutely the +reverse, but he possessed an articulate soul which found its +happiness in expression, and I liked to listen. I feel that these +are complicated words to explain a very simple relation, and I pause +to wonder what is left to me if I wished to describe his commerce +with Mrs. Harbottle. Luckily there is an alternative; one needn't +do it. I wish I had somewhere on paper Judy's own account of it at +this period, however. It is a thing she would have enjoyed writing +and more enjoyed communicating, at this period. + +There was a grave reticence in his talk about her which amused me in +the beginning. Mrs. Harbottle had been for ten years important +enough to us all, but her serious significance, the light and the +beauty in her, had plainly been reserved for the discovery of this +sensitive and intelligent person not very long from Sandhurst and +exactly twenty-six. I was barely allowed a familiar reference, and +anything approaching a flippancy was met with penetrating silence. +I was almost rebuked for lightly suggesting that she must +occasionally find herself bored in Peshawur. + +'I think not anywhere,' said Mr. Chichele; 'Mrs. Harbottle is one of +the few people who sound the privilege of living.' + +This to me, who had counted Mrs. Harbottle's yawns on so many +occasions! It became presently necessary to be careful, tactful, in +one's implications about Mrs. Harbottle, and to recognize a certain +distinction in the fact that one was the only person with whom Mr. +Chichele discussed her at all. + +The day came when we talked of Robert; it was bound to come in the +progress of any understanding and affectionate colloquy which had +his wife for inspiration. I was familiar, of course, with Somers's +opinion that the Colonel was an awfully good sort; that had been +among the preliminaries and become understood as the base of all +references. And I liked Robert Harbottle very well myself. When +his adjutant called him a born leader of men, however, I felt +compelled to look at the statement consideringly. + +'In a tight place,' I said--dear me, what expressions had the +freedom of our little frontier drawing-rooms!--'I would as soon +depend on him as on anybody. But as for leadership--' + +'He is such a good fellow that nobody here does justice to his +soldierly qualities,' said Mr. Chichele, 'except Mrs. Harbottle.' + +'Has she been telling you about them?' I inquired. + +'Well,' he hesitated, 'she told me about the Mulla Nulla affair. +She is rather proud of that. Any woman would be.' + +'Poor dear Judy!' I mused. + +Somers said nothing, but looked at me, removing his cigarette, as if +my words would be the better of explanation. + +'She has taken refuge in them--in Bob Harbottle's soldierly +qualities--ever since she married him,' I continued. + +'Taken refuge,' he repeated, coldly, but at my uncompromising glance +his eyes fell. + +'Well?' I said. + +'You mean--' + +'Oh, I mean what I say,' I laughed. 'Your cigarette has gone out-- +have another.' + +'I think her devotion to him splendid.' + +'Quite splendid. Have you seen the things he brought her from the +Simla Art Exhibition? He said they were nice bits of colour, and +she has hung them in the drawing-room, where she will have to look +at them every day. Let us admire her--dear Judy.' + +'Oh,' he said, with a fine air of detachment, 'do you think they are +so necessary, those agreements?' + +'Well,' I replied, 'we see that they are not indispensable. More +sugar? I have only given you one lump. And we know, at all +events,' I added, unguardedly, 'that she could never have had an +illusion about him.' + +The young man looked up quickly. 'Is that story true?' he asked. + +'There was a story, but most of us have forgotten it. Who told +you?' + +'The doctor.' + +'The Surgeon-Major,' I said, 'has an accurate memory and a sense of +proportion. As I suppose you were bound to get it from somebody, I +am glad you got it from him.' + +I was not prepared to go on, and saw with some relief that Somers +was not either. His silence, as he smoked, seemed to me deliberate; +and I had oddly enough at this moment for the first time the +impression that he was a man and not a boy. Then the Harbottles +themselves joined us, very cheery after a gallop from the Wazir- +Bagh. We talked of old times, old friendships, good swords that +were broken, names that had carried far, and Somers effaced himself +in the perfect manner of the British subaltern. It was a long, +pleasant gossip, and I thought Judy seemed rather glad to let her +husband dictate its level, which, of course, he did. I noticed when +the three rode away together that the Colonel was beginning to sit +down rather solidly on his big New Zealander; and I watched the dusk +come over from the foothills for a long time thinking more kindly +than I had spoken of Robert Harbottle. + +I have often wondered how far happiness is contributed to a +temperament like Judy Harbottle's, and how far it creates its own; +but I doubt whether, on either count, she found as much in any other +winter of her life except perhaps the remote ones by the Seine. +Those ardent hours of hers, when everything she said was touched +with the flame of her individuality, came oftener; she suddenly +cleaned up her palate and began to translate in one study after +another the language of the frontier country, that spoke only in +stones and in shadows under the stones and in sunlight over them. +There is nothing in the Academy of this year, at all events, that I +would exchange for the one she gave me. She lived her physical life +at a pace which carried us all along with her; she hunted and drove +and danced and dined with such sincere intention as convinced us all +that in hunting and driving and dancing and dining there were +satisfactions that had been somehow overlooked. The Surgeon-Major's +wife said it was delightful to meet Mrs. Harbottle, she seemed to +enjoy everything so thoroughly; the Surgeon-Major looked at her +critically and asked her if she were quite sure she hadn't a night +temperature. He was a Scotchman. One night Colonel Harbottle, +hearing her give away the last extra, charged her with renewing her +youth. + +'No, Bob,' she said, 'only imitating it.' + +Ah, that question of her youth. It was so near her--still, she told +me once, she heard the beat of its flying, and the pulse in her +veins answered the false signal. That was afterward, when she told +the truth. She was not so happy when she indulged herself +otherwise. As when she asked one to remember that she was a middle- +aged woman, with middle-aged thoughts and satisfactions. + +'I am now really happiest,' she declared, 'when the Commissioner +takes me in to dinner, when the General Commanding leads me to the +dance.' + +She did her best to make it an honest conviction. I offered her a +recent success not crowned by the Academy, and she put it down on +the table. 'By and by,' she said. 'At present I am reading Pascal +and Bossuet.' Well, she was reading Pascal and Bossuet. She +grieved aloud that most of our activities in India were so +indomitably youthful, owing to the accident that most of us were +always so young. 'There is no dignified distraction in this +country,' she complained, 'for respectable ladies nearing forty.' +She seemed to like to make these declarations in the presence of +Somers Chichele, who would look at her with a little queer smile--a +bad translation, I imagine, of what he felt. + +She gave herself so generously to her seniors that somebody said +Mrs. Harbottle's girdle was hung with brass hats. It seems flippant +to add that her complexion was as honest as the day, but the fact is +that the year before Judy had felt compelled, like the rest of us, +to repair just a little the ravages of the climate. If she had +never done it one would not have looked twice at the absurdity when +she said of the powder-puff in the dressing-room, 'I have raised +that thing to the level of an immorality,' and sailed in to dance +with an uncompromising expression and a face uncompromised. I have +not spoken of her beauty; for one thing it was not always there, and +there were people who would deny it altogether, or whose considered +comment was, 'I wouldn't call her plain.' They, of course, were +people in whom she declined to be interested, but even for those of +us who could evoke some demonstration of her vivid self her face +would not always light in correspondence. When it did there was +none that I liked better to look at; and I envied Somers Chichele +his way to make it the pale, shining thing that would hold him +lifted, in return, for hours together, with I know not what mystic +power of a moon upon the tide. And he? Oh, he was dark and +delicate, by nature simple, sincere, delightfully intelligent. His +common title to charm was the rather sweet seriousness that rested +on his upper lip, and a certain winning gratification in his +attention; but he had a subtler one in his eyes, which must be +always seeking and smiling over what they found; those eyes of +perpetual inquiry for the exquisite which ask so little help to +create it. A personality to button up in a uniform, good heavens! + +As I begin to think of them together I remember how the maternal +note appeared in her talk about him. + +'His youth is pathetic,' she told me, 'but there is nothing that he +does not understand.' + +'Don't apologize, Judy,' I said. We were so brusque on the +frontier. Besides, the matter still suffered a jocular presentment. +Mrs. Harbottle and Mr. Chichele were still 'great friends'; we could +still put them next each other at our dinner-parties without the +feeling that it would be 'marked.' There was still nothing unusual +in the fact that when Mrs. Harbottle was there Mr. Chichele might be +taken for granted. We were so broad-minded also, on the frontier. + +It grew more obvious, the maternal note. I began positively to +dread it, almost as much, I imagine, as Somers did. She took her +privileges all in Anna's name, she exercised her authority quite as +Lady Chichele's proxy. She went to the very limit. 'Anna +Chichele,' she said actually in his presence, 'is a fortunate woman. +She has all kinds of cleverness, and she has her tall son. I have +only one little talent, and I have no tall son.' Now it was not in +nature that she could have had a son as tall as Somers, nor was that +desire in her eyes. All civilization implies a good deal of farce, +but this was a poor refuge, a cheap device; I was glad when it fell +away from her sincerity, when the day came on which she looked into +my fire and said simply, 'An attachment like ours has no terms.' + +'I wonder,' I said. + +'For what comes and goes,' she went on dreamily, 'how could there be +a formula?' + +'Look here, Judy,' I said, 'you know me very well. What if the +flesh leaps with the spirit?' + +She looked at me, very white. 'Oh no,' she said, 'no.' + +I waited, but there seemed nothing more that she could say; and in +the silence the futile negative seemed to wander round the room +repeating itself like an echo, 'Oh no, no.' I poked the fire +presently to drown the sound of it. Judy sat still, with her feet +crossed and her hands thrust into the pockets of her coat, staring +into the coals. + +'Can you live independently, satisfied with your interests and +occupations?' she demanded at last. 'Yes, I know you can. I can't. +I must exist more than half in other people. It is what they think +and feel that matters to me, just as much as what I think and feel. +The best of life is in that communication.' + +'It has always been a passion with you, Judy,' I replied. 'I can +imagine how much you must miss--' + +'Whom?' + +'Anna Chichele,' I said softly. + +She got up and walked about the room, fixing here and there an +intent regard upon things which she did not see. 'Oh, I do,' she +said at one point, with the effect of pulling herself together. She +took another turn or two, and then finding herself near the door she +went out. I felt as profoundly humiliated for her as if she had +staggered. + +The next night was one of those that stand out so vividly, for no +reason that one can identify, in one's memory. We were dining with +the Harbottles, a small party, for a tourist they had with them. +Judy and I and Somers and the traveller had drifted out into the +veranda, where the scent of Japanese lilies came and went on the +spring wind to trouble the souls of any taken unawares. There was a +brightness beyond the foothills where the moon was coming, and I +remember how one tall clump swayed out against it, and seemed in +passionate perfume to lay a burden on the breast. Judy moved away +from it and sat clasping her knees on the edge of the veranda. +Somers, when his eyes were not upon her, looked always at the lily. + +Even the spirit of the globe-trotter was stirred, and he said, 'I +think you Anglo-Indians live in a kind of little paradise.' + +There was an instant's silence, and then Judy turned her face into +the lamplight from the drawing-room. 'With everything but the +essentials,' she said. + +We stayed late; Mr. Chichele and ourselves were the last to go. +Judy walked with us along the moonlit drive to the gate, which is so +unnecessary a luxury in India that the servants always leave it +open. She swung the stiff halves together. + +'Now,' she said, 'it is shut.' + +'And I,' said Somers Chichele, softly and quickly, 'am on the other +side.' + +Even over that depth she could flash him a smile. 'It is the +business of my life,' she gave him in return, 'to keep this gate +shut.' I felt as if they had forgotten us. Somers mounted and rode +off without a word. We were walking in a different direction. +Looking back, I saw Judy leaning immovable on the gate, while Somers +turned in his saddle, apparently to repeat the form of lifting his +hat. And all about them stretched the stones of Kabul valley, vague +and formless in the tide of the moonlight. . . + +Next day a note from Mrs. Harbottle informed me that she had gone to +Bombay for a fortnight. In a postscript she wrote, 'I shall wait +for the Chicheles there, and come back with them.' I remember +reflecting that if she could not induce herself to take a passage to +England in the ship that brought them, it seemed the right thing to +do. + +She did come back with them. I met the party at the station. I +knew Somers would meet them, and it seemed to me, so imminent did +disaster loom, that someone else should be there, someone to offer a +covering movement or a flank support wherever it might be most +needed. And among all our smiling faces disaster did come, or the +cold premonition of it. We were all perfect, but Somers's lip +trembled. Deprived for a fortnight he was eager for the draft, and +he was only twenty-six. His lip trembled, and there, under the +flickering station-lamps, suddenly stood that of which there never +could be again any denial, for those of us who saw. + +Did we make, I wonder, even a pretense of disguising the +consternation that sprang up among us, like an armed thing, ready to +kill any further suggestion of the truth? I don't know. Anna +Chichele's unfinished sentence dropped as if someone had given her a +blow upon the mouth. Coolies were piling the luggage into a hired +carriage at the edge of the platform. She walked mechanically after +them, and would have stepped in with it but for the sight of her own +gleaming landau drawn up within a yard or two, and the General +waiting. We all got home somehow, taking it with us, and I gave +Lady Chichele twenty-four hours to come to me with her face all one +question and her heart all one fear. She came in twelve. + +'Have you seen it--long?' Prepared as I was her directness was +demoralizing. + +'It isn't a mortal disease.' + +'Oh, for Heaven's sake--' + +'Well, not with certainty, for more than a month.' + +She made a little spasmodic movement with her hands, then dropped +them pitifully. 'Couldn't you do ANYthing?' + +I looked at her, and she said at once, 'No, of course you couldn't.' + +For a moment or two I took my share of the heavy sense of it, my +trivial share, which yet was an experience sufficiently exciting. +'I am afraid it will have to be faced,' I said. + +'What will happen?' Anna cried. 'Oh, what will happen?' + +'Why not the usual thing?' Lady Chichele looked up quickly as if at +a reminder. 'The ambiguous attachment of the country,' I went on, +limping but courageous, 'half declared, half admitted, that leads +vaguely nowhere, and finally perishes as the man's life enriches +itself--the thing we have seen so often.' + +'Whatever Judy is capable of it won't be the usual thing. You know +that.' + +I had to confess in silence that I did. + +'It flashed at me--the difference in her--in Bombay.' She pressed +her lips together and then went on unsteadily. 'In her eyes, her +voice. She was mannered, extravagant, elaborate. With me! All the +way up I wondered and worried. But I never thought--' She stopped; +her voice simply shook itself into silence. I called a servant. + +'I am going to give you a good stiff peg,' I said. I apologize for +the 'peg,' but not for the whisky and soda. It is a beverage on the +frontier, of which the vulgarity is lost in the value. While it was +coming I tried to talk of other things, but she would only nod +absently in the pauses. + +'Last night we dined with him, it was guest night at the mess, and +she was there. I watched her, and she knew it. I don't know +whether she tried, but anyway, she failed. The covenant between +them was written on her forehead whenever she looked at him, though +that was seldom. She dared not look at him. And the little +conversation that they had--you would have laughed--it was a comedy +of stutters. The facile Mrs. Harbottle!' + +'You do well to be angry, naturally,' I said; 'but it would be fatal +to let yourself go, Anna.' + +'Angry?' Oh, I am SICK. The misery of it! The terror of it! If +it were anybody but Judy! Can't you imagine the passion of a +temperament like that in a woman who has all these years been +feeding on herself? I tell you she will take him from my very arms. +And he will go--to I dare not imagine what catastrophe! Who can +prevent it? Who can prevent it?' + +'There is you,' I said. + +Lady Chichele laughed hysterically. 'I think you ought to say, +"There are you." I--what can I do? Do you realize that it's JUDY? +My friend--my other self? Do you think we can drag all that out of +it? Do you think a tie like that can be broken by an accident--by a +misfortune? With it all I ADORE Judy Harbottle. I love her, as I +have always loved her, and--it's damnable, but I don't know whether, +whatever happened, I wouldn't go on loving her.' + +'Finish your peg,' I said. She was sobbing. + +'Where I blame myself most,' she went on, 'is for not seeing in him +all that makes him mature to her--that makes her forget the absurd +difference between them, and take him simply and sincerely as I know +she does, as the contemporary of her soul if not of her body. I saw +none of that. Could I, as his mother? Would he show it to me? I +thought him just a charming boy, clever, too, of course, with nice +instincts and well plucked; we were always proud of that, with his +delicate physique. Just a boy! I haven't yet stopped thinking how +different he looks without his curls. And I thought she would be +just kind and gracious and delightful to him because he was my son.' + +'There, of course,' I said, 'is the only chance.' + +'Where--what?' + +'He is your son.' + +'Would you have me appeal to her? Do you know I don't think I +could?' + +'Dear me, no. Your case must present itself. It must spring upon +her and grow before her out of your silence, and if you can manage +it, your confidence. There is a great deal, after all, remember, to +hold her in that. I can't somehow imagine her failing you. +Otherwise--' + +Lady Chichele and I exchanged a glance of candid admission. + +'Otherwise she would be capable of sacrificing everything-- +everything. Of gathering her life into an hour. I know. And do +you know if the thing were less impossible, less grotesque, I should +not be so much afraid? I mean that the ABSOLUTE indefensibility of +it might bring her a recklessness and a momentum which might--' + +'Send her over the verge,' I said. 'Well, go home and ask her to +dinner.' + +There was a good deal more to say, of course, than I have thought +proper to put down here, but before Anna went I saw that she was +keyed up to the heroic part. This was none the less to her credit +because it was the only part, the dictation of a sense of expediency +that despaired while it dictated. The noble thing was her capacity +to take it, and, amid all that warred in her, to carry it out on the +brave high lines of her inspiration. It seemed a literal +inspiration, so perfectly calculated that it was hard not to think +sometimes, when one saw them together, that Anna had been lulled +into a simple resumption of the old relation. Then from the least +thing possible--the lift of an eyelid--it flashed upon one that +between these two every moment was dramatic, and one took up the +word with a curious sense of detachment and futility, but with one's +heart beating like a trip-hammer with the mad excitement of it. The +acute thing was the splendid sincerity of Judy Harbottle's response. +For days she was profoundly on her guard, then suddenly she seemed +to become practically, vividly aware of what I must go on calling +the great chance, and passionately to fling herself upon it. It was +the strangest cooperation without a word or a sign to show it +conscious--a playing together for stakes that could not be admitted, +a thing to hang upon breathless. It was there between them--the +tenable ground of what they were to each other: they occupied it +with almost an equal eye upon the tide that threatened, while I from +my mainland tower also made an anguished calculation of the chances. +I think in spite of the menace, they found real beatitudes; so +keenly did they set about the business that it brought them moments +finer than any they could count in the years that were behind them, +the flat and colourless years that were gone. Once or twice the +wild idea even visited me that it was, after all, the projection of +his mother in Somers that had so seized Judy Harbottle, and that the +original was all that was needed to help the happy process of +detachment. Somers himself at the time was a good deal away on +escort duty: they had a clear field. + +I can not tell exactly when--between Mrs. Harbottle and myself--it +became a matter for reference more or less overt, I mean her defined +problem, the thing that went about between her and the sun. It will +be imagined that it did not come up like the weather; indeed, it was +hardly ever to be envisaged and never to be held; but it was always +there, and out of our joint consciousness it would sometimes leap +and pass, without shape or face. It might slip between two +sentences, or it might remain, a dogging shadow, for an hour. Or a +week would go by while, with a strong hand, she held it out of sight +altogether and talked of Anna--always of Anna. Her eyes shone with +the things she told me then: she seemed to keep herself under the +influence of them as if they had the power of narcotics. At the end +of a time like this she turned to me in the door as she was going +and stood silent, as if she could neither go nor stay. I had been +able to make nothing of her that afternoon: she had seemed +preoccupied with the pattern of the carpet which she traced +continually with her riding crop, and finally I, too, had relapsed. +She sat haggard, with the fight forever in her eyes, and the day +seemed to sombre about her in her corner. When she turned in the +door, I looked up with sudden prescience of a crisis. + +'Don't jump,' she said, 'it was only to tell you that I have +persuaded Robert to apply for furlough. Eighteen months. From the +first of April. Don't touch me.' I suppose I made a movement +towards her. Certainly I wanted to throw my arms about her; with +the instinct, I suppose, to steady her in her great resolution. + +'At the end of that time, as you know, he will be retired. I had +some trouble, he is so keen on the regiment, but I think--I have +succeeded. You might mention it to Anna.' + +'Haven't you?' sprang past my lips. + +'I can't. It would be like taking an oath to tell her, and--I can't +take an oath to go. But I mean to.' + +'There is nothing to be said,' I brought out, feeling indeed that +there was not. 'But I congratulate you, Judy.' + +'No, there is nothing to be said. And you congratulate me, no +doubt!' + +She stood for a moment quivering in the isolation she made for +herself; and I felt a primitive angry revolt against the delicate +trafficking of souls that could end in such ravage and disaster. +The price was too heavy; I would have denuded her, at the moment, of +all that had led her into this, and turned her out a clod with fine +shoulders like fifty other women in Peshawur. Then, perhaps, +because I held myself silent and remote and she had no emotion of +fear from me, she did not immediately go. + +'It will beat itself away, I suppose, like the rest of the +unreasonable pain of the world,' she said at last; and that, of +course, brought me to her side. 'Things will go back to their +proportions. This,' she touched an open rose, 'will claim its +beauty again. And life will become--perhaps--what it was before.' +Still I found nothing to say, I could only put my arm in hers and +walk with her to the edge of the veranda where the syce was holding +her horse. She stroked the animal's neck. 'Everything in me +answered him,' she informed me, with the grave intelligence of a +patient who relates a symptom past. As she took the reins she +turned to me again. 'His spirit came to mine like a homing bird,' +she said, and in her smile even the pale reflection of happiness was +sweet and stirring. It left me hanging in imagination over the +source and the stream, a little blessed in the mere understanding. + +Too much blessed for confidence, or any safe feeling that the source +was bound. Rather I saw it leaping over every obstacle, flashing to +its destiny. As I drove to the Club next day I decided that I would +not tell Anna Chichele of Colonel Harbottle's projected furlough. +If to Judy telling her would be like taking an oath that they would +go, to me it would at least be like assuming sponsorship for their +intention. That would be heavy indeed. From the first of April--we +were then in March. Anna would hear it soon enough from the +General, would see it soon enough, almost, in the 'Gazette', when it +would have passed into irrecoverable fact. So I went by her with +locked lips, kept out of the way of those eyes of the mother that +asked and asked, and would have seen clear to any depth, any hiding- +place of knowledge like that. As I pulled up at the Club I saw +Colonel Harbottle talking concernedly to the wife of our Second-in- +Command, and was reminded that I had not heard for some days how +Major Watkins was going on. So I, too, approached Mrs. Watkins in +her victoria to ask. Robert Harbottle kindly forestalled her reply. +'Hard luck, isn't it? Watkins has been ordered home at once. Just +settled into their new house, too--last of the kit came up from +Calcutta yesterday, didn't it, Mrs. Watkins? But it's sound to go-- +Peshawur is the worst hole in Asia to shake off dysentery in.' + +We agreed upon this and discussed the sale-list of her new furniture +that Mrs. Watkins would have to send round the station, and +considered the chances of a trooper--to the Watkinses with two +children and not a penny but his pay it did make it easier not to +have to go by a liner--and Colonel Harbottle and I were halfway to +the reading-room before the significance of Major Watkins's sick- +leave flashed upon me. + +'But this,' I cried, 'will make a difference to your plans. You +won't--' + +'Be able to ask for that furlough Judy wants. Rather not. I'm +afraid she's disappointed--she was tremendously set on going--but it +doesn't matter tuppence to me.' + +I sought out Mrs. Harbottle, at the end of the room. She looked +radiant; she sat on the edge of the table and swung a light-hearted +heel. She was talking to people who in themselves were a witness to +high spirits, Captain the Hon. Freddy Gisborne, Mrs. Flamboys. + +At sight of me her face clouded, fell suddenly into the old weary +lines. It made me feel somehow a little sick; I went back to my +cart and drove home. + +For more than a week I did not see her except when I met her riding +with Somers Chichele along the peach-bordered road that leads to the +Wazir-Bagh. The trees were all in blossom and made a picture that +might well catch dreaming hearts into a beatitude that would +correspond. The air was full of spring and the scent of violets, +those wonderful Peshawur violets that grow in great clumps, tall and +double. Gracious clouds came and trailed across the frontier +barrier; blue as an idyll it rose about us; the city smiled in her +gardens. + +She had it all in her face, poor Judy, all the spring softness and +more, the morning she came, intensely controlled, to announce her +defeat. I was in the drawing-room doing the flowers; I put them +down to look at her. The wonderful telegram from Simla arrived-- +that was the wonderful part--at the same time; I remembered how the +red, white, and blue turban of the telegraph peon bobbed up behind +her shoulder in the veranda. I signed and laid it on the table; I +suppose it seemed hardly likely that anything could be important +enough to interfere at the moment with my impression of what love, +unbound and victorious, could do with a face I thought I knew. Love +sat there careless of the issue, full of delight. Love proclaimed +that between him and Judith Harbottle it was all over--she had met +him, alas, in too narrow a place--and I marvelled at the paradox +with which he softened every curve and underlined every vivid note +of personality in token that it had just begun. He sat there in +great serenity, and though I knew that somewhere behind lurked a +vanquished woman, I saw her through such a radiance that I could not +be sure of seeing her at all. . . + +She went back to the very first of it; she seemed herself intensely +interested in the facts; and there is no use in pretending that, +while she talked, the moral consideration was at all present with me +either; it wasn't. Her extremity was the thing that absorbed us; +she even, in tender thoughtfulness, diagnosed it from its definite +beautiful beginning. + +'It was there, in my heart, when I woke one morning, exquisite and +strange, the assurance of a gift. How had it come there, while I +slept? I assure you when I closed my eyes it did not exist for me. +. .Yes, of course, I had seen him, but only somewhere at dinner. . +.As the day went on it changed--it turned into a clear pool, into a +flower. And I--think of my not understanding! I was pleased with +it! For a long time, for days, I never dreamed that it could be +anything but a little secret joy. Then, suddenly--oh, I had not +been perceiving enough!--it was in all my veins, a tide, an +efflorescence, a thing of my very life. + +'Then--it was a little late--I understood, and since-- + +'I began by hating it--being furious, furious--and afraid, too. +Sometimes it was like a low cloud, hovering and travelling always +with me, sometimes like a beast of prey that went a little way off +and sat looking at me. . .. + +'I have--done my best. But there is nothing to do, to kill, to +abolish. How can I say, "I will not let you in," when it is already +there? How can I assume indifference when this thing is imposed +upon every moment of my day? And it has grown so sweet--the +longing--that--isn't it strange?--I could more willingly give him up +than the desire of him. That seems as impossible to part with as +life itself.' + +She sat reflective for a moment, and I saw her eyes slowly fill. + +Don't--don't CRY, Judy,' I faltered, wanting to horribly, myself. + +She smiled them dry. + +'Not now. But I am giving myself, I suppose, to many tears.' + +'God help you,' I said. What else was there to say? + +'There is no such person,' she replied, gaily. 'There is only a +blessed devil.' + +'Then you go all the way--to the logical conclusion?' + +She hardly hesitated. 'To the logical conclusion. What poor +words!' + +'May I ask--when?' + +'I should like to tell you that quite definitely, and I think I can. +The English mail leaves tonight.' + +'And you have arranged to take it?' + +'We have arranged nothing. Do you know'--she smiled as if at the +fresh colours of an idyll--'we have not even come to the admission? +There has been between us no word, no vision. Ah, we have gone in +bonds, and dumb! Hours we have had, exquisite hours of the spirit, +but never a moment of the heart, a moment confessed. It was mine to +give--that moment, and he has waited--I know--wondering whether +perhaps it would ever come. And today--we are going for a ride +today, and I do not think we shall come back.' + +'O Judy,' I cried, catching at her sleeve, 'he is only a boy!' + +'There were times when I thought that conclusive. Now the misery of +it has gone to sleep; don't waken it. It pleases me to believe that +the years are a convention. I never had any dignity, you know, and +I seem to have missed the moral deliverance. I only want--oh, you +know what I want. Why don't you open your telegram?' + +I had been folding and fingering the brown envelope as if it had +been a scrap of waste paper. + +'It is probably from Mrs. Watkins about the victoria,' I said, +feeling its profound irrelevance. 'I wired an offer to her in +Bombay. However'--and I read the telegram, the little solving +telegram from Army Headquarters. I turned my back on her to read it +again, and then I replaced it very carefully and put it in my +pocket. It was a moment to take hold of with both hands, crying on +all one's gods for steadiness. + +'How white you look!' said Mrs. Harbottle, with concern. 'Not bad +news?' + +'On the contrary, excellent news. Judy, will you stay to lunch?' + +She looked at me, hesitating. 'Won't it seem rather a compromise on +your part? When you ought to be rousing the city--' + +'I don't intend to rouse the city,' I said. + +'I have given you the chance.' + +'Thank you,' I said, grimly, 'but the only real favour you can do me +is to stay to lunch.' It was then just on one. + +'I'll stay,' she said, 'if you will promise not to make any sort of +effort. I shouldn't mind, but it would distress you.' + +'I promise absolutely,' I said, and ironical joy rose up in me, and +the telegram burned in my pocket. + +She would talk of it, though I found it hard to let her go on, +knowing and knowing and knowing as I did that for that day at least +it could not be. There was very little about herself that she +wanted to tell me; she was there confessed a woman whom joy had +overcome; it was understood that we both accepted that situation. +But in the details which she asked me to take charge of it was plain +that she also kept a watchful eye upon fate--matters of business. + +We were in the drawing-room. The little round clock in its +Armritsar case marked half-past three. Judy put down her coffee cup +and rose to go. As she glanced at the clock the light deepened in +her eyes, and I, with her hand in mine, felt like an agent of the +Destroyer--for it was half-past three--consumed myself with fear +lest the blow had miscarried. Then as we stood, suddenly, the sound +of hoofs at a gallop on the drive, and my husband threw himself off +at the door and tore through the hall to his room; and in the +certainty that overwhelmed me even Judy, for an instant, stood dim +and remote. + +'Major Jim seems to be in a hurry,' said Mrs. Harbottle, lightly. +'I have always liked your husband. I wonder whether he will say +tomorrow that he always liked me.' + +'Dear Judy, I don't think he will be occupied with you tomorrow.' + +'Oh, surely, just a little, if I go tonight.' + +'You won't go tonight.' + +She looked at me helplessly. I felt as if I were insisting upon her +abasement instead of her salvation. 'I wish--' + +'You're not going--you're not! You can't! Look!' + +I pulled it out of my pocket and thrust it at her--the telegram. It +came, against every regulation, from my good friend the Deputy +Adjutant-General, in Simla, and it read, 'Row Khurram 12th probably +ordered front three hours' time.' + +Her face changed--how my heart leaped to see it change!--and that +took command there which will command trampling, even in the women +of the camp, at news like this. + +'What luck that Bob couldn't take his furlough!' she exclaimed, +single-thoughted. 'But you have known this for hours'--there was +even something of the Colonel's wife, authority, incisiveness. 'Why +didn't you tell me? Ah--I see.' + +I stood before her abashed, and that was ridiculous, while she +measured me as if I presented in myself the woman I took her to be. +'It wasn't like that,' she said. I had to defend myself. 'Judy,' I +said, 'if you weren't in honour bound to Anna, how could I know that +you would be in honour bound to the regiment? There was a train at +three.' + +'I beg to assure you that you have overcalculated,' said Mrs. +Harbottle. Her eyes were hard and proud. 'And I am not sure'--a +deep red swept over her face, a man's blush--'in the light of this I +am not sure that I am not in honour bound to Anna.' + +We had reached the veranda, and at her signal her coachman drove +quickly up. 'You have kept me here three hours when there was the +whole of Bob's kit to see to,' she said, as she flung herself in; +'you might have thought of that.' + +It was a more than usually tedious campaign, and Colonel Robert +Harbottle was ambushed and shot in a place where one must believe +pure boredom induced him to take his men. The incident was +relieved, the newspapers said--and they are seldom so clever in +finding relief for such incidents--by the dash and courage shown by +Lieutenant Chichele, who, in one of those feats which it has lately +been the fashion to criticize, carried the mortally wounded body of +his Colonel out of range at conspicuous risk of depriving the Queen +of another officer. I helped Judy with her silent packing; she had +forgiven me long before that; and she settled almost at once into +the flat in Chelsea which has since been credited with so delightful +an atmosphere, went back straight into her own world. I have always +kept her first letters about it, always shall. For months after, +while the expedition still raged after snipers and rifle-thieves, I +discussed with Lady Chichele the probable outcome of it all. I have +sometimes felt ashamed of leaping as straight as I did with Anna to +what we thought the inevitable. I based no calculation on all Mrs. +Harbottle had gone back to, just as I had based no calculation on +her ten years' companionship in arms when I kept her from the three +o'clock train. This last was a retrospection in which Anna +naturally could not join me; she never knew, poor dear, how +fortunate as to its moment was the campaign she deplored, and +nothing to this day can have disturbed her conviction that the bond +she was at such magnificent pains to strengthen, held against the +strain, as long, happily, as the supreme need existed. 'How right +you were!' she often said. 'She did, after all, love me best, dear, +wonderful Judy!' Her distress about poor Robert Harbottle was +genuine enough, but one could not be surprised at a certain +ambiguity; one tear for Robert, so to speak, and two for her boy. +It could hardly be, for him, a marriage after his mother's heart. +And she laid down with some emphasis that Somers was brilliantly +entitled to all he was likely to get--which was natural, too. . . + +I had been from the beginning so much 'in it' that Anna showed me, a +year later, though I don't believe she liked doing it, the letter in +part of which Mrs. Harbottle shall finally excuse herself. + +'Somers will give you this,' I read, 'and with it take back your +son. You will not find, I know, anything grotesque in the charming +enthusiasm with which he has offered his life to me; you understand +too well, you are too kind. And if you wonder that I can so render +up a dear thing which I might keep and would once have taken, think +how sweet in the desert is the pool, and how barren was the prospect +from Balclutha.' + +It was like her to abandon in pride a happiness that asked so much +less humiliation; I don't know why, but it was like her. And of +course, when one thought of it, she had consulted all sorts of high +expediencies. But I sat silent with remembrance, quieting a pang in +my heart, trying not to calculate how much it had cost Judy +Harbottle to take her second chance. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg Etext of The Pool in the Desert +by Sara Jeanette Duncan + diff --git a/old/old/pldst10.zip b/old/old/pldst10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e6e239a --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/pldst10.zip |