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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/16651-8.txt b/16651-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4813775 --- /dev/null +++ b/16651-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11535 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Safety Curtain, and Other Stories, by Ethel M. Dell + +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 Safety Curtain, and Other Stories + +Author: Ethel M. Dell + +Release Date: September 4, 2005 [EBook #16651] +[Last updated: August 10, 2013] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SAFETY CURTAIN *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Paul Ereaut and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +THE +SAFETY CURTAIN +AND OTHER STORIES + +by + +ETHEL M. DELL + + +AUTHOR OF:- + +The Hundreth Chance +Greatheart +The Lamp in the Desert +The Tidal Wave +The Top of the World +The Obstacle Race +The Way of an Eagle +The Knave of Diamonds +The Rocks of Valpré +The Swindler +The Keeper of the Door +Bars of Iron +Rosa Mundi +Etc. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP +PUBLISHERS NEW YORK + +Made in the United States of America + +This edition is issued under arrangement with the publishers + +G.P. Putnam's Sons, New York and London + +Made in the United States of America + +The Knickerbocker Press, New York + + + + +CONTENTS + + +The Safety Curtain + +The Experiment + +Those Who Wait + +The Eleventh Hour + +The Place of Honour + + + + + + +The Safety Curtain + +CHAPTER I + +THE ESCAPE + + +A great shout of applause went through the crowded hall as the +Dragon-Fly Dance came to an end, and the Dragon-Fly, with quivering, +iridescent wings, flashed away. + +It was the third encore. The dance was a marvellous one, a piece of +dazzling intricacy, of swift and unexpected subtleties, of almost +superhuman grace. It must have proved utterly exhausting to any ordinary +being; but to that creature of fire and magic it was no more than a +glittering fantasy, a whirl too swift for the eye to follow or the brain +to grasp. + +"Is it a boy or a girl?" asked a man in the front row. + +"It's a boy, of course," said his neighbour, shortly. + +He was the only member of the audience who did not take part in that +third encore. He sat squarely in his seat throughout the uproar, +watching the stage with piercing grey eyes that never varied in their +stern directness. His brows were drawn above them--thick, straight brows +that bespoke a formidable strength of purpose. He was plainly a man who +was accustomed to hew his own way through life, despising the trodden +paths, overcoming all obstacles by grim persistence. + +Louder and louder swelled the tumult. It was evident that nothing but a +repetition of the wonder-dance would content the audience. They yelled +themselves hoarse for it; and when, light as air, incredibly swift, the +green Dragon-Fly darted back, they outdid themselves in the madness of +their welcome. The noise seemed to shake the building. + +Only the man in the front row with the iron-grey eyes and iron-hard +mouth made no movement or sound of any sort. He merely watched with +unchanging intentness the face that gleamed, ashen-white, above the +shimmering metallic green tights that clothed the dancer's slim body. + +The noise ceased as the wild tarantella proceeded. There fell a deep +hush, broken only by the silver notes of a flute played somewhere behind +the curtain. The dancer's movements were wholly without sound. The +quivering, whirling feet scarcely seemed to touch the floor, it was a +dance of inspiration, possessing a strange and irresistible fascination, +a weird and meteoric rush, that held the onlookers with bated breath. + +It lasted for perhaps two minutes, that intense and trancelike +stillness; then, like, a stone flung into glassy depths, a woman's +scream rudely shattered it, a piercing, terror-stricken scream that +brought the rapt audience back to earth with a shock as the liquid music +of the flute suddenly ceased. + +"Fire!" cried the voice. "Fire! Fire!" + +There was an instant of horrified inaction, and in that instant a tongue +of flame shot like a fiery serpent through the closed curtains behind +the dancer. In a moment the cry was caught up and repeated in a dozen +directions, and even as it went from mouth to mouth the safety-curtain +began to descend. + +The dancer was forgotten, swept as it were from the minds of the +audience as an insect whose life was of no account. From the back of the +stage came a roar like the roar of an open furnace. A great wave of heat +rushed into the hall, and people turned like terrified, stampeding +animals and made for the exits. + +The Dragon-Fly still stood behind the footlights poised as if for +flight, glancing this way and that, shimmering from head to foot in the +awful glare that spread behind the descending curtain. It was evident +that retreat behind the scenes was impossible, and in another moment or +two that falling curtain would cut off the only way left. + +But suddenly, before the dancer's hunted eyes, a man leapt forward. He +held up his arms, making himself heard in clear command above the +dreadful babel behind him. + +"Quick!" he cried. "Jump!" + +The wild eyes flashed down at him, wavered, and were caught in his +compelling gaze. For a single instant--the last--the trembling, +glittering figure seemed to hesitate, then like a streak of lightning +leapt straight over the footlights into the outstretched arms. + +They caught and held with unwavering iron strength. In the midst of a +turmoil indescribable the Dragon-Fly hung quivering on the man's breast, +the gauze wings shattered in that close, sustaining grip. The +safety-curtain came down with a thud, shutting off the horrors behind, +and a loud voice yelled through the building assuring the seething crowd +of safety. + +But panic had set in. The heat was terrific. People fought and struggled +to reach the exits. + +The dancer turned in the man's arms and raised a deathly face, gripping +his shoulders with clinging, convulsive fingers. Two wild dark eyes +looked up to his, desperately afraid, seeking reassurance. + +He answered that look briefly with stern composure. + +"Be still! I shall save you if I can." + +The dancer's heart was beating in mad terror against his own, but at his +words it seemed to grow a little calmer. Quiveringly the white lips +spoke. + +"There is a door--close to the stage--a little door--behind a green +curtain--if we could reach it." + +"Ah!" the man said. + +His eyes went to the stage, from the proximity of which the audience had +fled affrighted. He espied the curtain. + +Only a few people intervened between him and it, and they were +struggling to escape in the opposite direction. + +"Quick!" gasped the dancer. + +He turned, snatched up his great-coat, and wrapped it about the slight, +boyish figure. The great dark eyes that shone out of the small white +face thanked him for the action. The clinging hands slipped from his +shoulders and clasped his arm. Together they faced the fearful heat that +raged behind the safety-curtain. + +They reached the small door, gasping. It was almost hidden by green +drapery. But the dancer was evidently familiar with it. In a moment it +was open. A great burst of smoke met them. The man drew back. But a +quick hand closed upon his, drawing him on. He went blindly, feeling as +if he were stepping into the heart of a furnace, yet strangely +determined to go forward whatever came of it. + +The smoke and the heat were frightful, suffocating in their intensity. +The roar of the unseen flames seemed to fill the world. + +The door swung to behind them. They stood in seething darkness. + +But again the small clinging hand pulled upon the man. + +"Quick!" the dancer cried again. + +Choked and gasping, but resolute still, he followed. They ran through a +passage that must have been on the very edge of the vortex of flame, for +behind them ere they left it a red light glared. + +It showed another door in front of them with which the dancer struggled +a moment, then flung open. They burst through it together, and the cold +night wind met them like an angel of deliverance. + +The man gasped and gasped again, filling his parched lungs with its +healing freshness. His companion uttered a strange, high laugh, and +dragged him forth into the open. + +They emerged into a narrow alley, surrounded by tall houses. The night +was dark and wet. The rain pattered upon them as they staggered out into +a space that seemed deserted. The sudden quiet after the awful turmoil +they had just left was like the silence of death. + +The man stood still and wiped the sweat in a dazed fashion from his +face. The little dancer reeled back against the wall, panting +desperately. + +For a space neither moved. Then, terribly, the silence was rent by a +crash and the roar of flames. An awful redness leapt across the darkness +of the night, revealing each to each. + +The dancer stood up suddenly and made an odd little gesture of +farewell; then, swiftly, to the man's amazement, turned back towards the +door through which they had burst but a few seconds before. + +He stared for a moment--only a moment--not believing he saw aright, then +with a single stride he reached and roughly seized the small, +oddly-draped figure. + +He heard a faint cry, and there ensued a sharp struggle against his +hold; but he pinioned the thin young arms without ceremony, gripping +them fast. In the awful, flickering glare above them his eyes shone +downwards, dominant, relentless. + +"Are you mad?" he said. + +The small dark head was shaken vehemently, with gestures curiously +suggestive of an imprisoned insect. It was as if wild wings fluttered +against captivity. + +And then all in a moment the struggling ceased, and in a low, eager +voice the captive began to plead. + +"Please, please let me go! You don't know--you don't understand. I +came--because--because--you called. But I was wrong--I was wrong to +come. You couldn't keep me--you wouldn't keep me--against my will!" + +"Do you want to die, then?" the man demanded. "Are you tired of life?" + +His eyes still shone piercingly down, but they read but little, for the +dancer's were firmly closed against them, even while the dark cropped +head nodded a strangely vigorous affirmative. + +"Yes, that is it! I am so tired--so tired of life! Don't keep me! Let +me go--while I have the strength!" The little, white, sharp-featured +face, with its tight-shut eyes and childish, quivering mouth, was +painfully pathetic. "Death can't be more dreadful than life," the low +voice urged. "If I don't go back--I shall be so sorry afterwards. Why +should one live--to suffer?" + +It was piteously spoken, so piteously that for a moment the man seemed +moved to compassion. His hold relaxed; but when the little form between +his hands took swift advantage and strained afresh for freedom he +instantly tightened his grip. + +"No, No!" he said, harshly. "There are other things in life. You don't +know what you are doing. You are not responsible." + +The dark eyes opened upon him then--wide, reproachful, mysteriously +far-seeing. "I shall not be responsible--if you make me live," said the +Dragon-Fly, with the air of one risking a final desperate throw. + +It was almost an open challenge, and it was accepted instantly, with +grim decision. "Very well. The responsibility is mine," the man said +briefly. "Come with me!" + +His arm encircled the narrow shoulders. He drew his young companion +unresisting from the spot. They left the glare of the furnace behind +them, and threaded their way through dark and winding alleys back to the +throbbing life of the city thoroughfares, back into the whirl and +stress of that human existence which both had nearly quitted--and one +had strenuously striven to quit--so short a time before. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +NOBODY'S BUSINESS + + +"My name is Merryon," the man said, curtly. "I am a major in the Indian +Army--home on leave. Now tell me about yourself!" + +He delivered the information in the brief, aggressive fashion that +seemed to be characteristic of him, and he looked over the head of his +young visitor as he did so, almost as if he made the statement against +his will. + +The visitor, still clad in his great-coat, crouched like a dog on the +hearthrug before the fire in Merryon's sitting-room, and gazed with +wide, unblinking eyes into the flames. + +After a few moments Merryon's eyes descended to the dark head and +surveyed it critically. The collar of his coat was turned up all round +it. It was glistening with rain-drops and looked like the head of some +small, furry animal. + +As if aware of that straight regard, the dancer presently spoke, without +turning or moving an eyelid. + +"What you are doesn't matter to any one except yourself. And what I am +doesn't matter either. It's just--nobody's business." + +"I see," said Merryon. + +A faint smile crossed his grim, hard-featured face. He sat down in a low +chair near his guest and drew to his side a small table that bore a tray +of refreshments. He poured out a glass of wine and held it towards the +queer, elfin figure crouched upon his hearth. + +The dark eyes suddenly flashed from the fire to his face. "Why do you +offer me--that?" the dancer demanded, in a voice that was curiously +vibrant, as though it strove to conceal some overwhelming emotion. "Why +don't you give me--a man's drink?" + +"Because I think this will suit you better," Merryon said; and he spoke +with a gentleness that was oddly at variance with the frown that drew +his brows. + +The dark eyes stared up at him, scared and defiant, for the passage of +several seconds; then, very suddenly, the tension went out of the white, +pinched face. It screwed up like the face of a hurt child, and all in a +moment the little, huddled figure collapsed on the floor at his feet, +while sobs--a woman's quivering piteous sobs--filled the silence of the +room. + +Merryon's own face was a curious mixture of pity and constraint as he +set down the glass and stooped forward over the shaking, anguished form. + +"Look here, child!" he said, and whatever else was in his voice it +certainly held none of the hardness habitual to it. "You're +upset--unnerved. Don't cry so! Whatever you've been through, it's over. +No one can make you go back. Do you understand? You're free!" + +He laid his hand, with the clumsiness of one little accustomed to +console, upon the bowed black head. + +"Don't!" he said again. "Don't cry so! What the devil does it matter? +You're safe enough with me. I'm not the sort of bounder to give you +away." + +She drew a little nearer to him. "You--you're not a bounder--at all," +she assured him between her sobs. "You're just--a gentleman. That's what +you are!" + +"All right," said Merryon. "Leave off crying!" + +He spoke with the same species of awkward kindliness that characterized +his actions, and there must have been something strangely comforting in +his speech, for the little dancer's tears ceased as abruptly as they had +begun. She dashed a trembling hand across her eyes. + +"Who's crying?" she said. + +He uttered a brief, half-grudging laugh. "That's better. Now drink some +wine! Yes, I insist! You must eat something, too. You look +half-starved." + +She accepted the wine, sitting in an acrobatic attitude on the floor +facing him. She drank it, and an odd sparkle of mischief shot up in her +great eyes. She surveyed him with an impish expression--much as a +grasshopper might survey a toad. + +"Are you married?" she inquired, unexpectedly. + +"No," said Merryon, shortly. "Why?" + +She gave a little laugh that had a catch in it. "I was only thinking +that your wife wouldn't like me much. Women are so suspicious." + +Merryon turned aside, and began to pour out a drink for himself. There +was something strangely elusive about this little creature whom Fortune +had flung to him. He wondered what he should do with her. Was she too +old for a foundling hospital? + +"How old are you?" he asked, abruptly. + +She did not answer. + +He looked at her, frowning. + +"Don't!" she said. "It's ugly. I'm not quite forty. How old are you?" + +"What?" said Merryon. + +"Not--quite--forty," she said again, with extreme distinctness. "I'm +small for my age, I know. But I shall never grow any more now. How old +did you say you were?" + +Merryon's eyes regarded her piercingly. "I should like the truth," he +said, in his short, grim way. + +She made a grimace that turned into an impish smile. "Then you must +stick to the things that matter," she said. "That is--nobody's +business." + +He tried to look severe, but very curiously failed. He picked up a plate +of sandwiches to mask a momentary confusion, and offered it to her. + +Again, with simplicity, she accepted, and there fell a silence between +them while she ate, her eyes again upon the fire. Her face, in repose, +was the saddest thing he had ever seen. More than ever did she make him +think of a child that had been hurt. + +She finished her sandwich and sat for a while lost in thought. Merryon +leaned back in his chair, watching her. The little, pointed features +possessed no beauty, yet they had that which drew the attention +irresistibly. The delicate charm of her dancing was somehow expressed in +every line. There was fire, too,--a strange, bewitching fire,--behind +the thick black lashes. + +Very suddenly that fire was turned upon him again. With a swift, darting +movement she knelt up in front of him, her clasped hands on his knees. + +"Why did you save me just now?" she said. "Why wouldn't you let me die?" + +He looked full at her. She vibrated like a winged creature on the verge +of taking flight. But her eyes--her eyes sought his with a strange +assurance, as though they saw in him a comrade. + +"Why did you make me live when I wanted to die?" she insisted. "Is life +so desirable? Have you found it so?" + +His brows contracted at the last question, even while his mouth curved +cynically. "Some people find it so," he said. + +"But you?" she said, and there was almost accusation in her voice, "Have +the gods been kind to you? Or have they thrown you the dregs--just the +dregs?" + +The passionate note in the words, subdued though it was, was not to be +mistaken. It stirred him oddly, making him see her for the first time as +a woman rather than as the fantastic being, half-elf, half-child, whom +he had wrested from the very jaws of Death against her will. He leaned +slowly forward, marking the deep, deep shadows about her eyes, the vivid +red of her lips. + +"What do you know about the dregs?" he said. + +She beat her hands with a small, fierce movement on his knees, mutely +refusing to answer. + +"Ah, well," he said, "I don't know why I should answer either. But I +will. Yes, I've had dregs--dregs--and nothing but dregs for the last +fifteen years." + +He spoke with a bitterness that he scarcely attempted to restrain, and +the girl at his feet nodded--a wise little feminine nod. + +"I knew you had. It comes harder to a man, doesn't it?" + +"I don't know why it should," said Merryon, moodily. + +"I do," said the Dragon-Fly. "It's because men were made to boss +creation. See? You're one of the bosses, you are. You've been led to +expect a lot, and because you haven't had it you feel you've been +cheated. Life is like that. It's just a thing that mocks at you. I +know." + +She nodded again, and an odd, will-o'-the-wisp smile flitted over her +face. + +"You seem to know--something of life," the man said. + +She uttered a queer choking laugh. "Life is a big, big swindle," she +said. "The only happy people in the world are those who haven't found it +out. But you--you say there are other things in life besides suffering. +How did you know that if--if you've never had anything but dregs?" + +"Ah!" Merryon said. "You have me there." + +He was still looking full into those shadowy eyes with a curious, +dawning fellowship in his own. + +"You have me there," he repeated. "But I do know. I was happy enough +once, till--" He stopped. + +"Things went wrong?" insinuated the Dragon-Fly, sitting down on her +heels in a childish attitude of attention. + +"Yes," Merryon admitted, in his sullen fashion. "Things went wrong. I +found I was the son of a thief. He's dead now, thank Heaven. But he +dragged me under first. I've been at odds with life ever since." + +"But a man can start again," said the Dragon-Fly, with her air of +worldly wisdom. + +"Oh, yes, I did that." Merryon's smile was one of exceeding bitterness. +"I enlisted and went to South Africa. I hoped for death, and I won a +commission instead." + +The girl's eyes shone with interest. "But that was luck!" she said. + +"Oh, yes; it was luck of a sort--the damnable, unsatisfactory sort. I +entered the Indian Army, and I've got on. But socially I'm practically +an outcast. They're polite to me, but they leave me outside. The man who +rose from the ranks--the fellow with a shady past--fought shy of by the +women, just tolerated by the men, covertly despised by the +youngsters--that's the sort of person I am. It galled me once. I'm used +to it now." + +Merryon's grim voice went into grimmer silence. He was staring sombrely +into the fire, almost as if he had forgotten his companion. + +There fell a pause; then, "You poor dear!" said the Dragon-Fly, +sympathetically. "But I expect you are like that, you know. I expect +it's a bit your own fault." + +He looked at her in surprise. + +"No, I'm not meaning anything nasty," she assured him, with that quick +smile of hers whose sweetness he was just beginning to realize. "But +after a bad knockout like yours a man naturally looks for trouble. He +gets suspicious, and a snub or two does the rest. He isn't taking any +more. It's a pity you're not married. A woman would have known how to +hold her own, and a bit over--for you." + +"I wouldn't ask any woman to share the life I lead," said Merryon, with +bitter emphasis. "Not that any woman would if I did. I'm not a ladies' +man." + +She laughed for the first time, and he started at the sound, for it was +one of pure, girlish merriment. + +"My! You are modest!" she said. "And yet you don't look it, somehow." +She turned her right-hand palm upwards on his knee, tacitly inviting +his. "You're a good one to talk of life being worth while, aren't you?" +she said. + +He accepted the frank invitation, faintly smiling. "Well, I know the +good things are there," he said, "though I've missed them." + +"You'll marry and be happy yet," she said, with confidence. "But I +shouldn't put it off too long if I were you." + +He shook his head. His hand still half-consciously grasped hers. "Ask a +woman to marry the son of one of the most famous swindlers ever known? I +think not," he said. "Why, even you--" His eyes regarded her, +comprehended her. He stopped abruptly. + +"What about me?" she said. + +He hesitated, possessed by an odd embarrassment. The dark eyes were +lifted quite openly to his. It came to him that they were accustomed to +the stare of multitudes--they met his look so serenely, so impenetrably. + +"I don't know how we got on to the subject of my affairs," he said, +after a moment. "It seems to me that yours are the most important just +now. Aren't you going to tell me anything about them?" + +She gave a small, emphatic shake of the head. "I should have been dead +by this time if you hadn't interfered," she said. "I haven't got any +affairs." + +"Then it's up to me to look after you," Merryon said, quietly. + +But she shook her head at that more vigorously still. "You look after +me!" Her voice trembled on a note of derision. "Sure, you're joking!" +she protested. "I've looked after myself ever since I was eight." + +"And made a success of it?" Merryon asked. + +Her eyes shot swift defiance. "That's nobody's business but my own," she +said. "You know what I think of life." + +Merryon's hand closed slowly upon hers. "There seems to be a pair of +us," he said. "You can't refuse to let me help you--for fellowship's +sake." + +The red lips trembled suddenly. The dark eyes fell before his for the +first time. She spoke almost under her breath. "I'm too old--to take +help from a man--like that." + +He bent slightly towards her. "What has age to do with it?" + +"Everything." Her eyes remained downcast; the hand he held was trying +to wriggle free, but he would not suffer it. + +"Circumstances alter cases," he said. "I accepted the responsibility +when I saved you." + +"But you haven't the least idea what to do with me," said the +Dragon-Fly, with a forlorn smile. "You ought to have thought of that. +You'll be going back to India soon. And I--and I--" She stopped, still +stubbornly refusing to meet the man's eyes. + +"I am going back next week," Merryon said. + +"How fine to be you!" said the Dragon-Fly. "You wouldn't like to take me +with you now as--as _valet de chambre_?" + +He raised his brows momentarily. Then: "Would you come?" he asked, with +a certain roughness, as though he suspected her of trifling. + +She raised her eyes suddenly, kindled and eager. "Would I come!" she +said, in a tone that said more than words. + +"You would?" he said, and laid an abrupt hand on her shoulder. "You +would, eh?" + +She knelt up swiftly, the coat that enveloped her falling back, +displaying the slim, boyish figure, the active, supple limbs. Her +breathing came through parted lips. + +"As your--your servant--your valet?" she panted. + +His rough brows drew together. "My what? Good heavens, no! I could only +take you in one capacity." + +She started back from his hand. For a moment sheer horror looked out +from her eyes. Then, almost in the same instant, they were veiled. She +caught her breath, saying no word, only dumbly waiting. + +"I could only take you as my wife," he said, still in that +half-bantering, half-embarrassed fashion of his. "Will you come?" + +She threw back her head and stared at him. "Marry you! What, really? +Really?" she questioned, breathlessly. + +"Merely for appearances' sake," said Merryon, with grim irony. "The +regimental morals are somewhat easily offended, and an outsider like +myself can't be too careful." + +The girl was still staring at him, as though at some novel specimen of +humanity that had never before crossed her path. Suddenly she leaned +towards him, looking him full and straight in the eyes. + +"What would you do if I said 'Yes'?" she questioned, in a small, tense +whisper. + +He looked back at her, half-interested, half amused. "Do, urchin? Why, +marry you!" he said. + +"Really marry me?" she urged. "Not make-believe?" + +He stiffened at that. "Do you know what you're saying?" he demanded, +sternly. + +She sprang to her feet with a wild, startled movement; then, as he +remained seated, paused, looking down at him sideways, half-doubtful, +half-confiding. "But you can't be in earnest!" she said. + +"I am in earnest." He raised his face to her with a certain doggedness, +as though challenging her to detect in it aught but honesty. "I may be +several kinds of a fool," he said, "but I am in earnest. I'm no great +catch, but I'll marry you if you'll have me. I'll protect you, and I'll +be good to you. I can't promise to make you happy, of course, +but--anyway, I shan't make you miserable." + +"But--but--" She still stood before him as though hovering on the edge +of flight. Her lips were trembling, her whole form quivering and +scintillating in the lamplight. She halted on the words as if uncertain +how to proceed. + +"What is it?" said Merryon. + +And then, quite suddenly, his mood softened. He leaned slowly forward. + +"You needn't be afraid of me," he said. "I'm not a heady youngster. I +shan't gobble you up." + +She laughed at that--a quick, nervous laugh. "And you won't beat me +either? Promise!" + +He frowned at her. "Beat you! I?" + +She nodded several times, faintly smiling. "Yes, you, Mr. Monster! I'm +sure you could." + +He smiled also, somewhat grimly. "You're wrong, madam. I couldn't beat a +child." + +"Oh, my!" she said, and threw up her arms with a quivering laugh, +dropping his coat in a heap on the floor. "How old do you think this +child is?" she questioned, glancing down at him in her sidelong, +speculative fashion. + +He looked at her hard and straight, looked at the slim young body in its +sheath of iridescent green that shimmered with every breath she drew, +and very suddenly he rose. + +She made a spring backwards, but she was too late. He caught and held +her. + +"Let me go!" she cried, her face crimson. + +"But why?" Merryon's voice fell curt and direct. He held her firmly by +the shoulders. + +She struggled against him fiercely for a moment, then became suddenly +still. "You're not a brute, are you?" she questioned, breathlessly. +"You--you'll be good to me? You said so!" + +He surveyed her grimly. "Yes, I will be good to you," he said. "But I'm +not going to be fooled. Understand? If you marry me, you must play the +part. I don't know how old you are. I don't greatly care. All I do care +about is that you behave yourself as the wife of a man in my position +should. You're old enough to know what that means, I suppose?" + +He spoke impressively, but the effect of his words was not quite what he +expected. The point of a very red tongue came suddenly from between the +red lips, and instantly disappeared. + +"That all?" she said. "Oh yes; I think I can do that. I'll try, anyway. +And if you're not satisfied--well, you'll have to let me know. See? +Now let me go, there's a good man! I don't like the feel of your +hands." + +He let her go in answer to the pleading of her eyes, and she slipped +from his grasp like an eel, caught up the coat at her feet, and wriggled +into it. + +Then, impishly, she faced him, buttoning it with nimble fingers the +while. "This is the garment of respectability," she declared. "It isn't +much of a fit, is it? But I shall grow to it in time. Do you know, I +believe I'm going to like being your wife?" + +"Why?" said Merryon. + +She laughed--that laugh of irrepressible gaiety that had surprised him +before. + +"Oh, just because I shall so love fighting your battles for you," she +said. "It'll be grand sport." + +"Think so?" said Merryon. + +"Oh, you bet!" said the Dragon-Fly, with gay confidence. "Men never know +how to fight. They're poor things--men!" + +He himself laughed at that--his grim, grudging laugh. "It's a world of +fools, Puck," he said. + +"Or knaves," said the Dragon-Fly, wisely. And with that she stretched up +her arms above her head and laughed again. "Now I know what it feels +like," she said, "to have risen from the dead." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +COMRADES + + +There came the flash of green wings in the cypresses and a raucous +scream of jubilation as the boldest parakeet in the compound flew off +with the choicest sweetmeat on the tiffin-table in the veranda. There +were always sweets at tiffin in the major's bungalow. Mrs. Merryon loved +sweets. She was wont to say that they were the best remedy for +homesickness she knew. + +Not that she ever was homesick. At least, no one ever suspected such a +possibility, for she had a smile and a quip for all, and her laughter +was the gayest in the station. She ran out now, half-dressed, from her +bedroom, waving a towel at the marauder. + +"That comes of being kind-hearted," she declared, in the deep voice that +accorded so curiously with the frothy lightness of her personality. +"Everyone takes advantage of it, sure." + +Her eyes were grey and Irish, and they flashed over the scene +dramatically, albeit there was no one to see and admire. For she was +strangely captivating, and perhaps it was hardly to be expected that +she should be quite unconscious of the fact. + +"Much too taking to be good, dear," had been the verdict of the +Commissioner's wife when she had first seen little Puck Merryon, the +major's bride. + +But then the Commissioner's wife, Mrs. Paget, was so severely plain in +every way that perhaps she could scarcely be regarded as an impartial +judge. She had never flirted with any one, and could not know the joys +thereof. + +Young Mrs. Merryon, on the other hand, flirted quite openly and very +sweetly with every man she met. It was obviously her nature so to do. +She had doubtless done it from her cradle, and would probably continue +the practice to her grave. + +"A born wheedler," the colonel called her; but his wife thought "saucy +minx" a more appropriate term, and wondered how Major Merryon could put +up with her shameless trifling. + +As a matter of fact, Merryon wondered himself sometimes; for she flirted +with him more than all in that charming, provocative way of hers, coaxed +him, laughed at him, brilliantly eluded him. She would perch daintily on +the arm of his chair when he was busy, but if he so much as laid a hand +upon her she was gone in a flash like a whirling insect, not to return +till he was too absorbed to pay any attention to her. And often as those +daring red lips mocked him, they were never offered to his even in +jest. Yet was she so finished a coquette that the omission was never +obvious. It seemed the most natural thing in the world that she should +evade all approach to intimacy. They were comrades--just comrades. + +Everyone in the station wanted to know Merryon's bride. People had begun +by being distant, but that phase was long past. Puck Merryon had stormed +the citadel within a fortnight of her arrival, no one quite knew how. +Everyone knew her now. She went everywhere, though never without her +husband, who found himself dragged into gaieties for which he had scant +liking, and sought after by people who had never seemed aware of him +before. She had, in short, become the rage, and so gaily did she revel +in her triumph that he could not bring himself to deny her the fruits +thereof. + +On that particular morning in March he had gone to an early parade +without seeing her, for there had been a regimental ball the night +before, and she had danced every dance. Dancing seemed her one passion, +and to Merryon, who did not dance, the ball had been an unmitigated +weariness. He had at last, in sheer boredom, joined a party of +bridge-players, with the result that he had not seen much of his young +wife throughout the evening. + +Returning from the parade-ground, he wondered if he would find her up, +and then caught sight of her waving away the marauders in scanty attire +on the veranda. + +He called a greeting to her, and she instantly vanished into her room. +He made his way to the table set in the shade of the cluster-roses, and +sat down to await her. + +She remained invisible, but her voice at once accosted him. +"Good-morning, Billikins! Tell the _khit_ you're ready! I shall be out +in two shakes." + +None but she would have dreamed of bestowing so frivolous an appellation +upon the sober Merryon. But from her it came so naturally that Merryon +scarcely noticed it. He had been "Billikins" to her throughout the brief +three months that had elapsed since their marriage. Of course, Mrs. +Paget disapproved, but then Mrs. Paget was Mrs. Paget. She disapproved +of everything young and gay. + +Merryon gave the required order, and then sat in stolid patience to +await his wife's coming. She did not keep him long. Very soon she came +lightly out and joined him, an impudent smile on her sallow little face, +dancing merriment in her eyes. + +"Oh, poor old Billikins!" she said, commiseratingly. "You were bored +last night, weren't you? I wonder if I could teach you to dance." + +"I wonder," said Merryon. + +His eyes dwelt upon her in her fresh white muslin. What a child she +looked! Not pretty--no, not pretty; but what a magic smile she had! + +She sat down at the table facing him, and leaned her elbows upon it. "I +wonder if I could!" she said again, and then broke into her sudden +laugh. + +"What's the joke?" asked Merryon. + +"Oh, nothing!" she said, recovering herself. "It suddenly came over me, +that's all--poor old Mother Paget's face, supposing she had seen me last +night." + +"Didn't she see you last night? I thought you were more or less in the +public eye," said Merryon. + +"Oh, I meant after the dance," she explained. "I felt sort of wound up +and excited after I got back. And I wanted to see if I could still do +it. I'm glad to say I can," she ended, with another little laugh. + +Her dark eyes shot him a tentative glance. "Can what?" asked Merryon. + +"You'll be shocked if I tell you." + +"What was it?" he said. + +There was insistence in his tone--the insistence by which he had once +compelled her to live against her will. Her eyelids fluttered a little +as it reached her, but she cocked her small, pointed chin +notwithstanding. + +"Why should I tell you if I don't want to?" she demanded. + +"Why shouldn't you want to?" he said. + +The tip of her tongue shot out and in again. "Well, you never took me +for a lady, did you?" she said, half-defiantly. + +"What was it?" repeated Merryon, sticking to the point. + +Again she grimaced at him, but she answered, "Oh, I only--after I'd had +my bath--lay on the floor and ran round my head for a bit. It's not a +bit difficult, once you've got the knack. But I got thinking of Mrs. +Paget--she does amuse me, that woman. Only yesterday she asked me what +Puck was short for, and I told her Elizabeth--and then I got laughing so +that I had to stop." + +Her face was flushed, and she was slightly breathless as she ended, but +she stared across the table with brazen determination, like a naughty +child expecting a slap. + +Merryon's face, however, betrayed neither astonishment nor disapproval. +He even smiled a little as he said, "Perhaps you would like to give me +lessons in that also? I've often wondered how it was done." + +She smiled back at him with instant and obvious relief. + +"No, I shan't do it again. It's not proper. But I will teach you to +dance. I'd sooner dance with you than any of 'em." + +It was naïvely spoken, so naïvely that Merryon's faint smile turned into +something that was almost genial. What a youngster she was! Her +freshness was a perpetual source of wonder to him when he remembered +whence she had come to him. + +"I am quite willing to be taught," he said. "But it must be in strict +privacy." + +She nodded gaily. + +"Of course. You shall have a lesson to-night--when we get back from the +Burtons' dinner. I'm real sorry you were bored, Billikins. You shan't be +again." + +That was her attitude always, half-maternal, half-quizzing, as if +something about him amused her; yet always anxious to please him, always +ready to set his wishes before her own, so long as he did not attempt to +treat her seriously. She had left all that was serious in that other +life that had ended with the fall of the safety-curtain on a certain +night in England many æons ago. Her personality now was light as +gossamer, irresponsible as thistledown. The deeper things of life passed +her by. She seemed wholly unaware of them. + +"You'll be quite an accomplished dancer by the time everyone comes back +from the Hills," she remarked, balancing a fork on one slender brown +finger. "We'll have a ball for two--every night." + +"We!" said Merryon. + +She glanced at him. + +"I said 'we.'" + +"I know you did." The man's voice had suddenly a dogged ring; he looked +across at the vivid, piquant face with the suggestion of a frown between +his eyes. + +"Don't do that!" she said, lightly. "Never do that, Billikins! It's +most unbecoming behaviour. What's the matter?" + +"The matter?" he said, slowly. "The matter is that you are going to the +Hills for the hot weather with the rest of the women, Puck. I can't keep +you here." + +She made a rude face at him. + +"Preserve me from any cattery in the Hills!" she said. "I'm going to +stay with you." + +"You can't," said Merryon. + +"I can," she said. + +He frowned still more. + +"Not if I say otherwise, Puck." + +She snapped her fingers at him and laughed. + +"I am in earnest," Merryon said. "I can't keep you here for the hot +weather. It would probably kill you." + +"What of that?" she said. + +He ignored her frivolity. + +"It can't be done," he said. "So you must make the best of it." + +"Meaning you don't want me?" she demanded, unexpectedly. + +"Not for the hot weather," said Merryon. + +She sprang suddenly to her feet. + +"I won't go, Billikins!" she declared, fiercely, "I just won't!" + +He looked at her, sternly resolute. + +"You must go," he said, with unwavering decision. + +"You're tired of me! Is that it?" she demanded. + +He raised his brows. "You haven't given me much opportunity to be that, +have you?" he said. + +A great wave of colour went over her face. She put up her hand as though +instinctively to shield it. + +"I've done my best to--to--to--" She stopped, became piteously silent, +and suddenly he saw that she was crying behind the sheltering hand. + +He softened almost in spite of himself. + +"Come here, Puck!" he said. + +She shook her head dumbly. + +"Come here!" he repeated. + +She came towards him slowly, as if against her will. He reached forward, +still seated, and drew her to him. + +She trembled at his touch, trembled and started away, yet in the end she +yielded. + +"Please," she whispered; "please!" + +He put his arm round her very gently, yet with determination, making her +stand beside him. + +"Why don't you want to go to the Hills?" he said. + +"I'd be frightened," she murmured. + +"Frightened? Why?" + +"I don't know," she said, vaguely. + +"Yes, but you do know. You must know. Tell me." He spoke gently, +but the stubborn note was in his voice and his hold was +insistent. "Leave off crying and tell me!" + +"I'm not crying," said Puck. + +She uncovered her face and looked down at him through tears with a +faintly mischievous smile. + +"Tell me!" he reiterated. "Is it because you don't like the idea of +leaving me?" + +Her smile flashed full out upon him on the instant. + +"Goodness, no! Whatever made you think that?" she demanded, briskly. + +He was momentarily disconcerted, but he recovered himself at once. + +"Then what is your objection to going?" he asked. + +She turned and sat down conversationally on the corner of the table. + +"Well, you know, Billikins, it's like this. When I married you--I did it +out of pity. See? I was sorry for you. You seemed such a poor, helpless +sort of creature. And I thought being married to me might help to +improve your position a bit. You see my point, Billikins?" + +"Oh, quite," he said. "Please go on!" + +She went on, with butterfly gaiety. + +"I worked hard--really hard--to get you out of your bog. It was a horrid +deep one, wasn't it, Billikins? My! You were floundering! But I've +pulled you out of it and dragged you up the bank a bit. You don't get +sniffed at anything like you used, do you, Billikins? But I daren't +leave you yet--I honestly daren't. You'd slip right back again directly +my back was turned. And I should have the pleasure of starting the +business all over again. I couldn't face it, my dear. It would be too +disheartening." + +"I see," said Merryon. There was just the suspicion of a smile among the +rugged lines of his face. "Yes, I see your point. But I can show you +another if you'll listen." + +He was holding her two hands as she sat, as though he feared an attempt +to escape. For though Puck sat quite still, it was with the stillness of +a trapped creature that waits upon opportunity. + +"Will you listen?" he said. + +She nodded. + +It was not an encouraging nod, but he proceeded. + +"All the women go to the Hills for the hot weather. It's unspeakable +here. No white woman could stand it. And we men get leave by turns to +join them. There is nothing doing down here, no social round whatever. +It's just stark duty. I can't lose much social status that way. It will +serve my turn much better if you go up with the other women and continue +to hold your own there. Not that I care a rap," he added, with masculine +tactlessness. "I am no longer susceptible to snubs." + +"Then I shan't go," she said at once, beginning to swing a restless +foot. + +"Yes, but you will go," he said. "I wish it." + +"You want to get rid of me," said Puck, looking over his head with the +eyes of a troubled child. + +Merryon was silent. He was watching her with a kind of speculative +curiosity. His hands were still locked upon hers. + +Slowly her eyes came down to his. + +"Billikins," she said, "let me stay down for a little!" Her lips were +quivering. She kicked his chair agitatedly. "I don't want to go," she +said, dismally. "Let me stay--anyhow--till I get ill!" + +"No," Merryon said. "It can't be done, child. I can't risk that. +Besides, there'd be no one to look after you." + +She slipped to her feet in a flare of indignation. "You're a pig, +Billikins! You're a pig!" she cried, and tore her hands free. "I've a +good mind to run away from you and never come back. It's what you +deserve, and what you'll get, if you aren't careful!" + +She was gone with the words--gone like a flashing insect disturbing the +silence for a moment, and leaving a deeper silence behind. + +Merryon looked after her for a second or two, and then philosophically +continued his meal. But the slight frown remained between his brows. The +veranda seemed empty and colourless now that she was gone. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +FRIENDS + + +The Burtons' dinner-party was a very cheerful affair. The Burtons were +young and newly married, and they liked to gather round them all the +youth and gaiety of the station. It was for that reason that Puck's +presence had been secured, for she was the life of every gathering; and +her husband had been included in the invitation simply and solely +because from the very outset she had refused to go anywhere without him. +It was the only item of her behaviour of which worthy Mrs. Paget could +conscientiously approve. + +As a matter of fact Merryon had not the smallest desire to go, but he +would not say so; and all through the evening he sat and watched his +young wife with a curious hunger at his heart. He hated to think that he +had hurt her. + +There was no sign of depression about Puck, however, and he alone +noticed that she never once glanced in his direction. She kept everyone +up to a pitch of frivolity that certainly none would have attained +without her, and an odd feeling began to stir in Merryon, a sensation of +jealousy such as he had never before experienced. They seemed to +forget, all of them, that this flashing, brilliant creature was his. + +She seemed to have forgotten it also. Or was it only that deep-seated, +inimitable coquetry of hers that prompted her thus to ignore him? + +He could not decide; but throughout the evening the determination grew +in him to make this one point clear to her. Trifle as she might, she +must be made to understand that she belonged to him, and him alone. +Comrades they might be, but he held a vested right in her, whether he +chose to assert it or not. + +They returned at length to their little gimcrack bungalow--the +Match-box, as Puck called it--on foot under a blaze of stars. The +distance was not great, and Puck despised rickshaws. + +She flitted by his side in her airy way, chatting inconsequently, not +troubling about response, as elusive as a fairy and--the man felt it in +the rising fever of his veins--as maddeningly attractive. + +They reached the bungalow. She went up the steps to the rose-twined +veranda as though she floated on wings of gossamer. "The roses are all +asleep, Billikins," she said. "They look like alabaster, don't they?" + +She caught a cluster to her and held it against her cheek for a moment. + +Merryon was close behind her. She seemed to realize his nearness quite +suddenly, for she let the flowers go abruptly and flitted on. + +He followed her till, at the farther end of the veranda, she turned and +faced him. "Good-night, Billikins," she said, lightly. + +"What about that dancing-lesson?" he said. + +She threw up her arms above her head with a curious gesture. They +gleamed transparently white in the starlight. Her eyes shone like +fire-flies. + +"I thought you preferred dancing by yourself," she retorted. + +"Why?" he said. + +She laughed a soft, provocative laugh, and suddenly, without any +warning, the cloak had fallen from her shoulders and she was dancing. +There in the starlight, white-robed and wonderful, she danced as, it +seemed to the man's fascinated senses, no human had ever danced before. +She was like a white flame--a darting, fiery essence, soundless, +all-absorbing, all-entrancing. + +He watched her with pent breath, bound by the magic of her, caught, as +it were, into the innermost circle of her being, burning in answer to +her fire, yet so curiously enthralled as to be scarcely aware of the +ever-mounting, ever-spreading heat. She was like a mocking spirit, a +will-o'-the-wisp, luring him, luring him--whither? + +The dance quickened, became a passionate whirl, so that suddenly he +seemed to see a bright-winged insect caught in an endless web and +battling for freedom. He almost saw the silvery strands of that web +floating like gossamer in the starlight. + +And then, with well-nigh miraculous suddenness, the struggle was over +and the insect had darted free. He saw her flash away, and found the +veranda empty. + +Her cloak lay at his feet. He stooped with an odd sense of giddiness and +picked it up. A fragrance of roses came to him with the touch of it, and +for an instant he caught it up to his face. The sweetness seemed to +intoxicate him. + +There came a light, inconsequent laugh; sharply he turned. She had +opened the window of his smoking-den and was standing in the entrance +with impudent merriment in her eyes. There was triumph also in her +pose--a triumph that sent a swirl of hot passion through him. He flung +aside the cloak and strode towards her. + +But she was gone on the instant, gone with a tinkle of maddening +laughter. He blundered into the darkness of an empty room. But he was +not the man to suffer defeat tamely. Momentarily baffled, he paused to +light a lamp; then went from room to room of the little bungalow, +locking each door that she might not elude him a second time. His blood +was on fire, and he meant to find her. + +In the end he came upon her wholly unexpectedly, standing on the veranda +amongst the twining roses. She seemed to be awaiting him, though she +made no movement towards him as he approached. + +"Good-night, Billikins," she said, her voice very small and humble. + +He came to her without haste, realizing that she had given the game +into his hands. She did not shrink from him, but she raised an appealing +face. And oddly the man's heart smote him. She looked so pathetically +small and childish standing there. + +But the blood was still running fiercely in his veins, and that +momentary twinge did not cool him. Child she might be, but she had +played with fire, and she alone was responsible for the conflagration +that she had started. + +He drew near to her; he took her, unresisting, into his arms. + +She cowered down, hiding her face away from him. "Don't, Billikins! +Please--please, Billikins!" she begged, incoherently. "You promised--you +promised--" + +"What did I promise?" he said. + +"That you wouldn't--wouldn't"--she spoke breathlessly, for his hold was +tightening upon her--"gobble me up," she ended, with a painful little +laugh. + +"I see." Merryon's voice was deep and low. "And you meantime are at +liberty to play any fool game you like with me. Is that it?" + +She was quivering from head to foot. She did not lift her face. "It +wasn't--a fool game," she protested. "I did it because--because--you +were so horrid this morning, so--so cold-blooded. And I--and I--wanted +to see if--I could make you care." + +"Make me care!" Merryon said the words over oddly to himself; and then, +still fast holding her, he began to feel for the face that was so +strenuously hidden from him. + +She resisted him desperately. "Let me go!" she begged, piteously. "I'll +be so good, Billikins. I'll go to the Hills. I'll do anything you like. +Only let me go now! Billikins!" + +She cried out sharply, for he had overcome her resistance by quiet +force, had turned her white face up to his own. + +"I am not cold-blooded to-night, Puck," he said. "Whatever you +are--child or woman--gutter-snipe or angel--you are mine, all mine. +And--I want you!" + +The deep note vibrated in his voice; he stooped over her. + +But she flung herself back over his arm, striving desperately to avoid +him. "No--no--no!" she cried, wildly. "You mustn't, Billikins! Don't +kiss me! Don't kiss me!" + +She threw up a desperate hand, covering his mouth. "Don't--oh, don't!" +she entreated, brokenly. + +But the fire she had kindled she was powerless to quench. He would not +be frustrated. He caught her hand away. He held her to his heart. He +kissed the red lips hotly, with the savage freedom of a nature long +restrained. + +"Who has a greater right?" he said, with fiery exultation. + +She did not answer him. But at the first touch of his lips upon her own +she resisted no longer, only broke into agonized tears. + +And suddenly Merryon came to himself--was furiously, overwhelmingly +ashamed. + +"God forgive me!" he said, and let her go. + +She tottered a little, covering her face with her hands, sobbing like a +hurt child. But she did not try to run away. + +He flung round upon his heel and paced the veranda in fierce discomfort. +Beast that he was--brute beast to have hurt her so! That piteous sobbing +was more than he could bear. + +Suddenly he turned back to her, came and stood beside her. "Puck--Puck, +child!" he said. + +His voice was soft and very urgent. He touched the bent, dark head with +a hesitating caress. + +She started away from him with a gasp of dismay; but he checked her. + +"No, don't!" he said. "It's all right, dear. I'm not such a brute as I +seem. Don't be afraid of me!" + +There was more of pleading in his voice than he knew. She raised her +head suddenly, and looked at him as if puzzled. + +He pulled out his handkerchief and dabbed her wet cheeks with clumsy +tenderness. "It's all right," he said again. "Don't cry! I hate to see +you cry." + +She gazed at him, still doubtful, still sobbing a little. "Oh, +Billikins!" she said, tremulously, "why did you?" + +"I don't know," he said. "I was mad. It was your own fault, in a way. +You don't seem to realize that I'm as human as the rest of the world. +But I don't defend myself. I was an infernal brute to let myself go like +that." + +"Oh, no, you weren't, Billikins!" Quite unexpectedly she answered him. +"You couldn't help it. Men are like that. And I'm glad you're human. +But--but"--she faltered a little--"I want to feel that you're safe, too. +I've always felt--ever since I jumped into your arms that night--that +you--that you were on the right side of the safety-curtain. You are, +aren't you? Oh, please say you are! But I know you are." She held out +her hands to him with a quivering gesture of confidence. "If you'll +forgive me for--for fooling you," she said, "I'll forgive you--for being +fooled. That's a fair offer, isn't it? Don't let's think any more about +it!" Her rainbow smile transformed her face, but her eyes sought his +anxiously. + +He took the hands, but he did not attempt to draw her nearer. "Puck!" he +said. + +"What is it?" she whispered, trembling. + +"Don't!" he said. "I won't hurt you. I wouldn't hurt a hair of your +head. But, child, wouldn't it be safer--easier for both of us--if--if we +lived together, instead of apart?" + +He spoke almost under his breath. There was no hint of mastery about +him at that moment, only a gentleness that pleaded with her as with a +frightened child. + +And Puck went nearer to him on the instant, as it were instinctively, +almost involuntarily. "P'r'aps some day, Billikins!" she said, with a +little, quivering laugh. "But not yet--not if I've got to go to the +Hills away from you." + +"When I follow you to the Hills, then," he said. + +She freed one hand and, reaching up, lightly stroked his cheek. +"P'r'aps, Billikins!" she said again. "But--you'll have to be awfully +patient with me, because--because--" She paused, agitatedly; then went +yet a little nearer to him. "You will be kind to me, won't you?" she +pleaded. + +He put his arm about her. "Always, dear," he said. + +She raised her face. She was still trembling, but her action was one of +resolute confidence. "Then let's be friends, Billikins!" she said. + +It was a tacit invitation. He bent and gravely kissed her. + +Her lips returned his kiss shyly, quiveringly. "You're the nicest man I +ever met, Billikins," she said. "Good-night!" + +She slipped from his encircling arm and was gone. + +The man stood motionless where she had left him, wondering at himself, +at her, at the whole rocking universe. She had kindled the Magic Fire +in him indeed! His whole being was aglow. And yet--and yet--she had had +her way with him. He had let her go. + +Wherefore? Wherefore? The hot blood dinned in his ears. His hands +clenched. And from very deep within him the answer came. Because he +loved her. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE WOMAN + + +Summer in the Plains! Pitiless, burning summer! + +All day a blinding blaze of sun beat upon the wooden roof, forced a way +through the shaded windows, lay like a blasting spell upon the parched +compound. The cluster-roses had shrivelled and died long since. Their +brown leaves still clung to the veranda and rattled desolately with a +dry, scaly sound in the burning wind of dawn. + +The green parakeets had ceased to look for sweets on the veranda. +Nothing dainty ever made its appearance there. The Englishman who came +and went with such grim endurance offered them no temptations. + +Sometimes he spent the night on a _charpoy_ on the veranda, lying +motionless, though often sleepless, through the breathless, dragging +hours. There had been sickness among the officers and Merryon, who was +never sick, was doing the work of three men. He did it doggedly, with +the stubborn determination characteristic of him; not cheerfully--no one +ever accused Merryon of being cheerful--but efficiently and +uncomplainingly. Other men cursed the heat, but he never took the +trouble. He needed all his energies for what he had to do. + +His own chance of leave had become very remote. There was so much sick +leave that he could not be spared. Over that, also, he made no +complaint. It was useless to grumble at the inevitable. There was not a +man in the mess who could not be spared more easily than he. + +For he was indomitable, unfailing, always fulfilling his duties with +machine-like regularity, stern, impenetrable, hard as granite. + +As to what lay behind that hardness, no one ever troubled to inquire. +They took him for granted, much as if he had been a well-oiled engine +guaranteed to surmount all obstacles. How he did it was nobody's +business but his own. If he suffered in that appalling heat as other men +suffered, no one knew of it. If he grew a little grimmer and a little +gaunter, no one noticed. Everyone knew that whatever happened to others, +he at least would hold on. Everyone described him as "hard as nails." + +Each day seemed more intolerable than the last, each night a perceptible +narrowing of the fiery circle in which they lived. They seemed to be +drawing towards a culminating horror that grew hourly more palpable, +more monstrously menacing--a horror that drained their strength even +from afar. + +"It's going to kill us this time," declared little Robey, the youngest +subaltern, to whom the nights were a torment unspeakable. He had been +within an ace of heat apoplexy more than once, and his nerves were +stretched almost to breaking-point. + +But Merryon went doggedly on, hewing his unswerving way through all. The +monsoon was drawing near, and the whole tortured earth seemed to be +waiting in dumb expectation. + +Night after night a glassy moon came up, shining, immense and awful, +through a thick haze of heat. Night after night Merryon lay on his +veranda, smoking his pipe in stark endurance while the dreadful hours +crept by. Sometimes he held a letter from his wife hard clenched in one +powerful hand. She wrote to him frequently--short, airy epistles, wholly +inconsequent, often provocatively meagre. + +"There is a Captain Silvester here," she wrote once; "such a bounder. +But he is literally the only man who can dance in the station. So what +would you? Poor Mrs. Paget is so shocked!" + +Feathery hints of this description were by no means unusual, but though +Merryon sometimes frowned over them, they did not make him uneasy. His +will-o'-the-wisp might beckon, but she would never allow herself to be +caught. She never spoke of love in her letters, always ending demurely, +"Yours sincerely, Puck." But now and then there was a small cross +scratched impulsively underneath the name, and the letters that bore +this token accompanied Merryon through his inferno whithersoever he +went. + +There came at last a night of terrible heat, when it seemed as if the +world itself must burst into flames. A heavy storm rolled up, roared +overhead for a space like a caged monster, and sullenly rolled away, +without a single drop of rain to ease the awful tension of waiting that +possessed all things. + +Merryon left the mess early, tramping back over the dusty road, +convinced that the downpour for which they all yearned was at hand. +There was no moonlight that night, only a hot blackness, illumined now +and then by a brilliant dart of lightning that shocked the senses and +left behind a void indescribable, a darkness that could be felt. There +was something savage in the atmosphere, something primitive and +passionate that seemed to force itself upon him even against his will. +His pulses were strung to a tropical intensity that made him aware of +the man's blood in him, racing at fever heat through veins that felt +swollen to bursting. + +He entered his bungalow and flung off his clothes, took a plunge in a +bath of tepid water, from which he emerged with a pricking sensation all +over him that made the lightest touch a torture, and finally, keyed up +to a pitch of sensitiveness that excited his own contempt, he pulled on +some pyjamas and went out to his _charpoy_ on the veranda. + +He dismissed the _punkah_ coolie, feeling his presence to be +intolerable, and threw himself down with his coat flung open. The +oppression of the atmosphere was as though a red-hot lid were being +forced down upon the tortured earth. The blackness beyond the veranda +was like a solid wall. Sleep was out of the question. He could not +smoke. It was an effort even to breathe. He could only lie in torment +and wait--and wait. + +The flashes of lightning had become less frequent. A kind of waking +dream began to move in his brain. A figure gradually grew upon that +screen of darkness--an elf-like thing, intangible, transparent, a +quivering, shadowy image, remote as the dawn. + +Wide-eyed, he watched the vision, his pulses beating with a mad longing +so fierce as to be utterly beyond his own control. It was as though he +had drunk strong wine and had somehow slipped the leash of ordinary +convention. The savagery of the night, the tropical intensity of it, had +got into him. Half-naked, wholly primitive, he lay and waited--and +waited. + +For a while the vision hung before him, tantalizing him, maddening him, +eluding him. Then came a flash of lightning, and it was gone. + +He started up on the _charpoy_, every nerve tense as stretched wire. + +"Come back!" he cried, hoarsely. "Come back!" + +Again the lightning streaked the darkness. + +There came a burst of thunder, and suddenly, through it and above it, +he heard the far-distant roar of rain. He sprang to his feet. It was +coming. + +The seconds throbbed away. Something was moving in the compound, a +subtle, awful Something. The trees and bushes quivered before it, the +cluster-roses rattled their dead leaves wildly. But the man stood +motionless in the light that fell across the veranda from the open +window of his room, watching with eyes that shone with a fierce and +glaring intensity for the return of his vision. + +The fevered blood was hammering at his temples. For the moment he was +scarcely sane. The fearful strain of the past few weeks that had +overwhelmed less hardy men had wrought upon him in a fashion more subtle +but none the less compelling. They had been stricken down, whereas he +had been strung to a pitch where bodily suffering had almost ceased to +count. He had grown used to the torment, and now in this supreme moment +it tore from him his civilization, but his physical strength remained +untouched. He stood alert and ready, like a beast in a cage, waiting for +whatever the gods might deign to throw him. + +The tumult beyond that wall of blackness grew. It became a swirling +uproar. The rose-vines were whipped from the veranda and flung writhing +in all directions. The trees in the compound strove like terrified +creatures in the grip of a giant. The heat of the blast was like tongues +of flame blown from an immense furnace. Merryon's whole body seemed to +be wrapped in fire. With a fierce movement, he stripped the coat from +him and flung it into the room behind him. He was alone save for the +devils that raged in that pandemonium. What did it matter how he met +them? + +And then, with the suddenness of a stupendous weight dropped from +heaven, came rain, rain in torrents and billows, rain solid as the +volume of Niagara, a crushing mighty force. + +The tempest shrieked through the compound. The lightning glimmered, +leapt, became continuous. The night was an inferno of thunder and +violence. + +And suddenly out of the inferno, out of the awful strife of elements, +out of that frightful rainfall, there came--a woman! + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +LOVERS + + +She came haltingly, clinging with both hands to the rail of the veranda, +her white face staring upwards in terror and instinctive appeal. She was +like an insect dragging itself away from destruction, with drenched and +battered wings. + +He saw her coming and stiffened. It was his vision returned to him, but +till she came within reach of him he was afraid to move. He stood +upright against the wall, every mad instinct of his blood fiercely awake +and clamouring. + +The noise and wind increased. It swirled along the veranda. She seemed +afraid to quit her hold of the balustrade lest she should be swept away. +But still she drew nearer to the lighted window, and at last, with +desperate resolution, she tore herself free and sprang for shelter. + +In that instant the man also sprang. He caught her in arms that almost +expected to clasp emptiness, arms that crushed in a savage ecstasy of +possession at the actual contact with a creature of flesh and blood. In +the same moment the lamp in the room behind him flared up and went out. + +There arose a frightened crying from his breast. For a few moments she +fought like a mad thing for freedom. He felt her teeth set in his arm, +and laughed aloud. Then very suddenly her struggles ceased. He became +aware of a change in her. She gave her whole weight into his arms, and +lay palpitating against his heart. + +By the awful glare of the lightning he found her face uplifted to his. +She was laughing, too, but in her eyes was such a passion of love as he +had never looked upon before. In that moment he knew that she was +his--wholly, completely, irrevocably his. And, stooping, he kissed the +upturned lips with the fierce exultation of the conqueror. + +Her arms slipped round his neck. She abandoned herself wholly to him. +She gave him worship for worship, passion for passion. + +Later, he awoke to the fact that she was drenched from head to foot. He +drew her into his room and shut the window against the driving blast. +She clung to him still. + +"Isn't it dreadful?" she said, shuddering. "It's just as if Something +Big is trying to get between us." + +He closed the shutter also, and groped for matches. She accompanied him +on his search, for she would not lose touch with him for a moment. + +The lamp flared on her white, childish face, showing him wild joy and +horror strangely mingled. Her great eyes laughed up at him. + +"Billikins, darling! You aren't very decent, are you? I'm not decent +either, Billikins. I'd like to take off all my clothes and dance on my +head." + +He laughed grimly. "You will certainly have to undress--the sooner the +better." + +She spread out her hands. "But I've nothing to wear, Billikins, nothing +but what I've got on. I didn't know it was going to rain so. You'll have +to lend me a suit of pyjamas, dear, while I get my things dried. You +see"--she halted a little--"I came away in rather a hurry. I--was +bored." + +Merryon, oddly sobered by her utter dependence upon him, turned aside +and foraged for brandy. She came close to him while he poured it out. + +"It isn't for me, is it? I couldn't drink it, darling. I shouldn't know +what was happening for the next twenty-four hours if I did." + +"It doesn't matter whether you do or not," he said. "I shall be here to +look after you." + +She laughed at that, a little quivering laugh of sheer content. Her +cheek was against his shoulder. "Live for ever, O king!" she said, and +softly kissed it. + +Then she caught sight of something on the arm below. "Oh, darling, did I +do that?" she cried, in distress. + +He put the arm about her. "It doesn't matter. I don't feel it," he +said. "I've got you." + +She lifted her lips to his again. "Billikins, darling, I didn't know it +was you--at first, not till I heard you laugh. I'd rather die than hurt +you. You know it, don't you?" + +"Of course I know it," he said. + +He caught her to him passionately for a moment, then slowly relaxed his +hold. "Drink this, like a good child," he said, "and then you must get +to bed. You are wet to the skin." + +"I know I am," she said, "but I don't mind." + +"I mind for you," he said. + +She laughed up at him, her eyes like stars. "I was lucky to get in when +I did," she said. "Wasn't the heat dreadful--and the lightning? I ran +all the way from the station. I was just terrified at it all. But I kept +thinking of you, dear--of you, and how--and how you'd kissed me that +night when I was such a little idiot as to cry. Must I really drink it, +Billikins? Ah, well, just to please you--anything to please you. But you +must have one little sip first. Yes, darling, just one. That's to please +your silly little wife, who wants to share everything with you now. +There's my own boy! Now I'll drink every drop--every drop." + +She began to drink, standing in the circle of his arm; then looked up at +him with a quick grimace. "It's powerful strong, dear. You'll have to +put me to bed double quick after this, or I shall be standing on my head +in earnest." + +He laughed a little. She leaned back against him. + +"Yes, I know, darling. You're a man that likes to manage, aren't you? +Well, you can manage me and all that is mine for the rest of my natural +life. I'm never going to leave you again, Billikins. That's understood, +is it?" + +His face sobered. "What possessed you to come back to this damnable +place?" he said. + +She laughed against his shoulder. "Now, Billikins, don't you start +asking silly questions. I'll tell you as much as it's good for you to +know all in good time. I came mainly because I wanted to. And that's the +reason why I'm going to stay. See?" + +She reached up an audacious finger and smoothed the faint frown from his +forehead with her sunny, provocative smile. + +"It'll have to be a joint management," she said. "There are so many +things you mustn't do. Now, darling, I've finished the brandy to please +you. So suppose you look out your prettiest suit of pyjamas, and I'll +try and get into them." She broke into a giddy little laugh. "What would +Mrs. Paget say? Can't you see her face? I can!" + +She stopped suddenly, struck dumb by a terrible blast of wind that shook +the bungalow to its foundations. + +"Just hark to the wind and the rain, Billikins!" she whispered, as it +swirled on. "Did you ever hear anything so awful? It's as if--as if God +were very furious--about something. Do you think He is, dear? Do you?" +She pressed close to him with white, pleading face upraised. "Do you +believe in God, Billikins? Honestly now!" + +The man hesitated, holding her fast in his arms, seeing only the +quivering, childish mouth and beseeching eyes. + +"You don't, do you?" she said. "I don't myself, Billikins. I think He's +just a myth. Or anyhow--if He's there at all--He doesn't bother about +the people who were born on the wrong side of the safety-curtain. There, +darling! Kiss me once more--I love your kisses--I love them! And now go! +Yes--yes, you must go--just while I make myself respectable. Yes, but +you can leave the door ajar, dear heart! I want to feel you close at +hand. I am yours--till I die--king and master!" + +Her eyes were brimming with tears; he thought her overwrought and weary, +and passed them by in silence. + +And so through that night of wonder, of violence, and of storm, she lay +against his heart, her arms wound about his neck with a closeness which +even sleep could not relax. + +Out of the storm she had come to him, like a driven bird seeking refuge; +and through the fury of the storm he held her, compassing her with the +fire of his passion. + +"I am safe now," she murmured once, when he thought her sleeping. "I am +quite--quite safe." + +And he, fancying the raging of the storm had disturbed her, made hushing +answer, "Quite safe, wife of my heart." + +She trembled a little, and nestled closer to his breast. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE HONEYMOON + + +"You can't mean to let your wife stay here!" ejaculated the colonel, +sharply. "You wouldn't do anything so mad!" + +Merryon's hard mouth took a sterner downward curve. "My wife refuses to +leave me, sir," he said. + +"Good heavens above, Merryon!" The colonel's voice held a species of +irritated derision. "Do you tell me you can't manage--a--a piece of +thistledown like that?" + +Merryon was silent, grimly, implacably silent. Plainly he had no +intention of making such an admission. + +"It's madness--criminal madness!" Colonel Davenant looked at him +aggressively, obviously longing to pierce that stubborn calm with which +Merryon had so long withstood the world. + +But Merryon remained unmoved, though deep in his private soul he knew +that the colonel was right, knew that he had decided upon a course of +action that involved a risk which he dreaded to contemplate. + +"Oh, look here, Merryon!" The colonel lost his temper after his own +precipitate fashion. "Don't be such a confounded fool! Take a +fortnight's leave--I can't spare you longer--and go back to the Hills +with her! Make her settle down with my wife at Shamkura! Tell her you'll +beat her if she doesn't!" + +Merryon's grim face softened a little. "Thank you very much, sir! But +you can't spare me even for so long. Moreover, that form of punishment +wouldn't scare her. So, you see, it would come to the same thing in the +end. She is determined to face what I face for the present." + +"And you're determined to let her!" growled the colonel. + +Merryon shrugged his shoulders. + +"You'll probably lose her," the colonel persisted, gnawing fiercely at +his moustache. "Have you considered that?" + +"I've considered everything," Merryon said, rather heavily. "But she +came to me--through that inferno. I can't send her away again. She +wouldn't go." + +Colonel Davenant swore under his breath. "Let me talk to her!" he said, +after a moment. + +The ghost of a smile touched Merryon's face. "It's no good, sir. You can +talk. You won't make any impression." + +"But it's practically a matter of life and death, man!" insisted the +colonel. "You can't afford any silly sentiment in an affair like this." + +"I am not sentimental," Merryon said, and his lips twitched a little +with the words. "But all the same, since she has set her heart on +staying, she shall stay. I have promised that she shall." + +"You are mad," the colonel declared. "Just think a minute! Think what +your feelings will be if she dies!" + +"I have thought, sir." The dogged note was in Merryon's voice again. His +face was a mask of impenetrability. "If she dies, I shall at least have +the satisfaction of knowing that I made her happy first." + +It was his last word on the subject. He departed, leaving the colonel +fuming. + +That evening the latter called upon Mrs. Merryon. He found her sitting +on her husband's knee smoking a Turkish cigarette, and though she +abandoned this unconventional attitude to receive her visitor, he had a +distinct impression that the two were in subtle communion throughout his +stay. + +"It's so very nice of you to take the trouble," she said, in her +charming way, when he had made his most urgent representations. "But +really it's much better for me to be with my husband here. I stayed at +Shamkura just as long as I could possibly bear it, and then I just had +to come back here. I don't think I shall get ill--really. And if I +do"--she made a little foreign gesture of the hands--"I'll nurse +myself." + +As Merryon had foretold, it was useless to argue with her. She +dismissed all argument with airy unreason. But yet the colonel could not +find it in his heart to be angry with her. He was very angry with +Merryon, so angry that for a whole fortnight he scarcely spoke to him. + +But when the end of the fortnight came, and with it the first break in +the rains, little Mrs. Merryon went smiling forth and returned his call. + +"Are you still being cross with Billikins?" she asked him, while her +hand lay engagingly in his. "Because it's really not his fault, you +know. If he sent me to Kamchatka, I should still come back." + +"You wouldn't if you belonged to me," said Colonel Davenant, with a +grudging smile. + +She laughed and shook her head. "Perhaps I shouldn't--not unless I loved +you as dearly as I love Billikins. But I think you needn't be cross +about it. I'm quite well. If you don't believe me, you can look at my +tongue." + +She shot it out impudently, still laughing. And the colonel suddenly and +paternally patted her cheek. + +"You're a very naughty girl," he said. "But I suppose we shall have to +make the best of you. Only, for Heaven's sake, don't go and get ill on +the quiet! If you begin to feel queer, send for the doctor at the +outset!" + +He abandoned his attitude of disapproval towards Merryon after that +interview, realizing possibly its injustice. He even declared in a +letter to his wife that Mrs. Merryon was an engaging chit, with a will +of her own that threatened to rule them all! Mrs. Davenant pursed her +lips somewhat over the assertion, and remarked that Major Merryon's wife +was plainly more at home with men than women. Captain Silvester was so +openly out of temper over her absence that it was evident she had been +"leading him on with utter heartlessness," and now, it seemed, she meant +to have the whole mess at her beck and call. + +As a matter of fact, Puck saw much more of the mess than she desired. It +became the fashion among the younger officers to drop into the Merryons' +bungalow at the end of the evening. Amusements were scarce, and Puck was +a vigorous antidote to boredom. She always sparkled in society, and she +was too sweet-natured to snub "the boys," as she called them. The smile +of welcome was ever ready on her little, thin white face, the quick jest +on her nimble tongue. + +"We mustn't be piggy just because we are happy," she said to her husband +once. "How are they to know we are having our honeymoon?" And then she +nestled close to him, whispering, "It's quite the best honeymoon any +woman ever had." + +To which he could make but the one reply, pressing her to his heart and +kissing the red lips that mocked so merrily when the world was looking +on. + +She had become the hub of his existence, and day by day he watched her +anxiously, grasping his happiness with a feeling that it was too great +to last. + +The rains set in in earnest, and the reek of the Plains rose like an +evil miasma to the turbid heavens. The atmosphere was as the interior of +a steaming cauldron. Great toadstools spread like a loathsome disease +over the compound. Fever was rife in the camp. Mosquitoes buzzed +incessantly everywhere, and rats began to take refuge in the bungalow. +Puck was privately terrified at rats, but she smothered her terror in +her husband's presence and maintained a smiling front. They laid down +poison for the rats, who died horribly in inaccessible places, making +her wonder if they were not almost preferable alive. And then one night +she discovered a small snake coiled in a corner of her bedroom. + +She fled to Merryon in horror, and he and the _khitmutgar_ slew the +creature. But Puck's nerves were on edge from that day forward. She went +through agonies of cold fear whenever she was left alone, and she +feverishly encouraged the subalterns to visit her during her husband's +absence on duty. + +He raised no objection till he one day returned unexpectedly to find her +dancing a hornpipe for the benefit of a small, admiring crowd to whom +she had been administering tea. + +She sprang like a child to meet him at his entrance, declaring the +entertainment at an end; and the crowd soon melted away. + +Then, somewhat grimly, Merryon took his wife to task. + +She sat on the arm of his chair with her arms round his neck, swinging +one leg while she listened. She was very docile, punctuating his remarks +with soft kisses dropped inconsequently on the top of his head. When he +ended, she slipped cosily down upon his knee and promised to be good. + +It was not a very serious promise, and it was plainly proffered in a +spirit of propitiation. Merryon pursued the matter no further, but he +was vaguely dissatisfied. He had a feeling that she regarded his +objections as the outcome of eccentric prudishness, or at the best an +unreasonable fit of jealousy. She smoothed him down as though he had +been a spoilt child, her own attitude supremely unabashed; and though he +could not be angry with her, an uneasy sense of doubt pressed upon him. +Utterly his own as he knew her to be, yet dimly, intangibly, he began to +wonder what her outlook on life could be, how she regarded the tie that +bound them. It was impossible to reason seriously with her. She floated +out of his reach at the first touch. + +So that curious honeymoon of theirs continued, love and passion crudely +mingled, union without knowledge, flaming worship and blind possession. + +"You are happy?" Merryon asked her once. + +To which she made ardent answer, "Always happy in your arms, O king." + +And Merryon was happy also, though, looking back later, it seemed to him +that he snatched his happiness on the very edge of the pit, and that +even at the time he must have been half-aware of it. + +When, a month after her coming, the scourge of the Plains caught her, as +was inevitable, he felt as if his new-found kingdom had begun already to +depart from him. + +For a few days Puck was seriously ill with malaria. She came through it +with marvellous resolution, nursed by Merryon and his bearer, the +general factotum of the establishment. + +But it left her painfully weak and thin, and the colonel became again +furiously insistent that she should leave the Plains till the rains were +over. + +Merryon, curiously enough, did not insist. Only one evening he took the +little wasted body into his arms and begged her--actually begged her--to +consent to go. + +"I shall be with you for the first fortnight," he said. "It won't be +more than a six-weeks' separation." + +"Six weeks!" she protested, piteously. + +"Perhaps less," he said. "I may be able to come to you for a day or two +in the middle. Say you will go--and stay, sweetheart! Set my mind at +rest!" + +"But, darling, you may be ill. A thousand things may happen. And I +couldn't go back to Shamkura. I couldn't!" said Puck, almost crying, +clinging fast around his neck. + +"But why not?" he questioned, gently. "Weren't they kind to you there? +Weren't you happy?" + +She clung faster. "Happy, Billikins! With that hateful Captain Silvester +lying in wait to--to make love to me! I didn't tell you before. But +that--that was why I left." + +He frowned above her head. "You ought to have told me before, Puck." + +She trembled in his arms. "It didn't seem to matter when once I'd got +away; and I knew it would only make you cross." + +"How did he make love to you?" demanded Merryon. + +He tried to see her face, but she hid it resolutely against him. "Don't, +Billikins! It doesn't matter now." + +"It does matter," he said, sternly. + +Puck was silent. + +Merryon continued inexorably. "I suppose it was your own fault. You led +him on." + +She gave a little nervous laugh against his breast. "I never meant to, +Billikins. I--I don't much like men--as a rule." + +"You manage to conceal that fact very successfully," he said. + +She laughed again rather piteously. "You don't know me," she whispered. +"I'm not--like that--all through." + +"I hope not," said Merryon, severely. + +She turned her face slightly upwards and snuggled it into his neck. "You +used not to mind," she said. + +He held her close in his arms the while he steeled himself against her. +"Well, I mind now," he said. "And I will have no more of it. Is that +clearly understood?" + +She assented dubiously, her lips softly kissing his neck. "It isn't--all +my fault, Billikins," she whispered, wistfully, "that men treat +me--lightly." + +He set his teeth. "It must be your fault," he declared, firmly. "You can +help it if you try." + +She turned her face more fully to his. "How grim you look, darling! You +haven't kissed me for quite five minutes." + +"I feel more like whipping you," he said, grimly. + +She leapt in his arms as if he had been about to put his words into +action. "Oh, no!" she cried. "No, you wouldn't beat me, Billikins. +You--you wouldn't, dear, would you?" Her great eyes, dilated and +imploring, gazed into his for a long desperate second ere she gave +herself back to him with a sobbing laugh. "You're not in earnest, of +course. I'm silly to listen to you. Do kiss me, darling, and not +frighten me anymore!" + +He held her close, but still he did not comply with her request. "Did +this Silvester ever kiss you?" he asked. + +She shook her head vehemently, hiding her face. + +"Look at me!" he said. + +"No, Billikins!" she protested. + +"Then tell me the truth!" he said. + +"He kissed me--once, Billikins," came in distressed accents from his +shoulder. + +"And you?" Merryon's words sounded clipped and cold. + +She shivered. "I ran right away to you. I--I didn't feel safe any more." + +Merryon sat silent. Somehow he could not stir up his anger against her, +albeit his inner consciousness told him that she had been to blame; but +for the first time his passion was cooled. He held her without ardour, +the while he wondered. + +That night he awoke to the sound of her low sobbing at his side. His +heart smote him. He put forth a comforting hand. + +She crept into his arms. "Oh, Billikins," she whispered, "keep me with +you! I'm not safe--by myself." + +The man's soul stirred within him. Dimly he began to understand what his +protection meant to her. It was her anchor, all she had to keep her from +the whirlpools. Without it she was at the mercy of every wind that blew. +Again cold doubt assailed him, but he put it forcibly away. He gathered +her close, and kissed the tears from her face and the trouble from her +heart. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE MOUTH OF THE PIT + + +So Puck had her way and stayed. + +She was evidently sublimely happy--at least in Merryon's society, but +she did not pick up her strength very quickly, and but for her unfailing +high spirits Merryon would have felt anxious about her. There seemed to +be nothing of her. She was not like a creature of flesh and blood. Yet +how utterly, how abundantly, she satisfied him! She poured out her love +to him in a perpetual offering that never varied or grew less. She gave +him freely, eagerly, glowingly, all she had to give. With passionate +triumph she answered to his need. And that need was growing. He could +not blind himself to the fact. His profession no longer filled his life. +There were times when he even resented its demands upon him. The sick +list was rapidly growing, and from morning till night his days were +full. + +Puck made no complaint. She was always waiting for him, however late the +hour of his return. She was always in his arms the moment the dripping +overcoat was removed. Sometimes he brought work back with him, and +wrestled with regimental accounts and other details far into the night. +It was not his work, but someone had to do it, and it had devolved upon +him. + +Puck never would go to bed without him. It was too lonely, she said; she +was afraid of snakes, or rats, or bogies. She used to curl up on the +_charpoy_ in his room, clad in the airiest of wrappers, and doze the +time away till he was ready. + +One night she actually fell into a sound sleep thus, and he, finishing +his work, sat on and on, watching her, loath to disturb her. There was +deep pathos in her sleeping face. Lines that in her waking moments were +never apparent were painfully noticeable in repose. She had the puzzled, +wistful look of a child who has gone through trouble without +understanding it--a hurt and piteous look. + +He watched her thus till a sense of trespass came upon him, and then he +rose, bent over her, and very tenderly lifted her. + +She was alert on the instant, with a sharp movement of resistance. Then +at once her arms went round his neck. "Oh, darling, is it you? Don't +bother to carry me! You're so tired!" + +He smiled at the idea, and she nestled against his heart, lifting soft +lips to his. + +He carried her to bed, and laid her down, but she would not let him go +immediately. She yet clung about his neck, hiding her face against it. + +He held her closely. "Good-night, little pal--little sweetheart," he +said. + +Her arms tightened. "Billikins!" she said. + +He waited. "What is it, dear?" + +She became a little agitated. He could feel her lips moving, but they +said no audible word. + +He waited in silence. And suddenly she raised her face and looked at him +fully. There was a glory in her eyes such as he had never seen before. + +"I dreamt last night that the wonderfullest thing happened," she said, +her red lips quivering close to his own. "Billikins, what if--the dream +came true?" + +A hot wave of feeling went through him at her words. He crushed her to +him, feeling the quick beat of her heart against his own, the throbbing +surrender of her whole being to his. He kissed her burningly, with such +a passion of devotion as had never before moved him. + +She laughed rapturously. "Isn't it great, Billikins?" she said. "And I'd +have missed it all if it hadn't been for you. Just think--if I hadn't +jumped--before the safety-curtain--came--down!" + +She was speaking between his kisses, and eventually they stopped her. + +"Don't think," he said; "don't think!" + +It was the beginning of a new era, the entrance of a new element into +their lives. Perhaps till that night he had never looked upon her wholly +in the light of wife. His blind passion for her had intoxicated him. +She had been to him an elf from fairyland, a being elusive who offered +him all the magic of her love, but upon whom he had no claims. But from +that night his attitude towards her underwent a change. Very tenderly he +took her into his own close keeping. She had become human in his eyes, +no longer a wayward sprite, but a woman, eager-hearted, and his own. He +gave her reverence because of that womanhood which he had only just +begun to visualize in her. Out of his passion there had kindled a +greater fire. All that she had in life she gave him, glorying in the +gift, and in return he gave her love. + +All through the days that followed he watched over her with unfailing +devotion--a devotion that drew her nearer to him than she had ever been +before. She was ever responsive to his mood, keenly susceptible to his +every phase of feeling. But, curiously, she took no open notice of the +change in him. She was sublimely happy, and like a child she lived upon +happiness, asking no questions. He never saw her other than content. + +Slowly that month of deadly rain wore on. The Plains had become a vast +and fetid swamp, the atmosphere a weltering, steamy heat, charged with +fever, leaden with despair. + +But Puck was like a singing bird in the heart of the wilderness. She +lived apart in a paradise of her own, and even the colonel had to +relent again and bestow his grim smile upon her. + +"Merryon's a lucky devil," he said, and everyone in the mess agreed with +him. + +But, "You wait!" said Macfarlane, the doctor, with gloomy emphasis. +"There's more to come." + +It was on a night of awful darkness that he uttered this prophecy, and +his hearers were in too overwhelming a state of depression to debate the +matter. + +Merryon's bungalow was actually the only one in the station in which +happiness reigned. They were sitting together in his den smoking a great +many cigarettes, listening to the perpetual patter of the rain on the +roof and the drip, drip, drip of it from gutter to veranda, superbly +content and "completely weather-proof," as Puck expressed it. + +"I hope none of the boys will turn up to-night," she said. "We haven't +room for more than two, have we?" + +"Oh, someone is sure to come," responded Merryon. "They'll be getting +bored directly, and come along here for coffee." + +"There's someone there now," said Puck, cocking her head. "I think I +shall run along to bed and leave you to do the entertaining. Shall I?" + +She looked at him with a mischievous smile, very bright-eyed and alert. + +"It would be a quick method of getting rid of them," remarked Merryon. + +She jumped up. "Very well, then. I'll go, shall I? Shall I, darling?" + +He reached out a hand and grasped her wrist. "No," he said, +deliberately, smiling up at her. "You'll stay and do your duty--unless +you're tired," he added. "Are you?" + +She stooped to bestow a swift caress upon his forehead. "My own +Billikins!" she murmured. "You're the kindest husband that ever was. Of +course, I'm going to stay." + +She could scarcely have effected her escape had she so desired, for +already a hand was on the door. She turned towards it with the roguish +smile still upon her lips. + +Merryon was looking at her at the moment. She interested him far more +than the visitor, whom he guessed to be one of the subalterns. And so +looking, he saw the smile freeze upon her face to a mask-like +immobility. And very suddenly he remembered a man whom he had once seen +killed on a battlefield--killed instantaneously--while laughing at some +joke. The frozen mirth, the starting eyes, the awful vacancy where the +soul had been--he saw them all again in the face of his wife. + +"Great heavens, Puck! What is it?" he said, and sprang to his feet. + +In the same instant she turned with the movement of one tearing herself +free from an evil spell, and flung herself violently upon his breast. +"Oh, Billikins, save me--save me!" she cried, and broke into hysterical +sobbing. + +His arms were about her in a second, sheltering her, sustaining her. His +eyes went beyond her to the open door. + +A man was standing there--a bulky, broad-featured, coarse-lipped man +with keen black eyes that twinkled maliciously between thick lids, and a +black beard that only served to emphasize an immensely heavy under-jaw. +Merryon summed him up swiftly as a Portuguese American with more than a +dash of darker blood in his composition. + +He entered the room in a fashion that was almost insulting. It was +evident that he was summing up Merryon also. + +The latter waited for him, stiff with hostility, his arms still tightly +clasping Puck's slight, cowering form. He spoke as the stranger +advanced, in his voice a deep menace like the growl of an angry beast +protecting its own. + +"Who are you? And what do you want?" + +The stranger's lips parted, showing a gleam of strong white teeth. "My +name," he said, speaking in a peculiarly soft voice that somehow +reminded Merryon of the hiss of a reptile, "is Leo Vulcan. You have +heard of me? Perhaps not. I am better known in the Western Hemisphere. +You ask me what I want?" He raised a brown, hairy hand and pointed +straight at the girl in Merryon's arms. "I want--my wife!" + +Puck's cry of anguish followed the announcement, and after it came +silence--a tense, hard-breathing silence, broken only by her long-drawn, +agonized sobbing. + +Merryon's hold had tightened all unconsciously to a grip; and she was +clinging to him wildly, convulsively, as she had never clung before. He +could feel the horror that pulsed through her veins; it set his own +blood racing at fever-speed. + +Over her head he faced the stranger with eyes of steely hardness. "You +have made a mistake," he said, briefly and sternly. + +The other man's teeth gleamed again. He had a way of lifting his lip +when talking which gave him an oddly bestial look. "I think not," he +said. "Let the lady speak for herself! She will not--I think--deny me." + +There was an intolerable sneer in the last sentence. A sudden awful +doubt smote through Merryon. He turned to the girl sobbing at his +breast. + +"Puck," he said, "for Heaven's sake--what is this man to you?" + +She did not answer him; perhaps she could not. Her distress was terrible +to witness, utterly beyond all control. + +But the newcomer was by no means disconcerted by it. He drew near with +the utmost assurance. + +"Allow me to deal with her!" he said, and reached out a hand to touch +her. + +But at that action Merryon's wrath burst into sudden flame. "Curse you, +keep away!" he thundered. "Lay a finger on her at your peril!" + +The other stood still, but his eyes gleamed evilly. "My good sir," he +said, "you have not yet grasped the situation. It is not a pleasant one +for you--for either of us; but it has got to be grasped. I do not happen +to know under what circumstances you met this woman; but I do know that +she was my lawful wife before the meeting took place. In whatever light +you may be pleased to regard that fact, you must admit that legally she +is my property, not yours!" + +"Oh, no--no--no!" moaned Puck. + +Merryon said nothing. He felt strangled, as if a ligature about his +throat had forced all the blood to his brain and confined it there. + +After a moment the bearded man continued: "You may not know it, but she +is a dancer of some repute, a circumstance which she owes entirely to +me. I picked her up, a mere child in the streets of London, turning +cart-wheels for a living. I took her and trained her as an acrobat. She +was known on the stage as Toby the Tumbler. Everyone took her for a boy. +Later, she developed a talent for dancing. It was then that I decided to +marry her. She desired the marriage even more than I did." Again he +smiled his brutal smile. + +"Oh, no!" sobbed Puck. "Oh, no!" + +He passed on with a derisive sneer. "We were married about two years +ago. She became popular in the halls very soon after, and it turned her +head. You may have discovered yourself by this time that she is not +always as tractable as she might be. I had to teach her obedience and +respect, and eventually I succeeded. I conquered her--as I +hoped--completely. However, six months ago she took advantage of a stage +fire to give me the slip, and till recently I believed that she was +dead. Then a friend of mine--Captain Silvester--met her out here in +India a few weeks back at a place called Shamkura, and recognized her. +Her dancing qualities are superb. I think she displayed them a little +rashly if she really wished to remain hidden. He sent me the news, and I +have come myself to claim her--and take her back." + +"You can't take me back!" It was Puck's voice, but not as Merryon had +ever heard it before. She flashed round like a hunted creature at bay, +her eyes blazing a wild defiance into the mocking eyes opposite. "You +can't take me back!" she repeated, with quivering insistence. "Our +marriage was--no marriage! It was a sham--a sham! But even if--even +if--it had been--a true marriage--you would have to--set me--free--now." + +"And why?" said Vulcan, with his evil smile. + +She was white to the lips, but she faced him unflinching. "There is--a +reason," she said. + +"In--deed!" He uttered a scoffing laugh of deadly insult. "The same +reason, I presume, as that for which you married me?" + +She flinched at that--flinched as if he had struck her across the face. +"Oh, you brute!" she said, and shuddered back against Merryon's +supporting arm. "You wicked brute!" + +It was then that Merryon wrenched himself free from that paralysing +constriction that bound him, and abruptly intervened. + +"Puck," he said, "go! Leave us! I will deal with this matter in my own +way." + +She made no move to obey. Her face was hidden in her hands. But she was +sobbing no longer, only sickly shuddering from head to foot. + +He took her by the shoulder. "Go, child, go!" he urged. + +But she shook her head. "It's no good," she said. "He has got--the +whip-hand." + +The utter despair of her tone pierced straight to his soul. She stood as +one bent beneath a crushing burden, and he knew that her face was +burning behind the sheltering hands. + +He still held her with a certain stubbornness of possession, though she +made no further attempt to cling to him. + +"What do you mean by that?" he said, bending to her. "Tell me what you +mean! Don't be afraid to tell me!" + +She shook her head again. "I am bound," she said, dully, "bound hand and +foot." + +"You mean that you really are--married to him?" Merryon spoke the words +as it were through closed lips. He had a feeling as of being caught in +some crushing machinery, of being slowly and inevitably ground to +shapeless atoms. + +Puck lifted her head at length and spoke, not looking at him. "I went +through a form of marriage with him," she said, "for the sake +of--of--of--decency. I always loathed him. I always shall. He only wants +me now because I am--I have been--valuable to him. When he first took me +he seemed kind. I was nearly starved, quite desperate, and alone. He +offered to teach me to be an acrobat, to make a living. I'd better have +drowned myself." A little tremor of passion went through her voice; she +paused to steady it, then went on. "He taught by fear--and cruelty. He +opened my eyes to evil. He used to beat me, too--tie me up in the +gymnasium--and beat me with a whip till--till I was nearly beside myself +and ready to promise anything--anything, only to stop the torture. And +so he got everything he wanted from me, and when I began to be +successful as a dancer he--married me. I thought it would make things +better. I didn't think, if I were his wife, he could go on ill-treating +me quite so much. But I soon found my mistake. I soon found I was even +more his slave than before. And then--just a week before the +fire--another woman came, and told me that it was not a real marriage; +that--that he had been through exactly the same form with her--and there +was nothing in it." + +She stopped again at sound of a low laugh from Vulcan. "Not quite the +same form, my dear," he said. "Yours was as legal and binding as the +English law could make it. I have the certificate with me to prove this. +As you say, you were valuable to me then--as you will be again, and so I +was careful that the contract should be complete in every particular. +Now--if you have quite finished your--shall we call it confession?--I +suggest that you should return to your lawful husband and leave this +gentleman to console himself as soon as may be. It is growing late, and +it is not my intention that you should spend another night under his +protection." + +He spoke slowly, with a curious, compelling emphasis, and as if in +answer to that compulsion Puck's eyes came back to his. + +"Oh, no!" she said, in a quick, frightened whisper. "No! I can't! I +can't!" + +Yet she made a movement towards him as if drawn irresistibly. + +And at that movement, wholly involuntary as it was, something in +Merryon's brain seemed to burst. He saw all things a burning, +intolerable red. With a strangled oath he caught her back, held her +violently--a prisoner in his arms. + +"By God, no!" he said. "I'll kill you first!" + +She turned in his embrace. She lifted her lips and passionately kissed +him. "Yes, kill me! Kill me!" she cried to him. "I'd rather die!" + +Again the stranger laughed, though his eyes were devilish. "You had +better come without further trouble," he remarked. "You will only add to +your punishment--which will be no light one as it is--by these +hysterics. Do you wish to see my proofs?" He addressed Merryon with +sudden open malignancy. "Or am I to take them to the colonel of your +regiment?" + +"You may take them to the devil!" Merryon said. He was holding her +crushed to his heart. He flung his furious challenge over her head. "If +the marriage was genuine you shall set her free. If it was not"--he +paused, and ended in a voice half-choked with passion--"you can go to +blazes!" + +The other man showed his teeth in a wolfish snarl. "She is my wife," he +said, in his slow, sibilant way. "I shall not set her free. +And--wherever I go, she will go also." + +"If you can take her, you infernal blackguard!" Merryon threw at him. +"Now get out. Do you hear? Get out--if you don't want to be shot! +Whatever happens to-morrow, I swear by God in heaven she shall not go +with you to-night!" + +The uncontrolled violence of his speech was terrible. His hold upon Puck +was violent also, more violent than he knew. Her whole body lay a +throbbing weight upon him, and he was not even aware of it. + +"Go!" he reiterated, with eyes of leaping flame. "Go! or--" He left the +sentence uncompleted. It was even more terrible than his flow of words +had been. The whole man vibrated with a wrath that possessed him in a +fashion so colossal as to render him actually sublime. He mastered the +situation by the sheer, indomitable might of his fury. There was no +standing against him. It would have been as easy to stem a racing +torrent. + +Vulcan, for all his insolence, realized the fact. The man's strength in +that moment was gigantic, practically limitless. There was no coping +with it. Still with the snarl upon his lips he turned away. + +"You will pay for this, my wife," he said. "You will pay in full. When I +punish, I punish well." + +He reached the door and opened it, still leering back at the limp, +girlish form in Merryon's arms. + +"It will not be soon over," he said. "It will take many days, many +nights, that punishment--till you have left off crying for mercy, or +expecting it." + +He was on the threshold. His eyes suddenly shot up with a gloating +hatred to Merryon's. + +"And you," he said, "will have the pleasure of knowing every night when +you lie down alone that she is either writhing under the lash--a +frequent exercise for a while, my good sir--or finding subtle comfort in +my arms; both pleasant subjects for your dreams." + +He was gone. The door closed slowly, noiselessly, upon his exit. There +was no sound of departing feet. + +But Merryon neither listened nor cared. He had turned Puck's deathly +face upwards, and was covering it with burning, passionate kisses, +drawing her back to life, as it were, by the fiery intensity of his +worship. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +GREATER THAN DEATH + + +She came to life, weakly gasping. She opened her eyes upon him with the +old, unwavering adoration in their depths. And then before his burning +look hers sank. She hid her face against him with an inarticulate sound +more anguished than any weeping. + +The savagery went out of his hold. He drew her to the _charpoy_ on which +she had spent so many evenings waiting for him, and made her sit down. + +She did not cling to him any longer; she only covered her face so that +he should not see it, huddling herself together in a piteous heap, her +black, curly head bowed over her knees in an overwhelming agony of +humiliation. + +Yet there was in the situation something that was curiously reminiscent +of that night when she had leapt from the burning stage into the safety +of his arms. Now, as then, she was utterly dependent upon the charity of +his soul. + +He turned from her and poured brandy and water into a glass. He came +back and knelt beside her. + +"Drink it, my darling!" he said. + +She made a quick gesture as of surprised protest. She did not raise her +head. It was as if an invisible hand were crushing her to the earth. + +"Why don't you--kill me?" she said. + +He laid his hand upon her bent head. "Because you are the salt of the +earth to me," he said; "because I worship you." + +She caught the hand with a little sound of passionate endearment, and +laid her face down in it, her hot, quivering lips against his palm. "I +love you so!" she said. "I love you so!" + +He pressed her face slowly upwards. But she resisted. "No, no! I +can't--meet--your--eyes." + +"You need not be afraid," he said. "Once and for all, Puck, believe me +when I tell you that this thing shall never--can never--come between +us." + +She caught her breath sharply; but still she refused to look up. "Then +you don't understand," she said. "You--you--can't understand +that--that--I was--his--his--" Her voice failed. She caught his hand in +both her own, pressing it hard over her face, writhing in mute shame +before him. + +"Yes, I do understand," Merryon said, and his voice was very quiet, full +of a latent force that thrilled her magnetically. "I understand that +when you were still a child this brute took possession of you, broke you +to his will, did as he pleased with you. I understand that you were as +helpless as a rabbit in the grip of a weasel. I understand that he was +always an abomination and a curse to you, that when deliverance offered +you seized it; and I do not forget that you would have preferred death +if I would have let you die. Do you know, Puck"--his voice had softened +by imperceptible degrees; he was bending towards her so that she could +feel his breath on her neck while he spoke--"when I took it upon me to +save you from yourself that night I knew--I guessed--what had happened +to you? No, don't start like that! If there was anything to forgive I +forgave you long ago. I understood. Believe me, though I am a man, I can +understand." + +He stopped. His hand was all wet with her tears. "Oh, darling!" she +whispered. "Oh, darling!" + +"Don't cry, sweetheart!" he said. "And don't be afraid any longer! I +took you from your inferno. I learnt to love you--just as you were, +dear, just as you were. You tried to keep me at a distance; do you +remember? And then--you found life was too strong for you. You came back +and gave yourself to me. Have you ever regretted it, my darling? Tell me +that!" + +"Never!" she sobbed. "Never! Your love--your love--has been--the +safety-curtain--always--between me and--harm." + +And then very suddenly she lifted her face, her streaming eyes, and met +his look. + +"But there's one thing, darling," she said, "which you must know. I +loved you always--always--even before that monsoon night. But I came to +you then because--because--I knew that I had been recognized, and--I was +afraid--I was terrified--till--till I was safe in your arms." + +"Ah! But you came to me," he said. + +A sudden gleam of mirth shot through her woe. "My! That was a night, +Billikins!" she said. And then the clouds came back upon her, +overwhelming her. "Oh, what is there to laugh at? How could I laugh?" + +He lifted the glass he held and drank from it, then offered it to her. +"Drink with me!" he said. + +She took, not the glass, but his wrist, and drank with her eyes upon his +face. + +When she had finished she drew his arms about her, and lay against his +shoulder with closed eyes for a space, saying no word. + +At last, with a little murmuring sigh, she spoke. "What is going to +happen, Billikins?" + +"God knows," he said. + +But there was no note of dismay in his voice. His hold was strong and +steadfast. + +She stirred a little. "Do you believe in God?" she asked him, for the +second time. + +He had not answered her before; he answered her now without hesitation. +"Yes, I do." + +She lifted her head to look at him. "I wonder why?" she said. + +He was silent for a moment; then, "Just because I can hold you in my +arms," he said, "and feel that nothing else matters--or can matter +again." + +"You really feel that?" she said, quickly. "You really love me, dear?" + +"That is love," he said, simply. + +"Oh, darling!" Her breath came fast. "Then, if they try to take me from +you--you will really do it--you won't be afraid?" + +"Do what?" he questioned, sombrely. + +"Kill me, Billikins," she answered, swiftly. "Kill me--sooner than let +me go." + +He bent his head. "Yes," he said. "My love is strong enough for that." + +"But what would you do--afterwards?" she breathed, her lips raised to +his. + +A momentary surprise showed in his eyes. "Afterwards?" he questioned. + +"After I was gone, darling?" she said, anxiously. + +A very strange smile came over Merryon's face. He pressed her to him, +his eyes gazing deep into hers. He kissed her, but not passionately, +rather with reverence. + +"Your afterwards will be mine, dear, wherever it is," he said. "If it +comes to that--if there is any going--in that way--we go together." + +The anxiety went out of her face in a second. She smiled back at him +with utter confidence. "Oh, Billikins!" she said. "Oh, Billikins, that +will be great!" + +She went back into his arms, and lay there for a further space, saying +no word. There was something sacred in the silence between them, +something mysterious and wonderful. The drip, drip, drip of the +ceaseless rain was the only sound in the stillness. They seemed to be +alone together in a sanctuary that none other might enter, husband and +wife, made one by the Bond Imperishable, waiting together for +deliverance. They were the most precious moments that either had ever +known, for in them they were more truly wedded in spirit than they had +ever been before. + +How long the great silence lasted neither could have said. It lay like a +spell for awhile, and like a spell it passed. + +Merryon moved at last, moved and looked down into his wife's eyes. + +They met his instantly without a hint of shrinking; they even smiled. +"It must be nearly bedtime," she said. "You are not going to be busy +to-night?" + +"Not to-night," he said. + +"Then don't let's sit up any longer, darling," she said. "We can't +either of us afford to lose our beauty sleep." + +She rose with him, still with her shining eyes lifted to his, still with +that brave gaiety sparkling in their depths. She gave his arm a tight +little squeeze. "My, Billikins, how you've grown!" she said, admiringly. +"You always were--pretty big. But to-night you're just--titanic!" + +He smiled and touched her cheek, not speaking. + +"You fill the world," she said. + +He bent once more to kiss her. "You fill my heart," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE SACRIFICE + + +They went round the bungalow together to see to the fastenings of doors +and windows. The _khitmutgar_ had gone to his own quarters for the +night, and they were quite alone. The drip, drip, drip of the rain was +still the only sound, save when the far cry of a prowling jackal came +weirdly through the night. + +"It's more gruesome than usual somehow," said Puck, still fast clinging +to her husband's arm. "I'm not a bit frightened, darling, only sort of +creepy at the back. But there's nobody here but you and me, is there?" + +"Nobody," said Merryon. + +"And will you please come and see if there are any snakes or scorpions +before I begin to undress?" she said. "The very fact of looking under my +bed makes my hair stand on end." + +He went with her and made a thorough investigation, finding nothing. + +"That's all right," she said, with a sigh of relief. "And yet, somehow, +I feel as if something is waiting round the corner to pounce out on us. +Is it Fate, do you think? Or just my silly fancy?" + +"I think it is probably your startled nerves, dear," he said, smiling a +little. + +She assented with a half-suppressed shudder. "But I'm sure something +will happen directly," she said. "I'm sure. I'm sure." + +"Well, I shall only be in the next room if it does," he said. + +He was about to leave her, but she sprang after him, clinging to his +arm. "And you won't be late, will you?" she pleaded. "I can't sleep +without you. Ah, what is that? What is it? What is it?" + +Her voice rose almost to a shriek. A sudden loud knocking had broken +through the endless patter of the rain. + +Merryon's face changed a very little. The iron-grey eyes became stony, +quite expressionless. He stood a moment listening. Then, "Stay here!" he +said, his voice very level and composed. "Yes, Puck, I wish it. Stay +here!" + +It was a distinct command, the most distinct he had ever given her. Her +clinging hands slipped from his arm. She stood rigid, unprotesting, +white as death. + +The knocking was renewed with fevered energy as Merryon turned quietly +to obey the summons. He closed the door upon his wife and went down the +passage. + +There was no haste in his movements as he slipped back the bolts, rather +the studied deliberation of purpose of a man armed against all +emergency. But the door burst inwards against him the moment he opened +it, and one of his subalterns, young Harley, almost fell into his arms. + +Merryon steadied him with the utmost composure. "Halloa, Harley! You, is +it? What's all this noise about?" + +The boy pulled himself together with an effort. He was white to the +lips. + +"There's cholera broken out," he said. "Forbes and Robey--both down--at +their own bungalow. And they've got it at the barracks, too. +Macfarlane's there. Can you come?" + +"Of course--at once." Merryon pulled him forward. "Go in there and get a +drink while I speak to my wife!" + +He turned back to her door, but she met him on the threshold. Her eyes +burned like stars in her little pale face. + +"It's all right, Billikins," she said, and swallowed hard. "I heard. +You've got to go to the barracks, haven't you, darling? I knew there was +going to be--something. Well, you must take something to eat in your +pocket. You'll want it before morning. And some brandy too. Give me your +flask, darling, and I'll fill it!" + +Her composure amazed him. He had expected anguished distress at the bare +idea of his leaving her, but those brave, bright eyes of hers were +actually smiling. + +"Puck!" he said. "You--wonder!" + +She made a small face at him. "Oh, you're not the only wonder in the +world," she told him. "Run along and get yourself ready! My! You are +going to be busy, aren't you?" + +She nodded to him and ran into the drawing-room to young Harley. He +heard her chatting there while he made swift preparations for departure, +and he thanked Heaven that she realized so little the ghastly nature of +the horror that had swept down upon them. He hoped the boy would have +the sense to let her remain unenlightened. It was bad enough to have to +leave her after the ordeal they had just faced together. He did not want +her terrified on his account as well. + +But when he joined them she was still smiling, eager only to provide for +any possible want of his, not thinking of herself at all. + +"I hope you will enjoy your picnic, Billikins," she said. "I'll shut the +door after you, and I shall know it's properly fastened. Oh, yes, the +_khit_ will take care of me, Mr. Harley. He's such a brave man. He kills +snakes without the smallest change of countenance. Good-night, +Billikins! Take care of yourself. I suppose you'll come back sometime?" + +She gave him the lightest caress imaginable, shook hands affectionately +with young Harley, who was looking decidedly less pinched than he had +upon arrival, and stood waving an energetic hand as they went away into +the dripping dark. + +"You didn't tell her--anything?" Merryon asked, as they plunged down the +road. + +"Not more than I could help, Major. But she seemed to know without." +The lad spoke uncomfortably, as if against his will. + +"She asked questions, then?" Merryon's voice was sharp. + +"Yes, a few. She wanted to know about Forbes and Robey. Robey is awfully +bad. I didn't tell her that." + +"Who is looking after them?" Merryon asked. + +"Only a native orderly now. The colonel and Macfarlane both had to go to +the barracks. It's frightful there. About twenty cases already. Oh, hang +this rain!" said Harley, bitterly. + +"But couldn't they take them--Forbes, I mean, and Robey--to the +hospital?" questioned Merryon. + +"No. To tell you the truth, Robey is pegging out, poor fellow. It's +always the best chaps that go first, though. Heaven knows, we may be all +gone before this time to-morrow." + +"Don't talk like a fool!" said Merryon, curtly. + +And Harley said no more. + +They pressed on through mud that was ankle-deep to the barracks. + +There during all the nightmare hours that followed Merryon worked with +the strength of ten. He gave no voluntary thought to his wife waiting +for him in loneliness, but ever and anon those blazing eyes of hers rose +before his mental vision, and he saw again that brave, sweet smile with +which she had watched him go. + +The morning found him haggard but indomitable, wrestling with the +difficulties of establishing a camp a mile or more from the barracks out +in the rain-drenched open. There had been fourteen deaths in the night, +and seven men were still fighting a losing battle for their lives in the +hospital. He had a native officer to help him in his task; young Harley +was superintending the digging of graves, and the colonel had gone to +the bungalow where the two stricken officers lay. + +Dank and gruesome dawned the day, with the smell of rot in the air and +the sense of death hovering over all. And there came to Merryon a +sudden, overwhelming desire to go back to his bungalow beyond the fetid +town and see how his wife was faring. She was the only white woman in +the place, and the thought of her isolation came upon him now like a +fiery torture. + +It was the fiercest temptation he had ever known. Till that day his +regimental duties had always been placed first with rigorous +determination. Now for the first time he found himself torn by +conflicting ties. The craving for news of her possessed him like a +burning thirst. Yet he knew that some hours must elapse before he could +honestly consider himself free to go. + +He called an orderly at last, finding the suspense unendurable, and gave +him a scribbled line to carry to his wife. + +"Is all well, sweetheart? Send back word by bearer," he wrote, and told +the man not to return without an answer. + +The orderly departed, and for a while Merryon devoted himself to the +matter in hand, and crushed his anxiety into the background. But at the +end of an hour he was chafing in a fever of impatience. What delayed the +fellow? In Heaven's name, why was he so long? + +Ghastly possibilities arose in his mind, fears unspeakable that he dared +not face. He forced himself to attend to business, but the suspense was +becoming intolerable. He began to realize that he could not stand it +much longer. + +He was nearing desperation when the colonel came unexpectedly upon the +scene, unshaven and haggard as he was himself, but firm as a rock in the +face of adversity. + +He joined Merryon, and received the latter's report, grimly taciturn. +They talked together for a space of needs and expediencies. The fell +disease had got to be checked somehow. He spoke of recalling the +officers on leave. There had been such a huge sick list that summer that +they were reduced to less than half their normal strength. + +"You're worth a good many," he said to Merryon, half-grudgingly, "but +you can't work miracles. Besides, you've got--" He broke off abruptly. +"How's your wife?" + +"That's what I don't know, sir." Feverishly Merryon made answer. "I left +her last night. She was well then. But since--I sent down an orderly +over an hour ago. He's not come back." + +"Confound it!" said the colonel, testily. "You'd better go yourself." + +Merryon glanced swiftly round. + +"Yes, go, go!" the colonel reiterated, irritably. "I'll relieve you for +a spell. Go and satisfy yourself--and me! None but an infernal fool +would have kept her here," he added, in a growling undertone, as Merryon +lifted a hand in brief salute and started away through the sodden mists. + +He went as he had never gone in his life before, and as he went the +mists parted before him and a blinding ray of sunshine came smiting +through the gap like the sword of the destroyer. The simile rushed +through his mind and out again, even as the grey mist-curtain closed +once more. + +He reached the bungalow. It stood like a shrouded ghost, and the drip, +drip, drip of the rain on the veranda came to him like a death-knell. + +A gaunt figure met him almost on the threshold, and he recognized his +messenger with a sharp sense of coming disaster. The man stood mutely at +the salute. + +"Well? Well? Speak!" he ordered, nearly beside himself with anxiety. +"Why didn't you come back with an answer?" + +The man spoke with deep submission. "_Sahib_, there was no answer." + +"What do you mean by that? What the--Here, let me pass!" cried Merryon, +in a ferment. "There must have been--some sort of answer." + +"No, _sahib_. No answer." The man spoke with inscrutable composure. "The +_mem-sahib_ has not come back," he said. "Let the _sahib_ see for +himself." + +But Merryon had already burst into the bungalow; so he resumed his +patient watch on the veranda, wholly undisturbed, supremely patient. + +The _khitmutgar_ came forward at his master's noisy entrance. There was +a trace--just the shadow of a suggestion--of anxiety on his dignified +face under the snow-white turban. He presented him with a note on a +salver with a few murmured words and a deep salaam. + +"For the _sahib's_ hands alone," he said. + +Merryon snatched up the note and opened it with shaking hands. + +It was very brief, pathetically so, and as he read a great emptiness +seemed to spread and spread around him in an ever-widening desolation. + +"Good-bye, my Billikins!" Ah, the pitiful, childish scrawl she had made +of it! "I've come to my senses, and I've gone back to him. I'm not +worthy of any sacrifice of yours, dear. And it would have been a big +sacrifice. You wouldn't like being dragged through the mud, but I'm used +to it. It came to me just that moment that you said, 'Yes, of course,' +when Mr. Harley came to call you back to duty. Duty is better than a +worthless woman, my Billikins, and I was never fit to be anything more +than a toy to you--a toy to play with and toss aside. And so good-bye, +good-bye!" + +The scrawl ended with a little cross at the bottom of the page. He +looked up from it with eyes gone blind with pain and a stunned and awful +sense of loss. + +"When did the _mem-sahib_ go?" he questioned, dully. + +The _khitmutgar_ bent his stately person. "The _mem-sahib_ went in +haste," he said, "an hour before midnight. Your servant followed her to +the _dâk-bungalow_ to protect her from _budmashes_, but she dismissed me +ere she entered in. _Sahib_, I could do no more." + +The man's eyes appealed for one instant, but fell the next before the +dumb despair that looked out of his master's. + +There fell a terrible silence--a pause, as it were, of suspended +vitality, while the iron bit deeper and deeper into tissues too numbed +to feel. + +Then, "Fetch me a drink!" said Merryon, curtly. "I must be getting back +to duty." + +And with soundless promptitude the man withdrew, thankful to make his +escape. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE SACRED FIRE + + +"Well? Is she all right?" Almost angrily the colonel flung the question +as his second-in-command came back heavy-footed through the rain. He had +been through a nasty period of suspense himself during Merryon's +absence. + +Merryon nodded. His face was very pale and his lips seemed stiff. + +"She has--gone, sir," he managed to say, after a moment. + +"Gone, has she?" The colonel raised his brows in astonished +interrogation. "What! Taken fright at last? Well, best thing she could +do, all things considered. You ought to be very thankful." + +He dismissed the subject for more pressing matters, and he never noticed +the awful whiteness of Merryon's face or the deadly fixity of his look. + +Macfarlane noticed both, coming up two hours later to report the death +of one of the officers at the bungalow. + +"For Heaven's sake, man, have some brandy!" he said, proffering a flask +of his own. "You're looking pretty unhealthy. What is it? Feeling a bit +off, eh?" + +He held Merryon's wrist while he drank the brandy, regarding him with a +troubled frown the while. + +"What is the matter with you, man?" he said. "You're not frightening +yourself? You wouldn't be such a fool!" + +Merryon did not answer. He was never voluble. To-day he seemed +tongue-tied. + +Macfarlane continued with an uneasy effort to hide a certain doubt +stirring in his mind. "I hear there was a European died at the +_dâk-bungalow_ early this morning. I wanted to go round and see, but I +haven't been able. It's fairly widespread, but there's no sense in +getting scared. Halloa, Merryon!" + +He broke off, staring. Merryon had given a great start. He looked like a +man stabbed suddenly from a dream to full consciousness. + +"A European--at the _dâk-bungalow_--dead, did you say?" + +His words tumbled over each other; he gripped Macfarlane's shoulder and +shook it with fierce impatience. + +"So I heard. I don't know any details. How should I? Merryon, are you +mad?" Macfarlane put up a quick hand to free himself, for the grip was +painful. "He wasn't a friend of yours, I suppose? He wouldn't have been +putting up there if he had been." + +"No, no; not--a friend." The words came jerkily. Merryon was breathing +in great spasms that shook him from head to foot. "Not--a friend!" he +said again, and stopped, gazing before him with eyes curiously +contracted as the eyes of one striving to discern something a long way +off. + +Macfarlane slipped a hand under his elbow. "Look here," he said, "you +must have a rest. You can be spared for a bit now. Walk back with me to +the hospital, and we will see how things are going there." + +His hand closed urgently. He began to draw him away. + +Merryon's eyes came back as it were out of space, and gave him a quick +side-glance that was like the turn of a rapier. "I must go down to the +_dâk-bungalow_," he said, with decision. + +Swift protest rose to the doctor's lips, but it died there. He tightened +his hold instead, and went with him. + +The colonel looked round sharply at their approach, looked--and swore +under his breath. "Yes, all right, major, you'd better go," he said. +"Good-bye." + +Merryon essayed a grim smile, but his ashen face only twisted +convulsively, showing his set teeth. He hung on Macfarlane's shoulder +while the first black cloud of agony possessed him and slowly passed. + +Then, white and shaking, he stood up. "I'll get round to the _dâk_ now, +before I'm any worse. Don't come with me, Macfarlane! I'll take an +orderly." + +"I'm coming," said Macfarlane, stoutly. + +But they did not get to the _dâk-bungalow_, or anywhere near it. Before +they had covered twenty yards another frightful spasm of pain came upon +Merryon, racking his whole being, depriving him of all his powers, +wresting from him every faculty save that of suffering. He went down +into a darkness that swallowed him, soul and body, blotting out all +finite things, loosening his frantic clutch on life, sucking him down as +it were into a frightful emptiness, where his only certainty of +existence lay in the excruciating agonies that tore and convulsed him +like devils in some inferno under the earth. + +Of time and place and circumstance thereafter he became as completely +unconscious as though they had ceased to be, though once or twice he was +aware of a merciful hand that gave him opium to deaden--or was it only +to prolong?--his suffering. And æons and eternities passed over him +while he lay in the rigour of perpetual torments, not trying to escape, +only writhing in futile anguish in the bitter dark of the prison-house. + +Later, very much later, there came a time when the torture gradually +ceased or became merged in a deathly coldness. During that stage his +understanding began to come back to him like the light of a dying day. A +vague and dreadful sense of loss began to oppress him, a feeling of +nakedness as though the soul of him were already slipping free, passing +into an appalling void, leaving an appalling void behind. He lay quite +helpless and sinking, sinking--slowly, terribly sinking into an +overwhelming sea of annihilation. + +With all that was left of his failing strength he strove to cling to +that dim light which he knew for his own individuality. The silence and +the darkness broke over him in long, soundless waves; but each time he +emerged again, cold, cold as death, but still aware of self, aware of +existence, albeit the world he knew had dwindled to an infinitesimal +smallness, as an object very far away, and floating ever farther and +farther from his ken. + +Vague paroxysms of pain still seized him from time to time, but they no +longer affected him in the same way. The body alone agonized. The soul +stood apart on the edge of that dreadful sea, shrinking afraid from the +black, black depths and the cruel cold of the eternal night. He was +terribly, crushingly alone. + +Someone had once, twice, asked him a vital question about his belief in +God. Then he had been warmly alive. He had held his wife close in his +arms, and nothing else had mattered. But now--but now--he was very far +from warmth and life. He was dying in loneliness. He was perishing in +the outer dark, where no hand might reach and no voice console. He had +believed--or thought he believed--in God. But now his faith was wearing +very thin. Very soon it would crumble quite away, just as he himself was +crumbling into the dreadful silence of the ages. His life--the brief +passion called life--was over. Out of the dark it had come; into the +dark it went. And no one to care--no one to cry farewell to him across +that desolation of emptiness that was death! No one to kneel beside him +and pray for light in that awful, all-encompassing dark! + +Stay! Something had touched him even then. Or was it but his dying +fancy? Red lips he had kissed and that had kissed him in return, eager +arms that had clung and clung, eyes of burning adoration! Did they truly +belong all to the past? Or were they here beside him even now--even now? +Had he wandered backwards perchance into that strange, sweet heaven of +love from which he had been so suddenly and terribly cast out? Ah, how +he had loved her! How he had loved her! Very faintly there began to stir +within him the old fiery longing that she, and she alone, had ever waked +within him. He would worship her to the last flicker of his dying soul. +But the darkness was spreading, spreading, like a yawning of a great +gulf at his feet. Already he was slipping over the edge. The light was +fading out of his sky. + +It was the last dim instinct of nature that made him reach out a +groping hand, and with lips that would scarcely move to whisper, "Puck!" + +He did not expect an answer. The things of earth were done with. His +life was passing swiftly, swiftly, like the sands running out of a +glass. He had lost her already, and the world had sunk away, away, with +all warmth and light and love. + +Yet out of the darkness all suddenly there came a voice, eager, +passionate, persistent. "I am here, Billikins! I am here! Come back to +me, darling! Come back!" + +He started at that voice, started and paused, holding back as it were on +the very verge of the precipice. So she was there indeed! He could hear +her sobbing breath. There came to him the consciousness of her hands +clasping his, and the faintest, vaguest glow went through his ice-cold +body. He tried, piteously weak as he was, to bend his fingers about +hers. + +And then there came the warmth of her lips upon them, kissing them with +a fierce passion of tenderness, drawing them close as if to breathe her +own vitality into his failing pulses. + +"Open your eyes to me, darling!" she besought him. "See how I love you! +And see how I want your love! I can't do without it, Billikins. It's my +only safeguard. What! He is dead? I say he is not--he is not! Or if he +is, he shall rise again. He shall come back. See! He is looking at me! +How dare you say he is dead?" + +The wild anguish of her voice reached him, pierced him, rousing him as +no other power on earth could have roused him. Out of that deathly +inertia he drew himself, inch by inch, as out of some clinging swamp. +His hand found strength to tighten upon hers. He opened his eyes, +leaden-lidded as they were, and saw her face all white and drawn, gazing +into his own with such an agony of love, such a consuming fire of +worship, that it seemed as if his whole being were drawn by it, warmed, +comforted, revived. + +She hung above him, fierce in her devotion, driving back the destroyer +by the sheer burning intensity of her love. "You shan't die, Billikins!" +she told him, passionately. "You can't die--now I am here!" + +She stooped her face to his. He turned his lips instinctively to meet +it, and suddenly it was as though a flame had kindled between them--hot, +ardent, compelling. His dying pulses thrilled to it, his blood ran +warmer. + +"You--have--come--back!" he said, with slow articulation. + +"My darling--my darling!" she made quivering answer. "Say I've come--in +time!" + +He tried to speak again, but could not. Yet the deathly cold was giving +way like ice before the sun. He could feel his heart beating where +before he had felt nothing. A hand that was not Puck's came out of the +void beyond her and held a spoonful of spirit to his mouth. He swallowed +it with difficulty, and was conscious of a greater warmth. + +"There, my own boy, my own boy!" she murmured over him. "You're coming +back to me. Say you're coming back!" + +His lips quivered like a child's. He forced them to answer her. "If +you--will--stay," he said. + +"I will never leave you again, darling," she made swift answer. "Never, +never again! You shall have all that you want--all--all!" + +Her arms closed about him. He felt the warmth of her body, the +passionate nearness of her soul; and therewith the flame that had +kindled between them leaped to a great and burning glow, encompassing +them both--the Sacred Fire. + +A wonderful sense of comfort came upon him. He turned to her as a man +turns to only one woman in all the world, and laid his head upon her +breast. + +"I only want--my wife," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +FREEDOM + + +It took him many days to climb back up that slope down which he had +slipped so swiftly in those few awful hours. Very slowly, with painful +effort, but with unfailing purpose, he made his arduous way. And through +it all Puck never left his side. + +Alert and vigilant, very full of courage, very quick of understanding, +she drew him, leaning on her, back to a life that had become strangely +new to them both. They talked very little, for Merryon's strength was +terribly low, and Macfarlane, still scarcely believing in the miracle +that had been wrought under his eyes, forbade all but the simplest and +briefest speech--a prohibition which Puck strenuously observed; for +Puck, though she knew the miracle for an accomplished fact, was not +taking any chances. + +"Presently, darling; when you're stronger," was her invariable answer to +any attempt on his part to elicit information as to the events that had +immediately preceded his seizure. "There's nothing left to fret about. +You're here--and I'm here. And that's all that matters." + +If her lips quivered a little over the last assertion, she turned her +head away that he might not see. For she was persistently cheery in his +presence, full of tender humour, always undismayed. + +He leaned upon her instinctively. She propped him so sturdily, with a +strength so amazing and so steadfast. Sometimes she laughed softly at +his weakness, as a mother might laugh at the first puny efforts of her +baby to stand alone. And he knew that she loved his dependence upon her, +even in a sense dreaded the time when his own strength should reassert +itself, making hers weak by comparison. + +But that time was coming, slowly yet very surely. The rains were +lessening at last, and the cholera-fiend had been driven forth. Merryon +was to go to the Hills on sick leave for several weeks. Colonel Davenant +had awaked to the fact that his life was a valuable one, and his +admiration for Mrs. Merryon was undisguised. He did not altogether +understand her behaviour, but he was discreet enough not to seek that +enlightenment which only one man in the world was ever to receive. + +To that man on the night before their departure came Puck, very pale and +resolute, with shining, unwavering eyes. She knelt down before him with +small hands tightly clasped. + +"I'm going to say something dreadful, Billikins," she said. + +He looked at her for a moment or two in silence. + +Then, "I know what you are going to say," he said. + +She shook her head. "Oh, no, you don't, darling. It's something that'll +make you frightfully angry." + +The faintest gleam of a smile crossed Merryon's face. "With you?" he +said. + +She nodded, and suddenly her eyes were brimming with tears. "Yes, with +me." + +He put his hand on her shoulder. "I tell you, I know what it is," he +said, with a certain stubbornness. + +She turned her cheek for a moment to caress the hand; then suddenly all +her strength went from her. She sank down on the floor at his feet, +huddled together in a woeful heap, just as she had been on that first +night when the safety-curtain had dropped behind her. + +"You'll never forgive me!" she sobbed. "But I knew--I knew--I always +knew!" + +"Knew what, child?" He was stooping over her. His hand, trembling still +with weakness, was on her head. "But, no, don't tell me!" he said, and +his voice was deeply tender. "The fellow is dead, isn't he?" + +"Oh, yes, he's dead." Quiveringly, between piteous sobs, she answered +him. "He--was dying before I reached him--that dreadful night. He +just--had strength left--to curse me! And I am cursed! I am cursed!" + +She flung out her arms wildly, clasping his feet. + +He stooped lower over her. "Hush--hush!" he said. + +She did not seem to hear. "I let you take me--I stained your honour--I +wasn't a free woman. I tried to think I was; but in my heart--I always +knew--I always knew! I wouldn't have your love at first--because I knew. +And I came to you--that monsoon night--chiefly because--I wanted--when +he came after me--as I knew he would come--to force him--to set +me--free." + +Through bitter sobbing the confession came; in bitter sobbing it ended. + +But still Merryon's hand was on her head, still his face was bent above +her, grave and sad and pitiful, the face of a strong man enduring grief. + +After a little, haltingly, she spoke again. "And I wasn't coming back to +you--ever. Only--someone--a _syce_--told me you had been stricken down. +And then I had to come. I couldn't leave you to die. That's all--that's +all! I'm going now. And I shan't come back. I'm not--your wife. You're +quite, quite free. And I'll never--bring shame on you--again." + +Her straining hands tightened. She kissed, the feet she clasped. "I'm a +wicked, wicked woman," she said. "I was born--on the wrong side--of the +safety-curtain. That's no--excuse; only--to make you understand." + +She would have withdrawn herself then, but his hands held her. She +covered her face, kneeling between them. + +"Why do you want me to understand?" he said, his voice very low. + +She quivered at the question, making no attempt to answer, just weeping +silently there in his hold. + +He leaned towards her, albeit he was trembling with weakness. "Puck, +listen!" he said. "I do understand." + +She caught her breath and became quite still. + +"Listen again!" he said. "What is done--is done; and nothing can alter +it. But--your future is mine. You have forfeited the right to leave me." + +She uncovered her face in a flash to gaze at him as one confounded. + +He met the look with eyes that held her own. "I say it," he said. "You +have forfeited the right. You say I am free. Am I free?" + +She nodded, still with her eyes on his. "I have--no claim on you," she +whispered, brokenly. + +His hands tightened; he brought her nearer to him. "And when that dream +of yours comes true," he said, "what then? What then?" + +Her face quivered painfully at the question. She swallowed once or twice +spasmodically, like a hurt child trying not to cry. + +"That's--nobody's business but mine," she said. + +A very curious smile drew Merryon's mouth. "I thought I had had +something to do with it," he said. "I think I am entitled to +part-ownership, anyway." + +She shook her head, albeit she was very close to his breast. "You're +not, Billikins!" she declared, with vehemence. "You only say that--out +of pity. And I don't want pity. I--I'd rather you hated me than that! +Miles rather!" + +His arms went round her. He uttered a queer, passionate laugh and drew +her to his heart. "And what if I offer you--love?" he said. "Have you no +use for that either, my wife--my wife?" + +She turned and clung to him, clung fast and desperately, as a drowning +person clings to a spar. "But I'm not, Billikins! I'm not!" she +whispered, with her face hidden. + +"You shall be," he made steadfast answer. "Before God you shall be." + +"Ah, do you believe in God?" she murmured. + +"I do," he said, firmly. + +She gave a little sob. "Oh, Billikins, so do I. At least, I think I do; +but I'm half afraid, even now, though I did try to do--the right thing. +I shall only know for certain--when the dream comes true." Her face came +upwards, her lips moved softly against his neck. "Darling," she +whispered, "don't you hope--it'll be--a boy?" + +He bent his head mutely. Somehow speech was difficult. + +But Puck was not wanting speech of him just then. She turned her red +lips to his. "But even if it's a girl, darling, it won't matter, for +she'll be born on the right side of the safety-curtain now, thanks to +your goodness, your generosity." + +He stopped her sharply. "Puck! Puck!" + +Their lips met. Puck was sobbing a little and smiling at the same time. + +"Your love is the safety-curtain, Billikins darling," she whispered, +softly. "And I'm going to thank God for it--every day of my life." + +"My darling!" he said. "My wife!" + +Her eyes shone up to his through tears. "Oh, do you realize," she said, +"that we have risen from the dead?" + + + + +The Experiment + +CHAPTER I + +ON TRIAL + + +"I really don't know why I accepted him. But somehow it was done before +I knew. He waltzes so divinely that it intoxicates me, and then I +naturally cease to be responsible for my actions." + +Doris Fielding leant back luxuriously, her hands clasped behind her +head. + +"I can't think what he wants to marry me for," she said reflectively. "I +am quite sure I don't want to marry him." + +"Then, my dear child, what possessed you to accept him?" remonstrated +her friend, Vera Abingdon, from behind the tea-table. + +"That's just what I don't know," said Doris, a little smile twitching +the corner of her mouth. "However, it doesn't signify greatly. I don't +mind being engaged for a little while if he is good, but I certainly +shan't go on if I don't like it. It's in the nature of an experiment, +you see; and it really is necessary, for there is absolutely no other +way of testing the situation." + +She glanced at her friend and burst into a gay peal of laughter. No one +knew how utterly charming this girl could be till she laughed. + +"Oh, don't look so shocked, please!" she begged. "I know I'm flippant, +flighty, and foolish, but really I'm not a bit wicked. Ask Phil if I am. +He has known me all my life." + +"I do not need to ask him, Dot." Vera spoke with some gravity +notwithstanding. "I have never for a moment thought you wicked. But I do +sometimes think you are rather heartless." + +Doris opened her blue eyes wide. + +"Oh, why? I am sure I am not. It really isn't my fault that I have been +engaged two or three times before. Directly I begin to get pleasantly +intimate with any one he proposes, and how can I possibly know, unless I +am on terms of intimacy, whether I should like to marry him or not? I am +sure I don't want to be engaged to any one for any length of time. It's +as bad as being cast up on a desert island with only one wretched man to +speak to. As a matter of fact, what you call heartlessness is sheer +broad-mindedness on my part. I admit that I do occasionally sail near +the wind. It's fun, and I like it. But I never do any harm--any real +harm I mean. I always put my helm over in time. And I must protect +myself somehow against fortune-hunters." + +Vera was silent. This high-spirited young cousin of her husband's was +often a sore anxiety to her. She had had sole charge of the girl for the +past three years and had found it no light responsibility. + +"Cheer up, darling!" besought Doris. "There is not the smallest cause +for a wrinkled brow. Perhaps the experiment will turn out a success this +time. Who knows? And even if it doesn't, no one will be any the worse. I +am sure Vivian Caryl will never break his heart for me." + +But Vera Abingdon shook her head. + +"I don't like you to be so wild, Dot. It makes people think lightly of +you. And you know how angry Phil was last time." + +Dot snapped her fingers airily and rose. + +"Who cares for Phil? Besides, it really was not my fault last time, +whatever any one may say. Are you going to ask my _fiancé_ down to +Rivermead for Easter? Because if so, I do beg you won't tell everybody +we are engaged. It is quite an informal arrangement, and perhaps, +considering all the circumstances, the less said about it the better." + +She stopped and kissed Vera's grave face, laughed again as though she +could not help it, and flitted like a butterfly from the room. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +HIS INTENTIONS + + +"Where is Doris?" asked Phil Abingdon, looking round upon the guests +assembled in his drawing-room at Rivermead. "We are all waiting for +her." + +"I think we had better go in without her," said his wife, with her +nervous smile. "She arranged to motor down with Mrs. Lockyard and her +party this afternoon. Possibly they have persuaded her to dine with +them." + +"She would never do that surely," said Phil, with an involuntary glance +at Vivian Caryl who had just entered. + +"If you are talking about my _fiancé_, I think it more than probable +that she would," the latter remarked. "Mrs. Lockyard's place is just +across the river, I understand? Shall I punt over and fetch Doris?" + +"No, no!" broke in his hostess anxiously. "I am sure she wouldn't come +if you did. Besides--" + +"Oh, as to that," said Vivian Caryl, with a grim smile, "I think, with +all deference to your opinion, that the odds would be in my favour. +However, let us dine first, if you prefer it." + +Mrs. Abingdon did prefer it, and said so hastily. She seemed to have a +morbid dread of a rupture between Doris Fielding and her _fiancé_, a +feeling with which Caryl quite obviously had no sympathy. There was +nothing very remarkable about the man save this somewhat supercilious +demeanour which had caused Vera to marvel many times at Doris's choice. + +They went in to dinner without further discussion. Caryl sat on Vera's +left, and amazed her by his utter unconcern regarding the absentee. He +seemed to be in excellent spirits, and his dry humour provoked a good +deal of merriment. + +She led the way back to the drawing-room as soon as possible. There was +a billiard-room beyond to which the members of her party speedily betook +themselves, and here most of the men joined them soon after. Neither +Caryl nor Abingdon was with them, and Vera counted the minutes of their +absence with a sinking heart while her guests buzzed all unheeding +around her. + +It was close upon ten o'clock when she saw her husband's face for a +moment in the doorway. He made a rapid sign to her, and with a murmured +excuse she went to him, closing the door behind her. + +Caryl was standing with him, calm as ever, though she fancied that his +eyes were a little wider than usual and his bearing less supercilious. + +Her husband, she saw at a glance, was both angry and agitated. + +"She has gone off somewhere with that bounder Brandon," he said. "They +got down to tea, and went off again in the motor afterwards, Mrs. +Lockyard doesn't seem to know for certain where." + +"Phil!" she exclaimed in consternation, and added with her eyes on +Caryl, "What is to be done? What can be done?" + +Caryl made quiet reply: + +"There was some talk of Wynhampton. I am going there now on your +husband's motor-bicycle. If I do not find her there----" + +He paused, and on the instant a girl's high peal of laughter rang +through the house. The drawing-room door was flung back, and Doris +herself stood on the threshold. + +"Goodness!" she cried. "What a solemn conclave! You can't think how +funny you all look! Do tell me what it is all about!" + +She stood before them, the motor-veil thrown back from her dainty face, +her slight figure quivering with merriment. + +Vera hastened to meet her with outstretched hands. + +"Oh, my dear, you can't think how anxious we have been about you." + +Doris took her by the shoulders and lightly kissed her. + +"Silly! Why? You know I always come up smiling. Why, Phil, you are +looking positively green! Have you been anxious, too? I am indeed +honoured." + +She swept him a curtsey, her face all dimples and laughter. + +"We've had the jolliest time," she declared. "We motored to Wynhampton +and saw the last of the races. After that, we dined at a dear little +place with a duckpond at the bottom of the garden. And finally we +returned--it ought to have been by moonlight, only there was no moon. +Where is everyone? In the billiard-room? I want some milk and soda +frightfully. Vivian, you might, like the good sort you are, go and get +me some." + +She bestowed a dazzling smile upon her _fiancé_ and offered him one +finger by way of salutation. + +Abingdon, who had been waiting to get in a word, here exploded with some +violence and told his young cousin in no measured terms what he thought +of her conduct. + +She listened with her head on one side, her eyes brimful of mischief, +and finally with an airy gesture turned to Caryl. + +"Don't you want to scold me, too? I am sure you do. You had better be +quick or there will be nothing left to say." + +Abingdon turned on his heel and walked away. He was thoroughly angry and +made no attempt to hide it. His wife lingered a moment irresolute, then +softly followed him. And as the door closed, Caryl looked very steadily +into the girl's flushed face and spoke: + +"All I have to say is this. Maurice Brandon is no fit escort for any +woman who values her reputation. And I here and now forbid you most +strictly, most emphatically, ever to go out with him alone again." + +He paused. She was looking straight back at him with her chin in the +air. + +"Dear me!" she said. "Do you really? And who gave you the right to +dictate to me?" + +"You yourself," he answered quietly. + +"Indeed! May I ask when?" + +He stiffened a little, but his face did not alter. + +"When you promised to be my wife," he said. + +Her eyes blazed instant defiance. + +"An engagement can be broken off!" she declared recklessly. + +"By mutual consent," said Caryl drily. + +"That is absurd," she rejoined. "You couldn't possibly hold me to it +against my will." + +"I am quite capable of doing so," he told her coolly, "if I think it +worth my while." + +"Worth your while!" she exclaimed, staring at him as if she doubted his +sanity. + +"Even so," he said. "When I have fully satisfied myself that a heartless +little flirt like you can be transformed into a virtuous and amiable +wife. It may prove a difficult process, I admit, and perhaps not +altogether a pleasant one. But I shall not shirk it on that account." + +He leant back against the mantelpiece with a gesture that plainly said +that so far as he was concerned the matter was ended. + +But it was not so with Doris. She stood before him for several seconds +absolutely motionless, all the vivid colour gone from her face, her blue +eyes blazing with speechless fury. At length, with a sudden, fierce +movement, she tore the ring he had given her from her finger and held it +out to him. + +"Take it!" she said, her voice high-pitched and tremulous. "This is the +end!" + +He did not stir a muscle. + +"Not yet, I think," he said. + +She flashed a single glance at him in which pride and uncertainty were +strangely mingled, then made a sudden swoop towards the fire. He read +her intention in a second, and stooping swiftly caught her hand. The +ring shot from her hold, gleamed in a shining curve in the firelight, +and fell with a tinkle among the ashes of the fender. + +Caryl did not utter a word, but his face was fixed and grim as, still +tightly gripping the hand he had caught, he knelt and groped among the +half-dead embers for the ring it had wantonly flung there. When he found +it he rose. + +"Before you do anything of that sort again," he said, "let me advise you +to stop and think. It will do you no harm, and may save trouble." + +He took her left hand, paused a moment, and then deliberately fitted the +ring back upon her finger. She made no resistance, for she was +instinctively aware that he would brook no morefrom her just then. She +was in fact horribly scared, though his voice was still perfectly quiet +and even. Something in his touch had set her heart beating, something +electric, something terrifying. She dared not meet his eyes. + +He dropped her hand almost contemptuously. There was nothing lover-like +about him at that moment. + +"And remember," he said, "that no experiment can ever prove a success +unless it is given a fair trial. You will continue to be engaged to me +until I set you free. Is that understood?" + +She did not answer him. She was pulling at the loose ends of her veil +with restless fingers, her face downcast and very pale. + +"Doris!" he said. + +She glanced up at him sharply. + +"I am rather tired," she said, and her voice quivered a little. "Do you +mind if I say good-night?" + +"Answer me first," he said. + +She shook her head. + +"I forget what you asked me. It doesn't matter, does it? There's someone +coming, and I don't want to be caught. Good-night!" + +She whisked round with the words before he could realize her intention, +and in a moment was at the door. She waved a hand to him airily as she +disappeared. And Caryl was left to wonder if her somewhat precipitate +departure could be regarded as a sign of defeat or merely a postponement +of the struggle. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE KNIGHT ERRANT + + +It was the afternoon of Easter Day, and a marvellous peace lay upon all +things. + +Maurice Brandon, a look of supreme boredom on his handsome face, had +just sauntered down to the river bank. A belt of daffodils nodded to him +from the shrubbery on the farther shore. He stood and stared at them +absently while he idly smoked a cigarette. + +Finally, after a long and quite unprofitable inspection, he turned aside +to investigate a boathouse under the willows on Mrs. Lockyard's side of +the stream. He found the door unlocked, and discovered within a somewhat +dilapidated punt. This, after considerable exertion, he managed to drag +forth and finally to run into the water. The craft seemed seaworthy, and +he proceeded to forage for a punt-pole. + +Fully equipped at length, he stepped on board and poled himself out from +the shore. Arrived at the farther bank, he calmly disembarked and tied +up under the willows. He paused a few seconds to light another +cigarette, then turned from the river and sauntered up the path between +the high box hedges. + +The garden was deserted, and he pursued his way unmolested till he came +within sight of the house. Here for the first time he stopped to take +deliberate stock of his surroundings. Standing in the shelter of a giant +rhododendron, he saw two figures emerge and walk along the narrow +gravelled terrace before the house. As he watched, they reached the +farther end and turned. He recognized them both. They were Caryl and his +host Abingdon. + +For a few moments they stood talking, then went away together round an +angle of the house. + +Scarcely had they disappeared before a girl's light figure appeared at +an upstairs window. Doris's mischievous face peeped forth, wearing her +gayest, most impudent grimace. + +There was no one else in sight, and with instant decision Brandon +stepped into full view, and without the faintest suggestion of +concealment began to stroll up the winding path. + +She heard his footsteps on the gravel, and turned her eyes upon him with +a swift start of recognition. + +He raised his hand in airy salute, and he heard her low murmur of +laughter as she waved him a hasty sign to await her in the shrubbery +from which he had just emerged. + + * * * * * + +"Did you actually come across the river?" said Doris. "Whatever made +you do that?" + +"I said I should come and fetch you, you know, if you didn't turn up," +he said. + +She laughed. + +"Do you always keep your word?" + +"To you--always," he assured her. + +Her merry face coloured a little, but she met his eyes with absolute +candour. + +"And now that you have come what can we do? Are you going to take me on +the river? It looks rather dangerous." + +"It is dangerous," Brandon said coolly, "but I think I can get you over +in safety if you will allow me to try. In any case, I won't let you +drown." + +"I shall be furious if anything happens," she told him--"if you splash +me even. So beware!" + +He pushed out from the bank with a laugh. It was evident that her threat +did not greatly impress him. + +As for Doris, she was evidently enjoying the adventure, and the risks +that attended it only added to its charm. There was something about this +man that fascinated her, a freedom and a daring to which her own +reckless spirit could not fail to respond. He was the most interesting +plaything she had had for a long time. She had no fear that he would +ever make the mistake of taking her seriously. + +They reached the opposite bank in safety, and he handed her ashore with +considerable _empressement_. + +"I have a confession to make," he said, as they walked up to the house. + +"Oh, I know what it is," she returned carelessly. "Mrs. Lockyard did not +expect me and has gone out." + +He nodded. + +"You are taking it awfully well. One would almost think you didn't +mind." + +She laughed. + +"I never mind anything so long as I am not bored." + +"Nor do I," said Brandon. "We seem to have a good deal in common. But +what puzzles me--" + +He broke off. They had reached the open French window that led into Mrs. +Lockyard's drawing-room. He stood aside for her to enter. + +"Well?" she said, as she passed him. "What is this weighty problem?" + +He followed her in. + +"What puzzles me," he said, "is how a girl with your natural +independence and love of freedom can endure to remain unmarried." + +She opened her eyes wide in astonishment. + +"My good sir, you have expressed the exact reason in words which could +not have been better chosen. Independence, love of freedom, and a very +strong preference for going my own way." + +He laughed a little. + +"Yes, but you would have all these things a thousand times multiplied if +you were married. Look at all the restraints and restrictions to which +girls are subjected where married women simply please themselves. Why, +you are absolutely hedged round with conventions. You can scarcely go +for a ride with a man of your acquaintance in broad daylight without +endangering your reputation. What would they say--your cousin and Mrs. +Abingdon--if they knew that you were here with me now? They would hold +up their hands in horror." + +The girl's thoughts flashed suddenly to Caryl. How much freedom might +she expect from him? + +"It's all very well," she said, with a touch of petulance, "but +easy-going husbands don't grow on every gooseberry-bush. I have never +yet met the man who wouldn't want to arrange my life in every detail if +I married him." + +"Yes, you have," said Brandon. + +He spoke with deliberate emphasis, and she knew that as he spoke he +looked at her in a manner that there could be no mistaking. Her heart +quickened a little, and she felt the colour rise in her face. + +"Do you know that I am engaged to Vivian Caryl?" she said. + +"Perfectly," he answered. "I also know that you have not the smallest +intention of marrying him." + +She frowned, but did not contradict him. + +He continued with considerable assurance: + +"He is not the man to make you happy, and I think you know it. My only +wonder is that you didn't realize it earlier--before you became engaged +to him." + +"My engagement was only an experiment," she said quickly. + +"And therefore easily broken," he rejoined. "Why don't you put a stop to +it?" + +She hesitated. + +He bent towards her. + +"Do you mean to say that he is cad enough to hold you against your +will?" + +Still she hesitated, half-afraid to speak openly. + +He leant nearer; he took her hand. + +"My dear child," he said, "don't for Heaven's sake give in to such +tyranny as that, and be made miserable for the rest of your life. Oh, I +grant you he is the sort of fellow who would make what is called a good +husband, but not the sort of husband you want. He would keep you in +order, shackle you at every turn. Marry him, and it will be good-bye to +liberty--even such liberty as you have now--forever." + +Her face had changed. She was very pale. + +"I know all that," she said, speaking rapidly, with headlong impulse. +"But, don't you see how difficult it is for me? They are all on his +side, and he is so horribly strong. Oh, I was a fool I know to accept +him. But we were waltzing and it came so suddenly. I never stopped to +think. I wish I could get away now, but I can't." + +"I can tell you of a way," said Brandon. + +She glanced at him. + +"Oh, yes, I know. But I can't be engaged to two people at once. I +couldn't face it. I detest scenes." + +"There need be no scene," he said. "You have only to come to me and give +me the right to defend you. I ask for nothing better. Even Caryl would +scarcely have the impertinence to dispute it. As my wife you will be +absolutely secure from any interference." + +She was gazing at him wide-eyed. + +"Do you mean a runaway marriage?" she questioned slowly. + +He drew nearer still, and possessed himself of her hands. + +"Yes, just that," he said. "It would take a little courage, but you have +plenty of that. And the rest I would see to. It wouldn't be so very +difficult, you know. Mrs. Lockyard would help us, and you would be +absolutely safe with me. I haven't much to offer you, I admit. I'm as +poor as a church mouse. But at least you would find me"--he smiled into +her startled eyes--"a very easy-going husband, I assure you." + +"Oh, I don't know!" Doris said. "I don't know!" + +Yet still she left her hands in his and still she listened to him. That +airy reference of his to his poverty affected her favourably. He would +scarcely have made it, she told herself, with an unconscious effort to +silence unacknowledged misgivings, if her fortune had been the sole +attraction. + +"Look here," he said, breaking in upon these hasty meditations, "I don't +want you to do anything in a hurry. Take a little while to think it +over. Let me know to-morrow. I am not leaving till the evening. You +shall do nothing, so far as I am concerned, against your will. I want +you, now and always, to do exactly as you like. You believe that?" + +"I quite believe you mean it at the present moment," she said with a +decidedly doubtful smile. + +"It will be so always," said Brandon, "whether you believe it or not." + +And with considerable ceremony he raised her hands to his lips and +deliberately kissed them. It seemed to Doris at that moment that even so +headlong a scheme as this was not without its very material advantages. +There were so many drawbacks to being betrothed. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +AT CLOSE QUARTERS + + +When Doris descended to breakfast on the following morning she found an +animated party in the dining-room discussing the best means of spending +the day. Abingdon himself and most of his guests were in favour of +attending an aviation meeting at Wynhampton a few miles away. + +Caryl was not present, but as she passed through the hall a little +later, he came in at the front door. + +"I was just coming to you," he remarked, pausing to flick the ash from +his cigarette before closing the door. "I have been making arrangements +for you to drive to Wynhampton with me." + +Doris made a stiff movement that seemed almost mechanical. But the next +moment she recovered her self-control. Why was she afraid of this man, +she asked herself desperately? No man had ever managed to frighten her +before. + +"I think I should prefer to go in the motor," she said, and smiled with +quivering lips. "Get Phil to drive with you. He likes the dog-cart +better than I do." + +"I have talked it over with him," Caryl responded gravely. "He agrees +with me that this is the best arrangement." + +There was to be no escape then. Once more the stronger will prevailed. +Without another word she turned from him and went upstairs. She might +have defied him, but she knew in her heart that he could compass his +ends in spite of her. And she was afraid. + +She had a moment of absolute panic as she mounted into the high cart. He +handed her up, and his grasp, close and firm, seemed to her eloquent of +that deadly resolution with which he mastered her. + +For the first half-mile he said nothing whatever, being fully occupied +with the animal he was driving--a skittish young mare impatient of +restraint. + +Doris on her side sat in unbroken silence, enduring the strain with a +set face, dreading the moment when he should have leisure to speak. + +He was evidently in no hurry to do so. Or was it possible that he found +some difficulty in choosing his words? + +At length he turned his head and spoke. + +"I secured this interview," he said, "because there is an important +point which I want to discuss with you." + +"What is it?" + +She nerved herself to meet his look, but her eyes fell before its steady +mastery almost instantly. + +"About our wedding," he said in his calm, deliberate voice. "I should +like to have the day fixed." + +Her heart gave a great thump of dismay. + +"Do you really mean to hunt me down then and--and marry me against my +will?" she said, almost panting out the words. + +Caryl turned his eyes back to the mare. + +"I mean to marry you--yes," he said. "I think you forget that you +accepted me of your own accord." + +"I was mad!" she broke in passionately. + +"People in love are never wholly sane," he remarked cynically. + +"I was never in love with you!" she cried. "Never, never!" + +He raised his eyebrows. + +"Nevertheless you will marry me," he said. + +"Why?" she gasped back furiously. "Why should I marry you? You know I +hate you, and you--you--surely you must hate me?" + +"No," he said with extreme deliberation, "strange as it may seem, I +don't." + +Something in the words quelled her anger. Abruptly she abandoned the +struggle and fell silent, her face averted. + +"And so," he proceeded, "we may as well decide upon the wedding-day +without further argument." + +"And, if--if I refuse?" she murmured rather incoherently. + +"You will not refuse," he said with a finality so absolute that her +last hope went out like an extinguished candle. + +She seized her courage with both hands and turned to him. + +"You will give me a little while to think it over?" + +"Why?" said Caryl. + +"Because I--I can't possibly decide upon the spur of the moment," she +said confusedly. + +Was he going to refuse her even this small request? It almost seemed +that he was. + +"How long will it take you?" he asked. "Will you give me an answer +to-night?" + +Her heart leapt to a sudden hope called to life by his words. + +"To-morrow!" she said quickly. + +"I said to-night." + +"Very well," she rejoined, yielding. "To-night, if you prefer it." + +"Thanks. I do." + +They were his last words on the subject. He seemed to think it ended +there, and there was nothing more to be said. + +As for Doris, she sat by his side, outwardly calm but inwardly shaken to +the depths. To be thus firmly caught in the meshes of her own net was an +experience so new and so terrifying that she was utterly at a loss as to +how to cope with it. Yet there was a chance, one ray of hope to help +her. There was Major Brandon, the man who had offered her freedom. He +was to have his answer to-day. For the first time she began seriously to +ponder what that answer should be. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE WAY TO FREEDOM + + +So far as Doris was concerned the aviation meeting was not a success. +There were some wonderful exhibitions of flying, but she was too +preoccupied to pay more than a very superficial attention to what she +saw. + +They lunched at a great hotel overlooking the aviation ground. The place +was crowded, and they experienced some difficulty in finding places. +Eventually Doris found herself seated at a square table with Caryl and +two others in the middle of the great room. + +She was studying a menu as a pretext for avoiding conversation with her +_fiancé_, when a man's voice murmured hurriedly in her ear: + +"Will you allow me for a moment please? The lady who has just left this +table thinks she must have dropped one of her gloves under it." + +Doris pushed back her chair and would have risen, but the speaker was +already on his knees and laid a hasty, restraining hand upon her. It +found hers and, under cover of the table-cloth, pressed a screw of paper +into her fingers. + +The next instant he emerged, very red in the face, but triumphant, a +lady's gauntlet glove in his hand. + +"Awfully obliged!" he declared. "Sorry to have disturbed you. Thought I +should find it here." + +He smiled, bowed, and departed, leaving Doris amazed at his audacity. +She had met this young man often at Mrs. Lockyard's house, where he was +invariably referred to as "the little Fricker boy." + +She threw a furtive glance at Caryl, but he had plainly noticed nothing. +With an uneasy sense of shame she slipped the note into her glove. + +She perused it on the earliest opportunity. It contained but one +sentence: + +"If you still wish for freedom, you can find it down by the river at any +hour to-night." + +There was no signature of any sort; none was needed, she hid the message +away again, and for the rest of the afternoon she was almost feverishly +gay to hide the turmoil of indecision at her heart. + +She saw little of Caryl after luncheon, but he re-appeared again in time +to drive her back in the dog-cart as they had come. She found him very +quiet and preoccupied, on the return journey, but his presence no longer +dismayed her. It was the consciousness that a way of escape was open to +her that emboldened her. + +They were nearing the end of the drive, when he at length laid aside his +preoccupation and spoke: + +"Have you made up your mind yet?" + +That query of his was the turning point with her. Had he shown the +smallest sign of relenting from his grim purpose, had he so much as +couched his question in terms of kindness, he might have melted her even +then; for she was impulsive ever and quick to respond to any warmth. But +the coldness of his question, the unyielding mastery of his manner, +impelled her to final rebellion. In the moment that intervened between +his question and her reply her decision was made. + +"You shall have my answer to-night," she said. + +He turned from her without a word, and a little wonder quivered through +her as to the meaning of his silence. She was glad when they reached +Rivermead and she could take refuge in her own room. + +Here once more she read Brandon's message; read it with a thumping +heart, but no thought of drawing back. It was the only way out for her. + +She dressed for dinner, and then made a few hasty preparations for her +flight. She laid no elaborate plans for effecting it, for she +anticipated no difficulty. The night would be dark, and she could rely +upon her ingenuity for the rest. Failure was unthinkable. + +When they rose from the table she waited for Vera and slipped a hand +into her arm. + +"Do make an excuse for me," she whispered. "I have had a dreadful day, +and I can't stand any more. I am going upstairs." + +"My dear!" murmured back Vera, by way of protest. + +Nevertheless she made the excuse almost as soon as they entered the +drawing-room, and Doris fled upstairs on winged feet. At the head she +met Caryl about to descend; almost collided with him. He had evidently +been up to his room to fetch something. + +He stood aside for her at once. + +"You are not retiring yet?" he asked. + +She scarcely glanced at him. She would not give herself time to be +disconcerted. + +"I am coming down again," she said, and ran on. + +Barely a quarter of an hour after the encounter with Caryl, dressed in a +long dark motoring coat and closely veiled, she slipped down the back +stairs that led to the servants' quarters, stood listening against a +baize door that led into the front hall, then whisked it open and fled +across to open the conservatory door, noiseless as a shadow. + +The conservatory was in semi-darkness. She expected to see no one; +looked for no one. A moment she paused by the door that led into the +garden, and in that pause she heard a slight sound. It might have been +anything. It probably was a creak from one of the wicker chairs that +stood in a corner. Whatever its origin, it startled her to greater +haste. She fumbled at the door and pulled it open. + +A gust of wind and rain blew in upon her, but she was scarcely aware of +it. In another moment she had softly closed the door again and was +scudding across the terrace to the steps that led towards the river +path. + +As she reached it a light shone out in front of her, wavered, and was +gone. + +"This way to freedom, lady mine," said Brandon's voice close to her, and +she heard in it the laugh he did not utter. "Mind you don't tumble in." + +His hand touched her arm, closed upon it, drew her to his side. In +another instant it encircled her, but she pushed him vehemently away. + +"Let us go!" she said feverishly. "Let us go!" + +"Come along then," he said gaily. "The boat is just here. You'll have to +hold the lantern. Mind how you get on board." + +As he pushed out from the bank, he told her something of his +arrangements. + +"There's a motor waiting--not the one Polly usually hires, but it's +quite a decent little car. By the way, she has gone straight up to Town +from Wynhampton; said we should do our eloping best alone. We shan't be +quite alone, though, for Fricker is going to drive us. But he's a +negligible quantity, eh? His only virtue is that he isn't afraid of +driving in the dark." + +"You will take me to Mrs. Lockyard?" said Doris quickly. + +"Of course. She is at her flat, she and Mrs. Fricker. We shall be there +soon after midnight, all being well. Confound this stream! It swirls +like a mill-race." + +He fell silent, and devoted all his attention to reaching the farther +bank. + +Doris sat with the lantern in her hands, striving desperately to control +her nervous excitement. Her absence could not have been discovered yet, +she was sure, but she was in a fever of anxiety notwithstanding. She +would not feel safe until she was actually on the road. + +The boat bumped at last against the bank, and she drew a breath of +relief. The journey had seemed interminable. + +Suddenly through the windy darkness there came to them the hoot of a +motor-horn. + +"That's all right," said Brandon cheerily. "That's Fricker, wanting to +know if all's well." + +He hurried her over the wet grass, skirted the house by a side-path that +ran between dripping laurels, and brought her out finally into the +little front garden. + +A glare of acetylene lamps met them abruptly as they emerged, dazzling +them for the moment. The buzz of a motor engine also greeted them, and a +smell of petrol hung in the wet air. + +As her eyes accustomed themselves to the brightness, Doris made out a +small closed motor-car, with a masked chauffeur seated at the wheel. + +"Good little Fricker!" said Brandon, slapping the chauffeur's shoulder +as he passed. "So you've got your steam up! Straight ahead then, and as +fast as you like. Don't get run in, that's all." + +He handed Doris into the car, followed her, and slammed the door. + +The next moment they passed swiftly out on to the road, and Doris knew +that the die was cast. She stood finally committed to this, the wildest, +most desperate venture of her life. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +A MASTER STROKE + + +"Here beginneth," laughed Brandon, sliding his arm around her as she sat +tense in every nerve gazing at the rain-blurred window. + +She did not heed him; it was almost as if she had not heard. Her hands +were tightly clasped upon one another, and her face was turned from him. +There was no lamp inside the car, the only illumination proceeding from +those without, showing them the driver huddled over the wheel, but +shedding little light into the interior. + +He tightened his arm about her, laying his other hand upon her clasped +ones. + +"By Jove, little girl, you're cold!" he said. + +She was--cold as ice. She parted her fingers stiffly to free them from +his grasp. + +"I--I'm quite comfortable," she assured him, without turning her head. +"Please don't trouble about me." + +But he was not to be thus discouraged. + +"You can't be comfortable," he argued. "Why, you're shivering. Let me +see what I can do to make things better." + +He tried to draw her to him, but she resisted almost angrily. + +"Oh, do leave me alone! I'm not uncomfortable. I'm only thinking." + +"Well, don't be silly!" he urged. "It's no use thinking at this stage. +The thing is done now, and well done. We shall be man and wife by this +time to-morrow. We'll go to Paris, eh, and have no end of a spree." + +"Perhaps," she said, not looking at him or yielding an inch to his +persuasion. + +It was plain that for some reason she desired to be left in peace, and +after a brief struggle with himself, Brandon decided that he would be +wise to let her have her way. He leant back and crossed his arms in +silence. + +The car sped along at a pace which he found highly satisfactory. He had +absolute faith in Fricker's driving and knowledge of the roads. + +They had been travelling for the greater part of an hour, when Doris at +length relaxed from her tense attitude and lay back in her corner, +nestling into it with a long shiver. + +Brandon was instantly on the alert. + +"I'm sure you are cold. Here's a rug here. Let me--" + +"Oh, do please leave me alone!" she said, with a sob. "I'm so horribly +tired." + +Beseechingly almost she laid her hand upon his arm with the words. + +The touch fired him. He considered that he had been patient long +enough. Abruptly he caught her to him. + +"Come, I say," he said, half-laughing, half in savage earnest, "I can't +have you crying on what's almost our wedding trip!" + +He certainly did not expect the absolutely furious resistance with which +she met his action. She thrust him from her with the strength of frenzy. + +"How dare you?" she cried passionately. "How dare you touch me, you--you +hateful cad?" + +For the moment, such was his astonishment, he suffered her to escape +from his hold. Then, called into activity by her unreasoning fury, the +devil in him leapt suddenly up and took possession. With a snarling +laugh he gripped her by the arms, holding her by brutal force. + +"You little wild cat!" he said in a voice that shook between anger and +amusement. "So this is your gratitude, is it? I am to give all and +receive nothing for my pains. Then let me make it quite clear to you +here and now that that is not my intention. I will be kind to you, but +you must be kind to me, too. The benefit is to be mutual." + +It was premature. In his heart he knew it, but she had provoked him to +it and there was no turning back now. He resented the provocation, that +was all, and it made him the more brutally inclined towards her. + +As for Doris, she fought and tore at his grasp like a mad creature; and +when he mastered her, when, still laughing between his teeth, he forced +her face upwards and kissed it fiercely and violently, she shrieked +between his kisses, shrieked and shrieked again. + +The sudden grinding of the brake recalled Brandon to his senses. The +fool was actually stopping the car. He relinquished his hold upon the +girl to dash his hand against the window in front. + +"Drive on, curse you, drive on!" he shouted through the glass. "I'll let +you know if we want to stop." + +But the car stopped in spite of him. The chauffeur, shining from head to +foot in his oil-skins, sprang to the ground. A moment and he was at the +door, had wrenched it open, and was peering within. + +"What are you gaping there for, you fool?" raved Brandon, his hand upon +Doris, who was suddenly straining forward. "It's all right, I tell you. +Go on." + +"I am going on," the chauffeur responded calmly through his mask. "But I +am not taking you any farther, Major Brandon. So tumble out at once, you +dirty, thieving hound!" + +The words, the tone, the attitude, flashed such a revelation upon Doris +that she cried out in amazement, and then with a revulsion of feeling so +great that it deprived her of all speech she threw herself forward and +clung to the masked chauffeur in an agony of tears. + +Brandon was staring at him with dropped jaw. + +"Who the blazes are you?" he said. + +"You know me, I think," the chauffeur responded quietly. He was pressing +Doris back into her seat with absolute steadiness. "We have met before. +I was present at your first wedding ten years ago, and--as a junior +counsel--I helped to divorce you a few months after. My name is Vivian +Caryl." + +He freed a hand to push up his mask. His pale face with its heavy-lidded +eyes stared, supremely contemptuous, into Brandon's suffused +countenance. His composure was somehow disconcerting. + +"Suppose you get out," he suggested. "I can talk to you then in a +language you will understand." + +"Curse you!" bawled Brandon. "Where's Fricker?" + +Caryl shrugged his shoulders. + +"You have seen him since I have. Are you going to get out? Ah, I thought +you would." + +He stood aside to allow him to do so, and then stepped back to shut the +door. He did not utter a word to the girl cowering within, but that +action of his was a mute command. She crouched in the dark and listened, +but she did not dare to follow or to flee. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE MAN AT THE WHEEL + + +When Caryl came back to the motor his handkerchief was bound about the +knuckles of his right hand, and his face wore a faint smile that had in +it more of grimness than humour. + +He paused at the open window and looked in on Doris without opening the +door. The sound of the rain pattering heavily upon his shoulders filled +in a silence that she found terrible. He spoke at length: + +"You had better shut the window, the rain is coming in." + +That was all, spoken in his customary drawl without a hint of anger or +reproach. They cut her hard, those few words of his. It was as if he +deemed her unworthy even of his contempt. + +She raised her white face. + +"What--are you going to do?" she managed to ask through her quivering +lips. + +"I am going to take you to the nearest town--to Bramfield to spend the +rest of the night. It is getting late, you know--past midnight already." + +"Bramfield!" she echoed with a start. "Then--then we have been going +north all this time?" + +"We have been going north," he said. + +She glanced around. Her eyes were hunted. + +"No," said Caryl. "I haven't killed him. He is sitting under the hedge +about fifty yards up the road, thinking things over." + +He opened the door then abruptly, and she held her breath and became +still and tense with apprehension. But he only pulled up the window, +closed the door again with a sharp click, and left her. When she dared +to breathe again the car was in motion. + +She took no interest in her surroundings. Her destination had become a +matter of such secondary importance that she gave it no consideration +whatever. What mattered, all that mattered, was that she was now in the +hands and absolutely at the mercy of the man whom she feared as she +feared no one else on earth, the man with whom in her mad coquetry she +had dared to trifle. + +The car was stopping. It came to a standstill almost imperceptibly, and +Caryl stepped into the road. Tensely she watched him; but he did not so +much as glance her way. He turned aside to a little gate in a high hedge +of laurel, and passed within, leaving her alone in the night. + +Soon she heard his deliberate footfalls returning. In a moment he had +reached the door, his hand was upon it. She turned stiffly towards him +as it opened. + +He spoke at once in his calm, unmoved voice: + +"A very old friend of mine lives here. She will put you up for the +night and see to your comfort. Will you get out?" + +Mutely she did so, feeling curiously weak and unstrung. He put his arm +around her, and led her into the dim cottage garden. + +They went up a tiled path to an open door from which the light of a +single candle gleamed fitfully in the draught. She stumbled at the +doorstep, but he held her up. He was almost carrying her. + +As they entered, an old woman, bent and indescribably wrinkled, rose +from her knees before a deep old-fashioned fireplace on the other side +of the little kitchen, and came to meet them. She had evidently just +coaxed a dying fire back to life. + +"Ah, poor dear," she said at sight of the girl's exhausted face. "She +looks more dead than alive. Bring her to the fire, Master Vivian. I'll +soon have some hot milk for the poor lamb." + +Caryl led her to an arm-chair that stood on one side of the blaze, and +made her sit down. Then, stooping, he took one of her nerveless hands +and held it closely in his own. + +He did not speak to her, and she was relieved by his forbearance. As the +warmth of his grasp gradually communicated itself to her numbed fingers, +she felt her racing pulses grow steadier; but she was glad when he laid +her hand down quietly in her lap and turned away. + +He bent over her again in a few minutes with a cup of steaming milk. +She took it from him, tasted it, and shuddered. + +"There is brandy in it." + +"Yes," said Caryl. + +She turned her head away. + +"I don't want it. I hate brandy." + +He put his hand on her shoulder. + +"You had better drink it all the same," he said. + +She glanced at him, caught her breath sharply, then dumbly gave way. He +kept his hand upon her while she drank, and only removed it to take the +empty cup. + +After that, standing gravely before her, he spoke again. + +"I am going on into the town now with the motor, and I shall put up +there. My old nurse will take care of you. I shall come back in the +morning." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE SURRENDER OF THE CITADEL + + +Old Mrs. Maynard, sweeping her brick floor with wide-open door through +which the April sunlight streamed gloriously, nodded to herself a good +many times over the doings of the night. A very discreet creature was +Mrs. Maynard, faithful to the very heart of her, but she would not have +been mortal had she not been intensely curious to know what were the +circumstances that had led Vivian Caryl to bring to her door that +shrinking, exhausted girl who still lay sleeping in the room above. + +When Doris awoke in response to her deferential knock, only the +reticence of the trained servant greeted her. The motherliness of the +night before had completely vanished. + +Doris was glad of it. She had to steel herself for the coming interview +with Caryl; she had to face the result of her headlong actions with as +firm a front as she could assume. She needed all her strength, and she +could not have borne sympathy just then. + +She thanked Mrs. Maynard for her attentions and saw her withdraw with +relief. Then, having nibbled very half-heartedly at the breakfast +provided, she arose with a great sigh, and began to prepare for whatever +might lie before her. + +Dressed at length, she sat down by the open window to wait--and wonder. + +The click of the garden gate fell suddenly across her meditations, and +she drew back sharply out of sight. He was entering. + +She heard his leisurely footfall on the tiles and then his quiet voice +below. Her heart began to thump with thick, uncertain beats. She was +horribly afraid. + +Yet when she heard the old woman ascending the stairs, she had the +courage to go to the door and open it. + +Mr. Caryl was in the parlour, she was told. He would be glad to see her +at her convenience. + +"I will go to him," she said, and forthwith descended to meet her fate. + +He stood by the window when she entered, but wheeled round at once with +his back to the light. She felt that this did not make much difference. +She knew exactly how he was looking--cold, self-contained, implacable as +granite. She had seldom seen him look otherwise. His face was a +perpetual mask to her. It was this very inscrutability of his that had +first waked in her the desire to see him among her retinue of slaves. + +She went forward slowly, striving to attain at least a semblance of +composure. At first it seemed that he would wait for her where he was; +then unexpectedly he moved to meet her. He took her hand into his own, +and she shrank a little involuntarily. His touch unnerved her. + +"You have slept?" he asked. "You are better?" + +Something in his tone made her glance upwards, catching her breath. But +she decided instantly that she had been mistaken. He would not, he could +not, mean to be kind at such a moment. + +She made answer with an assumption of pride. She dared not let herself +be natural just then. + +"I am quite well. There was nothing wrong with me last night. I was only +tired." + +He suffered her hand to slip from his. + +"I wonder what you think of doing," he said quietly. "Have you made any +plans?" + +The hot blood rushed to her face before she was aware of it. She turned +it sharply aside. + +"Am I to have a voice in the matter?" she said, her voice very low. "You +did not think it worth while to consult me last night." + +"You were scarcely in a fit state to be consulted," he answered gravely. +"That is why I postponed the discussion. But I was then--as I am +now--entirely at your disposal. I will take you back to your people at +once if you wish it." + +She made a quick, passionate gesture of protest, and moved away from +him. + +"Have you any alternative in your mind?" he asked. + +She remained with her back to him. + +"I shall go away," she said, a sudden note of recklessness in her +voice. "I shall travel." + +"Alone?" he questioned. + +"Yes, alone." This time her voice rang defiance. She wheeled round +quivering from head to foot. "But for you," she said, "but for your +unwarrantable interference I should never have been placed in this +hateful, this impossible, position. I should have been with my friends +in London. It would have been my wedding-day." + +The attack was plainly unexpected. Even Caryl was taken by surprise. But +the next moment he was ready for her. + +"Then by all means," he said, "let me take you to your friends in +London. Doubtless your chivalrous lover has found his way thither long +ere this." + +She stamped like a little fury. + +"Do you think I would marry him--now? Do you think I would marry any one +after--after what happened last night? Oh, I hate you--I hate you all!" + +Her voice broke. She covered her face, with tempestuous sobbing, and +sank into a chair. + +Caryl stood silent, biting his lip as if in irresolution. He did not try +to comfort her. + +After a while, her weeping still continuing, he leant across the table. + +"Doris," he said, "leave off crying and listen to me. I know it is out +of the question for you to marry that scoundrel whom I had the pleasure +of thrashing last night. It always has been out of the question. That +is one reason why I have been keeping such a hold upon you. Now that you +admit the impossibility of it, I set you free. But you will be wise to +think well before you accept your freedom from me. You are in an +intolerable position, and I am quite powerless to help you unless you +place yourself unreservedly in my hands and give me the right to protect +you. It means a good deal, I know. It means, Doris, the sacrifice of +your independence. But it also means a safe haven, peace, comfort, if +not happiness. You may not love me. I never seriously thought that you +did. But if you will give me your trust--I shall try to be satisfied +with that." + +Love! She had never heard the word on his lips before. It sent a curious +thrill through her to hear it then. She had listened to him with her +face hidden, though her tears had ceased. But as he ended, she slowly +raised her head and looked at him. + +"Are you asking me to marry you?" she said. + +"I am," said Caryl. + +She lowered her eyes from his, and began to trace a design on the +table-cloth with one finger. + +"I don't want to marry you," she said at length. + +"I know," said Caryl. + +She did not look up. + +"No, you don't know. That's just it. You think you know everything. But +you don't. For instance, you think you know why I ran away with Major +Brandon. But you don't. You never will know--unless I tell you, probably +not even then." + +She broke off with an abrupt sigh, and leant back in her chair. + +"One thing I do thank you for," she said irrelevantly. "And that is that +you didn't take me back to Rivermead last night. Have they, I wonder, +any idea where I am?" + +"I left a message for your cousin before I left," Caryl said. + +"Oh, then he knew--?" + +"He knew that I had you under my protection," Caryl told her grimly. "I +did not go into details. It was unnecessary. Only Flicker knew the +details. I marked him down in the afternoon, after the incident at +luncheon." + +She opened her eyes. + +"Then you guessed--?" + +"I knew he did not find the missing glove under the table," said Caryl +quietly. "I did not need any further evidence than that. I knew, +moreover, that you had not devoted the whole of the previous afternoon +to your correspondence. I was waiting for your cousin in the +conservatory when you joined Brandon in the garden." + +"And you--you were in the conservatory last night when I went through. +I--I felt there was someone there." + +"Yes," he answered. "I waited to see you go." + +"Why didn't you stop me?" + +For an instant her eyes challenged his. + +He stood up, straightening himself slowly. + +"It would not have answered my purpose," he told her steadily. + +She stood up also, her face gone suddenly white. + +"You chose this means of--of forcing me to marry you?" + +"I chose this means--the only means to my hand--of opening your eyes," +he said. "It has not perhaps been over successful. You are still blind +to much that you ought to see. But you will understand these things +better presently." + +"Presently?" she faltered. + +"When you are my wife," he said. + +She flashed him a swift glance. + +"I am to marry you then?" + +He held out his hand to her across the table. + +"Will you marry me, Doris?" + +She hesitated for a single instant, her eyes downcast. Then suddenly, +without speaking, she put her hand into his, glad that, notwithstanding +the overwhelming strength of his position, he had allowed her the +honours of war. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE WILLING CAPTIVE + + +"And so you were obliged to marry your _bête noire_ after all! My dear, +it has been the talk of the town. Come, sit down, and tell me all about +it. I am burning to hear how it came about." + +Doris's old friend, Mrs. Lockyard, paused to flick the ash from her +cigarette, and to laugh slyly at the girl's face of discomfiture. + +Doris also held a cigarette between her fingers, but she was only toying +with it restlessly. + +"There isn't much to tell," she said. "We were married by special +licence. I was not obliged to marry him. I chose to do so." + +Mrs. Lockyard laughed again, not very pleasantly. + +"And left poor Maurice in the lurch. That was rather cruel of you after +all his chivalrous efforts to deliver you from bondage. And he so hard +up, too." + +A flush of anger rose in the girl's face. She tilted her chin with the +old proud gesture. + +"I should not have married him in any case," she said. "He made that +quite impossible by his own act. He--was not so chivalrous as I +thought." + +A gleam of malice shone for a moment in Mrs. Lockyard's eyes, and just a +hint of it was perceptible in her voice as she made response. + +"One has to make allowances sometimes. All men are not made after the +pattern of your chosen lord and master. He, I grant you, is hard as +granite and about as impassive. Still I mustn't depreciate your prize +since it was of your own choosing. Let me wish you instead every +happiness." + +"He was not impassive that night," said Doris quickly, with a sharp +inward sense of injustice. + +"No?" questioned Mrs. Lockyard. + +"No. At least--Major Brandon did not find him so." Doris's blue eyes +took fire at the recollection. "He gave him his deserts," she said, with +a certain exultation. "He thrashed him." + +"Oh, my dear, he would have done that in any case. That was an old, old +score paid off at last. Forgive me for depriving you of this small +gratification. But that debt was contracted many years ago when you were +scarcely out of your cradle. Your presence was a mere incident. You were +the opportunity, not the cause." + +"I don't know what you mean," said Doris, looking her straight in the +face. + +"No? Well, my dear, it isn't my business to enlighten you. If you really +want to know, I must refer you to your husband. Surely that is Mrs. +Fricker over there. You will not mind if she joins us?" + +"I am going!" Doris announced abruptly--"I really only looked in to see +if there were any letters." + +She dropped her cigarette with determination and turned to the nearest +door. + +It was true that she had run into the club for her correspondence, but +having met Mrs. Lockyard she had been almost compelled to linger, albeit +unwillingly. Now from the depths of her soul she regretted the impulse +that had borne her thither. She vowed to herself that she would not +enter the club again so long as Mrs. Lockyard remained in town. + +Three weeks had elapsed since her marriage; three weeks of shopping in +Paris with Caryl somewhere in the background, looking on but never +advising. + +He had been very kind on the whole, she was fain to admit, but she was +further from understanding him now than she had ever been. He had +retired into his shell so completely that it seemed unlikely that he +would ever again emerge, and she did not dare to make the first advance. + +Her return to London had been one of the greatest ordeals she had ever +faced, but she had endured it unflinchingly, and had found that London +had already almost forgotten the eccentricity of her marriage. In the +height of the season memories are short. + +Caryl had taken a flat overlooking the river, and here they had settled +down. He spent the greater part of his day at the Law Courts, and Doris +found herself thrown a good deal upon her own resources. In happier days +this had been her ideal, but for some reason it did not now content her. + +Returning from her encounter with Mrs. Lockyard at the club, she told +herself with sudden petulance that life in town had lost all charm for +her. + +Entering the dainty sitting-room that looked on to the river, she +dropped into a chair by the window and stared out with her chin in her +hands. The river was a blaze of gold. A line of long black barges was +drifting down-stream in the wake of a noisy steam-tug. She watched them +absently, sick at heart. + +Gradually the shining water grew blurred and dim. Its beauty wholly +passed her by, or if she saw it, it was only in vivid contrast to the +darkness in her soul. For a little, wide-eyed, she resisted the impulse +that tugged at her heart-strings; but at last in sheer weariness she +gave in. What did it matter, a tear more or less? There was no one to +know or care. And tears were sometimes a relief. She bowed her head upon +the sill and wept. + +"Why, Doris!" a quiet voice said. + +She started, started violently, and sprang upright. + +Caryl was standing slightly behind her, his hand on the back of her +chair, but as she rose he came forward and stood beside her. + +"What is it?" he said. "Why are you crying?" + +"I'm not!" she declared vehemently. "I wasn't! You--you startled +me--that's all." + +She turned her back on him and hastily dabbed her eyes. She was furious +with him for coming upon her thus. + +He stood at the window, looking out upon the long, black barges in +silence. + +After a few seconds of desperate effort she controlled herself and +turned round. + +"I never heard you come in. I--must have been asleep." + +He did not look at her, or attempt to refute the statement. + +"I thought you were going to be out this afternoon," he said. + +"So I was. So I have been. I went to the club to get my letters." + +"Didn't you find any one there to talk to?" he asked. + +"No one," she answered somewhat hastily; then, moved by some impulse she +could not have explained, "That is, no one that counts. I saw Mrs. +Lockyard." + +"Doesn't she count?" asked Caryl, still with his eyes on the river. + +"I hate the woman!" Doris declared passionately. + +He turned slowly round. + +"What has she been saying to you?" + +"Nothing." + +Again he made no comment on the obvious lie. + +"Look here," he said. "Can't we go out somewhere to-night? There is a +new play at the Regency. They say it's good. Shall we go?" + +The suggestion was quite unexpected; she looked at him in surprise. + +"I have promised Vera to dine there," she said. + +"Ring her up and say you can't," said Caryl. + +She hesitated. + +"I must make some excuse if I do. What shall I say?" + +"Say I want you," he said, and suddenly that rare smile of his for which +she had wholly ceased to look flashed across his face, "and tell the +truth for once." + +She did not see him again till she entered the dining-room an hour +later. He was waiting for her there, and as she came in he presented her +with a spray of lilies. + +Again in astonishment she looked up at him. + +"Don't you like them?" he said. + +"Of course I do. But--but--" + +Her answer tailed off in confusion. Her lip quivered uncontrollably, and +she turned quickly away. + +Caryl was plainly unaware of anything unusual in her demeanour. He +talked throughout dinner in his calm, effortless drawl, and gradually +under its soothing influence she recovered herself. + +She enjoyed the play that followed. It was a simple romance, well +staged, and superbly acted. She breathed a sigh of regret when it was +over. + +Driving home again with Caryl, she thanked him impulsively for taking +her. + +"You weren't bored?" he asked. + +"Of course not," she said. + +She would have said more, but something restrained her. A sudden shyness +descended upon her that lasted till they reached the flat. + +She left Caryl at the outer door and turned into the room overlooking +the river. The window was open as she had left it, and the air blew in +sweetly upon her over the water. She had dropped her wrap from her +shoulders, and she shivered a little as she stood, but a feeling of +suspense kept her motionless. + +Caryl had entered the room behind her. She wondered if he would pause at +the table where a tray of refreshments was standing. He did not, and her +nerves tingled and quivered as he passed it by. + +He joined her at the window, and they stood together for several seconds +looking out upon the great river with its myriad lights. + +She had not the faintest idea as to what was passing in his mind, but +her heart-beats quickened in his silence to such a tumult that at last +she could bear it no longer. She turned back into the room. + +He followed her instantly, and she fancied that he sighed. + +"Won't you have anything before you go?" he said. + +She shook her head. + +"Good-night!" she said almost inaudibly. + +For a moment--no longer--her hand lay in his. She did not look at him. +There was something in his touch that thrilled through her like an +electric current. + +But his grave "Good-night!" had in it nothing startling, and by the time +she reached her own room she had begun to ask herself what cause there +had been for her agitation. She was sure he must have thought her very +strange, very abrupt, even ungracious. + +And at that her heart smote her, for he had been kinder that evening +than ever before. The fragrance of the lilies at her breast reminded her +how kind. + +She bent her head to them, and suddenly, as though the flowers exhaled +some potent charm, impulse--blind, domineering impulse--took possession +of her. + +She turned swiftly to the door, and in a moment her feet were bearing +her, almost without her voluntary effort, back to the room she had left. + +The door was unlatched. She pushed it open, entering impetuously. And +she came upon Caryl suddenly--as he had come upon her that +afternoon--sunk in a chair by the window, with his head in his hands. + +He rose instantly at her entrance, rose and closed the window; then +lowered the blind very quietly, very slowly, and finally turned round to +her. + +"What is it? You have forgotten something?" + +Except that he was paler than usual, his face bore no trace of emotion. +He looked at her with his heavy eyes gravely, with unfailing patience. + +For an instant she stood irresolute, afraid; then again that urging +impulse drove her forward. She moved close to him. + +"I only came back to say--I only wanted to tell you--Vivian, I--I was +horrid to you this afternoon. Forgive me!" + +She stretched out her trembling hands to him, and he took them, held +them fast, then sharply let them go. + +"My dear," he said, "you were in trouble, and I intruded upon you. It +was no case for forgiveness." + +But she would not accept his indulgence. + +"I was horrid," she protested, with a catch in her voice. "Why are you +so patient with me? You never used to be." + +He did not answer her. He seemed to regard the question as superfluous. + +She drew a little nearer. Her fingers fastened quivering upon his coat. + +"Don't be too kind to me, Vivian," she said, her voice trembling. +"It--it isn't good for me." + +He took her by the wrists and drew her hands away. + +"You want to tell me something," he said. "What is it?" + +She glanced upwards, meeting his look with sudden resolution. + +"You asked me this afternoon why I was crying," she said. "And I--I lied +to you. You asked me, too, what Mrs. Lockyard said to me. And I lied +again. I will tell you now, if--if you will listen to me." + +Caryl was still holding her wrists. There was a hint of sternness in his +attitude. + +"Well?" he said quietly. "What did she say?" + +"She said"--Doris spoke with an effort--"she said, or rather she hinted, +that there was an old grudge between you and Major Brandon, a matter +with which I was in no way concerned, an affair of many years' standing. +She said that was why you followed him up and--thrashed him that night. +She implied that I didn't count at all. She made me wonder +if--if--"--she was speaking almost inarticulately, with bent head--"if +perhaps it was only to satisfy this ancient grudge that you married me." + +Her words went into silence. She could not look him in the face. If he +had not held her wrists so firmly she would have been tempted to turn +and flee. As it was, she could only stand before him in quivering +suspense. + +He moved at length, moved suddenly and disconcertingly, freeing one +hand to turn her face quietly upwards. She did not resist him, but she +shrank as she met his eyes. She fancied she had never seen him look so +grim. + +"And that was why you were crying?" he asked, deliberately searching her +reluctant eyes. + +"That was--one reason," she acknowledged faintly. + +"Then there was something more than that?" + +"Yes." She laid her hand pleadingly on his arm, and he released her. "I +will tell you," she said tremulously, keeping her face upturned to his. +"At least, I will try. But it's very difficult because--" + +She began to falter under his look. + +"Because," he said slowly, "you have no confidence in me. That I can +well understand. You married me more or less under compulsion, and when +a wife is no more than a guest in her husband's house, confidence +between them, of any description, is almost an impossibility." + +He spoke without anger, but with a sadness that pierced her to the +heart; and having so spoken he leant his arm upon the mantelpiece, +turning slightly from her. + +"I will tell you," he said, his voice very quiet and even, "exactly what +Mrs. Lockyard was hinting at. Ten years ago I was engaged to a +girl--like you in many ways--gay, impulsive, bewitching. I was young in +those days, romantic, too. I worshipped her as a goddess. I was utterly +blind to her failings. They simply didn't exist for me. She rewarded me +by running away with Maurice Brandon. I knew he was a blackguard, but +how much of a blackguard I did not realize till later. However, I didn't +trust him even then, and I followed them and insisted that they should +be married in my presence. Six months later I heard from her. He had +treated her abominably, had finally deserted her, and she was trying to +get a divorce. I did my best to help her, and eventually she obtained +it." He paused a moment, then went on with bent head, "I never saw her +after she gained her freedom. She went to her people, and very soon +after--she died." + +Again he paused, then slowly straightened himself. + +"I never cared for any woman after that," he said, "until I met you. As +for Brandon, he kept out of my way, and I had no object in seeking him. +In fact, I took no interest in his doings till I found that you were in +Mrs. Lockyard's set. That, I admit, was something of a shock. And then +when I found that you liked the man--" + +"Oh, don't!" she broke in. "Don't! I was mad ever to tolerate him. Let +me forget it! Please let me forget it!" + +She spoke passionately, and as if her emotion drew him he turned fully +round to her. + +"If you could have forgotten him sooner," he said, with a touch of +sternness, "you would not find yourself tied now to a man you never +loved." + +The effect of his words was utterly unexpected. She started as one +stricken, wounded in a vital place, and clasped her hands tightly +against her breast, crushing the flowers that drooped there. + +"It is a lie!" she cried wildly. "It is a lie!" + +"What is a lie?" + +He took a step towards her, for she was swaying as she stood; but she +flung out her hands, keeping him from her. + +Her face was working convulsively. She turned and moved unsteadily away +from him, groping out before her as she went. So groping, she reached +the door, and blindly sought the handle. But before she found it he +spoke in a tone that had subtly altered: + +"Doris!" + +Her hands fell. She stood suddenly still, listening. + +"Come here!" he said. + +He crossed the room and reached her. + +"Look at me!" he said. + +She refused for a little, trembling all over. Then suddenly as he waited +she threw back her head and met his eyes. She was sobbing like a child +that has been hurt. + +He bent towards her, looking closely, closely into her quivering face. + +"So," he said, "it was a lie, was it? But, my own girl, how was I to +know? Why on earth didn't you say so before?" + +She broke into a laugh that had in it the sound of tears. + +"How could I? You never asked. How could I?" + +"Shall I ask you now?" he said. + +She stretched up her arms and clasped his neck. + +"No," she whispered back. "Take me--take everything--for granted. It's +the only way, if you want to turn a heartless little flirt like me +into--into a virtuous and amiable wife!" + +And so, clinging to him, her lips met his in the first kiss that had +ever passed between them. + + + + +Those Who Wait[1] + + +A faint draught from the hills found its way through the wide-flung door +as the sun went down. It fluttered the papers on the table, and stirred +a cartoon upon the wall with a dry rustling as of wind in corn. + +The man who sat at the table turned his face as it were mechanically +towards that blessed breath from the snows. His chin was propped on his +hand. He seemed to be waiting. + +The light failed very quickly, and he presently reached out and drew a +reading-lamp towards him. The flame he kindled flickered upward, +throwing weird shadows upon his lean, brown face, making the sunken +hollows of his eyes look cavernous. + +He turned the light away so that it streamed upon the open doorway. Then +he resumed his former position of sphinx-like waiting, his chin upon his +hand. + +Half an hour passed. The day was dead. Beyond the radius of the lamp +there hung a pall of thick darkness--a fearful, clinging darkness that +seemed to wrap the whole earth. The heat was intense, unstirred by any +breeze. Only now and then the cartoon on the wall moved as if at the +touch of ghostly fingers, and each time there came that mocking whisper +that was like wind in corn. + +At length there sounded through the night the dull throbbing of a +horse's feet, and the man who sat waiting raised his head. A gleam of +expectancy shone in his sombre eyes. Some of the rigidity went out of +his attitude. + +Nearer came the hoofs and nearer yet, and with them, mingling +rhythmically, a tenor voice that sang. + +As it reached him the man at the table pulled out a drawer with a sharp +jerk. His hand sought something within it, but his eyes never left the +curtain of darkness that the open doorway framed. + +Slowly, very slowly at last, he withdrew his hand empty; but he only +partially closed the drawer. + +The voice without was nearer now, was close at hand. The horse's hoofs +had ceased to sound. There came the ring of spurred heels without, a +man's hand tapped upon the doorpost, a man's figure showed suddenly +against the darkness. + +"Hallo, Conyers! Still in the land of the living? Ye gods, what a +fiendish night! Many thanks for the beacon! It's kept me straight for +more than half the way." + +He entered carelessly, the lamplight full upon him--a handsome, +straight-limbed young Hercules--tossed down his riding-whip, and looked +round for a drink. + +"Here you are!" said Conyers, turning the rays of the lamp full upon +some glasses on the table. + +"Ah, good! I'm as dry as a smoked herring. You must drink too, though. +Yes, I insist. I have a toast to propose, so be sociable for once. What +have you got in that drawer?" + +Conyers locked the drawer abruptly, and jerked out the key. + +"What do you want to know for?" + +His visitor grinned boyishly. + +"Don't be bashful, old chap! I always guessed you kept her there. We'll +drink her health, too, in a minute. But first of all"--he was splashing +soda-water impetuously out of a syphon as he spoke--"first of all--quite +ready, I say? It's a grand occasion--here's to the best of good fellows, +that genius, that inventor of guns, John Conyers! Old chap, your +fortune's made. Here's to it! Hip--hip--hooray!" + +His shout was like the blare of a bull. Conyers rose, crossed to the +door, and closed it. + +Returning, he halted by his visitor's side, and shook him by the +shoulder. + +"Stop rotting, Palliser!" he said rather shortly. + +Young Palliser wheeled with a gigantic laugh, and seized him by the +arms. + +"You old fool, Jack! Can't you see I'm in earnest? Drink, man, drink, +and I'll tell you all about it. That gun of yours is going to be an +enormous success--stupendous--greater even than I hoped. It's true, by +the powers! Don't look so dazed. All comes to those who wait, don't you +know. I always told you so." + +"To be sure, so you did." The man's words came jerkily. They had an odd, +detached sound, almost as though he were speaking in his sleep. He +turned away from Palliser, and took up his untouched glass. + +But the next instant it slipped through his fingers, and crashed upon +the table edge. The spilt liquid streamed across the floor. + +Palliser stared for an instant, then thrust forward his own glass. + +"Steady does it, old boy! Try both hands for a change. It's this +infernal heat." + +He turned with the words, and picked up a paper from the table, frowning +over it absently, and whistling below his breath. + +When he finally looked round again his face cleared. + +"Ah, that's better! Sit down, and we'll talk. By Jove, isn't it +colossal? They told me over at the fort that I was a fool to come across +to-night. But I simply couldn't keep you waiting another night. Besides, +I knew you would expect me." + +Conyers' grim face softened a little. He could scarcely have said how he +had ever come to be the chosen friend of young Hugh Palliser. The +intimacy had been none of his seeking. + +They had met at the club on the occasion of one of his rare appearances +there, and the younger man, whose sociable habit it was to know +everyone, had scraped acquaintance with him. + +No one knew much about Conyers. He was not fond of society, and, as a +natural consequence, society was not fond of him. He occupied the humble +position of a subordinate clerk in an engineer's office. The work was +hard, but it did not bring him prosperity. He was one of those men who +go silently on week after week, year after year, till their very +existence comes almost to be overlooked by those about them. He never +seemed to suffer as other men suffered from the scorching heat of that +tropical corner of the Indian Empire. He was always there, whatever +happened to the rest of the world; but he never pushed himself forward. +He seemed to lack ambition. There were even some who said he lacked +brains as well. + +But Palliser was not of these. His quick eyes had detected at a glance +something that others had never taken the trouble to discover. From the +very beginning he had been aware of a force that contained itself in +this silent man. He had become interested, scarcely knowing why; and, +having at length overcome the prickly hedge of reserve which was at +first opposed to his advances, he had entered the private place which it +defended, and found within--what he certainly had not expected to +find--a genius. + +It was nearly three months now since Conyers, in a moment of unusual +expansion, had laid before him the invention at which he had been +working for so many silent years. The thing even then, though complete +in all essentials, had lacked finish, and this final touch young +Palliser, himself a gunner with a positive passion for guns, had been +able to supply. He had seen the value of the invention and had given it +his ardent support. He had, moreover, friends in high places, and could +obtain a fair and thorough investigation of the idea. + +This he had accomplished, with a result that had transcended his high +hopes, on his friend's behalf; and he now proceeded to pour out his +information with an accompanying stream of congratulation, to which +Conyers sat and listened with scarcely the movement of an eyelid. + +Hugh Palliser found his impassivity by no means disappointing. He was +used to it. He had even expected it. That momentary unsteadiness on +Conyers' part had astonished him far more. + +Concluding his narration he laid the official correspondence before him, +and got up to open the door. The night was black and terrible, the heat +came in overwhelming puffs, as though blown from a blast furnace. He +leaned against the doorpost and wiped his forehead. The oppression of +the atmosphere was like a tangible, crushing weight. Behind him the +paper on the wall rustled vaguely, but there was no other sound. After +several minutes he turned briskly back again into the room, whistling a +sentimental ditty below his breath. + +"Well, old chap, it was worth waiting for, eh? And now, I suppose, +you'll be making a bee-line for home, you lucky beggar. I shan't be long +after you, that's one comfort. Pity we can't go together. I suppose you +can't wait till the winter." + +"No, my boy. I'm afraid I can't." Conyers spoke with a faint smile, his +eyes still fixed upon the blue official paper that held his destiny. +"I'm going home forthwith, and be damned to everything and +everybody--except you. It's an understood thing, you know, Palliser, +that we are partners in this deal." + +"Oh, rot!" exclaimed Palliser impetuously. "I don't agree to that. I did +nothing but polish the thing up. You'd have done it yourself if I +hadn't." + +"In the course of a few more years," put in Conyers drily. + +"Rot!" said Palliser again. "Besides, I don't want any pelf. I've quite +as much as is good for me, more than I want. That's why I'm going to get +married. You'll be going the same way yourself now, I suppose?" + +"You have no reason whatever for thinking so," responded Conyers. + +Palliser laughed lightheartedly and sat down on the table. "Oh, haven't +I? What about that mysterious locked drawer of yours? Don't be shy, I +say! You had it open when I came in. Show her to me like a good chap! I +won't tell a soul." + +"That's not where I keep my love-tokens," said Conyers, with a grim +twist of the mouth that was not a smile. + +"What then?" asked Palliser eagerly. "Not another invention?" + +"No." Conyers inserted the key in the lock again, turned it, and pulled +open the drawer. "See for yourself as you are so anxious." + +Palliser leaned across the table and looked. The next instant his glance +flashed upwards, and their eyes met. + +There was a sharply-defined pause. Then, "You'd never be fool enough for +that, Jack!" ejaculated Palliser, with vehemence. + +"I'm fool enough for anything," said Conyers, with his cynical smile. + +"But you wouldn't," the other protested almost incoherently. "A fellow +like you--I don't believe it!" + +"It's loaded," observed Conyers quietly. "No, leave it alone, Hugh! It +can remain so for the present. There is not the smallest danger of its +going off--or I shouldn't have shown it to you." + +He closed the drawer again, looking steadily into Hugh Palliser's face. + +"I've had it by me for years," he said, "just in case the Fates should +have one more trick in store for me. But apparently they haven't, though +it's never safe to assume anything." + +"Oh, don't talk like an idiot!" broke in Palliser heatedly. "I've no +patience with that sort of thing. Do you expect me to believe that a +fellow like you--a fellow who knows how to wait for his luck--would give +way to a cowardly impulse and destroy himself all in a moment because +things didn't go quite straight? Man alive! I know you better than that; +or if I don't, I've never known you at all." + +"Ah! Perhaps not!" said Conyers. + +Once more he turned the key and withdrew it. He pushed back his chair so +that his face was in shadow. + +"You don't know everything, you know, Hugh," he said. + +"Have a smoke," said Palliser, "and tell me what you are driving at." + +He threw himself into a bamboo chair by the open door, the light +streaming full upon him, revealing in every line of him the arrogant +splendour of his youth. He looked like a young Greek god with the world +at his feet. + +Conyers surveyed him with his faint, cynical smile. "No," he said, "you +certainly don't know everything, my son. You never have come a cropper +in your life." + +"Haven't I, though?" Hugh sat up, eager to refute this criticism. +"That's all you know about it. I suppose you think you have had the +monopoly of hard knocks. Most people do." + +"I am not like most people," Conyers asserted deliberately. "But you +needn't tell me that you have ever been right under, my boy. For you +never have." + +"Depends what you call going under," protested Palliser. "I've been down +a good many times, Heaven knows. And I've had to wait--as you have--all +the best years of my life." + +"Your best years are to come," rejoined Conyers. "Mine are over." + +"Oh, rot, man! Rot--rot--rot! Why, you are just coming into your own! +Have another drink and give me the toast of your heart!" Hugh Palliser +sprang impulsively to his feet. "Let me mix it! You can't--you shan't be +melancholy to-night of all nights." + +But Conyers stayed his hand. + +"Only one more drink to-night, boy!" he said. "And that not yet. Sit +down and smoke. I'm not melancholy, but I can't rejoice prematurely. +It's not my way." + +"Prematurely!" echoed Hugh, pointing to the official envelope. + +"Yes, prematurely," Conyers repeated. "I may be as rich as Croesus, and +yet not win my heart's desire." + +"Oh, I know that," said Hugh quickly. "I've been through it myself. It's +infernal to have everything else under the sun and yet to lack the one +thing--the one essential--the one woman." + +He sat down again, abruptly thoughtful. Conyers smoked silently, with +his face in the shadow. + +Suddenly Hugh looked across at him. + +"You think I'm too much of an infant to understand," he said. "I'm +nearly thirty, but that's a detail." + +"I'm forty-five," said Conyers. + +"Well, well!" Hugh frowned impatiently. "It's a detail, as I said +before. Who cares for a year more or less?" + +"Which means," observed Conyers, with his dry smile, "that the one woman +is older than you are." + +"She is," Palliser admitted recklessly. "She is five years older. But +what of it? Who cares? We were made for each other. What earthly +difference does it make?" + +"It's no one's business but your own," remarked Conyers through a haze +of smoke. + +"Of course it isn't. It never has been." Hugh yet sounded in some +fashion indignant. "There never was any other possibility for me after I +met her. I waited for her six mortal years. I'd have waited all my life. +But she gave in at last. I think she realized that it was sheer waste of +time to go on." + +"What was she waiting for?" The question came with a certain weariness +of intonation, as though the speaker were somewhat bored; but Hugh +Palliser was too engrossed to notice. + +He stretched his arms wide with a swift and passionate gesture. + +"She was waiting for a scamp," he declared. + +"It is maddening to think of--the sweetest woman on earth, Conyers, +wasting her spring and her summer over a myth, an illusion. It was an +affair of fifteen years ago. The fellow came to grief and disappointed +her. She told me all about it on the day she promised to marry me. I +believe her heart was nearly broken at the time, but she has got over +it--thank Heaven!--at last. Poor Damaris! My Damaris!" + +He ceased to speak, and a dull roar of thunder came out of the night +like the voice of a giant in anguish. + +Hugh began to smoke, still busy with his thoughts. + +"Yes," he said presently, "I believe she would actually have waited all +her life for the fellow if he had asked it of her. Luckily he didn't go +so far as that. He was utterly unworthy of her. I think she sees it now. +His father was imprisoned for forgery, and no doubt he was in the know, +though it couldn't be brought home to him. He was ruined, of course, and +he disappeared, just dropped out, when the crash came. He had been on +the verge of proposing to her immediately before. And she would have had +him too. She cared." + +He sent a cloud of smoke upwards with savage vigour. + +"It's damnable to think of her suffering for a worthless brute like +that!" he exclaimed. "She had such faith in him too. Year after year she +was expecting him to go back to her, and she kept me at arm's length, +till at last she came to see that both our lives were being sacrificed +to a miserable dream. Well, it's my innings now, anyway. And we are +going to be superbly happy to make up for it." + +Again he flung out his arms with a wide gesture, and again out of the +night there came a long roll of thunder that was like the menace of a +tortured thing. A flicker of lightning gleamed through the open door for +a moment, and Conyers' dark face was made visible. He had ceased to +smoke, and was staring with fixed, inscrutable eyes into the darkness. +He did not flinch from the lightning; it was as if he did not see it. + +"What would she do, I wonder, if the prodigal returned," he said +quietly. "Would she be glad--or sorry?" + +"He never will," returned Hugh quickly. "He never can--after fifteen +years. Think of it! Besides--she wouldn't have him if he did." + +"Women are proverbially faithful," remarked Conyers cynically. + +"She will stick to me now," Hugh returned with confidence. "The other +fellow is probably dead. In any case, he has no shadow of a right over +her. He never even asked her to wait for him." + +"Possibly he thought that she would wait without being asked," said +Conyers, still cynical. + +"Well, she has ceased to care for him now," asserted Hugh. "She told me +so herself." + +The man opposite shifted his position ever so slightly. "And you are +satisfied with that?" he said. + +"Of course I am. Why not?" There was almost a challenge in Hugh's voice. + +"And if he came back?" persisted the other. "You would still be +satisfied?" + +Hugh sprang to his feet with a movement of fierce impatience. "I believe +I should shoot him!" he said vindictively. He looked like a splendid +wild animal suddenly awakened. "I tell you, Conyers," he declared +passionately, "I could kill him with my hands if he came between us +now." + +Conyers, his chin on his hand, looked him up and down as though +appraising his strength. + +Suddenly he sat bolt upright and spoke--spoke briefly, sternly, harshly, +as a man speaks in the presence of his enemy. At the same instant a +frightful crash of thunder swept the words away as though they had never +been uttered. + +In the absolute pandemonium of sound that followed, Hugh Palliser, with +a face gone suddenly white, went over to his friend and stood behind +him, his hands upon his shoulders. + +But Conyers sat quite motionless, staring forth at the leaping +lightning, rigid, sphinx-like. He did not seem aware of the man behind +him, till, as the uproar began to subside, Hugh bent and spoke. + +"Do you know, old chap, I'm scared!" he said, with a faint, shamed +laugh. "I feel as if there were devils abroad. Speak to me, will you, +and tell me I'm a fool!" + +"You are," said Conyers, without turning. + +"That lightning is too much for my nerves," said Hugh uneasily. "It's +almost red. What was it you said just now? I couldn't hear a word." + +"It doesn't matter," said Conyers. + +"But what was it? I want to know." + +The gleam in the fixed eyes leaped to sudden terrible flame, shone hotly +for a few seconds, then died utterly away. "I don't remember," said +Conyers quietly. "It couldn't have been anything of importance. Have a +drink! You will have to be getting back as soon as this is over." + +Hugh helped himself with a hand that was not altogether steady. There +had come a lull in the tempest. The cartoon on the wall was fluttering +like a caged thing. He glanced at it, then looked at it closely. It was +a reproduction of Doré's picture of Satan falling from heaven. + +"It isn't meant for you surely!" he said. + +Conyers laughed and got to his feet. "It isn't much like me, is it?" + +Hugh looked at him uncertainly. "I never noticed it before. It might +have been you years ago." + +"Ah, perhaps," said Conyers. "Why don't you drink? I thought you were +going to give me a toast." + +Hugh's mood changed magically. He raised his glass high. "Here's to your +eternal welfare, dear fellow! I drink to your heart's desire." + +Conyers waited till Hugh had drained his glass before he lifted his own. + +Then, "I drink to the one woman," he said, and emptied it at a draught. + + * * * * * + +The storm was over, and a horse's feet clattered away into the darkness, +mingling rhythmically with a cheery tenor voice. + +In the room with the open door a man's figure stood for a long while +motionless. + +When he moved at length it was to open the locked drawer of the +writing-table. His right hand felt within it, closed upon something that +lay there; and then he paused. + +Several minutes crawled away. + +From afar there came the long rumble of thunder. But it was not this +that he heard as he stood wrestling with the fiercest temptation he had +ever known. + +Stiffly at last he stooped, peered into the drawer, finally closed it +with an unfaltering hand. The struggle was over. + +"For your sake, Damaris!" he said aloud, and he spoke without cynicism. +"I should know how to wait by now--even for death--which is all I have +to wait for." + +And with that he pulled the fluttering paper from the wall, crushed it +in his hand, and went out heavily into the night. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 1: This story was originally issued in the _Red Magazine_.] + + + + +The Eleventh Hour[2] + + +CHAPTER I + +HIS OWN GROUND + + +"Oh, to be a farmer's wife!" + +Doris Elliot paused, punt-pole in hand, to look across a field of +corn-sheaves with eyes of shining appreciation. + +Her companion, stretched luxuriously on his back on a pile of cushions, +smiled a contemplative smile and made no comment. + +The girl's look came down to him after a moment. She regarded him with +friendly contempt. + +"You're very lazy, Hugh," she said. + +"I know it," said Hugh Chesyl comfortably. + +She dropped the pole into the water and drove the punt towards the bank. +"It's a pity you're such a slacker," she said. + +He removed his cigarette momentarily. "You wouldn't like me any better +if I weren't," he said. + +"Indeed I should--miles!" + +"No, you wouldn't." His smile became more pronounced. "If I were more +energetic, I should be for ever pestering you to marry me. And, you +know, you wouldn't like that. As it is, I take 'No,' for an answer and +rest content." + +Doris was silent. Her slim, white-clad figure was bent to the task of +bringing the punt to a pleasant anchorage in an inviting hollow in the +grassy shore. Hugh Chesyl clasped his hands behind his head and watched +her with placid admiration. + +The small brown hands were very capable. They knew exactly what to do, +and did it with precision. When they had finally secured the punt, with +him in it, to the bank he sat up. + +"Are we going to have tea here? What a charming spot! Sweetly romantic, +isn't it? I wonder why you particularly want to be a farmer's wife?" + +Doris's pointed chin still looked slightly scornful. "You wouldn't +wonder if you took the trouble to reflect, Mr. Chesyl," she said. + +He laughed easily. "Oh, don't ask me to do that! You know what a +sluggish brain mine is. I can quite understand your not wanting to marry +me, but why you should want to marry a farmer--like Jeff Ironside--I +cannot see." + +"Who is Jeff Ironside?" she demanded. + +"He's the chap who owns this property. Didn't you know? A frightfully +energetic person; prosperous, too, for a wonder. But an absolute tinker, +my dear. I shouldn't marry him--all his fair acres notwithstanding--if +I were you. I don't think the county would approve." + +Doris snapped her fingers with supreme contempt. "That for the county! +What a snob you are!" + +"Am I?" said Hugh. "I didn't know." + +She nodded severely. "Do you mind moving your legs? I want to get at the +tea-basket." + +"Don't mention it!" he said accommodatingly. "Are you going to give me +tea now? How nice! You are looking awfully pretty to-day, do you know? I +can't think how you do it. There isn't a feature in your face worth +mentioning, but, notwithstanding, you make an entrancing whole." + +Doris sternly repressed a smile. "Please don't take the trouble to be +complimentary." + +Hugh groaned. "There's no pleasing you. And still you haven't let me +into the secret as to why you want to be a farmer's wife." + +Doris was unpacking the tea-things energetically. "You never understand +anything without being told," she said. "Don't you know that I +positively hate the life I live now?" + +"I can quite believe it," said Hugh Chesyl. "But, if you will allow me +to say so, I think your remedy would be worse than the disease. Your +utmost ingenuity will fail to persuade me that the life of a farmer's +wife would suit you." + +"I should like the simplicity of it," she maintained. + +"And getting up at five in the morning to make the butter? And having a +hulking brute of a husband--like Jeff Ironside--tramping into your +kitchen with his muddy boots and beastly clothes (which you would have +to mend) just when you had got things into good order? I can see you +doing it!" Hugh Chesyl's speech went into his easy, high-bred laugh. +"You of all people--the dainty and disdainful Miss Elliot, for whom no +man is good enough!" + +"I don't know why you say that." There was quick protest in the girl's +voice. She clattered the cups and saucers as if something in the lazy +argument had exasperated her. "I like a man who is a man--the hard, +outdoor, wholesome kind--who isn't afraid of taking a little +trouble--who knows what he wants and how to get it. I shouldn't quarrel +with him on the score of muddy boots. I should be only glad that he had +enough of the real thing in him to go out in all weathers and not to +care." + +"All of which is aimed at me," said Hugh to the trees above him. "I'm +afraid I'm boring you more than usual this afternoon." + +"You can't help it," said Doris. + +Hugh Chesyl's good-looking face crumpled a little, then smoothed itself +again to its usual placid expression. "Ah, well!" he said equably, "we +won't quarrel about it. Let's have some tea!" + +He sat up in the punt and looked across at her; but she would not meet +his eyes, and there ensued a considerable pause before he said gently, +"I'm sorry you are not happy, you know." + +"Are you?" she said. + +"Yes. That's why I want you to marry me." + +"Should I be any happier if I did?" said Doris, with a smile that was +somehow slightly piteous. + +"I don't know." Hugh Chesyl's voice was as pleasantly vague as his +personality. "I shouldn't get in your way at all, and, at least, you +would have a home of your own." + +"To be miserable in," said Doris, with suppressed vehemence. + +"I don't know why you should be miserable," he said. "You wouldn't have +anything to do that you didn't like." + +She uttered a laugh that caught her breath as if it had been a sob. "Oh, +don't talk about it, Hugh! I should be bored--bored to death. I want the +real thing--the real thing--not a polite substitute." + +"Sorry," said Hugh imperturbably. "I have offered the utmost of which I +am capable. May I have my tea here, please? It's less trouble than +scrambling ashore." + +She acceded to his request without protest; but she stepped on to the +bank herself, and sat down with her back to a corn-sheaf. Very young and +slender she looked sitting there with the sunshine on her brown, +elf-like face, but she was by no means without dignity. There was a +fairy queenliness about her that imparted an indescribable charm to her +every movement. Her eyes were grey and fearless. + +"How lovely to own a field like this!" she said. "And plough it and sow +it and watch it grow up, and then cut it and turn it into sheaves! How +proud the man who owns it must be!" + +Something stirred on the other side of the sheaf, and she started a +little and glanced backwards. "What's that?" + +"A rat probably," said Hugh Chesyl serenely from his couch in the punt. +"I expect the place is full of 'em. Won't you continue your rhapsody? +The man who owns this particular field is a miller as well as a farmer. +He grinds his own grain." + +"Oh, is he that man?" Eagerly she broke in. "Does he live in that +perfectly exquisite old red-brick house on the water with the wheel +turning all day long? Oh, isn't he lucky?" + +"I doubt if he thinks so," said Hugh Chesyl. "I've never met a contented +farmer yet." + +"I don't like people to be too contented," said Doris perversely. "It's +a sign of laziness and--yes--weakness of purpose." + +"Oh, is it?" Again he uttered his good-tempered laugh; then, as he began +to drink his tea, he gradually sobered. "Has anything happened lately to +make you specially discontented with your lot?" he asked presently. + +Doris's brows contracted. "Things are always happening. My stepmother +gets more unbearable every day. I sometimes think I will go and work +for my living, but my father won't hear of it. And what can I do? I +haven't qualified for anything. The only thing open to me is to fill a +post of unpaid companion to a rich and elderly cousin who would put up +with me but doesn't much want me. She lives at Kensington, too, and I +can breathe only in the country." + +"Poor little girl!" said Hugh kindly. + +"Oh, don't pity me!" she said quickly. "You can't do anything to help. +And I shouldn't grumble to you if there were anyone else to grumble to." +She leaned back against her sheaf with her eyes on the sunlit water +below. "I suppose I shall just go on in the same old way till something +happens. Anyhow, I can't see my way out at present. It's such a shame to +be unhappy, too, when life might be so ecstatic." + +"How could life be ecstatic?" asked Hugh, passing up his cup to be +refilled. + +She threw him a quick glance. "You wouldn't understand if I were to tell +you," she said. "It never could be--for you." + +He sighed. "I know I'm very limited. But it's a mistake to expect too +much from life, believe me. Ask but little, and perhaps--if you're +lucky--you won't be disappointed." + +"I would rather have nothing than that," she said quickly. + +Hugh Chesyl turned and regarded her curiously. "Would you really?" he +said. + +She nodded several times emphatically. "Yes; just live my own life +out-of-doors and do without everything else." She pulled a long stalk of +corn from the sheaf against which she rested and looked at it +thoughtfully. Her eyes were downcast, and the man in the punt could not +see the deep shadow of pain they held. "If I can't have corn," she said +slowly, with the air of one pronouncing sentence, "I won't have husks. I +will die of starvation sooner." + +And with that very suddenly she rose and walked round the sheaf. + +The movement was abrupt, so abrupt that Hugh Chesyl lifted his brows in +astonishment. He was still more surprised a moment later when he heard +her clear, girlish voice raised in admonition. + +"I don't think it's very nice of you to lie there listening and not to +let us know." + +Hugh sat upright in the punt. Who on earth was it that she was reproving +thus? + +The next moment he saw. A huge man with the frame of a bull rose from +behind the sheaf and confronted his young companion. He had his hat in +his hand, and the afternoon sun fell full upon his uncovered head, +revealing a rugged, clean-shaven face that had in it a good deal of +British strength and a suspicion of gipsy alertness. To Chesyl's further +amazement he did not appear in the least abashed by the encounter. + +"I'm sorry I overheard you," he said, with blunt deference. "I was +half-asleep at first. Afterwards, I didn't like to intrude." + +Doris's grey eyes looked him up and down for a moment or two in +silence, and a flush rose in her tanned face. It seemed to Hugh that she +was likely to become the more embarrassed of the two, and he wondered if +he ought to go to the rescue. + +Then swiftly Doris collected her forces. "I suppose you know you are +trespassing?" she said. + +At that Hugh laid himself very suddenly down again in the bottom of the +boat, and left her to fight her own battles. + +The man on the bank looked down at his small assailant with a face of +grim decorum. "No, I didn't know," he said. + +"Well, you are," said Doris. "All this ground is private property. You +can see for yourself. It's a cornfield." + +The intruder's eyes travelled over the upstanding sheaves, passed +gravely over the man in the punt, and came back to the girl. "Yes; I +see," he said stolidly. + +"Then don't you think you'd better go?" she said. + +He put his hat on somewhat abruptly. "Yes. I think I had better," he +said, and with that he turned on his heel and walked away through the +stubble. + +"Such impertinence!" said Doris, as she stepped down the bank to her +companion. + +"It was rather," said Hugh. + +She looked at him somewhat sharply. "I don't see that there is anything +to laugh at," she said. + +"Don't you?" said Hugh. + +"No. Why are you laughing?" + +Hugh explained. "It only struck me as being a little funny that you +should order the man off his own ground in that cavalier fashion." + +"Hugh!" Genuine dismay shone in the girl's eyes. "That wasn't--wasn't--" + +"Jeff Ironside? Yes, it was," said Hugh. "I wonder you have never come +across him before. He works like a nigger." + +"Hugh!" Doris collapsed upon the bank in sheer horror. "I have seen him +before--seen him several times. I thought he was just--a labourer--till +to-day." + +"Oh, no," said Hugh. "He's just your hard, outdoor, wholesome farmer. +Fine animal, isn't he? Always reminds me of a prize bull." + +"How frightful!" said Doris with a gasp. "It's the worst _faux pas_ I +have ever made." + +"Cheer up!" said Hugh consolingly. "No doubt he was flattered by the +little attention. He took it very well." + +"That doesn't make matters any better," said Doris. "I almost wish he +hadn't." + +Whereupon Hugh laughed again. "Oh, don't wish that! I should think he +would be quite a nasty animal when roused. I shouldn't have cared to +fight him on your behalf. He could wipe the earth with me were he so +minded." + +Doris's eyes, critical though not unkindly, rested upon him as he lay. +"Yes," she said thoughtfully, "I should almost think he could." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE PLOUGHMAN + + +It was on a day six weeks later that Doris Elliot next found herself +upon the scene of her discomfiture. She had ridden from her home three +miles distant very early on a morning of September to join a meeting of +the foxhounds and go cub-hunting. There had been a heavy fall of rain, +and the ground was wet and slippery. + +The field that had been all yellow with the shocks of corn was now in +process of being ploughed, and her horse Hector sank up to the fetlocks +at every stride, a fact which he resented with obvious impatience. She +guided him down to the edge of the river where the ground looked a +little harder. + +The run was over and she had enjoyed it; but she wanted now to take as +short a cut home as possible, and it was through this particular field +that the most direct route undoubtedly lay. She was alone, but she knew +every inch of the countryside, and but for this mischance of the plough +she would have been well on her way. Being a sportswoman, she made the +best of things, and did her utmost to soothe her mount's somewhat fiery +temper. + +"You shall have a clean jump at the end, Hector, old boy," she promised +him. "We shall soon be out of it." + +But in this matter also she was to receive a check; for when they came +to the clean jump, it was to find a formidable fence of wooden paling +confronting them, intervening directly in their line of march. It seemed +that the energetic owner had been attending to his boundaries with a +zeal that no huntsman would appreciate. + +Doris bit her lip with a murmured "Too bad!" + +There was nothing for it but to skirt the hedge in search of a gate. +Hector was naturally even more indignant than she, and stamped and +squealed as she turned him from the obstacle. He also wanted to get +home, and he was tired of fighting his way through ploughed land that +held him like a bog. To add to their discomfort it had begun to rain +again, and there seemed every prospect of being speedily soaked to the +skin. + +Altogether the outlook was depressing; but someone was whistling +cheerily on the farther side of the field, and Doris took heart. It was +a long way to the gate, however, and when she reached it at length it +was to find another disappointment in store. The gate was padlocked. + +She looked round in desperation. Her only chance of escape was +apparently to return by the way she had come by means of a gap which had +not yet been repaired, and which would lead her in directly the +opposite direction to that which she desired to take. + +The rain was coming down in a sharp shower, and Hector was becoming more +and more restive. She halted him by the gate and looked over. Beyond lay +a field from which she knew the road to be easily accessible. She hated +to turn her back upon it. + +Behind her over a rise came the plough, drawn by two stout horses, +driven by a sturdy figure that loomed gigantic against the sky. Glancing +back, Doris saw this figure, and an odd little spirit of dare-devilry +entered into her. She did not want to come face to face with the +ploughman, neither did she want to beat a retreat before the five-barred +gate that opposed her progress. + +She spoke to Hector reassuringly and backed him several paces. He was +quick to grasp her desire and eager to fall in with it. She felt him +bracing himself under her, and she laughed in sheer delight as she set +him at the gate. + +He went at it with a will over the broken ground, rose as she lifted +him, and made a gallant effort to clear the obstacle. But he was too +heavily handicapped. He slipped as he rose to the leap. He blundered +badly against the top bar of the gate, finally stumbled over and fell on +the other side, pitching his rider headlong into a slough of trampled +mud. + +He was up in a moment and careering across the field, but Doris was not +so nimble. It was by no means her first tumble, nor had it been wholly +unexpected; but she had fallen with considerable violence, and it took +her a second or two to collect her wits. Then, like Hector, she sprang +up--only to reel back through the slippery mud and catch at the +splintered gate for support, there to cling sick and dizzy, with eyes +fast shut, while the whole world rocked around her in chaos +indescribable. + +A full minute must have passed thus, then very suddenly out of the +confusion came a voice. Vaguely she recognized it, but she was too +occupied in the struggle to keep her senses to pay much attention to +what it said. + +"I mustn't faint!" she gasped desperately through her set teeth. "I +mustn't faint!" + +A steady arm encircled her, holding her up. + +"You'll be all right in half a minute," said the voice, close to her +now. "You came down rather hard." + +She fought with herself and opened her eyes. Her head was swimming +still, but she compelled herself to look. + +Jeff Ironside was beside her, one foot lodged upon the lowest bar of the +gate while he propped her against his bent knee. + +He looked down at her with a certain sternness of demeanour that was +characteristic of him. "Take your time," he said. "It was a nasty +knock-out." + +"I--I'm all right," she told him breathlessly. "Where--where is Hector?" + +"If you mean your animal," he said in the slow, grim way which she +began to remember as his, "he is probably well on his way home by now. +He'll be all right," he added. "The gate from this field into the road +is open." + +"Oh!" The faintness was overcoming her again as she tried to stand. She +clutched and held his arm. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I--never felt so +stupid before." + +"Don't be in a hurry!" he said. "You can't help it." + +She sank back against his support again and so remained for a few +seconds. He stood like a rock till she opened her eyes once more. + +She found his own upon her, but he dropped them instantly. "You are not +hurt anywhere, are you?" he said. + +She shook her head. "No, it's nothing. I've wrenched my shoulder a +little, but it isn't much." + +"Which shoulder?" + +"The right. No, really it isn't serious." She winced as he touched it +with his hand nevertheless. + +"Sure?" he said. + +He began to feel it very carefully, and she winced again with indrawn +breath. + +"It's only bruised," she said. + +"It's painful, anyhow," he remarked bluntly. "Well, you must be wet to +the skin. You had better come with me to the mill and get dry." + +Doris flushed a little. "Oh, thank you, but really--I don't want to--to +trespass on your kindness. I can quite well walk home--from here." + +"You can't," he said flatly. "Anyhow, you are not going to try. You had +better let me carry you." + +But Doris drew back at that with swift decision. "Oh no! I am quite well +now--I can walk." + +She stood up and he took his foot from the gate. She glanced at the top +bar thereof that hung in splinters. + +"I'm so sorry," she murmured apologetically. + +He also looked at his damaged property. "Yes, it was a pity you +attempted it," he said. + +"I shall know better next time," she said with a wry smile. "Will it +cost much?" + +"Well, it can't be mended for nothing," said Jeff Ironside. "Things +never are." + +Doris considered him for a moment. He was certainly a fine animal, as +Hugh Chesyl had said, well made and well put together. She liked the +freedom of his pose, the strength of the great bull neck. At close +quarters he certainly did not look like an ordinary labourer. He had an +air of command that his rough clothes could not hide. There was nothing +of the clod-hopper about him albeit he followed the plough. He was +obviously a son of the soil, and he would wrest his living therefrom, +but he would do it with brain as well as hands. He had a wide forehead +above his somewhat sombre eyes. + +"I am very sorry," she said again. + +"I am sorry for you," he said. "Wouldn't it be as well to get out of +this rain? It's only a step to the mill." + +She turned with docility and looked towards the two horses standing +patiently where he had left them on the brown slope of the hill. + +"Not that way," he said. "Come across this field to the road. It is no +distance from there." + +Doris began to gather up her skirt. It was wet through and caked with +mud. She caught her breath again as she did it. The pain in her shoulder +was becoming intense. + +And then, to her amazement, Jeff Ironside suddenly stooped and put his +arms about her. Almost before she realized his intention, and while she +was still gasping her astonishment, he had lifted her and begun to move +with long, easy strides over the sodden turf. + +"Oh," she said, "you--you--really you shouldn't!" + +"It's the only thing to do," he returned. + +And somehow--perhaps because he spoke with such finality--she did not +feel inclined to dispute the point. She submitted with a confused murmur +of thanks. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE APOLOGY + + +On an old oaken settle, cushioned like a church-pew, before a generous, +open fire, Doris began to forget her woes. She looked about her with +interest the while she endeavoured to sip a cup of steaming milk treated +with brandy that Jeff Ironside had brought her. + +An old, old woman hobbled about the oak-raftered kitchen behind her +while Jeff himself knelt before her and unlaced her mud-caked boots. She +would have protested against his doing this had protest been of the +smallest avail, but when she attempted it he only smiled a faint, grim +smile and continued his task. + +As he finally drew them off she thanked him in a small, shy voice. "You +are very kind--much kinder than I deserve," she said. "Do you know I've +often thought that I ought to have come to apologize for--for ordering +you off your own ground that day in the summer?" + +He looked up at her as he knelt, and for the first time she heard him +laugh. There was something almost boyish in his laugh. It transformed +him utterly, and it had a marvellous effect upon her. + +She laughed also and was instantly at her ease. She suddenly discovered +that he was young in spite of his ruggedness, and she warmed to him in +consequence. + +"But I really was sorry," she protested. "And I knew I ought to have +told you so before. But, somehow"--she flushed under his eyes--"I hadn't +the courage. Besides, I didn't know you." + +"It wasn't a very serious offence, was it?" he asked. + +"I should have been furious in your place," she said. + +"It takes more than that to make me angry," said Jeff Ironside. + +She put out her hand to him impulsively, the flush still in her cheeks. + +"I am still perfectly furious with myself," she told him, "whenever I +think about it." + +His hand enclosed hers in an all-enveloping grasp. "Then I shouldn't +think about it any more if I were you," he said. + +"Very well, I won't," said Doris; adding with her own quaint air of +graciousness, "and thank you for being so friendly about it." + +He released her hand somewhat abruptly and got to his feet. "How is your +shoulder now? Any better?" + +"Oh, yes, it's better," she assured him. "Only rather stiff. Now, won't +you sit down and have your breakfast? Please don't bother about me any +more; I've wasted quite enough of your time." + +He turned towards the table. "You must have some too. And then, when +you're ready, I will drive you home." + +"Oh, but that will waste your time still more," she protested. "I'm sure +I can walk." + +"I'm sure you won't try," he rejoined with blunt deliberation. "I hope +you don't mind eating in the kitchen, Miss Elliot. I would have had a +fire in the parlour if I had expected you." + +"But, of course, I don't mind," she said. "And it's quite the finest old +kitchen I've ever seen." + +He turned to the old woman who still hovered in the background. "All +right, Granny. Sit down and have your own." + +"I'll wait on the lady first, Master Jeff," she returned, smiling upon +him. + +"No. I'm going to wait on the lady," said Jeff. "You sit down." + +He had his way. It occurred to Doris that he usually did so. And +presently he was waiting upon her as she lay against the cushions, as +though she had been a princess in distress. + +Their intimacy progressed steadily during the meal, and very soon +Doris's shyness had wholly worn away. She could not quite decide if Jeff +were shy or not. He was obviously quiet by nature. But his grimness +certainly disappeared, and more than once she found herself wondering at +his consideration and thought for her. + +He went out after breakfast to put in the horse, and at once his old +housekeeper expanded into ardent praise of him. + +"He works as hard as ten men," she said. "That's how it is he gets on. I +often think to myself that he works harder than he ought. It's all work +and no play with him. But there, it's no good my talking. He only laughs +at me, though I brought him up from his cradle. And a fine baby he was +to be sure. His poor mother--she came of gentlefolk, ran away from home +she did to marry Farmer Ironside--she died three days after he was born, +which was a pity, for the old master was just wrapped up in her, and was +never the same again. Well, as I was saying, his poor mother, she'd set +her heart on his being given the education of a gentleman; which he was, +but he always clung to the land did Master Jeff. He was sent to +Fordstead Grammar School along with the gentry, and a fine figure he cut +there. But then his father died, and he had to settle down to farming at +seventeen, and he's been farming ever since. He's very well-to-do is +Master Jeff, thanks to his own energy and perseverance; for farming +isn't what it was. But it's time he took a rest and looked about him. +He's thirty come Michaelmas, and he ought to be settling down. As I say +to him: 'Granny Grimshaw won't be here for always, and you won't like +any other kind of housekeeper save and unless she's a wife as well.' He +always laughs at me," said Granny Grimshaw, shaking her head. "But it's +true as the sun's above us. Master Jeff ought to be stirring himself to +find a wife. But he'll go to the gentry for one, same as his father did +before him. He won't be satisfied with any of them saucy country lasses. +He don't ever mix with them. He'll look high will Master Jeff if the +time ever comes that he looks at all. He's a gentleman himself right +through to the backbone, and he'll marry a lady." + +By the time Jeff returned to announce that the rain had ceased and the +cart was waiting, there were not many of his private affairs of the +knowledge of which Doris had not been placed in possession. + +She was smiling a little to herself over the old woman's garrulous +confidences when he entered, and it was evident that he caught the +smile, for he looked from her to his housekeeper with a touch of +sharpness. + +Granny Grimshaw hastened to efface herself with apologetic promptitude, +and retired to the scullery to wash up. + +Doris turned at once to her host. "Will you take me over the mill some +day?" she asked. + +He looked momentarily surprised at the suggestion, and then in a second +he smiled. "Of course. When will you come?" + +"On Sunday?" she ventured. + +"It won't be working then." + +"No. But other days you are busy." + +Jeff dropped upon his knees again in front of her, and turned his +attention to brushing the worst of the mud from her skirt. He attacked +it with extreme vigour, his smooth lips firmly shut. + +At the end of nearly a minute he paused. "I shan't be too busy for that +any day," he said. + +"Not really?" Doris sounded a little doubtful. + +He looked at her, and somehow his brown eyes made her lower her own. +They held a mastery, a confidence, that embarrassed her subtly and quite +inexplicably. + +"Come any time," he said, "except market-day. Mrs. Grimshaw will always +know where I am to be found, and will send me word." + +She nodded. "I shall come one morning then. I will ride round, shall I?" + +He returned to his task, faintly smiling. "Don't take any five-barred +gates on your way!" he said. + +"No, I shan't do that again," she promised. "Five-barred gates have +their drawbacks." + +"As well as their advantages," said Jeff Ironside enigmatically. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +CORN + + +"Master Jeff!" The kitchen door opened with a nervous creak and a +wrinkled brown face, encircled by the frills of a muslin nightcap, +peered cautiously in. "Are you asleep, my dear?" asked Granny Grimshaw +with tender solicitude. + +He was sitting at the table with his elbows upon it and his head in his +hands. She saw the smoke curling upwards from his pipe, and rightly +deduced from this that he was not asleep. + +She came forward, candle in hand. "Master Jeff, you'll pardon me, I'm +sure. But it's getting so late--nigh upon twelve o'clock. You won't be +getting anything of a night's rest if you don't go to bed." + +Jeff raised his head. His eyes, sombre with thought, met hers. "Is it +late?" he said abstractedly. + +"And you such an early riser," said Granny Grimshaw. + +She went across to the fire and began to rake it out, he watching her in +silence, still with that sombre look in his dark eyes. + +Very suddenly Granny Grimshaw turned and, poker in hand, confronted +him. She was wearing a large Paisley shawl over her pink flannel +nightdress, but the figure she presented, though quaint, was not +unimposing. + +"Master Jeff," she said, "don't you be too modest and retiring, my dear. +You're just as good as the best of 'em." + +A slow, rather hard smile drew the corners of the man's mouth. "They +don't think so," he observed. + +"They mayn't," said Granny Grimshaw severely. "But that don't alter what +is. You're a good man, and, what's more, a man of substance, which is +better than can be said for old Colonel Elliot, with one foot in the +grave, so to speak, and up to his eyes in debt. He owes money all over +the place, I'm told, and the place is mortgaged for three times its +proper value. His wife has a little of her own, so they say; but this +poor young lady as was here this morning, she'll be thrown on the world +without a penny to her name. A winsome young lady, too, Master Jeff. And +she don't look as if she were made to stand many hard knocks. She may +belong to the county, as they say, but her heart's in the right place. +She'd make a bonny mistress in this old place, and it wants a mistress +badly enough. Old Granny Grimshaw has done her best, my dear, and always +will. But she isn't the woman she was." An odd, wheedling note crept +into the old woman's voice. "She'll be wanting to sit in the +chimney-corner soon, Master Jeff, and just mind the little ones. You +wouldn't refuse her that?" + +Jeff rose abruptly and went across to the fire to knock the ashes from +his pipe. Having done so, he remained bent for several seconds, as +though he were trying to read his fortune in the dying embers. Then very +slowly he straightened himself and spoke. + +"I think you forget," he said, "that Colonel Elliot was the son of an +earl." + +But Granny Grimshaw remained unabashed and wholly unimpressed. She laid +down the poker with decision. "I was never one to sneer at good birth," +she said. "But I hold that you come of a breed as old and as good as any +in the land. Your father was a yeoman of the good old-fashioned sort; +and your mother--well, everyone hereabouts knows that she was a lady +born and bred. I don't see what titles have to do with breeding," said +Granny Grimshaw stoutly. "Not that I despise the aristocracy. Dear me, +no! But when all is said and done, no man can be better than a +gentleman, and no woman can look higher. And there are gentlemen in +every walk of life just the same as there are the other sort. And you, +Master Jeff, you're one of the gentlemen." + +Jeff laughed a somewhat grim laugh, and turned to put out the lamp. + +"You're a very nice old woman, Granny," he said. "But you are not an +impartial judge." + +"Ah, my dearie," said Granny Grimshaw, "but I know what women's hearts +are made of." + +A somewhat irrelevant retort, which nevertheless closed the discussion. + +They went upstairs together, and parted on the landing. + +"And you'll go to bed now, won't you?" urged Granny Grimshaw. + +"All right," said Jeff. + +But once in his own room he went to the low lattice-window that +overlooked the mill-stream, and stood before it looking gravely forth +over the still water. It was a night of many stars. Beyond the stream +there stretched a dream-valley across which the river mists were +trailing. The tall trees in the meadows stood up with a ghostly +magnificence against them. The whole scene was one of wondrous peace, +and all, as far as he could see, was his. But the man's eyes brooded +over his acres with a dumb dissatisfaction, and when he turned from the +window at last it was with a gesture of hopelessness. + +"God help me for a fool!" he muttered between his teeth. "If I went near +her, they would kick me out by the back door." + +He began to undress with savage energy, and finally flung himself down +on the old four-poster in which his father had lain before him, lying +there motionless, with fixed and sleepless eyes, while the hours went by +over his head. + +Once--it was just before daybreak--he rose and went again to the open +window that overlooked his prosperous valley. A change had come over the +face of it. The mists were lifting, lifting. He saw the dark forms of +cattle standing here and there. The river wound, silent and mysterious, +away into the dim, quiet distance. A church clock struck, its tone vague +and remote as a voice from another world. And as if in answer to its +solemn call a lark soared upwards from the meadow by the mill-stream +with a burst of song. + +The east was surely lightening. The night was gone. Jeff leaned his +burning temple against the window-frame with a feeling akin to physical +sickness. He was tired--dead tired; but he knew that he could not sleep +now. The world was waking. From the farmyard round the corner of the +house there came the flap of wings and the old rooster's blatant +greeting to the dawn. + +In another half-hour the whole place would be stirring. He had wasted a +whole night's rest. + +Fiercely he straightened himself. Surely his brain must be going! Why, +he had only spoken to her twice. And then, like a spirit that mocked, +the words ran through his brain: "Who ever loved that loved not at first +sight?" + +So this was love, was it? This--was love! + +With clenched hands he stood looking out to the dawning, while the wild +fever leaped and seethed in his veins. He called up before his inner +vision the light, dainty figure, the level, grey eyes, fearless, yet in +a fashion shy, the glow of the sun-tanned skin, the soft, thick hair, +brown in the shadow, gold in the sun. + +Straight before him, low in the sky, hung the morning star. It almost +looked as if it were drifting earthwards with all its purity, all its +glistening sweetness, drifting straight to the heart of the world. He +fixed his eyes upon it, drawn by its beauty almost in spite of himself. +It was the only star in the sky, and it almost seemed as if it had a +message for him. + +But the day was dawning, the star fading, and the message hard to read. +Why had she refused to marry Chesyl? he asked himself. The man was +lukewarm in speech and action; but that surely was but the way of the +world to which he belonged. No excess of emotion was ever encouraged +there. Doubtless behind that amiable mask there beat the same devouring +longing that throbbed in his own racing pulses. Surely Doris knew this! +Surely she understood her own kind! + +He recalled those words of hers that he had overheard, the slow +utterance of them as of some pronouncement of doom. "If I can't have +corn, I won't have husks. I will die of starvation sooner." + +He had caught the pain in those words. Had Hugh Chesyl failed to do so? +If so, Hugh Chesyl was a fool. He had never thought very highly of him, +though he supposed him to be clever after his own indolent fashion. + +Chesyl was the old squire's nephew and heir--a highly suitable _parti_ +for any girl. Yet Doris had refused him, not wholly without ignominy. A +gentleman, too! Jeff's mouth twisted. The thought came to him, and +ripened to steady conviction, that had Chesyl taken the trouble to woo, +he must in time have won. The girl was miserable enough to admit the +fact of her misery, and he offered her marriage with him as a friendly +means of escape. On other ground he could have won her. On this ground +he was probably the least likely man to win. She asked for corn, and he +offered husks. What wonder that she preferred starvation! + +His hands were still clenched as he turned from the window. Oh, to have +been in Hugh Chesyl's place! She would have had no complaint then to +make as to the quality of his offering. He would never have suffered her +to go hungry. And yet the feeling that Hugh Chesyl loved her lingered +still in his soul. Ah, what a fool! What a fool! + + * * * * * + +It was nearly three hours later that Jim Dawlish the miller answered +Jeff Ironside's gruff morning greeting with an eager, "Have you heard +the news, sir?" + +Dawlish was of a cheery, expansive disposition, and not much of the +village gossip ever escaped him or remained with him. + +"What news?" demanded Jeff. + +"Why, about the old Colonel up at the Place, to be sure," said Dawlish, +advancing his floury person towards the doorway in which stood the +master's square, strong figure. + +"Colonel Elliot?" queried Jeff sharply. "What about him?" + +Dawlish wagged a knowing head. "Ah, you may well ask that, sir. He +died--early this morning--quite unexpected. Had a fit or some'at. They +say it's an open question whether there'll be enough money to bury him. +He has creditors all over the county." + +"Good heavens!" said Jeff. He drew back swiftly into the open air as if +he found the atmosphere of the mill oppressive. "Are you quite sure it's +true?" he questioned. "How did you hear?" + +"It's true enough," said the miller, with keen enjoyment. "I heard it +from the police-sergeant. He says it was so sudden that there'll have to +be an inquest. I'm sorry for the widow and orphans though. It'll fall a +bit hard on them." + +"Good heavens!" said Jeff again. "Good heavens!" + +And then very abruptly he turned and left the mill. + +"What's the matter with the boss?" asked the miller's underling. "Did +the Colonel owe him money too?" + +"That's about the ticket," said Jim Dawlish cheerily. "That comes of +lending, that does. It just shows the truth of the old saying, 'Stick to +your money and your money'll stick to you.' There never was a truer +word." + +"Wonder if he's lost much?" said the underling speculatively. + +Whereupon Jim Dawlish waxed suddenly severe. He never tolerated idle +gossip among his inferiors. "And that's no concern of yours, Charlie +Bates," he said. "You get on with your work and don't bother your pudden +head about what ain't in no way your business. Mr. Ironside is about the +soundest man within fifty miles, and don't you forget it!" + +"He wasn't best pleased to hear about the poor old Colonel though for +all that," said Charlie Bates tenaciously. "And I'd give something to +know what'll come of it." + +If he had known, neither he nor Jim Dawlish would have got through much +work that morning. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +A BARGAIN + + +It was nearly a fortnight after Colonel Elliot's death that Jeff +Ironside went to the stable somewhat suddenly one morning, saddled his +mare, and, without a word to anyone, rode away. + +Granny Grimshaw was the only witness of his departure, and she turned +from the kitchen window with a secret smile and nod. + +It was an autumn morning of mist and sunshine. The beech trees shone +golden overhead, and the robins trilled loudly from the clematis-draped +hedges. Jeff rode briskly, with too set a purpose to bestow any +attention upon these things. He took a short cut across his own land and +entered the grounds belonging to the Place by a side drive seldom used. + +Thence he rode direct to the front door of the great Georgian house and +boldly demanded admittance. + +The footman who opened to him looked him up and down interrogatively. +"Miss Elliot is at home, but I don't know if she will see anyone," he +said uncompromisingly. + +"Ask her!" said Jeff tersely. "My name is Ironside." + +While the man was gone he took the mare to a yew tree that shadowed the +drive at a few yards' distance and tied her to it. There was an air of +grim resolution about all his actions. This accomplished, he returned to +the great front door. + +As he reached it there came the sound of light, hastening feet within, +and in a moment the half-open door was thrown back. Doris herself, very +slim and pale, but withal very queenly in her deep mourning, came forth +with outstretched hand to greet him. + +"But why did they leave you here?" she said. "Please come in!" + +He followed her in with scarcely a word. + +She led him down a long oak passage to a room that was plainly the +library, and there in her quick, gracious way she turned and faced him. + +"I am very pleased to see you, Mr. Ironside. I was going to write to you +to thank you again for all your kindness, but lately--there has been so +much to think about--so much to do. I know you will understand. Do sit +down!" + +But Jeff remained squarely on his feet. "I hope you have quite recovered +from your fall?" he said. + +"Quite, thank you." She smiled faintly. "It seems such an age ago. +Hector came home quite safely too." She broke off short, paused as if +seeking for words, then said rather abruptly, "I shall never go hunting +again." + +"You mean not this year?" suggested Jeff. + +She looked at him, and he saw that her smile Was piteous. "No, I mean +never. Everything is to be sold. Haven't you heard?" + +He nodded. "Yes, I had heard. I hoped it wasn't true." + +"Yes, it is true." Her two hands fastened very tightly upon the back of +a chair. There was something indescribably pathetic in the action. She +seemed on the verge of saying more, but in the end she did not say it. +She just stood looking at him with the wide grey eyes that tried so hard +not to be tragic. + +Jeff stood looking back with great sturdiness and not much apparent +feeling. He offered no word of condolence or sympathy. Only after a very +decided pause he said, "I wonder what you will do?" + +"I am going to London," she said. + +"Soon?" Jeff's voice was curt, almost gruff. + +"Yes, very soon." She hesitated momentarily, then went on rapidly, as if +it were a relief to tell someone. "My father's life was insured. It has +left my stepmother enough to live on; but, of course, not here. The +place is mortgaged up to the hilt. I have nothing at all. I have got to +make my own living." + +"You?" said Jeff. + +She smiled again faintly, "Yes, I. What is there in that? Lots of women +work for their living." + +"You are not going to work for yours," he said. + +She thrust the chair from her with a quick little movement of the hands. +"I would begin to-morrow--if I only knew how. But I don't--yet. I've got +to look about me for a little. I am going first to a cousin at +Kensington." + +"Who doesn't want you," said Jeff. + +She looked at him in sharp surprise. "Who--who told you that?" + +"You did," he said doggedly. "At least, you told Mr. Chesyl--in my +presence." + +"Ah, I remember!" She uttered a tremulous little laugh. "That was the +day I caught you eavesdropping and ordered you off your own ground." + +"It was," said Jeff. "I heard several things that day, and I +guessed--other things." He paused, still looking straight at her. "Miss +Elliot," he said, "wouldn't it be easier for you to marry than to work +for your living?" + +The pretty brows went up in astonishment. "Oh!" she said, in quick +confusion. "You heard that too?" + +"Wouldn't it be easier?" persisted Jeff in his slow, stubborn way. + +She shook her head swiftly and vehemently. "I shall never marry Mr. +Chesyl," she said with determination. + +"Where is he?" asked Jeff. + +The soft colour rose in her face at the question. She looked away from +him for the first time. "I don't quite know where he is. I believe he is +up north somewhere--in Scotland." + +"He knows what has been happening here?" questioned Jeff. + +She made a slight movement as of protest. "No doubt," she said in a low +voice. + +Jeff's square jaw hardened. Abruptly he thrust Chesyl out of the +conversation. "It doesn't matter," he said. "That isn't what I came to +talk about. May I tell you just what I have come for? Will you give me a +patient hearing?" + +She turned to him again in renewed surprise. "Of course," she said. + +His dark eyes were upon her. "It may not please you," he said slowly, +"though I ask you to believe that it is not my intention to give you +offence." + +"But, of course, I know you would not," she said. + +Jeff's fingers clenched upon his riding-switch. He spoke with +difficulty, but not without a certain native dignity that made him +impressive. "I have come," he said, "just to say to you that if it is +possible that no one in your own world is wanting you, I am wanting you. +All that I have is absolutely at your disposal. I heard you say--that +day--that you would like to be a farmer's wife. Well--if you really +meant it--you have your opportunity." + +"Mr. Ironside!" She was gazing at him in wide-eyed amazement. + +A dark flush rose in his swarthy face under her eyes, "I had to say it," +he said with heavy deliberation, "though I know I'm only hammering nails +into my own coffin. I had to take my only chance of telling you. Of +course, I know you won't listen. I'm not of your sort--respectable +enough, but not quite--not quite--" He broke off grimly, and for an +instant his teeth showed clenched upon his lower lip. "But if by any +chance, when everything else has failed," resolutely he went on, "you +could bring yourself to think of me--in that way, I shall always be +ready, quite ready, for you. That's what I came to say." + +He straightened himself upon the words, and made as if he would turn and +leave her. But Doris was too quick for him. She moved like a flash. She +came between him and the door. "Please--please," she said, "you mustn't +go yet!" + +He stopped instantly and she stood before him breathing quickly, her +hand upon the door. + +She did not speak again very quickly; she was plainly trying to master +considerable agitation. + +Jeff waited immovably with eyes unvaryingly upon her. "I don't want to +hurry you," he said at last. "I know, of course, what your answer will +be. But I can wait for it." + +That faint, fugitive smile of hers went over her face. She took her hand +from the door. + +"You--you haven't been very--explicit, have you?" she said. "Are +you--are you being just kind to me, Mr. Ironside, like--like Hugh +Chesyl?" + +Her voice quivered as she asked the question, but her eyes met his with +direct steadfastness. + +He lowered his own very suddenly. "No," he said. "I wouldn't insult you +by being kind. I shouldn't ask you to marry me if I didn't love you with +all my heart and soul." + +The words came quickly, with something of a burning quality. She made a +slight movement as if she were taken by surprise. + +After a moment she spoke. "There are two kinds of love," she said. +"There's the big, unselfish kind--the real thing; and there's the +other--the kind that demands everything, and even then, perhaps, is +never satisfied. You hardly know me well enough to--to care for me in +the first big way, do you? You don't even know if I'm worth it." + +"I beg your pardon," said Jeff Ironside. "I think I do know you well +enough for that. Anyhow, if you could bring yourself to marry me, I +should be satisfied. The right to take care of you--make you +comfortable--wait on you--that's all I'm asking. That would be enough +for me--more than I've dared to hope for." + +"That would make you happy?" she asked. + +He kept his eyes lowered. "It would be--enough," he repeated. + +She uttered a sudden quick sigh. "But wouldn't you rather marry a woman +who was in love with you in just the ordinary way?" she said. + +"No," said Jeff curtly. + +"It would be much better for you," she protested. + +He smiled a grim smile. "I am the best judge of that," he said. + +She held out her hand to him. "Mr. Ironside, tell me honestly, wouldn't +you despise me if I married you in that way--taking all and giving +nothing?" + +He crushed her hand in his. The red blood rose to his forehead. He +looked at her for a moment--only a moment--and instantly looked away +again. + +"No," he said, "I shouldn't." + +"I should despise myself," said Doris. + +"I don't know why you should," he said. + +She smiled again with lips that quivered. "No, you don't understand. +You're too big for me altogether. I can't say 'Yes,' but I feel very +highly honoured all the same. You'll believe that, won't you?" + +"Why can't you say 'Yes'?" asked Jeff. + +She hesitated momentarily. "You see, I'm afraid I don't care for +you--like that," she said. + +"Does that matter?" said Jeff. + +She looked at him, her hand still in his. "Don't you think so?" + +"No, I don't," he said, "unless you think you couldn't be happy." + +"I was thinking of you," she said gently. + +"Of me?" He looked surprised for an instant, and again his eyes met hers +in a quick glance. "If you're going to think of me," he said, "you'll do +it. I have told you, you needn't be afraid of my expecting too much." + +But she shook her head. "I should be much more afraid of taking too much +from you," she said. "The little I could offer would never satisfy you." + +"Yes it would," he insisted. "I'm only asking to stand between you and +trouble. It's all I want in life." + +Again his eyes were upon her, dark and resolute. His hand held hers in a +steady grip. For the first time her own resolution began to falter. + +"Let me write to you, Mr. Ironside," she said at last, with a vague idea +of softening a refusal that had become inexplicably hard. + +"Write and say 'No'?" said Jeff. + +She smiled a little, but her eyes filled with sudden tears. "You make it +very hard for me to say 'No,'" she said. + +"I would like to make it impossible," he said. + +"Even when I have told you that I can't--that I don't--love you in the +ordinary way?" she said almost pleadingly. + +"I don't want to be loved in the ordinary way," he answered doggedly. + +"I should be a perpetual disappointment to you," she said. + +"I would rather have even that than--nothing," said Jeff. + +One of the tears ran over and fell upon their clasped hands. "In fact, +you want me at any price," she said. + +"At any price," said Jeff. + +She bent her head and choked back a sob. "And no one else wants me at +all," she whispered. + +He stooped towards her. Perhaps for her peace of mind it was as well +that she did not see the sudden fire that blazed in his deep-set eyes as +he did so. + +"So you'll change your mind," he said, after a moment, to the bowed +head. "You'll have me--you will?" + +She caught back another sob and said nothing. + +He straightened himself sharply. "Miss Elliot, if it's going to make you +miserable, you had better send me away. I'll go--if it's for that." + +He would have released her hand, but it tightened very suddenly upon +his. "No, don't go--don't go!" she said. + +"But you're crying," muttered Jeff uneasily. + +She gave a big gulp and raised her head. The tears were running down her +cheeks, but she smiled at him bravely notwithstanding. "I believe I +should cry--much more--if you were to go now," she told him, with a +quaint effort at humour. + +Jeff Ironside put a strong grip upon himself. His heart was thumping +like the strokes of a heavy hammer. "Then you'll have me?" he said. + +She put her other hand, with a very winning gesture of confidence, into +his. "I don't see how I can help it," she said. "You've knocked down all +my obstacles. But you do understand, don't you? You won't--won't--" + +"Abuse your trust? No, never!" said Jeff Ironside. "I will die by my own +hand sooner." + +"Ah, I can't help liking you," Doris said impulsively, as if in +explanation or excuse. "You're so big." + +"Thank you," Jeff said very earnestly. "And you won't cry any more?" + +She uttered a whimsical little laugh. "But I wasn't crying for myself," +she said, as she dried her eyes. "I was crying for you." + +"Well, you mustn't," said Jeff. "You have given me all I want--much more +than I dared to hope for." He paused a moment, then abruptly, "You won't +think better of it when I'm gone, will you?" he said. "You won't write +and say you have changed your mind?" + +She gave him her hand again with an air of comradeship. "It's a bargain, +Mr. Ironside," she said, with gentle dignity. "A very one-sided one, I +fear, but still--a bargain." + +"I beg your pardon," murmured Jeff. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE WEDDING PRESENT + + +The marriage of Jeff Ironside to Colonel Elliot's daughter created a +sensation in the neighbourhood even greater than that which followed the +Colonel's death. But the ceremony itself was strictly private. It took +place so quietly and so suddenly very early on a misty October morning +that it was over before most people knew anything about it. Jim Dawlish +knew, and was present with old Granny Grimshaw; but, save for the family +lawyer who gave away the bride and the aged rector who married them, no +one else was in the secret. + +Mrs. Elliot knew, but she and her stepdaughter had never been in +sympathy, and she had already left the place and gone to town. + +Very small and pathetic looked the bride in her deep mourning on that +dim autumn morning, but she played her part with queenly dignity, +unfaltering, undismayed. If she had acted upon impulse she was fully +prepared to face the consequences. + +As for Jeff, he was gruff almost to rudeness, so desperate was the +turmoil of his soul. Not one word did he address to his bride from the +moment of entering the church to that of leaving it save such as were +contained in the marriage service. And even when they passed out +together into the grey churchyard he remained grimly silent till she +turned with a little smile and addressed him. + +"Good-morning, Jeff!" she said, and her slender, ungloved hand, very +cold but superbly confident, found its way into his. + +He looked down at her then and found his voice, the while his fingers +closed protectingly upon hers. "You're cold," he said. "They ought to +have warmed the church." + +She turned her face up to the sky. "The sun will be through soon. Will +you take me home across the fields?" + +"Too wet," said Jeff. + +"Not if we keep to the path," she said. "I must just say good-bye to Mr. +Webster first." + +Mr. Webster was the family lawyer. He came up with stilted phrases of +felicitation which sent Jeff instantly back into his impenetrable shell +of silence. Doris made reply on his behalf and her own with a dainty +graciousness that covered all difficulties, and finally extricated +herself and Jeff from the situation with a dexterity that left him +spellbound. + +She had her way. They went by way of the fields, he and she alone +through the lifting mist, while Granny Grimshaw and Jim Dawlish marched +solemnly back to the mill by the road. + +"It's a very good morning's work," asserted Granny Grimshaw with much +satisfaction. "I always felt that Master Jeff would never marry any but +a lady." + +"I'd rather him than me," returned Jim Dawlish obscurely. + +Which remark Granny Grimshaw treated as unworthy of notice. + +As Jeff Ironside and his bride neared the last stile the sun came +through and shone upon all things. + +"I'm glad we came this way," she said. + +Jeff said nothing. He never spoke unless he had something to say. + +They reached the stile. He strode over and reached back a hand to her. +She took it, mounted and stepped over, then sat down unexpectedly on the +top bar with the hand in hers. + +"Jeff!" she said. + +He looked up at her. Her voice was small and shy, her cheeks very +delicately flushed. + +"What is it?" said Jeff. + +She looked down at the brown hand she held, all roughened and hardened +by toil, and hesitated. + +"Well?" said Jeff. + +She turned her eyes upon his face. "Are you going back to work to-day, +just as if--as if nothing had happened?" she asked. + +He looked straight back at her. "You don't want me, do you?" he said. + +She nodded. "Shall we go for a picnic?" she said. + +"A picnic!" He seemed surprised at the suggestion. + +She laughed a little. "Do you never go for picnics? I do--all by myself +sometimes. It's rather fun, you know." + +"By yourself?" said Jeff. + +She rose from her perch. "It's more fun with someone certainly," she +said. + +Jeff's face reflected her smile for an instant. "All right," he said. +"I'll take a holiday for once. But come home now and have some +breakfast." + +She stepped down beside him. "It's nice of you to give me the very first +thing I ask for," she said. "Will you do something else for me?" + +"Yes," said Jeff. + +"Then will you call me Dot?" she said. "It was the pet name my mother +gave me. No one has used it since she died." + +"Dot," repeated Jeff. "You really want me to call you that?" + +"But, of course," she said, smiling, "you haven't called me anything +yet. Please begin at once! It really isn't difficult." + +"Very well, Dot," he said. "And where are we going for our picnic?" + +"Oh, not very far," she said. "Somewhere within a quite easy walk." + +"Can't we ride?" suggested Jeff. + +"Ride?" She looked at him in surprise. + +"I have a horse who would carry you," he said. + +"Have you--have you, really?" Quick pleasure came into her eyes. "Oh, +Jeff, how kind of you!" + +"No, it isn't," said Jeff bluntly. "I want you to be happy." + +She laughed her quick, light laugh. "So you're going to spoil me?" she +said. + +They reached the pretty Mill House above the stream and found breakfast +awaiting them in the oak-panelled parlour that overlooked a sunny +orchard. + +"How absolutely sweet!" said Doris. + +He came and stood beside her at the window, looking silently forth. + +She glanced at him half-shyly. "Aren't you very fond of it all?" + +"Yes," he said. + +"And I think I am going to be," said Doris. + +"I hope you will," said Jeff. + +She turned from him to Granny Grimshaw who entered at the moment with a +hot dish. + +"I don't think we ought to have been married so early," she said. "You +must be quite tired out. Now, please, Mrs. Grimshaw, do sit down and let +me wait on you for a change!" + +Granny Grimshaw smiled at the bare suggestion. + +"No, no, Mrs. Ironside, my dear. This is for you and Master Jeff. I've +got mine in the kitchen." + +"I never heard such a thing!" declared Doris. "Jeff, surely you are not +going to allow that!" + +Jeff came from the window. "Of course you must join us, Granny," he +said. + +But Granny Grimshaw was obdurate on that point. "My place is in the +kitchen," she said firmly. "And there I must bide. But I am ready to +show you the way to your room, my dear, whenever you want to go." + +Doris bent forward impulsively and kissed her. "You are much, much too +kind to me, you and Jeff," she said. + +But as soon as she was alone with Jeff her shyness returned. She could +not feel as much at ease with him in the house as in the open air. She +did not admit it even to herself, but deep in her heart she had begun to +be a little afraid. + +Till then she had gone blindly forward, taking in desperation the only +course that seemed to offer her escape from a position that had become +wholly intolerable. But now for the first time misgivings arose within +her. She remembered how slight was her knowledge of the man to whom she +had thus impetuously entrusted her future; and, remembering, something +of her ready confidence went from her. She fell silent also. + +"You are not eating anything," said Jeff. She started at his voice and +looked up. + +"No, I'm not hungry," she said. "I shall eat all the more presently when +we get out into the open." + +He said no more, but finished his own breakfast with businesslike +promptitude. + +"Mrs. Grimshaw will take you upstairs," he said then, and went to the +door to call her. + +"Where will you be?" Doris asked him shyly, as he stood back for her to +pass. + +"I am going round to the stable," he said. + +"May I come to you there?" she suggested. + +He assented gravely: "Do!" + +Granny Grimshaw was in her most garrulous mood. She took Doris up the +old steep stairs and into the low-ceiled room with the lattice window +that looked over the river meadows. + +"It's the best room in the house," she told her. "Master Jeff was born +in it, and he's slept here for the past ten years. You won't be lonely, +my dear. My room is just across the passage, and he has gone to the room +at the end which he always had as a boy." + +"This is a lovely room," said Doris. + +She stood where Jeff had stood before the open window and looked across +the valley. + +"I hope you will be very happy here, my dear," said Granny Grimshaw +behind her. + +Doris turned round to her impetuously. "Dear Mrs. Grimshaw, I don't like +Jeff to give up the best room to me," she said. "Isn't there another one +that I could have?" + +She glanced towards a door that led out of the room in which they were. + +"Yes, go in, my dear!" said Granny Grimshaw with a chuckle. "It's all +for you." + +Doris opened the door with a quick flush on her cheeks. + +"Master Jeff thought you would like a little sitting-room of your own," +said the old woman behind her. + +"Oh, he shouldn't. He shouldn't!" Doris said. + +She stood on the threshold of a sunny room that overlooked the garden +with its hedge of lavender and beyond it the orchard with its wealth of +ripe apples shining in the sun. The room had been evidently furnished +for her especial use. There was a couch in one corner, a cottage piano +in another, and a writing-table near the window. + +"The old master bought those things for his bride," said Granny +Grimshaw. "They are just as good as new yet, and Master Jeff has had the +piano put in order for you. I expect you know how to play the piano, my +dear?" + +Doris went forward into the room. The tears were not far from her eyes. +"He is too good to me. He is much too good," she said. + +"Ah, my dear, and you'll be good to him too, won't you?" said Granny +Grimshaw coaxingly. + +"I'll do my best," said Doris quietly. + +She went down to Jeff in the stable-yard a little later with a heart +brimming with gratitude, but that strange, new shyness was with her +also. She did not know how to give him her thanks. + +He was waiting for her, and escorted her across to the stable. "You will +like to see your mount," he said, cutting her short almost before she +had begun. + +She followed him into the stable. Jeff's own mare poked an inquiring +nose over the door of her loose-box. Doris stopped to fondle her. Jeff +plunged a hand into his pocket and brought out some sugar. + +From the stall next to them came a low whinny. Doris, in the act of +feeding the mare, looked up sharply. The next moment with a little cry +she had sprung forward and was in the stall with her arms around the +neck of its occupant--a big bay, who nozzled against her shoulder with +evident pleasure. + +"Oh, Hector! Hector!" she cried. "However did you come here?" + +"I bought him," said Jeff, "as a wedding present." + +"For me? Oh, Jeff!" She left Hector and came to him with both hands +outstretched. "Oh, Jeff, I don't know how to thank you. You are so much +too good. What can I say?" + +He took the hands and gripped them. His dark eyes looked straight and +hard into hers, and a little tremor went through her. She lowered her +own instinctively, and in the same instant he let her go. He did not +utter a word, and she turned from him in silence with a face on fire. + +She made no further effort to express her gratitude. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE END OF THE PICNIC + + +Those odd silences of Jeff's fell very often throughout the day, and +they lay upon Doris's spirit like a physical weight. They rode through +autumn woodlands, and picnicked on the side of a hill. The day was warm +and sunny, and the whole world shone as through a pearly veil. There +were blackberries in abundance, large and ripe, and Doris wandered about +picking them during the afternoon while Jeff lounged against a tree and +smoked. + +He did not offer to join her, but she had a feeling that his eyes +followed her wherever she went, and a great restlessness kept her +moving. She could not feel at her ease in his vicinity. She wanted very +urgently to secure his friendship. She had counted upon that day in his +society to do so. But it seemed to be his resolve to hold aloof. He +seemed disinclined to commit himself to anything approaching intimacy, +and that attitude of his filled her with misgiving. Had he begun to +repent of the one-sided bargain, she asked herself? Or could it be that +he also was oppressed by shyness? She longed intensely to know. + +The sun was sinking low in the sky when at length reluctantly she went +back to him. "It's getting late," she said. "Don't you think we ought to +go home?" + +He was standing in the level sun-rays gazing sombrely down into the +valley from which already the mists were beginning to rise. + +He turned at her voice, and she knew he looked at her, though she did +not meet his eyes. For a moment or two he stood, not speaking, but as +though on the verge of speech; and her heart quickened to a nervous +throbbing. + +Then unexpectedly he turned upon his heel. "Yes. Wait here, won't you, +while I go and fetch the animals?" + +He went, and a sharp sense of relief shot through her. She was sure that +he had something on his mind; but inexplicably she was thankful that he +had not uttered it. + +The sun was dropping out of sight behind the opposite hill, and she was +conscious of a growing chill in the atmosphere. A cockchafer whirred +past her and buried itself in a tuft of grass hard by. In the wood +behind her a robin trilled a high sweet song. From the farther side of +the valley came a trail of smoke from a cottage bonfire, and the scent +of it hung heavy in the evening air. + +All these things she knew and loved, and they were to be hers for the +rest of her life; yet her heart was heavy within her. She turned and +looked after Jeff with a wistful drooping of the lips. + +He had passed out of sight behind some trees, but as she turned she +heard a footfall in the wood close at hand, and almost simultaneously a +man emerged carrying a gun. + +He stopped at sight of her, and on the instant Doris made a swift +movement of recognition. + +"Why Hugh!" she said. + +He came straight to her, with hand outstretched. "My dear, dear girl!" +he said. + +Her hand lay in his, held in a clasp such as Hugh Chesyl had never +before given her, and then all in a moment she withdrew it. + +"Why, where have you come from?" she said, with a little nervous laugh. + +His eyes looked straight down to hers. "I've been yachting," he said, +"along Argyll and Skye. I didn't know till the day before yesterday +about the poor old Colonel. I came straight back directly I knew, got +here this morning, but heard that you had gone to town. I was going to +follow you straightway, but the squire wouldn't hear of it. You know +what he is. So I had to compromise and spend one night with him. By +Jove! it's a bit of luck finding you here. I'm pleased, Doris, jolly +pleased. I've been worried to death about you--never moved so fast in my +life." + +"Haven't you?" said Doris; she was still smiling a small, tired smile. +"But why? I don't see." + +"Don't you?" said Hugh. "How shall I explain? You have got such a rooted +impression of me as a slacker that I am half afraid of taking your +breath away." + +She laughed again, not very steadily. "Oh, are you turning over a new +leaf? I am delighted to hear it." + +He smiled also, his eyes upon hers. "Well, I am, in a way. It's come to +me lately that I've been an utter ass all this time. I expect you've +been thinking the same, haven't you?" + +"No, I don't think so," said Doris. + +"No? That's nice of you," said Hugh. "But it's the truth nevertheless. I +haven't studied the art of expressing myself properly. I can't do it +even yet. But it occurred to me--it just occurred to me--that perhaps +I'd never succeeded in making you understand how awfully badly I want to +marry you. I think I never told you so. I always somehow took it for +granted that you knew. But now--especially now, Doris, when you're in +trouble--I want you more than ever. Even if you can't love me as I love +you--" + +He stopped, for she had flung out her hands with an almost agonized +gesture, and her eyes implored him though she spoke no word. + +"Won't you listen to me just this once--just this once?" he pleaded. "My +dear, I love you so. I love you enough for both if you'll only marry +me, and give me the chance of making you happy." + +An unwonted note of feeling sounded in his voice. He stretched out his +hand to her. + +"Doris, darling, won't you change your mind? I'm miserable without you." + +And then very suddenly Doris found her voice. She spoke with breathless +entreaty. "Hugh, don't--don't! I can't listen to you. I married Jeff +Ironside this morning." + +His hand fell. He stared at her as if he thought her mad. +"You--married--Jeff Ironside! I don't believe it!" + +She clenched her hands tightly to still her agitation. "But it's true," +she said. + +"Doris!" he said. + +She nodded vehemently, keeping her eyes on his. "It's true," she said +again. + +He straightened himself up with the instinctive movement of a man +bracing himself to meet a sudden strain. "But why? How? I didn't even +know you knew the man." + +She nodded again. "He helped me once when I was out cubbing, and I went +to his house. After that--when he heard that I had nothing to live +on--he came and asked me if I would marry him. And I was very miserable +because nobody wanted me. So I said 'Yes.'" + +Her voice sank. Her lips were quivering. + +"I wanted you," Hugh said. + +She was silent. + +He bent slowly towards her, looking into her eyes. "My dear, didn't you +really know--didn't you understand?" + +She shook her head; her eyes were suddenly full of tears. "No, Hugh." + +He held out his hand again and took hers. "Don't cry, Doris! You haven't +lost much. I shall get over it somehow. I know you never cared for me." + +She bent her head with some murmured words he could not catch. + +He leaned nearer. "What, dear, what? You never did, did you?" + +He waited for her answer, and at last through tears it came. "I've been +struggling so hard, so hard, to keep myself from caring." + +He was silent a moment, and again it was as if he were collecting his +strength for that which had to be endured. Then slowly: "You thought I +wasn't in earnest?" he said. "You thought I didn't care enough?" + +She did not answer him in words; her silence was enough. + +"God forgive me!" whispered Hugh.... + +There came the thud of horses' hoofs upon the grass, and his hand +relinquished hers. He turned to see Jeff Ironside barely ten paces away, +leading the two animals. Very pale but wholly collected, Hugh moved to +meet him. + +"I have just been hearing about your marriage, Ironside," he said. "May +I congratulate you?" + +Jeff's eyes, with the red sunlight turning them to a ruddy brown, met +his with absolute directness as he made brief response. "You are very +kind." + +"Doris and I are old friends," said Hugh. + +"Yes, I know," said Jeff. + +Spasmodically Doris turned and joined the two men. "We hope Mr. Chesyl +will come and see us sometimes, don't we, Jeff?" she said. + +"Certainly," said Jeff, "when he has nothing better to do." + +She turned to Hugh with a bright little smile. Her tears were wholly +gone, and he marvelled. "I hope that will be often, Hugh," she said. + +"Thank you," Hugh said gravely. "Thank you very much." He added, after a +moment, to Jeff: "I shall probably be down here a good deal now. The +squire is beginning to feel his age. In fact, he wants me to make my +home with him. I don't propose to do that entirely, but I can't leave +him alone for long at a time." + +"I see," said Jeff. He glanced towards Doris. "Shall we start back?" he +said. + +Hugh propped his gun against a tree, and stepped forward to mount her. +"So you still have Hector," he said. + +"Jeff's wedding present," she answered, still smiling. + +Lightly she mounted, and for a single moment he felt her passing touch +upon his shoulder. Then Hector moved away, stepping proudly. Jeff was +already in the saddle. + +"Good-bye!" said Doris, looking back to him. "Don't forget to come and +see us!" + +She was gone. + +Hugh Chesyl turned with the sun-rays dazzling him, and groped for his +gun. + +He found it, shouldered it, and strode away down the woodland path. His +face as he went was the face of a man suddenly awakened to the stress +and the turmoil of life. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE NEW LIFE + + +There was no doubt about it. Granny Grimshaw was not satisfied. Deeper +furrows were beginning to appear in her already deeply furrowed face. +She shook her head very often with pursed lips when she was alone. And +this despite the fact that she and the young mistress of the Mill House +were always upon excellent terms. No difficulties ever arose between +them. Doris showed not the smallest disposition to usurp the old +housekeeper's authority. Possibly Granny Grimshaw would have been better +pleased if she had. She spent much of her time out-of-doors, and when in +the house she was generally to be found in the little sitting-room that +Jeff had fitted up for her. + +She had her meals in the parlour with Jeff, and these were the sole +occasions on which they were alone together. If Doris could have had her +way, Granny Grimshaw would have been present at these also, but on this +point the old woman showed herself determined, not to say obstinate. She +maintained that her place was the kitchen, and that her presence was +absolutely necessary there, a point of view which no argument of +Doris's could persuade her to relinquish. + +So she and Jeff breakfasted, dined, and supped in solitude, and though +Doris became gradually accustomed to these somewhat silent meals, she +never enjoyed them. Of difficult moments there were actually very few. +They mutually avoided any but the most general subjects for +conversation. But of intimacy between them there was none. Jeff had +apparently drawn a very distinct boundary-line which he never permitted +himself to cross. He never intruded upon her. He never encroached upon +the friendship she shyly proffered. Once when she somewhat hesitatingly +suggested that he should come to her sitting-room for a little after +supper he refused, not churlishly, but very decidedly. + +"I like to have my pipe and go to bed," he said. + +"But you can bring your pipe, too," she said. + +"No, thanks," said Jeff. "I always smoke in the kitchen or on the step." + +She said no more, but went up to her room, and presently Jeff, moodily +puffing at his briar in the porch, heard the notes of her piano +overhead. She played softly for some little time, and Jeff's pipe went +out before it was finished--a most rare occurrence with him. + +Only when the piano ceased did he awake to the fact, and then +half-savagely he knocked out its half-consumed contents and turned +inwards. + +He found Granny Grimshaw standing in the passage in a listening +attitude, and paused to bid her good-night. + +"Be you going to bed, Master Jeff?" she said. "My dear, did you ever +hear the like? She plays like an angel." + +He smiled somewhat grimly, without replying. + +The old woman came very close to him. "Master Jeff, why don't you go and +make love to her? Don't you know she's waiting for you?" + +"Is she?" said Jeff, but he said it in the tone of one who does not +require an answer, and with the words very abruptly he passed her by. + +Granny Grimshaw shook her head and sighed, "Ah, dear!" after his +retreating form. + +It was a few days after this that a letter came for Doris, one morning, +bearing the Squire's crest. Her husband handed it to her at the +breakfast-table, and she received it with a flush. After a moment, +seeing him occupied with a newspaper, she opened it. + + "Dear Doris," it said. "You asked me to come and see you, but I + have not done so as I was not sure if, after all, you meant me + to take the invitation literally. We have been friends for so + long that I feel constrained to speak openly. For myself, I only + ask to go on being your friend, and to serve you in any way + possible. But perhaps I can serve you best by keeping away from + you. If so, then I will do even that.--Yours ever, + + "Hugh." + +Something within moved Doris to raise her eyes suddenly, and instantly +she encountered Jeff's fixed upon her. The flush in her cheeks deepened +burningly. With an effort she spoke: + +"Hugh Chesyl wants to know if he may come to see us." + +"I thought you asked him," said Jeff. + +A little quiver of resentment went through her; she could not have said +wherefore. "He was not sure if I meant it," she said. + +There was an instant's silence; then Jeff did an extraordinary thing. He +stretched out his hand across the table, keeping his eyes on hers. + +"Let me have his letter to answer!" he said. + +She made a sharp instinctive movement of withdrawal. "Oh, no!" she said. +"No!" + +Jeff said nothing; but his face hardened somewhat, and his hand remained +outstretched. + +Doris's grey eyes gleamed. "No, Jeff!" she repeated, more calmly, and +with the words she slipped Hugh's envelope into the bosom of her dress. +"I can't give you my letters to answer indeed." + +Jeff withdrew his hand, and began to eat his breakfast in utter silence. + +Doris played with hers until the silence became intolerable, and then, +very suddenly and very winningly, she leaned towards him. + +"Dear Jeff, surely you are not vexed!" she said. + +He looked at her again, and in spite of herself she felt her heart +quicken. + +"Are you, Jeff?" she said, and held out her hand to him. + +For a moment he sat motionless, then abruptly he grasped the hand. + +"May I say what I think?" he asked her bluntly. + +"Of course," she said. + +"Then I think from all points of view that you had better leave Chesyl +alone," he said. + +"What do you mean?" Quickly she asked the question; the colour flamed in +her face once more. "Tell my why you think that!" she said. + +"I would rather not," said Jeff. + +"But that is not fair of you, Jeff," she protested. + +He released her hand slowly. "I am sorry," he said. "If I were more to +you, I would say more. As it is--well, I would rather not." + +She rose impetuously. "You are very--difficult," she said. + +To which he made answer with that silence which was to her more +difficult than speech. + +Yet later, when she was alone, her sense of justice made her admit that +he had not been altogether unreasonable. She recalled the fact that he +had overheard that leisurely proposal of marriage that Hugh had made her +in the cornfield on the occasion of their first meeting, and her face +burned afresh as she remembered certain other items of that same +conversation that he must also have overheard. No, on the whole it was +not surprising that he did not greatly care for Hugh--poor Hugh, who +loved her and had so narrowly missed winning her for himself. She +wondered if Hugh were really very miserable. She herself had passed +through so many stages of misery since her wedding-day. But she had +sufficient knowledge of herself to realize that it was the loneliness +and lack of sympathy that weighed upon her most. + +Her feeling for Hugh was still an undeveloped quantity, though the +certainty of his love for her had quickened it to keener life. She was +not even yet absolutely certain that he could have satisfied her. It was +true that he had been deeply stirred for the moment, but how deeply and +how lastingly she had no means of gauging. Knowing the indolence of his +nature, she was inclined to mistrust the permanence of his feeling. And +so resolutely had she restrained her own feeling for him during the +whole length of their acquaintance that she was able still to keep it +within bounds. She knew that the sympathy between them was fundamental +in character, but she had often suspected--in her calmer moments she +suspected still--that it was of the kind that engenders friendship +rather than passion. + +But even so, his friendship was essentially precious to her, all the +more so for the daily loneliness of spirit that she found herself +compelled to endure. For--with this one exception--she was practically +friendless. She had known that in marrying Jeff Ironside she was +relinquishing her own circle entirely. But she had imagined that there +would be compensations. Moreover, so far as society was concerned, she +had not had any choice. It had been this or exile. And she had chosen +this. + +Wherefore? Simply and solely because Jeff, of all she knew, had wanted +her. + +Again that curious little tremor went through her. Had he wanted her so +very badly after all? Not once since their wedding-day had he made any +friendly overture or responded to any overture of hers. They were as +completely strangers now as they had been on the day he had proposed to +her. + +A sharp little sigh came from her. She had not thought somehow that Jeff +would be so difficult. He had told her that he loved her. She had +counted on that for the foundation of their friendship, but no structure +had she succeeded in raising thereon. He asked nothing of her, and, save +for material comforts, he bestowed nothing in return. True, it was what +she had bargained for. But yet it did not satisfy her. She was not at +her ease with him, and she began to think she never would be. + +As to Hugh, she hardly knew how to proceed; but she finally wrote him a +friendly note, concurring with his suggestion that they should not meet +again for a little while--"only for a little while, Hugh," she added, +almost in spite of herself, "for I can't afford to lose a friend like +you." + +And she did not guess how the heart-cry of her loneliness echoed through +the words. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE WAY TO BE HAPPY + + +It was not until the week before Christmas that Doris saw Hugh again. +They met in the hunting-field. It was the first hunt she had attended +since her marriage, and she went to it alone. + +The meet was some distance away, and she arrived after the start, +joining the ranks of the riders as they waited outside a copse which the +hounds were drawing. + +The day was chill and grey. She did not altogether know why she went, +save that the loneliness at the Mill House seemed to become daily harder +to bear, and the longing to escape it, if only for a few hours, was not +to be denied. + +She was scarcely in a sporting mood, and the sight of old acquaintances, +though they greeted her kindly enough, did not tend to raise her +spirits. + +The terrible conviction had begun to grow upon her of late that she had +committed a great mistake that no effort of hers could ever remedy, and +the thought of it weighed her down perpetually night and day. + +But the sight of Hugh as he came to her along the edge of the wood was +a welcome one. She greeted him almost with eagerness, and the friendly +grasp of his hand sent warmth to her lonely young heart. + +"I am very glad to see you following the hounds," Hugh said. "Are you +alone?" + +"Quite alone," she said, feeling a lump rise in her throat. + +"Then you'll let me take care of you," he said, with a friendly smile. + +And she could but smile and thank him. + +It was not a particularly satisfactory day from a fox-hunting point of +view. The weather did not improve, and the scent was misleading. They +found and lost, found and lost again, and a cold drizzle setting in with +the afternoon effectually cooled the ardour of even the most +enthusiastic. + +Yet Doris enjoyed herself. She and Hugh ate their lunch together under +some dripping trees, and they managed to make merry over it in spite of +the fact that both were fairly wet through. He made her share the sherry +in his flask, laughing down all protests, treating her with the absolute +ease that had always characterized their friendship. It was such a day +as Doris had often spent in his company, and the return to the old +genial atmosphere was like the sweetness of a spring day in the midst of +winter. + +It was he who at length suggested the advisability of returning home. +"I'm sure you ought to get back and change," he said. "It'll be getting +dark in another hour." + +Her face fell, "I have enjoyed it," she said regretfully. + +"You'll come again," said Hugh. "They are meeting at Kendal's Corner on +Christmas Eve. I shall look out for you." + +She smiled. "Very well, I'll be there. Thank you for giving me such a +good time, Hugh." + +"My dear girl!" said Hugh. + +They rode back together through a driving drizzle, and, as Hugh had +predicted, the early dusk had fallen before they reached the mill. The +roar of the water sounded indescribably desolate as they drew near, and +Doris gave a sharp, involuntary shiver. + +It was then that Hugh drew close to her and stretched out a hand in the +growing darkness. "Doris!" he said softly. + +She put her own into it swiftly, impulsively. "Oh, Hugh!" she said with +a sob. + +"Don't!" said Hugh gently. "Stick to it, dear! I think you won't be +sorry in the end. I believe he's a good chap. Give him all you can! It's +the only way to be happy." + +Her fingers tightened convulsively upon his. She spoke no word. + +"Don't, dear!" he said again very earnestly. "It's such a mistake. +Honestly, I don't think you've anything to be sorry for. So don't let +yourself be faint-hearted! I know he's not a bad sort." + +"He's very good," whispered Doris. + +"Yes, that's just it," said Hugh. "So don't be afraid of giving! You'll +never regret it. No one could help loving you, Doris. Remember that, +dear, when you're feeling down! You're just the sweetest woman in the +world, and the man who couldn't worship you would be a hopeless fool." + +They were passing over the bridge that spanned the stream. The road was +narrow, and their horses moved side by side. They went over it with +hands locked. + +They were nearing the house when Doris reined in. "Good-bye, dear Hugh!" +she said. "You're the truest friend any woman ever had." + +He reined in also. They stood in the deep shadow of some trees close to +the gate that led into the Mill House garden. The roar of the water was +all about them. They seemed to be isolated from all the world. And so +Hugh Chesyl, being moved beyond his wont, lifted the hand that lay so +confidingly in his, and kissed it with all reverence. + +"I want you to be happy," he said. + +A moment later they parted without further words on either side, he to +retrace his steps across the bridge, she to turn wearily in at the iron +gate under the dripping trees that led to the Mill House porch. + +She heard a man's step in front of her as she went, and at the porch she +found her husband. + +"Oh, Jeff!" she said, slightly startled. "I didn't know it was you." + +"I've been looking out for you for some time," he said. "You must be +very wet." + +"Yes, it's rained nearly all day, hasn't it? We didn't have much sport, +but I enjoyed it." Doris slid down into the hands he held up to her. +"Why, you are wet too," she said. "Hadn't you better change?" + +"I'll take the horse round first," he said. "Won't you go in?" + +She went in with a feeling of deep depression. Jeff's armour of reserve +seemed impenetrable. With lagging feet she climbed the stairs and +entered her sitting-room. + +A bright fire was burning there, and the lamp was alight. A little +thrill of purely physical pleasure went through her at the sight. She +paused to take off her hat, then went forward and stooped to warm her +hands at the blaze. + +She was certainly very tired. The arm-chair by the hearth was invitingly +near. She sank into it with a sigh and closed her eyes. + +It must have been ten minutes later that the door, which she had left +ajar, was pushed open, and Jeff stood on the threshold. + +He was carrying a steaming cup of milk. A moment he paused as if on the +verge of asking admittance; then as his eyes fell upon the slight young +figure sunk in the chair, he closed his lips and came forward in +silence. + +A few seconds later, Doris opened her eyes with a start at the touch of +his hand on her shoulder. + +She sat up sharply. "Oh, Jeff, how you startled me!" + +It was the first time she had ever seen him in her little sitting-room, +though she had more than once invited him thither. His presence at that +moment was for some reason peculiarly disconcerting. + +"I am sorry," he said, in his slow way. "The door was half open, and I +saw you were asleep. I don't think you are wise to sit down in your wet +clothes. I have brought you some milk and brandy." + +"Oh, but I never take brandy," she said, collecting herself with a +little smile and rising. "It's very kind of you, Jeff. But I can't drink +it, really. It would go straight to my head." + +"You must drink it," said Jeff. + +He presented it to her with the words, but Doris backed away +half-laughing. + +"No, really, Jeff! I'll go and have a hot bath. That will do quite as +well." + +"You must drink this first," said Jeff. + +There was a dogged note in his voice, and at sound of it Doris's brows +went up, and her smile passed. + +"I mean it," said Jeff, setting cup and saucer on the table before her. +"I can't run the risk of having you laid up. Drink it now, before it +gets cold!" + +A little gleam of mutiny shone in Doris's eyes. "My dear Jeff," she said +very decidedly. "I have told you already that I do not drink brandy. I +am going to have a hot bath and change, and after that I will have some +tea. But I draw the line at hot grog. So, please, take it away! Give it +to Granny Grimshaw! It would do her more good." + +She smiled again suddenly and winningly with the words. After all it was +absurd to be vexed over such a trifle. + +But, to her amazement, Jeff's face hardened. He stepped to her, and, as +if she had been a child, took her by the shoulders, and put her down +into a chair by the table. + +"Doris," he said, and his voice sounded deep and stern above her head, +"I may not get much out of my bargain, but I think I may claim obedience +at least. There is not enough brandy there to hurt you, and I wish you +to take it." + +She stiffened at his action, as if she would actively resist; but she +only became rigid under his hands. + +There followed a tense and painful silence. Then without a word Doris +took the cup and raised it unsteadily to her lips. In the same moment +Jeff took his hands from her shoulders, straightened himself, and in +silence left the room. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +CHRISTMAS EVE + + +It was only a small episode, but it made an impression upon Doris that +she was slow to forget. It was not that she resented the assertion of +authority. She had the fairness to admit his right, but in a very subtle +fashion it hurt her. It made her feel more than ever the hollowness of +the bargain, to which he had made such grim allusion. It added, +moreover, to her uneasiness, making her suspect that he was fully as +dissatisfied as she. Yet, in face of the stony front he presented she +could not continue to proffer her friendship. He seemed to have no use +for it. He seemed, in fact, to avoid her, and the old shyness that had +oppressed her in the beginning returned upon her fourfold. She admitted +to herself that she was becoming afraid of the man. The very sound of +his voice made her heart beat thick and hard, and each succeeding day +witnessed a diminishing of her confidence. + +Under these circumstances she withdrew more and more into her solitude, +and it was with something like dismay that she received the news from +Granny Grimshaw at the beginning of Christmas week that it was Jeff's +custom to entertain two or three of his farmer friends at supper on +Christmas Eve. + +"Only the menkind, my dear," said Granny Grimshaw consolingly. "And +they're easy enough to amuse, as all the world knows. Give 'em a good +feed, and they won't give any trouble. It's quite a job to get ready for +'em, that it is, but it's the only bit of entertaining he does all the +year round, so I don't grudge it." + +"You must let me help you," Doris said. + +And help she did, protest notwithstanding, so that Jeff, returning from +his work in the middle of the day, was surprised to find her flushed and +animated in the kitchen, clad in one of Granny Grimshaw's aprons, +rolling out pastry with the ready deftness of a practised pastry-cook. + +There was no dismay in her greeting of him, and only she knew of that +sudden quickening of the heart that invariably followed his appearance. + +"You didn't tell me about your Christmas party, Jeff," she said. "Granny +and I are going to give you a big spread. I hope you will invite me to +the feast." + +Jeff's dark face flushed a little as he made reply. "I'm afraid you +wouldn't enjoy it much." + +"But you haven't introduced me to any of your friends yet," she +protested. "I should like to meet them." + +"I'm not so sure of that," said Jeff. + +She looked up at him for a moment. "Don't you think that's rather a +mistake?" she said. + +"Why?" said Jeff. + +With something of an effort she explained. "To take it for granted that +I shall look down on them. I don't want to look down on them, Jeff." + +"It isn't that," said Jeff curtly. "But they're not your sort. They +don't talk your language. I'm not sure that I want you to meet them." + +"But you can't keep me away from everyone, can you?" she said gently. + +He did not answer her, and she returned to her pastry-making in silence. + +But evidently her words had made some impression, for that evening when +she rose from the supper table to bid him a formal good-night, he very +abruptly reverted to the subject. + +"If you really think you can stand the racket on Christmas Eve, I hope +you will join the party. There will be only four or five besides myself. +I have never invited the womenkind." + +"Perhaps by next Christmas I shall have got to know them a little," said +Doris, "and then we can invite them too. Thank you for asking me, Jeff. +I'll come." + +But yet she viewed the prospect with considerable misgiving, and would +have thankfully foregone the ordeal, if she had not felt constrained to +face it. + +The preparations went forward under Granny Grimshaw's guidance without a +hitch, but they were kept busy up to the last moment, and on the day +before Christmas Eve Doris scribbled a hasty note to Hugh Chesyl, +excusing herself from attending the meet. + +It was the only thing to be done, for she could not let him expect her +in vain, but she regretted it later when at the breakfast-table the +following day her husband silently handed to her Hugh's reply. + +Hugh had written to convey his good wishes for Christmas, and this she +explained to Jeff; but he received her explanation in utter silence, and +she forthwith abandoned the subject. A smouldering resentment began to +burn within her. What right had he to treat Hugh's friendship with her +as a thing to be ashamed of? She longed to ask him, but would not risk +an open rupture. She knew that if she gave her indignation rein she +would not be able to control it. + +So the matter passed, and she slipped Hugh's note into her bosom with a +sense of outraged pride that went with her throughout the day. It was +still present with her like an evil spirit when she went to her room to +dress. + +She had not much time at her disposal, and she slipped into her black +evening gown with a passing wonder as to how Jeff's friends would be +attired. Descending again, she found Jim Dawlish fixing a piece of +mistletoe over the parlour door, and smiled at his occupation. + +He smiled at her in a fashion that sent the blood suddenly and hotly to +her face, and she passed on to the kitchen, erect and quivering with +anger. + +"Lor', my dearie, what a pretty picture you be, to be sure!" was Granny +Grimshaw's greeting, and again a tremor of misgiving went through the +girl's heart. Had she made herself too pretty for the occasion? + +She mustered spirit, however, to laugh at the compliment, and busied +herself with the final arrangements. + +Jeff appeared a few minutes later, clad in black but not in evening +dress. His eyes dwelt upon his wife for a moment or two before he +addressed her. + +"Do you mind being in the parlour when they come in?" + +She looked up at him with a smile which she knew to be forced. "Are you +sure I shan't be one too many, Jeff?" + +"Quite," said Jeff. + +There was no appealing against that, and she accompanied him without +further words. + +Jim Dawlish was standing by the parlour door, admiring his handiwork. He +nudged Jeff as he went by, and was rewarded by Jeff's heaviest scowl. + +A minute later, to Doris's mingled relief and dread, came the sounds of +the first arrival. + +This proved to be a Mr. Griggs and his son, a horsey young man, whom she +vaguely knew by sight, having encountered him when following the hounds. +Mr. Griggs was a jolly old farmer, with a somewhat convivial +countenance. He shook her warmly by the hand, and asked her how she +liked being married. + +Doris was endeavouring to reply to this difficult question as airily as +possible, when three more of Jeff's friends made their appearance, and +were brought up by Jeff in a group for introduction, thereby relieving +her of the obligation. + +The party was now complete, and they all sat down to supper in varying +degrees of shyness. Doris worked hard to play her part as hostess, but +it was certainly no light task. Two of the last-comers were brothers of +the name of Chubb, and from neither of these could she extract more than +one word at a time. The third, Farmer Locke, was of the aggressive, +bulldog type, and he very speedily asserted himself. He seemed, indeed, +somewhat inclined to browbeat her, loudly arguing her slightest remark +after a fashion which she found decidedly exasperating, but presently +discovered to be his invariable habit with everyone. He flatly +contradicted even Jeff, but she was pleased to hear Jeff bluntly hold +his own, and secretly admired him for the achievement. + +On the whole, the meal was not quite so much of an ordeal as she had +anticipated, and she was just beginning to congratulate herself upon +this fact when she discovered that young Griggs was ogling her with most +unmistakable familiarity whenever she glanced his way. She at once cut +him pointedly and with supreme disdain, only to find his father, who +was seated on her right, doing exactly the same thing. + +Furious indignation entered her sore soul at this second discovery, and +from the smiling, genial hostess she froze into a marble statue of +aloofness. But tongues were loosened somewhat by that time, and her +change of attitude did not apparently affect the guests. + +Mr. Locke continued his aggressive course, and the brothers Chubb were +emboldened to take it by turns to oppose him, while old Griggs drank +deeply and smacked his lips, and young Griggs told Jeff anecdotes in an +undertone which he interspersed with bold glances in the direction of +his stony-faced young hostess. + +The appearance of Jim Dawlish carrying a steaming bowl of punch seemed +to Doris at length the signal for departure, and she rose from the +table. + +Jeff instantly rose at the farther end, and she divined that he had no +wish to detain her. Mr. Griggs the elder, on the other hand, was loud in +protest. + +"We haven't drunk your health yet, missis," he said. + +She forced herself to smile. "That is very kind of you. I am sure Jeff +will return thanks for me." + +She made it evident that she had no intention of remaining, protest +notwithstanding, so Mr. Griggs arose and turned to open the door, still +loudly deploring her departure. Young Griggs was already there, +however. He leered at her as she approached him, and it occurred to her +that he was not very steady on his legs. She prepared him an icy bow, +which she was in the very act of executing when he made a sudden lurch +forward, and caught her round the waist. She heard him laugh with coarse +mirth, and had a glimpse of the bunch of mistletoe dangling above their +heads ere she fiercely pushed him from her into the passage. + +The next instant Jeff was beside her, and she turned and clung to him in +desperation. + +"Jeff, don't let him!" she cried. + +Jeff stretched out an arm to keep the young man back. A roar of laughter +rose from the remaining guests. + +"Kiss her yourself then, Jeff!" cried old Griggs, hammering on the +table. "You've got her under the mistletoe." + +"He daren't!" said Jim Dawlish, with a wink. + +"Afraid to kiss his own wife!" gibed Locke, and the Chubb brothers +laughed in uproarious appreciation of the sally. + +It was then that Doris became aware of a change in Jeff. The arm he had +stretched out for her protection suddenly encircled her. He bent his +face to hers. + +"They shan't say that!" he muttered under his breath. + +She divined his intention in an instant, and a wild flame of anger shot +up within her. This was how he treated her confidence! She made a swift +effort to wrench herself from him, then, feeling his arm tighten to +frustrate her, she struck him across the face in frantic indignation. + +Again a roar of laughter arose behind them, and then very suddenly she +forgot everyone in the world but Jeff, for it was as if at that blow of +hers an evil spirit had taken swift possession of him. He gripped her +hands with savage strength, forcing them behind her, and so holding her, +with eyes that seared her soul, he kissed her passionately, violently, +devouringly, on face and neck and throat, sparing her not a whit, till +in an agony of helpless shame she sank powerless in his arms. + +She heard again the jeering laughter in the room behind her, but between +herself and Jeff there was a terrible silence, till abruptly he set her +free, saying curtly, "You brought it on yourself. Now go!" + +Her knees were shaking under her. She was burning from head to foot, as +though she had been wrapped in flame. But with an effort she controlled +herself. + +She went in utter silence, feeling as if her heart were dead within her, +mounted the stairs with growing weakness, found and fumbled at her own +door, entered at last, and sank inert upon the floor. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +CHRISTMAS MORNING + + +Christmas morning broke with a sprinkle of snow, and an icy wind that +blew from the north, promising a heavier fall ere the day was over. + +Jeff was late in descending, and he saw that the door of Doris's room +was open as he passed. He glanced in, saw that the room was empty, and +entered to lay a packet that he carried on her dressing-table. As he did +so, his eyes fell upon an envelope lying there, and that single glance +revealed the fact that it was addressed to him. + +He picked it up, and, turning, cast a searching look around the room. +Across the end of the great four-poster bed hung the black lace gown she +had worn the previous evening, but the bed itself was undisturbed. He +saw in a moment that it had not been slept in. Sharply he turned to the +envelope in his hand, and ripped it open. Something bright rolled out +upon the floor. He stopped it with his foot. It was her wedding-ring. + +An awful look showed for a moment in Jeff's eyes and passed. He stooped +and picked up the ring; then, with a species of deadly composure more +terrible than any agitation, he took out the letter that the envelope +contained. + +It was very short--the first letter that she had ever written to him. + + "Dear Jeff," it ran, "after what happened last night, I do not + think you will be surprised to hear that I feel I cannot stay + any longer under your roof. I have tried to be friends with you, + but you would not have it so, and now it has become quite + impossible for me to go on. I am leaving for town by the first + train I can catch. I am going to work for my living, and some + day I shall hope to make good to you all that I know you have + spent on my comfort. + + "Please do not imagine I am going in anger. I blame myself more + than I blame you. I never ought to have married you, knowing + that I did not love you in the ordinary way. But this is the + only course open to me now. So good-bye! + + "Doris." + +Jeff Ironside looked up from the letter, and out across the grey +meadows. His face was pale, the square jaw absolutely rigid; but there +was no anger in his eyes, only the iron of an implacable determination. +For several seconds he watched the feathery snowflakes drifting over the +fields; then, with absolute steadiness, he returned both letter and ring +to the envelope, placed them in his pocket, and, turning, left the room. + +Granny Grimshaw met him at the foot of the stairs. "Oh, Master Jeff," +she said, "I am that worried. We can't find Mrs. Ironside." + +Jeff paused an instant and turned his grim face to her. "It's all right, +Granny. I know where she is," he said. "Keep the breakfast hot!" + +And with that he was gone. + +He drove out of the yard a few minutes later in his dog-cart, muffled in +a great coat with the collar up to his ears. + +At the station, Doris sat huddled in a corner of the little waiting-room +counting the dreary minutes as she waited for her train. No one beside +herself was going by it. + +She had walked across the fields, and had made a _détour_ to leave a +note at the Manor for Hugh. She could not leave Hugh in ignorance of her +action. + +She glanced nervously at the watch on her wrist. Yes, Jeff probably knew +by this time. How was he taking it? Was he very angry? But surely even +he must see how impossible he had made her life with him. + +Restlessly she arose and went to the window. It had begun to snow in +earnest. The road was all blurred and grey with the falling flakes. She +shivered again. Her feet were like ice. Very oddly her thoughts turned +to that day in September when Jeff had knelt before her and drawn off +her muddy boots before the great open fire. A great sigh welled up +within her and her eyes filled with quick tears. If only he would have +consented to be her friend. She was so lonely--so lonely! + +There came the sound of wheels along the road, and she turned away. +Evidently someone else was coming for the train. A little tremor of +impatience went through her. Would the train never come? + +The wheels stopped before the station door. Someone descended, and there +followed the sound of a man's feet approaching her retreat. A hand was +laid upon the door, and she braced herself to meet a possible +acquaintance. It opened, and she glanced up. + +"Oh, Jeff!" she said. + +He shut the door behind him and came forward. His face was set in +dogged, unyielding lines. + +"I have come to take you back," he said. + +She drew sharply away from him. This was the last thing she had +expected. + +Desperately she faced him. "I can't come with you, Jeff," she said. "My +mind is quite made up. I am very sorry for everything, especially sorry +that you have taken the trouble to follow me. But my decision is quite +unalterable." + +Her breath came fast as she ended. Her heart was throbbing in thick, +heavy strokes. There was something so implacable in his attitude. + +He did not speak at once, and she stood before him, striving with all +her strength to still her agitation. Then quite calmly he stood back and +motioned her to pass him. "Whatever you decide to do afterwards," he +said, "you must come back with me now. We had better start at once +before it gets worse." + +A quiver of anger went through her; it was almost a sensation of hatred. +She remained motionless. "I refuse," she said in a low voice, her grey +eyes steadily raised to his. + +She saw his black brows meet, but he gave no sign of impatience. "And +I--insist," he said stubbornly. + +She felt the blood receding from her face. It was to be open conflict, +then. She collected all her resolution to oppose him, for to yield at +that moment was out of the question. + +It was then, while she stood summoning her forces, that there came to +her ears the distant hum and throb of an approaching train. It was +coming at last. A porter ran past the window that looked upon the +platform, announcing its approach with a dismal yell. Doris straightened +and turned to go. + +Jeff turned also. An odd light sprang up in his gipsy eyes. He went +straight to the door ere she could reach it, locked it, and withdrew the +key. + +That fired Doris. Her composure went in a single instant. "Jeff," she +exclaimed, "how dare you?" + +He turned to the dingy window overlooking the line. "You compel me," he +said. + +She sank back impotent against the table. He stood staring grimly forth, +filling the window with his bulk. + +Nearer came the train and nearer. Doris felt the hot blood drumming in +her brain. Something that was very nearly akin to frenzy entered into +her. She stood up with sudden, fierce resolution. + +"Jeff," she said, "I will not be kept here against my will! Do you hear? +I will not! Give me that key!" + +He took no more notice of the command than if it had been the buzzing of +a fly. His attention apparently was caught by something outside. He +leaned forward, watching intently. + +Something in his attitude checked her wrath at its height. It was as +though a cold hand had been laid upon her heart. What was it he was +looking at? She felt she must know. As the train thundered into the +station she went to his side and looked forth also. + +The next moment, with a shock that was physical, she saw the object of +his interest. Hugh Chesyl, with a face of grave perturbation, was +standing on the platform, searching this way and that. It was evident +that he had but just arrived at the station, and in a flash she divined +the reason of his coming. Quite obviously he was looking for her. + +Sharply she withdrew herself from the window, and in the same moment +Jeff also turned. Their eyes met, and Doris caught her breath. + +For it was as if a sword had pierced her. In a single, blinding instant +of revelation she read his thought, and sheer horror held her silent +before him. She stood as one paralyzed. + +He did not utter a word, simply stood and looked at her, with eyes grown +devilish in their scrutiny. Then very suddenly and terribly he laughed, +and flung round upon his heel. + +In that instant Doris's powers returned to her, urged by appalling +necessity. She sprang forward, reached the door, set her back against +it, faced him with the wild courage of agonizing fear. + +"Jeff! Jeff!" she panted. "What are you going to do?" + +The train had come to a standstill. There was a commotion of voices and +running feet. Jeff, still with that awful look in his eyes, stood still. + +"You will miss your train," he said. + +"What are you going to do?" she reiterated. + +He smiled--a grim, dreadful smile. "I am going to see you off. You can +go now. Your friend Chesyl can follow by the next train--when I have +done with him." + +He had the key in his hand. He stooped to insert it in the lock. But +swiftly she caught his wrist. "Jeff, stop--stop!" she gasped; and, as he +looked at her: "I'm not going away now!" + +He wrung his hand free. "You had better go--for your own sake!" he said. + +She flinched in spite of herself from the blazing menace of his eyes, +but again necessity spurred her. She stretched out her arms, barring his +way. + +"I won't! I can't! Jeff--Jeff--for Heaven's sake--Jeff!" Her voice +broke into wild entreaty. He had taken her roughly by the shoulders, +pulling her from his path. He would have put her from him, but she +snatched her opportunity and clung to him fast with all her quivering +strength. + +He stood still then, suddenly rigid. "I have warned you!" he said, in a +voice so deep with passion that her heart quailed and ceased to beat. + +"Let me go!" + +But she only tightened her trembling hold. "You shan't go, Jeff! You +shan't insult Hugh Chesyl! He is a gentleman!" + +"Is he?" said Jeff, very bitterly. + +She could feel his every muscle strung and taut, ready for uncontrolled +violence. Yet still with her puny strength she held him, for she dared +not let him go. + +"Jeff, listen to me! You must listen! Hugh is my very good friend--no +more than that. He has come here to say 'Good-bye.' I left a note for +him on my way here, just to tell him I was going. He is my friend--only +my friend." + +"I don't believe you," said Jeff. + +She shrank as if he had struck her, but her hands still clutched his +coat. She attempted no further protestations, only stood with her white +face lifted and clear eyes fixed on his. The red fire that shone +fiercely back on her was powerless to subdue her steady regard, though +she felt as though it scorched her through and through. + +From the platform came the shriek of the guard's whistle. The train was +departing. + +Doris heard it go with a sick sense of despair. She knew that her +liberty went with it. As the last carriage passed she spoke again. + +"I will go back with you now." + +"If I will take you back," said Jeff. + +Her hands clenched upon his coat. An awful weakness had begun to assail +her. She fought against it desperately. + +Someone tried the handle of the door, pulled at it and desisted. She +caught her breath. Jeff's hand went out to open, but she shifted her +grasp, and again gripped his wrist. + +"Wait! Wait!" she whispered through her white lips. + +This time he did not shake her off. He stood with his eyes on hers and +waited. + +The man on the other side of the door, evidently concluding that the +waiting-room had not been opened that day, gave up the attempt and +passed on. With straining ears Doris listened to his departing +footsteps. A few seconds later she saw Jeff's eyes go to the farther +window. Her own followed them. Hugh Chesyl, clad in a long grey ulster, +was tramping away through the snow. + +He passed from sight, and Doris relaxed her hold. Her face was white and +spent. "Will you take me home?" she said faintly. + +Slowly Jeff's eyes came back to her, dwelt upon her. He must have seen +the exhaustion in her face, but his own showed no softening. + +He spoke at last sternly, with grim mastery. "If I take you back it must +be on a different footing. You tell me this man is no more to you than a +friend. I am even less. Do you think I will be satisfied with that?" + +"I have tried to make you my friend," she said. + +"And you have failed," he said. "Shall I tell you why? Or can you +guess?" + +She was silent. + +He clenched his hands hard against his sides. "You know what happened +yesterday," he said. "It had nearly happened a hundred times before. I +kept it back till it got too strong for me. You dangled your friendship +before me till I was nearly mad with the want of you. You had better +have offered me nothing at all than that." + +"Oh, Jeff!" she said. + +He went on, heedless of reproach. "It has come to this with me: +friendship, if it comes at all, must come after. You tell me Chesyl is +not your lover. Do you deny that he has ever made love to you?" + +"Since he knew of my marriage--never!" she said. + +"Yet you ride home with him in the dark hand in hand!" said Jeff. + +The colour flamed in her face and as swiftly died. "Hugh Chesyl is not +my lover," she said proudly. + +"And you expect me to believe you?" he said. + +"I do." + +He gazed at her without pity. "You will secure my belief in you," he +said, "only by coming to me as my wife." + +A great shiver went through her. She stood silent. + +"As my wife," he repeated looking straight into her face with eyes that +compelled. She was trembling from head to foot. He waited a moment, +then: "You would sooner run away with Hugh Chesyl?" he asked very +bitterly. + +Sheer pain drove her into speech. "Oh, Jeff," she cried passionately, +"don't make me hate you!" + +He started at that as an animal starts at the goad, and in an instant he +took her suddenly and fiercely by the shoulders. "Hate me, then! Hate +me!" he said, and kissed her again savagely on her white, panting lips +as he had kissed her the night before, showing no mercy. + +She did not resist him. Her strength was gone. She hung quivering in his +arms till the storm of his passion had passed also. Then: "Let us go!" +she whispered: "Let us go!" + +He released her slowly and turned to open the door. Then, seeing that +she moved unsteadily, he put his arm about her, supporting her. So, side +by side and linked together, they went out into the driving snow. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +CHRISTMAS NIGHT + + +Doris was nearly fainting with cold and misery when they stopped at last +before the Mill House door. All the previous night she had sat up +listening with nerves on edge, and had finally taken her departure in +the early morning without food. + +When Jeff turned to help her down she looked at him helplessly, seeing +him through a drifting mist that obscured all besides. He saw her +weakness at a single glance, and, mounting the step, took her in his +arms. + +She sank down against his shoulder. "Oh, Jeff, I can't help it," she +whispered, through lips that were stiff and blue with cold. + +"All right. I know," he said, and for the first time in many days she +heard a note of kindness in his voice. + +He bore her straight through to the kitchen, and laid her down upon the +old oak settle, just as he had done on that day in September when first +he had brought her to his home. + +Granny Grimshaw, full of tender solicitude, came hastening to her, but +Jeff intervened. + +"Hot milk and brandy--quick!" he ordered, and fell himself to chafing +the icy fingers. + +When Granny Grimshaw brought the cup, he took it from her, and held it +for Doris to drink; and then, when she had swallowed a little and the +blood was creeping back into her face, he took off her boots and chafed +her feet also. + +Granny Grimshaw put some bread into the milk while this was in progress +and coaxed Doris to finish it. She asked no questions, simply treating +her as she might have treated a lost child who had strayed away. There +was a vast fund of wisdom in the old grey head that was so often shaken +over the follies of youth. + +And, finally, when Doris had a little recovered, she went with her to +her room, and helped her to bed, where she tucked her up with her own +hot-water bottle and left her. + +From sheer exhaustion Doris slept, though her sleep was not a happy one. +Long, tangled dreams wound in a ceaseless procession through her brain, +and through them all she was persistently and fruitlessly striving to +persuade Jeff to let her go. + +In the late afternoon she awoke suddenly to the sound of men's voices in +the room below her, and started up in nameless fear. + +"Were you wanting anything, my dearie?" asked Granny Grimshaw, from a +chair by the fire. + +"Who is that talking?" she asked nervously. + +"It's Master Jeff and a visitor," said the old woman. "Now, don't you +bother your head about them! I'm going along to get you some tea." + +She bustled away with the words, and Doris lay back, listening with +every nerve stretched. Her husband's deep voice was unmistakable, but +the other she could not distinguish. Only after a while there came the +sounds of movement, the opening of a door. + +When that happened she sprang swiftly from the bed to her own door, and +softly opened it. + +Two men stood in the hall below. Slipping out on to the landing, she +leaned upon the banisters in the darkness and looked down. Even as she +did so, a voice she knew well came up out of the gloom--a kindly, +well-bred voice that spoke with a slight drawl. + +"I shouldn't be downhearted, Ironside. Remember, no one is cornered so +long as he can turn round and go back. It's the only thing to do when +you know you've taken a wrong turning." + +Doris caught her breath. Her fingers gripped the black oak rail. She +listened in rigid expectancy for Jeff's answer. But no answer came. + +In a moment Hugh's voice came again, still calm and friendly. "I'm going +away directly. The Squire has been ordered to the South for the rest of +the winter, and I've promised to go with him. I suppose we shall start +some time next week. May I look in and say 'Good-bye'?" + +There was a pause. The girl on the landing above waited tensely for +Jeff's answer. It came at last slowly, in a tone that was not +unfriendly, but which did not sound spontaneous. "You can do as you +like, Chesyl. I have no objection." + +"All right, then. Good-bye for the present! I hope when I do come I +shall find that all's well. All will be well in the end, eh, Jeff?" + +There was a touch of feeling in the question that made Doris aware that +the speaker had gripped her husband's hand. + +But again there was a pause before the answer came, heavily, it seemed +reluctantly: "Yes, it'll be all right for her in the end. Good-bye!" + +The front-door opened; they went out into the porch together. And Doris +slipped back, to her room. + +Those last words of her husband's rang strangely in her heart. Why had +he put it like that? + +Her thoughts went to Hugh--dear and faithful friend who had taken this +step on her behalf. What had passed between him and her husband during +that interview in the parlour? She longed to know. + +But whatever it had been, Hugh had emerged victorious. He had destroyed +those foul suspicions of Jeff's. He had conquered the man's enmity, +overthrown his passionate jealousy, humbled him into admitting himself +to be in the wrong. Very curiously that silent admission of Jeff's hurt +her pride almost as if it had been made on her behalf. The thought of +Jeff worsted by Hugh Chesyl, however deeply in the wrong he might be, +was somehow very hard to bear. Her heart ached for the man. She did not +want him to be humbled. + +When Granny Grimshaw came up with her tea, she was half-dressed. + +"I couldn't sleep any longer," she said. "It's dear of you to take such +care of me. But I'm quite all right. Dear Granny, forgive me for giving +you such a horrible Christmas Day!" She bent suddenly forward and kissed +the wrinkled face. + +"My dearie! My dearie!" said Granny Grimshaw. + +And then, exactly how it happened neither of them ever knew, all in a +moment Doris found herself folded close in the old woman's arms, sobbing +her heart out on the motherly shoulder. + +"You shouldn't cry, darling; you shouldn't cry," murmured Granny +Grimshaw, softly patting the slim young form. "It would hurt Master Jeff +more than anything to have you cry." + +"No, no! He doesn't really care for me. I could bear it better if he +did," whispered Doris. + +"Not care for you, my dearie? Why, what ever can you be thinking of?" +protested Granny Grimshaw. "He's eating his very heart out for you, and +I verily believe he'd kill himself sooner than make you unhappy." + +"Ah! You don't understand," sighed Doris. "He only wants--material +things." + +"Oh, my dear, my dear!" said Granny Grimshaw. "Did you suppose that the +man ever lived who could love a woman without? We're human, dear, the +very best of us, and there's no getting out of it. Besides, love is +never satisfied with half measures." + +She drew the girl down into the chair before the fire and fussed over +her tenderly till she grew calmer. And then presently she slipped away. + +Doris finished her tea slowly with her eyes on the red coals, then rose +at length to continue her dressing. As she stood at the table twisting +up her hair, her glance fell on a small packet that lay there. + +With fingers that trembled a little she opened it. It contained a small +object wrapped in a slip of paper. There was writing upon it, which she +deciphered as she unrolled it. "For my wife, with all my love. Jeff." +And in her hand there lay a slender gold ring, exquisitely dainty, set +with pearls. A quick tremor went through Doris. She guessed that it had +belonged to his mother. + +Again she read the few simple words; they seemed to her to hold an +appeal which the man himself could never have uttered, and her heart +quivered in response as a finely tempered instrument vibrates to a +sudden sound. Had she never understood him? + +She finished her dressing with impulsive haste, and with Jeff's gift in +her hand turned to leave the room. + +Her heart throbbed violently as she descended. + +What would his mood be when she found him? If he would only be kind to +her! Ah, if only he would be kind! Granny Grimshaw was lighting the +lamps in the hall and parlour. + +"Everyone's out but me," she said. "Master Jeff and I generally keep +house alone together on Christmas night. I don't know why he doesn't +come in. He went out to see to the horses half an hour ago. He hasn't +had his tea yet." + +"I will give him his tea," Doris said. + +"Very well," said Granny Grimshaw. "I'll leave the kettle on for you +while I go up and dress." + +Doris went into the parlour to wait. The lamp on the table was alight, +the teacups ready, and a bright fire made the room cosy. She went to the +window and drew aside the curtain. + +The snow had ceased, and the sky was clear. Stars were beginning to +pierce the darkness. + +Slowly the minutes crawled by. She began to listen for his coming, to +chafe at his delay. At last, grown nervous with suspense, she turned +from the window and went into the hall. She opened the door and stepped +out into the porch. + +Still and starlit lay the path before her. The snow had been swept away. +Impulse seized her. She felt she could wait no longer. She slipped back +into the hall, took a coat of Jeff's from a peg, put it on, and so +passed out into the open. + +The way to the stable lay past the mill-stream. On noiseless feet she +followed it. The water was deep and dark and silent. She shivered as she +drew near. In the stable beyond, close to the mill, she saw a light. It +was moving towards her. In a moment she discovered Jeff's face above it, +and--was it something she actually saw in the face, or was it an +illusion created by the swinging lantern?--her heart gave a sudden jerk +of horror. For it was to her as if she looked upon the face of a dead +man. + +She stood still in the shadow of a weeping willow, arrested by that +look, and watched him come slowly forth. + +He moved heavily as one driven by Fate, pulling the stable door to after +him. This he turned to lock, then stooped, still with that face as of a +death-mask, and deliberately extinguished his lantern. + +Doris's heart jerked again at the action, and every pulse began to +clamour. Why did he put out the lantern before reaching the house? + +The next moment she heard his footsteps, slow and heavy, coming towards +her. The path wound along a bank a couple of feet above the mill-stream. +He approached till in the darkness he had nearly reached her, then he +stopped. + +She thought he had discerned her, but the next moment she realized that +he had not. He was facing the water; he seemed to be staring across it. +And even as she watched he took another step straight towards it. + +It was then that like a flashlight leaping from his brain to hers she +realized what he was about to do. How the knowledge came to her she +knew not, but it was hers past all disputing in that single second of +blinding revelation. And just as that morning she had been inspired to +act on sheer wild impulse, so now without an instant's pause she acted +again. She sprang from her hiding-place with a strangled cry, and threw +her arms about him. + +"Jeff! Jeff! What are you doing here?" + +He gave a great start that made her think of a frightened animal, and +stood still. She felt his arms grow rigid at his sides, and knew that +his hands were clenched. + +"Jeff!" she cried again, clinging faster. "You--you're never thinking +of--of that?" + +Her utterance ended in a shudder as she sought with all her strength to +drag him away from the icy water. + +He resisted her doggedly, standing like a rock. "Whatever I'm thinking +of doing is my affair," he said, shortly and sternly. "Go away and leave +me alone!" + +"I won't!" she cried back to him half-hysterically. "I won't! If--if +you're going to do that, you'll take me with you!" + +He turned round then and moved back to the path. "Who said I was going +to do anything?" he demanded in a voice that sounded half-angry and +half-ashamed. + +She answered him with absolute candour. "I saw your face just now. I +couldn't help knowing. Oh, Jeff, Jeff! is it as bad as that? Do you +hate me so badly as that?" + +He made a movement of the arms that was curiously passionate, but he did +not attempt to take her into them. "I don't hate you," he said, in a +voice that sounded half-choked. "I love you--so horribly"--there was a +note of ferocity in the low-spoken words--"that I can never know any +peace without you! And since with you it is otherwise, what remedy is +there? You love Hugh Chesyl. You only want to be free to marry him. +While I--" + +He broke off in fierce impotence, and began to thrust her from him. But +she held him fast. + +"Jeff--Jeff, this is madness! Listen to me! You must listen! Hugh and I +are friends, and we shall never be anything more. Jeff, let me be with +you! Teach me to love you! You can if you will. Don't--don't ruin both +our lives!" + +She was pleading with him passionately, still holding him back. And, as +she pleaded, she reached up her arms and slowly clasped his neck. + +"Oh, Jeff, be good to me--be good to me just this once!" she prayed. +"I've made such a hideous mistake, but don't punish me like this! I +swear if you go, I shall go too! There'll be nothing left to live for. +Jeff--Jeff, if you really love me, spare me this!" + +The broken entreaty went into agonized sobbing, yet she kept her face +upraised to his. Instinctively she knew that in that eleventh hour she +must offer all she had. + +Several moments throbbed away. She began to think that she had failed. +And then very suddenly he moved, put his arm about her, led her away. + +Not a word did he utter, but there was comfort in the holding of his +arm. She went with him with the curious hushed sense of one who stands +on the threshold of that which is sacred. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +A FARMER'S WIFE + + +Two eyes, old but yet keen, peered forth into the wintry night, and a +grey head nodded approvingly, as Jeff Ironside and his wife came in +silence to their home. And then the bedroom blind came down, and Granny +Grimshaw sat down cosily by her bit of wood fire to hold a strictly +private little service of thanksgiving. + +Downstairs into the raftered kitchen two people came, each holding each, +both speechless, with a restraint that bound them as by a spell. + +By nature the woman spoke first, her voice no more than a whisper. "Sit +on the settle, won't you? I'm going to get your tea." + +His arm fell from her. He sat down heavily, not looking at her. She +stepped to the fire and took the empty teapot from the hob, then +light-footed to the dresser for the tea. + +He did not watch her. For a while he sat staring blindly straight before +him. Then slowly he leaned forward, and dropped his head into his hands. + +Not till the tea was made did she so much as glance towards him, so +intent to all seeming was she upon her task. But when it was done, she +looked at him sitting there bowed upon the settle, and very suddenly, +very lightly, she came to his side. + +"Jeff!" she said. + +He neither moved nor spoke. + +She laid a shy hand on his shoulder. "Jeff!" Her voice was pleading and +rather breathless, as though she would ask him to bear with her. "I want +to thank you so much--so very much--for your Christmas gift. See! I'm +wearing it." + +She slipped her hand down into his, so that he held it pressed against +his cheek. He spoke no word, but against her fingers she felt a quiver. + +She bent over him, growing bolder. "Jeff, I--I want you to give me +back--my wedding-ring." + +He did not stir or answer. + +"Please!" she whispered. "Won't you?" + +And then dumbly, keeping his face hidden, he drew her hand down to his +breast-pocket. + +"Is it there?" she whispered. "May I take it?" + +Her fingers felt for and found what they sought. Her hand came up again, +wearing the ring. And then, with a swift, impulsive movement she knelt +before him, clasping his two wrists. + +"Jeff--Jeff! will you--will you try to forgive me?" + +There followed silence, but very strangely no misgiving assailed her. +She strove with gentle insistence to draw the shielding hands away. + +At first he resisted her, and then very suddenly he yielded. His hands +went out to her, his head dropped forward upon her shoulder. A strangled +sob shook him. + +And Doris knelt up with all her woman's compassion leaping to his need, +and clasped her warm arms about him, holding him to her heart. + +That broke him, broke him utterly, so that for a while no words could +pass between them. For Doris was crying too, even while she sought to +comfort. + +But at last, with a valiant effort, she checked her tears. +"Jeff--darling, don't let us be so--so silly," she murmured, with one +quivering hand laid upon his head. "We've got all we want--both of us. +Let's forget it all! Let's begin again!" + +He put his arms around her, not lifting his head. + +"Can't we?" she said softly. "I'm ready." + +He spoke at last below his breath. "You couldn't! You'll never forget +what a brute I've been." + +She turned her head quickly and laid her cheek against his forehead. +"Shall I tell you just how much I am going to remember?" + +He was silent, breathing deeply. + +"Just this," she said. "That you love me--so much--that you can't do +without me, and that you were willing--to give your life--for my +happiness. That is what I am going to remember, Jeff, and it will be a +very precious memory. And I want to tell you just one little thing +before we go any farther. It's about Hugh. I don't love him in the way +that you and I count love. I did very nearly for a little while. But +that is over. I don't think--I never have quite thought--that he is +altogether my sort, or I his. Jeff dear, you believe that?" + +"Yes," said Jeff. + +"Thank you," she said simply. "I want you to try and believe me always, +because I do tell the truth. And now, Jeff, I've got to tell you that +I'm dreadfully sorry for the way I've treated you. Yes, let me say it," +as he made a quick movement of protest. "It's true. I've treated you +abominably, mainly because I didn't understand. I do understand now. +You--you've opened my eyes. Oh, Jeff, thank God they were opened even at +the eleventh hour! What should I have done if--if--" She broke off with +a shiver, and then nestled to him like a child, as though that were the +end of the argument. "And now I'm going to be such a good wife to you," +she whispered, "to make up for it all. I always wanted to be a farmer's +wife, you know. But you must help me. Jeff, will you?" + +"I would die for you," he said, his head still bent as though he could +not wholly trust himself to look her in the face. + +She gave a funny little tremulous laugh. "Yes, I know. But that wouldn't +be a bit of good. You would only break my heart. You don't want to do +that, do you?" + +"Doris!" he said. + +"Why won't you call me Dot?" + +"Dot!" said Jeff very softly. + +"That's better." Again her voice quivered upon a laugh. Her arms +slackened from his shoulders, and instantly his fell away, setting her +free. She rose to her feet, yet lingered a moment, bending slightly over +him, her eyes very bright. + +But Jeff did not move, and with a half-sigh she turned away. "Would you +like to carry the teapot?" she said. + +He got up. + +"And you can hang up this coat of yours," she added. "I'll come in a +moment." + +She watched him go in his slow, strong fashion; then for a few still +seconds she stood quite tense with hands tightly gripped together. What +passed within her during those moments only her own heart ever knew, how +much of longing, how much of regret, how much of earnest, quivering +hope. + +She followed him almost at once as she had promised. + +The parlour door was open. She came to it in her light, impetuous way. +She halted on the threshold. + +"Jeff!" she said. "Come here!" + +She reached out her hands to him--little, nervous hands full of purpose. +She drew him close. She raised her lips to his. The mistletoe dangled +above their heads. + +"Will you kiss me, Jeff?" she whispered. + +He stooped, half-hesitating. + +Her arms stole about his neck. "You needn't--ever--be afraid to kiss +your own wife, dear," she said. "I want your love just in the ordinary +way--the ordinary way." + +He held her to him. "Dot--Dot--forgive me!" + +She shook her head with frank, fearless eyes raised to his. "It was a +bad bargain, Jeff. Forget it!" + +"And make another?" he suggested. + +To which she answered with her quick smile. "Love makes no bargains, +Jeff. Love just gives--and gives--and gives." + +And as his lips met hers he knew the wondrous truth of what she said. +For in that one long kiss she gave him all she had. And love conquered, +just in the old, sweet, ordinary way. + +[Footnote 2: Copyright, 1915, by Ethel M. Dell.] + + + + +The Place of Honour + +Wherein a woman with a love of freedom, two soldiers in the Indian Army, +and a snake-bite are most intimately concerned. + +CHAPTER I + +THE BRIDE + + +"And that is the major's bride? Ah, what a pity!" + +The soft, Irish eyes of Mrs. Raleigh, the surgeon's wife, looked across +the ball-room with a very real compassion in their grey depths. + +"Pity?" said young Turner, the subaltern, who chanced to be at that +moment in attendance upon her. "It's worse than that; it's a monstrous +shame! She's only nineteen, you know; and he is twenty years older at +least." + +Mrs. Raleigh sighed. + +"You have met her, Phil," she said. "I am going to get you to introduce +me. Let us go across to her." + +Mrs. Raleigh was greatly beloved by all subalterns. Her husband's +bungalow was open to them day and night, and they took full advantage +of the fact. + +It was not that there was anything particularly brilliant about the +surgeon's wife, but her ready sympathy made her a general favourite, and +her kindness of heart was known to be equal to the severest strain. + +Therefore, among the boys of the regiment she ruled supreme, and the +expression of her lightest wish generally provoked a jealous scramble. + +On the present occasion, however, young Turner did not display any +special alacrity to serve her. + +"There's such a crowd round her it's difficult to squeeze in edgeways," +he said. "I shouldn't trouble to go across yet if I were you." + +Mrs. Raleigh laughed a little and laid her hand on his arm. + +"So you don't like hovering on the outskirts, Phil," she said. + +He frowned, and then as suddenly smiled. + +"I'm not the sort that cares to fool with a married woman," he declared. +"There goes Devereux to swell the throng. I say, let's go and have a +drink." + +She laughed again as she rose to accompany him. Phil Turner was severely +honest in all his ways, and, being a good woman, she liked him for it. + +Nevertheless, though she yielded, her eyes still dwelt upon the girl in +bridal white who sat like a queen among her courtiers. The dark head +that was held so regally erect caught and chained the elder woman's +fancy. And the vivid, careless beauty of the face was a thing to bear +away in the heart and dream of in solitude. For the girl was lovely with +that loveliness which even the most grudging must acknowledge. She shone +in the crowd that surrounded her like a rare and brilliant flower in a +garden of herbs. + +Phil Turner's arm stirred with slight impatience under Mrs. Raleigh's +hand, and she turned beside him. + +"There is nothing like a really beautiful English girl in all the +world," she said, with a smile and another glance in the bride's +direction. + +Young Turner grunted, and she gave his arm a slight shake. + +"You don't deceive me," she said. "You admire her as much as I do. Now, +be honest." + +He looked at her for a moment moodily. Then---- + +"Yes," he said abruptly, "I do admire her. But, as for the major, I +think he's the biggest fool on this side of the Indian Ocean, and that's +saying a good deal." + +Mrs. Raleigh shook her head as if she desired to disagree. + +"Time alone will prove," she said. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +EARLY BREEZES + + +"It's been lovely," said the bride. She leant back in the open carriage, +gazing with wide, charmed eyes into the vivid Indian night. "And I'm not +a bit tired," she added. "Are you?" + +The man beside her did not instantly reply. He was a man of medium +height, dark and lithe and amazingly strong. It was not his habit to +speak much, but what little he said was usually very much to the point. +It was his custom to mask his feelings so completely that very few had +the smallest inkling as to his state of mind. + +He was considered a hard man in his regiment, but he was known to be a +splendid soldier, and chiefly for that reason he was respected rather +than disliked. But the kindest critic could not have called him either +popular or attractive. And the news of his marriage in England had +fallen like a thunderbolt upon his Indian acquaintances, for he had long +ago come to be regarded among them as the last man in the world to +commit such a folly. + +The full extent thereof had not been apparent till his return to his +regiment, accompanied by his bride, and then as one man the whole mess +had risen and condemned him in no measured terms, for the bride, with +all her entrancing beauty, her vivacity, her charm, was certainly a +startling contrast to the man who had wedded her--a contrast so sharp as +to be almost painful to the onlookers. + +She herself, however, seemed to be wholly unaware of any incongruity. +Perhaps she had not seen enough of the world to feel it, or perhaps she +was wilfully blind to the things she did not desire to see. + +In any case her face, as she lay back in the carriage by her husband's +side, expressed only the most complete contentment. + +"Are you tired, Eustace?" she asked, as he did not hasten to reply to +her first question. + +"No," he answered, "not tired; but glad to be going back." + +"You've been bored," she said quickly. "What a frightful pity! Why did +you stay so long?" + +Again he paused before replying, and she drummed on his knee with her +fingers with slight impatience. + +"I had a notion," he said, in his quiet, unhurried tones, "that my wife +would have considered it rather hard lines to be dragged away while +there was a single man left to dance with." + +The bride snatched her hand from his knee with a swiftness of action +that could hardly be mistaken. He might have been speaking in fun, but, +even so, it was an ugly jest. More probably he had meant the sting that +his words conveyed, for, owing to a delicate knee-cap that had once been +splintered by a bullet and still at times gave him trouble, Major Tudor +was a non-dancer. Whatever his meaning, the remark came upon her flushed +triumph like the icy chill before the dawn, dispelling dreams. + +"I am sorry," she said, with all the haste of youth, "that you +sacrificed yourself to please me. I hope you will not do so again. Now +that I am married, I do not need a chaperon. I could quite well return +alone." + +It was childishly spoken, but then she was a child, and the admiration +she had enjoyed throughout the evening had slightly turned her head. He +did not reply to her speech. Indeed, it was as if he had not heard it. +And her indignation mounted. There was not another man of her +acquaintance who would have treated her with a like lack of courtesy. +Did he think, because he was her husband, that she belonged to him so +completely that he could behave to her exactly as he saw fit? Perhaps. +She did not know him very well; nor apparently did he know her. For +during the brief six weeks of their married life she had been a little +shy, a little constrained, in his presence. But her success had, as it +were, unshackled her. Without hesitation she gave her feelings the rein. + +"Do you consider that I am not to be trusted?" she asked him sharply. + +"I beg your pardon?" + +There was a note of surprised interrogation in his voice. She did not +look at him, but she knew that his eyebrows were raised, and a +faint--quite a faint--sense of misgiving stole over her. + +"I asked if you thought me untrustworthy," she asked. + +"Oh!" + +He relapsed into silence again, and she became exasperated. + +"Why don't you answer me?" she said, with quick impatience. + +He turned his head deliberately and looked at her; and again she tingled +with an apprehension which no previous word or action of his had ever +justified. + +"Unprofitable questions," he said coolly, "like ill-timed jests, are +better left alone." + +It was the first intentional snub he had ever administered to her, and +she quivered under it, furious but impotent. All the evening's enjoyment +had gone out of her. She was conscious only of a desire to strike back +and wound him as he had wounded her. + +She did not utter another word during the drive, and when they reached +their bungalow--the daintiest and most luxurious in the station--she +alighted without touching the hand he offered her. + +Refreshments awaited them in the dining-room, and the bride swept in +and helped herself, suffering her cloak to fall from her shoulders. He +picked it up and threw it over a chair. His dark face was quite composed +and inscrutable. He was not a handsome man, but there was something +undeniably striking about him, a strength of personality that made him +somehow formidable. The red and gold uniform he wore served to emphasise +the breadth of shoulder, which his height did not justify. He was a +splendid wrestler. There was not a man in the mess whom he could not +throw. + +Yet to those who knew him best, his strength seemed to lie less in what +he did than in what he left undone. His restraint was the secret of his +power. + +Perhaps his young wife felt this, for notwithstanding her utmost effort +she knew herself to be at a disadvantage. She set down her glass of +sherbet unfinished and turned to the door. It was an abrupt move, but he +was ready for it. Before she reached it, he was waiting with the handle +in his grasp. + +"Going to bed, Audrey?" he asked gravely, "Good-night!" + +His manner did not betray that he was aware of her displeasure, yet +somehow she was quite convinced that he knew. She paused for a second, +and then, with her head held high, she was about to pass him without an +answering word or glance. But to her amazement he stopped her, his hand +upon her arm. + +"Good-night!" he said again. + +She faced him then in a blaze of passion, with white cheeks and flaming +eyes. But as she met his look her heart gave a sudden thump of fright, +and in a second her resistance had crumbled away. He did not speak +another word, but his look compelled. Undeniably he was master. + +Mutely she raised her face for his kiss, and he kissed her. + +"Sleep well," he said. + +And she went from him, subdued and humbled, to her room. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +AMID THE RUINS + + +"Do let us get away somewhere and enjoy ourselves!" + +Audrey spoke in a quick undertone to the man nearest to her. It was +three weeks since her arrival at the Frontier station, and she had +settled down to the life with the ease of a born Anglo-Indian. Her first +vivid enjoyment of its gaieties was a thing of the past, but no one +suspected the fact, her husband least of all. She had not, as a matter +of fact, been much with him during those three weeks, for she had struck +up a warm friendship with Mrs. Raleigh, and in common with all the +younger spirits of the regiment she availed herself fully of the +privileges of the latter's hospitality. + +On the present occasion, however--that of a picnic by moonlight at the +crumbling shrine of some long-forgotten holy man--Mrs. Raleigh was +absent, and Audrey was bored. She had arrived in her husband's +ralli-car, which he had driven himself, but she had speedily drifted +away from his side. + +There was an element of perversity in her which made her resent the +feeling that he only accompanied her into society to watch over her, +and, if necessary, to keep her in order. It was not a particularly +worthy feeling, but certainly there was something about his attitude +that fostered it. + +She guessed, and rightly, that, but for her, he would not have troubled +himself to attend these social gatherings, which he obviously enjoyed so +little. So when, having deliberately and with mischievous intent given +him the slip, she awoke suddenly to the fact that he had followed and +was standing near her, Audrey became childishly exasperated and seized +the first means of escape that offered. + +The man she addressed was one of the least enthusiastic of her admirers, +but this did not trouble her at all. She had been a spoilt child all her +life, and she was accustomed to make use of others without stopping to +ascertain their inclinations. + +Phil Turner, however, was by no means unwilling to be made use of in +this way. The boy was a gentleman, and was as chivalrous at heart as he +was honest. + +He turned at once in response to her quick whisper and offered her his +arm. + +"There's an old well at the back of the ruin," he said. "Come and see +it. Mind the stones." + +"That was splendid of you," she said approvingly, as they moved away +together. "Are you always so prompt? But I know you're not. I shouldn't +have asked you, only I took you for Mr. Devereux. You are very like him +at the back." + +"Never heard that before!" he responded bluntly. "Don't believe it, +either, if you will forgive my saying so." + +She laughed, a merry, ringing laugh. + +"Oh, don't you like Mr. Devereux?" + +"Yes, he's all right." Phil seldom spoke a disparaging word of any of +his comrades. "But I haven't the smallest wish to be like him," he +added. + +Audrey laughed at him again, freely, musically. She found this young +officer rather more entertaining than the rest. + +They reached the other side of the shrine. Here, in a _débris_ of stones +and weeds, there appeared the circular mouth of an old well, forgotten +like the shrine and long disused. + +Audrey examined the edge with a fastidious air, and finally sat down on +it. The place was flooded with moonlight. + +"I wish I were a man," she said suddenly. + +"Good Heavens! Why?" + +He asked the question in amazement. + +"I should like to be your equal," she told him gaily. "I should like to +do and say to you just exactly what I liked." + +Phil considered this seriously. + +"You can do both without being my equal," he remarked at length in his +bluntest tone, "that is, if you care to condescend." + +"Goodness!" laughed Audrey. "That's the only pretty thing I have ever +heard you say. I am sure it must be your first attempt. Now, isn't it?" + +He laughed. + +"And it wasn't strictly honest," proceeded Audrey daringly. "You know +you don't think that of any woman under the sun." + +He did not contradict her. He had a feeling that she was fooling him, +but somehow he rather liked it. + +"What about the women under the moon?" he said. "Perhaps they are +different?" + +She nodded merrily. + +"Perhaps they are," she conceded. "Certainly the men are. Now, you are +about the stodgiest person I know by daylight or lamplight +except--except--" She stopped. "No, I don't mean that!" she said, with +an impish smile. "There is no exception." + +Phil was frowning a little, but he looked relieved at her amendment. + +"Thank you!" he said brusquely. "I shall never dare to come near you +after that." + +"Except by moonlight?" she suggested, with the impudent audacity of a +child. + +What reply he would have made to that piece of nonsense he sometimes +wondered afterward, but circumstances prevented his making any. The +words had only just passed her lips when she sprang to her feet with a +wild shriek of horror, shaking her arm with frantic violence. + +"A snake!" she cried. "Take it away! Take it away! It's on my wrist!" + +Phil Turner, though young, was accustomed to keep his wits about him, +and, luckily for the girl, her agony did not scare them away. He had +seized her arm in a fierce grip almost before her frenzied appeal was +uttered. A small snake was coiled round her wrist, and he tore it away +with his free hand, not caring how he grasped it. He tried to fling the +thing from him, but somehow his hold upon it was not sufficient. Before +he knew it the creature had shot up his sleeve. + +The next instant he had shaken it down again with a muffled curse and +was trampling it savagely and vindictively into the stones at his feet. + +"Are you hurt?" he asked, wheeling sharply. + +"No," gasped Audrey, "no! But you--" + +"Yes, the little beast's bitten me," he returned. "You see--" + +"Oh, where, where?" she cried. "Let me see! Quick, quick! Something must +be done. Can't you suck it?" + +He pushed up his sleeve. + +"No; can't get at it," he said. "It's just below the elbow. Never mind; +it isn't serious!" + +He would have tweaked his sleeve down again, though he was pale under +his sunburn. But Audrey stopped him, holding his bare arm between her +hands. + +"Don't be a fool!" she gasped vehemently. "If you can't, I can--and I +will!" + +Before he could stop her she had stooped, still holding him fast, and +put her lips to the tiny puncture in his flesh, on which scarcely more +than a speck of blood was visible. + +Phil stiffened and stood still, every nerve rigid, as if something had +transfixed him. At last, hurriedly, jerkily, he spoke: + +"Mrs. Tudor--for Heaven's sake! I can't let you do this. It wasn't +poisonous, ten to one. Don't! I say, Audrey--please don't!" + +His voice was imploring, but she paid no heed. Her lips continued to +draw at the wound, while he, half-distracted, bent over her, protesting, +scarcely conscious of what he said, yet submitting in spite of himself. + +There came the sound of running feet, and he guessed that her scream had +given the alarm. He stood up with mingled agitation and relief, and an +instant later was face to face with her husband. + +"I--couldn't help it!" he stammered. "It was a snake-bite." + +People were crowding round them with questions and exclamations. But +Tudor gave utterance to neither. He only put his hand on his wife's +shoulder and spoke to her. + +"That will do, Audrey," he said. "There's a doctor here. Leave it to +him." + +At his words Audrey straightened herself, quivering all over; and then, +unnerved by sheer horror, she put out her hands with an unconscious +groping gesture, and fainted. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +AN UNCONVENTIONAL CALL + + +Audrey had been an only girl at home, and had run wild all her life +amongst a host of brothers. She had seen next to nothing of the world +previous to her marriage, consequently her knowledge of its ways was +extremely slender. + +That she had grown up headstrong and extremely unconventional was +scarcely to be wondered at. + +It had been entirely by her own choice that she had married Eustace +Tudor. She had just awakened to the fact that the family nest, like the +family purse, was of exceedingly narrow dimensions; and a passion for +exploring both mentally and physically was hers. + +They had met only a couple of months before he was due to sail for +India, and his proposal to her had been necessarily somewhat +precipitate. She had admired him wholeheartedly for he was a soldier of +no mean repute, and the glamour of marriage had done the rest. She had +married him and had, for nearly six weeks, thereafter, been supremely +happy. True, he had not made much love to her; it was not apparently +his way, but he had been full of kindness and consideration. And Audrey +had been content. + +But, arrived in that Indian Frontier station where all the world was +gay, she had become at once the centre of attraction, of admiration; +and, responding to this with girlish zest, she had begun to find +something lacking in her husband's treatment. + +It dawned upon her that, where others worshipped with open devotion, he +did not so much as bend the knee. And, over and above this serious +defect, he was critical of her actions and inclined to keep her in +order. + +This made her reckless at first, even defiant; but she found he could +master her defiance, and that frightened her. It made her uncertain as +to how far it was safe to resist him. And, being afraid of him, she +shrank a little from too close or intimate a companionship with him. + +She told herself that she valued her liberty too highly to part lightly +with it; but the reason in her heart was not this, and with all her +wilfulness, her childish self-sufficiency, she knew that it was not. + +On the morning that followed the moonlight picnic she deliberately +feigned sleep when he rose, lest he should think fit to prohibit her +early ride. She had not slept well after her fright; but she had a +project in her mind, and she fully meant to carry it out. + +She lay chafing till his horse's hoof-beats told her that he was +leaving the house behind him; then she, too, rose and ordered her own +horse. + +Phil Turner, haggard and depressed after a night of considerable pain, +was sitting up in bed with his arm in a sling, drinking tea, when a +fellow-subaltern, who with two others shared the bungalow with him, +entered, half-dressed and dishevelled, with the astounding news that +Mrs. Tudor was waiting in the compound to know how he was. + +Phil shot upright in amazement. + +"Good Heavens, man! She herself?" he ejaculated. + +His brother officer nodded, grinning. + +"What's to be done? Send out word that you're still alive though not too +chirpy, and would she like anything to drink on the veranda? I can't go, +you know; I'm not dressed." + +"Don't be an ass! Clear out and send me my bearer." + +Phil spoke with decision. Since Mrs. Tudor had elected to do this +extraordinary thing, it was not for him to refuse to follow her lead. He +was too far in her debt, even had he desired to do so. + +His bearer, therefore, was dispatched with a courteous message, and when +Phil entered the veranda a quarter of an hour later he found her +awaiting him there. + +"This is awfully kind of you," he said, as he grasped her outstretched +hand. "I was horribly put out about you! You are none the worse?" + +"Not a mite," she assured him. "And you? Your arm?" + +He made a face. + +"Raleigh was with me half the night, watching for dangerous symptoms; +but they didn't develop. He cauterized my arm as a precaution--a beastly +business. He hasn't been round again yet, but I believe it's better. +Yes, it was a poisonous bite. It would have been the death of me in all +probability, but for you. He told me so. I--I'm awfully obliged to you!" + +He coloured deeply as he made his clumsy acknowledgments. He did not +find it an easy task. As for Audrey, she put out her hands swiftly to +stop him. + +"Ah, don't!" she said. "You did a far greater thing for me." She +shuddered and put the matter from her. "I'm sure you ought not to be +up," she went on. "I shouldn't have waited, only I thought you might +feel hurt if I went away after you had sent out word that you would see +me. I think I'll go now. Good-bye!" + +There came the jingle of spurs on the veranda, and both started. The +colour rose in a great wave to the girl's face as she saw who it was, +but she turned at once to meet the newcomer. + +"Oh, Eustace," she said, "so you are back already from the +parade-ground!" + +He did not show any surprise at finding her there. + +"Yes; just returned," he said, with no more than a quiet glance at her +flushed face. + +"How are you, Phil? Had any sleep?" + +"Not much," Phil owned, with unmistakable embarrassment. "But Raleigh +says I'm not going to die this time. It was good of you--and Mrs. +Tudor--to look in. Won't you have something? That lazy beast Travers +isn't dressed yet!" + +"Oh, yes, he is!" said Travers, appearing at that moment. "I'll punch +your head for you, my boy, when we're alone! Hullo, Major! Come to see +the interesting invalid? You'll have some breakfast, won't you? Mrs. +Tudor will pour out tea for us." + +But Tudor declined their hospitality briefly but decidedly, and Audrey +was obliged to support him. + +Travers assisted her to mount, expressing his regret the while; and when +they were gone he turned round to his comrade with a grin. + +"The major seems to be in a genial mood this morning," he remarked. "Had +they arranged to meet here?" + +But Phil turned back into the bungalow with a heavy frown. + +"The major's a bungling fool!" he said bitterly. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE BARRIER + + +Tudor was very quiet and preoccupied during breakfast, but Audrey would +not notice it; and when at length she rose from the table she laid her +fingers for a second on his shoulder in a passing caress. + +He turned instantly and took her hand. + +"Just a moment, Audrey!" he said gravely. + +She stopped unwillingly, her hand fidgeting ineffectually to be free. + +He rose, still holding it in a quiet, strong grasp. He was frowning +slightly. + +"I only want to say," he said, "that what you did this morning was +somewhat unusual, though you may not have been aware of it. Please don't +do it again!" + +Her cheeks flamed, and she met his eyes defiantly. She left her hand in +his rather than prove her weakness, but quite suddenly she was trembling +all over. It was a moment for asserting her freedom of action, and she +fully meant to do so; but she was none the less afraid. + +"I was aware of it," she said, speaking very quickly before his look +could disconcert her. "But then what I did last night was unusual, too. +Also what Phil Turner did for me. You--you don't seem to realise that he +saved my life!" + +"I think you discharged your debt," Tudor returned, with a certain +dryness that struck her unpleasantly. + +"What else could I have done?" she demanded stormily. "If you had been +in my place--" + +He stopped her. + +"I was not discussing that," he said. "I have not blamed you for that. +Under the circumstances, you did the best thing possible. But I can't +say the same of your conduct this morning; and since you knew that what +you did was highly unconventional, I blame you for it. I hope you will +be more careful in the future." + +Audrey was chafing openly before he ended. + +"You treat me like a child," she broke in, the instant he paused. "You +don't give me credit for any judgment or discretion of my own." + +He raised his eyebrows. + +"That is hardly remarkable," he said. + +She snatched her hand from him at last, too exasperated for the moment +to care what she did or how she did it. + +"It is remarkable," she declared, her voice quivering with wrath. +"It--it's intolerable. And there's something else that struck me as +remarkable, too, and that is that you didn't think it worth while even +to thank Phil for--for saving my life last night. I think you might +have expressed a little gratitude, even--even if you didn't feel it." + +The bitter words were uttered before she realised their full bitterness. +But the moment she had spoken them she knew, for his face told her. + +A dead silence followed her outburst, and while it lasted she was +casting about wildly for some means of escape other than headlong +flight. Then, as if he read her impulse in her eyes, he moved at last +and turned aside. + +She did not hear his sigh as she made her escape, or even then she might +have scaled the barrier that divided them, and found beyond it a better +thing than the freedom she prized so highly. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +MRS. TUDOR'S CONFESSION + + +"Come in and sit down, Mrs. Tudor. Mrs. Raleigh isn't at home. But she +can't be long now. I have been waiting nearly half an hour." + +Phil Turner hoisted himself out of the easiest chair in the Raleighs' +drawing-room as he uttered the words, and advanced with a friendly smile +to greet the newcomer. + +"Oh, isn't she in?" said Audrey. "I am afraid I took her for granted at +the door." + +"We all do," he assured her. "It is what she likes best. Do you know, I +haven't seen you for nearly a fortnight? I called, you know, twice; but +you were out." + +Audrey laughed inconsequently. + +"Why don't you treat me as you treat Mrs. Raleigh?" she said. "Come in +and wait, next time." + +Phil smiled as he handed her to the chair he had just vacated. + +"The major isn't so kind to subalterns," he said. "He would certainly +think, if he didn't say it, that it was like my cheek." + +Audrey frowned over this. + +"I don't see what he has to do with it," she declared finally. "But it +doesn't signify. How is your arm?" + +"Practically convalescent, thanks! There's nothing like first aid, you +know. I say, Mrs. Tudor, you weren't any the worse? It didn't hurt you?" + +He looked down at her with anxiety in his frank eyes, and Audrey was +conscious suddenly that he was no longer a mere casual acquaintance. +Perhaps she had been vaguely aware of it before, but the actual +realisation of it had not been in her mind till that moment. + +She laughed lightly. + +"Of course not," she said. "How could it? Don't be so ridiculous, Phil." + +His face cleared. + +"That's right," he said heartily. "Don't mind me. But I couldn't help +wondering. And I thought it was so decent of you to come round and look +me up on that first morning." + +Audrey's smile faded. + +"I am glad you thought it was decent, anyhow," she said, with a touch of +bitterness. "No one else did." + +"Oh, rot, Mrs. Tudor!" + +Phil spoke hastily. He was frowning, as his custom was when embarrassed. + +She looked up at him and nodded emphatically. + +"Yes, it was--just that," she said, an odd little note of passion in +her voice. "I never thought of these things before, but it seems that +here no one thinks of anything else." + +"Don't take any notice of it," said Phil. "It isn't worth it." + +"I can't help myself," said Audrey. "You see--I'm married!" + +"So is Mrs. Raleigh." Phil spoke with sudden heat. "But she doesn't +care." + +"No, I know. But her husband is such an old dear. Everything she does is +right in his eyes." + +It was skating on thin ice, and Phil at least realised it. He made an +abrupt effort to pull up. + +"Yes, I'm awfully fond of Major Raleigh," he said. "By the way, he's an +immense admirer of yours. Your promptitude the other night quite won his +heart. He complimented your husband upon it." + +"Did he? What did Eustace say?" + +There was more than curiosity in Audrey's voice. + +"I don't know." + +Phil's eyes suddenly avoided hers. He spoke in a dogged, half-surly +tone. + +Audrey sat and looked at him for a moment. Then lightly she rose and +stood before him. + +"Tell me, please!" she said imperiously. + +He made a sharp gesture of remonstrance. + +"Sorry," he said, after a moment, as she waited inexorably. "I can't!" + +"Oh, but you can!" she returned. "You're not to say you won't to me." + +He looked down at her. + +"I am sorry!" he said less brusquely. "But it can't be done. It isn't +worth a tussle, I assure you, nor is it worth the possible annoyance it +might cause you if you had your way. Look here, can't we talk of +something else?" + +She laid her hand impulsively on his arm. + +"Tell me, Phil!" she said. + +He drew back abruptly. + +"You put me in a beastly position, Mrs. Tudor," he said. "I hate +repeating things. It isn't fair to corner me like this." + +"Don't be absurd!" said Audrey. Her face was flushed and determined. She +was bent upon having her own way in this, at least. "I shall begin to +hate you in a minute." + +But Phil could be determined, too. + +"Can't help it," he said; but there was genuine regret in his voice. +"You'll have to, I'm afraid." + +He was scarcely prepared for the effect of his words. She flung away +from him in tempestuous anger and turned as if to leave the room. But +before she reached the door some other impulse apparently overtook her. +She stopped abruptly with her back to Phil, and stood for what seemed to +him interminable seconds, fumbling with her handkerchief. + +Then, before he had fully realised the approaching catastrophe, her +self-control suddenly deserted her. She sank into a chair with her hands +over her face and began to cry. + +Now, Phil was young, and no woman had ever thus abandoned herself to +tears in his presence before. The sight sent a sharp shock through him +that was almost like a dart of physical pain. It paralysed him for an +instant; but the next he strode forward, convention flung to the winds, +desirous only to comfort. He reached her and bent over her, one hand +upon her shaking shoulder. + +"I say, Mrs. Tudor, don't--don't!" he urged. "What is the matter? You're +not crying because I wouldn't do as you asked me? You couldn't care all +that for such a trifle?" + +His voice was husky with agitation. He felt guiltily that it was all his +fault, and he could have kicked himself for his clumsiness. + +She did not answer him, nor did her sobs grow less. It was the pent-up +misery of weeks to which she was giving vent, and, having yielded, it +was no easy matter to check herself again. + +Phil became desperate and knelt down by her side, almost as distressed +as she. + +"I say," he pleaded--"I say, Audrey, don't cry! Tell me what is wrong. +Let me help you. Give me a chance, anyhow. I--I'd do anything in the +world, you know. Only tell me." + +He drew one of her hands away from her face and held it between his own. +She did not resist him. Her need of a comforter just then was very +great. Her head was bowed almost against his shoulder and it did not +occur to either of them that they were transgressing the most +elementary laws of conventionality. + +"You can't help me," she sobbed at last. "No one can. I'm just lonely +and miserable and homesick. I hate this place and everyone in it +except--except you--and a few others. I wish I were back in England. I +wish I'd never left it. I wish--I wish--I'd never married." + +Her voice came muffled and piteous. It was the cry of a desolate child. +And all the deep chivalry in Phil's soul quivered and thrilled in +response. Before he knew it, tender, consoling words had sprung to his +lips. + +"Don't cry, dear; don't cry!" he said. "You'll feel better about it +presently. We all go through it, and it's beastly, I know, I know. But +it won't last. Nothing does in this chancy world. So what's the good of +fretting?" + +She could not tell him. Her trouble was too immense at that moment to +bear discussion. But he comforted her. She liked the feel of his hand +upon her shoulder; the firm, friendly grasp of his fingers about her +own. + +"I sometimes think I can't go on," she whispered through her tears. +"It's like being in prison, and I want to run away. Only I can't--I +can't. I've got to bear it all my life." + +A slight sound from the open window followed this confidence, and Phil +looked up sharply. Audrey had not heard it, and she did not notice his +movement. + +Her head was still bent; and over it Phil, glaring like a tiger, met +the quiet, critical eyes of the girl's husband. + +He rose to his feet the next instant, but he did not utter a word. + +As for Tudor, he stood quite motionless, quite inscrutable, for the +space of seconds, looking gravely in upon them. Then, to Phil's +unspeakable amazement, he turned deliberately and walked away. There was +thick matting on Mrs. Raleigh's veranda, and his receding footsteps made +no sound. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +AN UNPLEASANT INTERVIEW + + +"There!" said Audrey, a few seconds later, "I've been a perfect idiot, I +know; but I'm better now. Tell me, do I look as if I had been crying?" + +She raised her pretty, woebegone face to his and smiled very faintly. + +There was something unmistakably grim about Phil at that moment, and she +wondered why. + +"Of course you do," he said bluntly. + +Audrey got up and peered at herself uneasily in a mirror. + +"It doesn't show much," she said, after a careful inspection. "And, +anyhow"--turning round to him--"I don't know what you have to be cross +about. It--it was all your fault!" + +Phil groaned and held his peace. She would know soon enough, he +reflected. + +Audrey drew nearer to him. + +"Tell me what he said to Major Raleigh, Phil," she said rather +tremulously. + +He shrugged his shoulders and yielded. + +"He only said that he wished your discretion equalled your promptitude +in emergencies," he said. + +"Oh," said Audrey. "Was that all? Well, I think you might have told me +before." + +Phil laughed grudgingly. The situation was abominable, but her utter +childishness palliated it. How was Tudor going to treat the matter? he +wondered. What if he-- + +A sudden thought flashed across Phil's brain, and his face grew set. Of +course it had been his fault, since she said so. It remained therefore +for him to extricate her, if he could. He turned to her. + +"Look here, Mrs. Tudor," he said, in a judicious, elder-brotherly tone, +"I think it's a mistake, don't you know, to let yourself get depressed +over--well, little things. I know what it is to feel down on your luck. +But luck turns, you know, and--and--he's a good sort--a bit stiff and +difficult to get on with, but still--a good sort. You won't think me +rude if I leave you now? I didn't expect Mrs. Raleigh to be so long, and +I'm afraid I can't wait any longer. I've got to dress for mess." + +"Goodness!" said Audrey, with a glance at the clock. "Does it take you +two hours? No, don't scowl! I'm only joking, so you needn't be cross. +Good-bye, then! Thank you for being kind to me." + +Her hand lay in his for a moment. She was smiling at him rather sadly, +notwithstanding her half-bantering words. + +Phil paused a second. + +"I'm confoundedly sorry!" he said impulsively. "Don't cry any more." + +She shook her head and withdrew her hand. + +"Who says I've been crying?" she said lightly. "Go away, and don't be +silly!" + +He took her at her word and departed. + +At the gate of the compound he met Mrs. Raleigh, but he refused to turn +back with her. + +"I really must go; I've got an engagement," he said. "But Mrs. Tudor is +waiting for you. Keep her as long as you can. I believe she's a bit +down--homesick, you know." And he hurried away, breaking into a run as +soon as he reached the road. + +He went straight to the Tudor's bungalow without giving himself time to +flinch from the interview that he had made up his mind he must have. + +The major _sahib_ was in, the _khitmutgar_ told him and Phil scribbled +an urgent message on his card and sent it to him. Two minutes later he +was shown into his superior officer's presence, and he realised that he +stood committed to the gravest task he had ever undertaken. + +Major Tudor was sitting unoccupied before the writing-table in his +smoking-room, but he rose as Phil entered. His face was composed as +usual. + +"Well, Mr. Turner?" he said, as Phil came heavily forward. + +Phil, more nervous than he had ever been before, halted in front of +him. + +"I came to speak to you, sir," he said with an effort, "to--to +explain--" + +Tudor was standing with his back to the light. He made no attempt to +help him out of his difficulties. + +Phil came to an abrupt pause; then, as if some inner force had suddenly +come to his assistance, he straightened himself and tackled the matter +afresh. + +"I came to tell you, sir," he said, meeting Tudor's eyes squarely, "that +I have nothing to be ashamed of. In case"--he paused momentarily--"you +should misunderstand what you saw half an hour ago, I thought it better +to speak at once." + +"Very prudent," said Tudor. "But--it is quite unnecessary. I do not +misunderstand." + +He spoke deliberately and coldly. But Phil clenched his hands. The words +cut him like a whip. + +"You refuse to believe me?" he said. + +Tudor did not answer. + +"I must trouble you for an answer," Phil said, forcing himself to speak +quietly. + +"As you please," said Tudor, in the same cold tone. "I have a question +to put first. Had I not chanced to see what took place, would you have +sought this interview?" + +The blood rose in a hot wave to Phil's head, but he did not wince or +hesitate. + +"Of course I shouldn't," he said. + +Tudor made a curt gesture as of dismissal. + +"Out of your own mouth--" he said, and turned contemptuously away. + +Phil stood quite still for the space of ten seconds, then the young +blood in him suddenly mounted to fever pitch. He strode up to his major, +and seized him fiercely by the shoulder. + +"I won't bear this from any man," he said between his teeth. "I am as +honourable as you are! If you say--or insinuate--otherwise, I--by +Heaven--I'll kill you!" + +The passionate words ceased, and there followed a silence more terrible +than any speech. Tudor stood absolutely motionless, facing the young +subaltern who towered over him, without a sign of either anger or +dismay. + +Then at last, very slowly and quietly, he spoke: + +"You have made a mistake. Take your hand away." + +Phil's hand dropped to his side. He was white to the lips. Yet he would +not relinquish his purpose at a word. + +"It hasn't been for my own sake," he said, his voice still shaking with +the anger he could not subdue. + +Tudor made no response. He stood with his eyes fixed steadily upon +Phil's agitated face. And, as if compelled by that searching gaze, Phil +reiterated the assertion. + +"If I had only had myself to consider," he said, "I shouldn't +have--stooped--to offer an explanation." + +"Let me remind you," Tudor said quietly, "that I have not asked for +one." + +"You prefer to misunderstand?" said Phil quickly. + +"I prefer to take my own view," amended Tudor. "If you are wise--you +will be satisfied to leave it so." + +It was final, and, though far from satisfied, Phil felt the futility of +further discussion. He turned to the door. + +"Very well, sir," he said briefly, and went out, holding his head high. + +As for Tudor, he sat down again before his writing-table with an unmoved +countenance, and after a short interval took up his correspondence. +There was no anger in his eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +AT THE DANCE + + +Audrey saw no more of Phil Turner for some days. She did not enjoy much +of her husband's society, either. He appeared to be too busy to think of +her, and she in consequence spent most of her time with Mrs. Raleigh. +But Phil, who had been one of the latter's most constant visitors, did +not show himself there. + +It did not occur to Audrey that he absented himself on her account, and +she was disappointed not to meet him. Next perhaps to the surgeon's +wife, she had begun to regard him as her greatest friend. Certainly the +tie of obligation that bound them together was one that seemed to +warrant an intimate friendship. Moreover, Phil had been exceptionally +kind to her in distress, kinder far than Eustace had ever been. + +She was growing away from her husband very rapidly, and she knew it, +mourned over it even in softer moments; but she felt powerless to remedy +the evil. It seemed so obvious to her that he did not care. + +So she spent more and more of her hours away from the bungalow that had +been made so dainty for her presence, and Eustace never seemed to notice +that she was absent from his side. + +He accompanied her always when she went out in the evening, but he no +longer intruded his guardianship upon her, and deep in her inmost heart +this thing hurt his young wife as nothing had ever hurt her before. She +had her own way in all matters, but it gave her no pleasure; and the +feeling that, though he might not approve of what she did, he would +never remonstrate, grew and festered within her till she sometimes +marvelled that he did not read her misery in her eyes. + +She met Phil Turner again at length at a regimental dance. As usual her +card was quickly filled, but she reserved a waltz for him, and after a +while he came across and asked her for one. + +"You were very nearly too late," she told him. "Why didn't you come +before?" + +He looked awkward for a moment. Then-- + +"I was busy," he said rather shortly. "I'm one of the stewards." + +He scrawled his initials across her card and left her again. Audrey +concluded in her girlish way that something had made him cross, and +dismissed him from her mind. + +When at length he came to claim her she was hot and tired and suggested +sitting out. + +He frowned at the idea, but, upon Audrey waxing imperious, he yielded. +They sat out together, but not in the cool dark of the veranda as she +had anticipated, but in the full glare of the ballroom amidst all the +hubbub of the dancers. + +Audrey was annoyed, and showed it. + +"I am sure we might find a seat on the veranda," she said. + +But Phil was obstinate. + +"I assure you, Mrs. Tudor," he said, "I looked in there just now, and +every seat was occupied." + +"I don't believe you are telling the truth," she returned. + +He raised his eyebrows. + +"Thank you!" he said briefly. + +Something in the curt reply caught her attention, and she gave him a +quick glance. He was looking remarkably handsome in his red and gold +uniform with the scarlet cummerbund across his shirt. Vexed as she was +with him, Audrey could not help admitting it to herself. His brown, +resolute face attracted her irresistibly. + +She allowed a considerable pause to ensue before she went to the +inevitable attack. Somehow, notwithstanding his surliness, she had not +the faintest desire to quarrel with him. + +"You're very grumpy to-night," she remarked at length in her cheery +young voice. "What's the matter?" + +He started and looked intensely uncomfortable. + +"Nothing--of course!" he said. + +"Why of course? I wonder. With me it's the other way round. I am never +cross without a reason." + +Audrey was still cheery. + +He smiled faintly. + +"I congratulate you," he said. + +Audrey smiled also. Fully exposed as was their position, there was no +one near enough to overhear. + +"Well, don't be cross any more, Phil," she said persuasively. "Cheer up, +and come to tiffin with me to-morrow. Will you? I shall be quite alone." + +Phil's smile departed instantly. He glanced at her for a second, and +then fixed his eyes steadily upon the ground between his feet. + +"You're awfully good!" he said at last. "But--thanks very much--I +can't." + +"Can't?" echoed Audrey, with genuine disappointment. "Oh, I'm sure +that's nonsense! Why can't you? You're not on duty?" + +"No," he said, speaking slowly, "I'm not on duty; but--fact is, I'm +going up to the Hills shooting for a few days and--I shall be busy, +packing guns and things. Besides--" + +"Oh, do stop!" she broke in, with sudden impatience. "I know you are +only making up as you go along. It's very horrid of you, besides being +contemptible. Why can't you say at once that you are not coming because +you don't want to come?" + +Her quick pride had taken fire at sound of his deliberate excuse; and, +as was its wont upon provocation, her anger flamed high at a moment's +notice. + +Phil did not look at her. His expression was decidedly uneasy, but +there was a certain grimness about him that did not seem to indicate the +probability of any excessive show of docility in face of a browbeating. + +"I don't say it," he said doggedly at length, "because, besides being +rude, it wouldn't be strictly true." + +"I shouldn't have thought you would have had any scruples of that sort," +rejoined Audrey, hitting her hardest because he had managed to hurt her. +"They haven't been very apparent to-night." + +Phil made no protest, but he was frowning heavily. + +She leant slightly towards him, speaking behind her fan. + +"Be honest just for a second," she said, "if you can, and tell me; are +you tired of calling yourself a friend of mine? Are you trying to get +out of it? Because, if you are, it's quite the easiest thing in the +world to do so. But once done--" + +She paused. Phil was looking at her at last, and there was something in +his eyes that startled her. A sudden pity rushed over her heart. She +felt as she had felt once long ago in England when a dog--an old friend +of hers--had been injured. He had looked at her with just such eyes as +those that were fixed upon her now. Their dumb pleading had been almost +more than she could bear. + +Involuntarily she laid her hand on his arm, music and dancers all +forgotten in that moment of swift emotion. + +"Phil," she whispered tremulously, "what is it? What is it?" + +He did not answer her by a single word. He simply rose to his feet, as +if by her action she had suggested it, and whirled her in among the +dancers. + +He kept her going to the very last chord, she too full of wonder and +uncertainty to protest; and then he led her straight through the room to +where Mrs. Raleigh stood, surrounded by the usual crowd of subalterns, +muttered an excuse, and left her there. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +DREADFUL NEWS + + +It was nearly a week later that Audrey, riding home alone in a rickshaw +from a polo-match, was overtaken by young Gerald Devereux, a subaltern, +who was tearing along on foot as if on some urgent errand. Recognising +her, he reduced his speed and dropped into a jog-trot by her side. + +"You haven't heard, of course?" he jerked out breathlessly. "Beastly bad +news! Those hill tribes--always up to some devilry! Poor old +Phil--infernal luck!" + +"What?" exclaimed Audrey. "What has happened to him? Tell me, quick, +quick!" + +She turned as white as paper, and Devereux cursed himself for a clumsy +fool. + +"It may not be the worst," he gasped back. "Dash it! I'm so winded! We +hope, you know, we hope--but it's usually a knife and good-bye with +these ruffians. Still, there's a chance--just a chance." + +"But you haven't told me what has happened yet," cried Audrey, in a +fever of impatience. + +He answered her, still running by her side "The Waris have got him; +rushed his camp at night and bagged everything. The coolies were in the +know, no doubt. Only his _shikari_ got away. He has just come in wounded +with the news. I'm on my way to tell the Chief, though I don't see what +good he can do." + +"You mean you think he is murdered?" gasped Audrey, through white lips. + +He nodded. + +"Afraid so, poor beggar! Well, so long, Mrs. Tudor! We must hope for the +best as long as we can." + +He put his hand to his cap, and ran on, while Audrey, with a set, white +face, was borne to her bungalow. + +Her husband was sitting on the veranda. He rose as she alighted and gave +her his hand up the short flight of steps to his side. + +"You are rather late," he said in his grave way. "I am afraid you will +have to hurry." + +They were dining out that night, but Audrey had forgotten it. She stared +at him as if dazed. + +"What is it?" he asked. "Nothing wrong?" + +She gasped hysterically. + +"Oh, Eustace, an awful thing--an awful thing!" she cried. "Mr. Devereux +has just told me--" + +Her voice broke, and her lips formed soundless words. She groped vaguely +for support with one hand. + +Tudor put his arm round her and led her, tottering, indoors. + +"All right; tell me presently," he said quietly. "Sit down and keep +still for a little." + +He put her into an arm-chair and left her there. In a few seconds he +returned with some brandy and water, which he held to her lips in +silence. Then, setting down the glass, he began to rub her nerveless +hands. + +Audrey submitted passively at first to his ministrations, but presently +as her strength returned she sat up. + +"You haven't heard?" she asked him shakily. + +"I have heard nothing," he answered. "Can you tell me now?" + +"Yes--yes!" She paused a moment to steady her voice. Then--"It's Phil!" +she faltered. "He has been taken prisoner--murdered perhaps--by those +dreadful hill men! Oh Eustace"--lifting her face appealingly--"do you +think they would kill him? Do you? Do you?" + +But Tudor said nothing. He made no attempt to comfort her, and she +turned from him in bitter disappointment. His lack of sympathy at such a +moment was almost more than she could bear. + +"How did Devereux know?" he asked, after a pause. + +She shook her head. + +"He said something about a _shikari_. He was going to tell the colonel; +but he didn't think it would be any use. He said--he said--" + +She broke off, quivering with agitation. Her husband took the glass +from the table again and made her drink a little. She tried to refuse, +but he insisted. + +"You have had a shock. It will do you good," he said, in his level, +unmoved voice. + +And Audrey yielded to the mastery she had scarcely felt of late. + +The spirit helped to steady her, and at length she rose. + +"I am going to my room, Eustace," she said, not looking at him. +"I--can't go out to-night. Perhaps you will make my excuses." + +He did not answer her, and she threw him a swift glance. He was standing +stiff and upright. His face was stern and composed; it might have been a +stone mask. + +"What excuse am I to make?" he asked. + +Her eyes widened. The question was utterly unexpected. + +"Why, the truth--of course," she said. "Say that I have been upset by +the news, that--that--I hadn't the heart--I couldn't--Eustace,"--appealing +suddenly, a tremor of indignation in her voice--"you don't seem to realise +that he is one of my greatest friends. Don't you understand?" + +"Yes," he said--"yes, I understand!" + +And she marvelled at the coldness--the deadly, concentrated coldness--of +his voice. + +"All the same," he went on, "I think you must make an effort to +accompany me to the Bentleys' to-night. It might be thought unusual if +I went alone." + +She stared at him in sudden, amazed anger. + +"Eustace!" she exclaimed. "How can you be so cruel, so cold-blooded, +so--so heartless? How can you expect such a thing of me--to sit at table +and hear them all talking about it, and his chances discussed? I +couldn't--I couldn't!" + +He did not press the point. Perhaps he realised that her nerves in their +present condition would prove wholly unequal to such a strain. + +"Very well," he said quietly at length. "I will send a note to excuse us +both." + +"I don't see why you should stay at home," Audrey said, turning to the +door. "I would far rather be alone." + +He did not explain his motive, and she went out of his presence with a +sensation of relief. She had never fully realised before how wide the +gulf between them had become. + +She remained shut up in her room all the evening, eating nothing, face +to face with the horror of young Devereux's brief words. It was the +first time within her memory that death had approached her sheltered +life, and she was shocked and frightened, as a child is frightened by +the terrors of the dark. + +Very late that night she crept into bed, dismissing her _ayah_, and lay +there shivering and forlorn, thinking, thinking, of the cruel faces and +flashing knives that Phil had awaked to see. She dozed at last in her +misery, only to wake again with a shriek of nightmare terror, and start +up sobbing hysterically. + +"Why, Audrey!" a quiet voice said, and she woke fully, to find her +husband standing by her bed. + +She turned to him impulsively, hiding her face against him, clinging to +him with straining arms. She could not utter a word, for an anguish of +weeping overtook her. And he was silent also, bending over her, his hand +upon her head. + +Gradually the paroxysm passed and she grew quieter; but she still clung +closely to him, and at length with difficulty she began to speak. + +"Oh, Eustace, it's all so horrible! I can't help seeing it. I'm sure +he's dead, or, if he isn't, it's almost worse. And I was so--unkind to +him the last time we were together. I thought he was cross, but I know +now he was only miserable; and I never dreamt I was never going to see +him again, or I wouldn't have been so--so horrid!" + +Haltingly, pathetically, the poor little confession was gasped out +through quivering sobs and the face of the man who listened was no +longer a stony mask; it was alight and tender with a compassion too +great for utterance. + +He bent a little lower over her, pressing her head closer to his heart; +and she heard its beating, slow and strong and regular, through all the +turmoil of her distress. + +"Poor child!" he said. "Poor child!" + +It was all the comfort he had to offer, but it was more to her than any +other words he had ever spoken. It voiced a sympathy which till that +moment had been wholly lacking--a sympathy that she desired more than +anything else on earth. + +"Don't go away, Eustace!" she begged presently. "It--it's so dreadful +all alone." + +"Try to sleep, dear," he said gently. + +"Yes, but I dream, I dream," she whispered piteously. + +He laid her very tenderly back on the pillow, and sat down beside her. + +"You won't dream while I am here," he said. + +She clasped his hand closely in both her own and begged him tremulously +to kiss her. By the dim light of her night-lamp she could scarcely see +his face; but as her lips met his a great peace stole over her. She felt +as if he had stretched out his hands to her across the great, dividing +gulf that had opened between them and drawn her to his side. + +About a quarter of an hour later Eustace Tudor rose noiselessly and +stood looking down at his young wife's sleeping face. It was placid as +an infant's, and her breathing was soft and regular. He knew that, +undisturbed, she would sleep so for hours. + +And so he did not dare to kiss her. He only bowed his head till his lips +touched the coverlet beneath which she lay; and then stealthily, +silently, he crept away. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +A CHANGE OF PRISONERS + + +Heavens, how the night crawled! Phil Turner, bound hand and foot, and +cruelly cramped in every limb, hitched himself to a sitting posture and +began to calculate how long he probably had to live. + +There was no moon, but the starlight entered his prison--it was no more +than a mud hut, but had it been built of stone walls many feet thick his +chance would scarcely have been lessened. It was merely a question of +time, he knew, and he marvelled that his fate had been delayed so long. + +To use his comrade's descriptive language, he had expected "a knife and +good-bye" full twenty hours before. But neither had been his portion. He +had been made a prisoner before he was fully awake, and hustled away to +the native fort before sunrise. He had been given _chupatties_ to eat +and spring water to drink, and, though painfully stiff from his bonds, +he was unwounded. + +It had been a daring capture, he reflected; but what were they keeping +him for? Not for the sake of hospitality--of that he was grimly +certain. There had been no pretence at any friendly feeling on the part +of his captors. They had glared hatred at him from the outset, and Phil +was firmly convinced, without any undue pessimism, that they had not the +smallest intention of sparing his life. + +But why they postponed the final deed was a problem, that he found +himself quite unable to solve. It had worried him perpetually for twenty +hours, and, combined with the misery of his bonds, made sleep an +impossibility. + +Sleep! The very thought of it was horrible to him. It had never struck +him before as a criminal waste of the precious hours of life, for Phil +was young, and he had not done with mortal existence. There were in it +deeps he had not sounded, heights he had never scaled. He was not +prepared to forego these at the will of a parcel of murderous ruffians +who chanced to object to the white man's rule. He had friends, +too--friends he could not afford to lose--friends who could not afford +to lose him. + +Doubtless his murder would be avenged in due course; but--He grimaced +wrily to himself in the darkness, and tried once more to ease his +cramped limbs. + +From outside came the murmur of voices. He could just see the shoulder +of one of his guards at the entrance and the steel glint of a +rifle-barrel. He gazed at the latter hungrily. Oh, for just a sporting +chance--to be free even in the midst of his enemies with that in his +hand! + +A shadow fell across the entrance, and he saw the rifle no more. He saw +the two Wari sentinels salaaming profoundly, and he began to wonder who +the newcomer might be--a personage of some importance apparently. + +There followed an interval of some minutes, during which Phil began to +chafe with feverish impatience. Then at last the shadow became +substance, moving into his line of vision, and a man, wrapped in a long, +native garment and wearing a _chuddah_ that concealed the greater part +of his face, glided into the hut on noiseless, sandalled feet. + +He held a naked knife in his hand, and Phil's heart began to thud +unpleasantly. It taxed all a man's self-control to face death in cold +blood, trussed hand and foot and helpless as an infant. But he gripped +himself hard, and faced the weapon without flinching. It would not do to +let these murderous ruffians see a white man afraid. + +"Hullo!" he said contemptuously. "Come to put the finishing touch, I +suppose? You'll hang for it, you infernal, treacherous brute; but that's +a detail you border thieves don't seem to mind." + +It eased the tension to hurl verbal defiance at his murderer, and there +was just the chance that the fellow might understand a little English. +But when his visitor stooped over him and deliberately cut his bonds, he +was astounded into silence. + +He waited dumfounded, and a muscular hand gripped his shoulder, holding +him motionless. + +"You'll be all right," a quiet voice said, "if you don't make a +confounded fool of yourself." + +Phil gave a great start, and the hand that gripped him tightened. +Through the gloom he made out the outline of a grim, bearded face. + +"Control yourself!" the quiet voice ordered. "Do you think I've done +this for nothing? We are alone--it may be for five minutes, it may be +for less. Get out of your things--sharp, and let me have them." + +"Great Jupiter--Tudor!" gasped Phil. + +"Yes--Tudor!" came the curt response. "Don't stop to jaw. Do as I tell +you." + +He took his hand from Phil's shoulder and stood up, backing into the +shadows. + +Phil stood up, too, straightening himself with an effort. The suddenness +of this thing had thrown him momentarily off his balance. + +"Quick!" commanded Tudor in a fierce whisper. "Take off your clothes. +There isn't a second to lose." + +But Phil stood uncertain. + +"What's the game, Major?" he asked. + +Tudor's hand gripped him again and violently. + +"You fool!" he whispered savagely. "Don't stand gaping there! Can't you +see it's a matter of life and death? Do you want to be killed?" + +"No, but--" + +Phil broke off. Tudor in that frame of mind was a stranger to him, but +he was none the less one who must be obeyed. Mechanically almost he +yielded to the man's insistence and began to strip off his clothes. + +Tudor helped him with an energy that neither fumed nor faltered. Mute +obedience was all he required. But when he dropped the garment he wore +from his own shoulders, Phil paused to protest. + +"I am not going to wear that!" he said. "What about you?" + +"I can look after myself," Tudor answered curtly. "Get into it--quick! +There is no time for arguing. You're going to wear these, too." + +He pulled the ragged, black beard from his face and the _chuddah_ from +his head. + +But Phil's eyes were opened, and he resisted. + +"Heavens above, sir!" he said. "Do you think I'm going to do a thing +like that?" + +"You must!" Tudor answered. + +He spoke quietly, but there was deadly determination behind his +quietude. They faced one another in the gloom, and suddenly there ran +between them a passion of feeling that blazed unseen like the hidden +current in an electric wire. + +For a few seconds it burnt fiercely, silently; then Tudor laid a firm +hand on the younger man's shoulder. + +"You must," he said again. "The choice does not rest with you. It is +made already. It only remains for you to yield--whatever it may cost +you--as I am doing." + +Phil started as if he had struck him. + +"You are wrong, sir," he exclaimed. "On my oath, you are wrong. You +don't understand. You never have understood. I--I--" + +Tudor silenced him summarily with a hand upon his lips. + +"I know, I know!" he said. "There is no time for this. Leave it and go. +If it is any comfort to you to know it, I think no evil of you. I +realise that what has happened had to happen, was in a sense inevitable, +and I blame myself alone. Listen to me. This disguise will take you +through all right if you keep your mouth shut. You are a priest, +remember, preaching the Jehad, only I've done all the preaching +necessary. You have simply to walk straight through them, down the hill +till you come to the pass, and then along the river-bed till you strike +the road to the Frontier. It's six miles away, but you will do it before +sunrise. No, don't speak! I haven't finished yet. You are going to do +this not for your own sake or for mine. You think you are going to +refuse, but you are not. As for me, your going or staying could make no +difference. I have come with a certain object in view, but I shall +remain, whether I gain that object or not. That I swear to you most +solemnly." + +He turned away with the words and began to loosen his sandals. Phil +watched him dumbly. He was face to face with a difficulty of such +monstrous proportions that he was utterly nonplussed. From the distance +came the sound of voices. + +"You had better go," observed Tudor, in steady tones. "The guards are +coming back. It will hasten matters for both of us if we are discovered +like this." + +"Sir!" Phil burst out suddenly. "I--can't!" + +Tudor wheeled swiftly. It was almost as if he had been waiting for that +desperate appeal. He caught up the native garment and flung it over +Phil's shoulders. He dragged the beard down over his face and secured +the _chuddah_ about his head. He did it all with incredible rapidity and +a strength that would not be gainsaid. + +Then, holding Phil fast in a merciless, irresistible grasp, he spoke: + +"If you attempt to disobey me now, I'll kill myself with my own hands." + +There was no mistaking the resolution of his voice, and it wrought the +end of the battle--an end inevitable. Phil realised it and accepted it +with a groan. He did not utter another word of protest. He was +conquered, humiliated, powerless. Only when at last he was ready to +depart he stood up and faced Tudor, as he had faced him on the day that +the latter had refused to give him a hearing. + +"I've given in to you," he said; "but it's to save your life, if +possible, and for no other reason. You can think what you like of me, +but not--of her! Because, before Heaven, I believe this will break her +heart." + +He would have said more, but Tudor cut him short. + +"Go!" he said. "Go! I know what I am doing--better than you think!" + +And Phil turned in silence and went out into the world-wide starlight. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE AWAKENING + + +The sun was already high when Audrey awoke. She started up, refreshed in +body and mind. Her first thought was of her husband. No doubt he had +gone out long before. He always rose early, even when off duty. + +Then she remembered Phil, and her face contracted as all the trouble of +the night before rushed back upon her. Was he still living? she +wondered. + +She stretched out her hand to ring for her _ayah_. But as she did so her +eyes fell upon a table by her side and she caught sight of an envelope +lying there. She picked it up. + +It was addressed to herself in her husband's handwriting, and, with a +sharp sense of anxiety, she tore it open. The note it contained was +characteristically brief: + + I hope by the time you read this to have procured young Turner's + release, if he still lives--at no very great cost, I beg you to + believe. I desire the letter that you will find on my + writing-table to be sent at once to the colonel. There is also + a note for Mrs. Raleigh which I want you to deliver yourself. + God bless you, Audrey. + + E.T. + +Audrey looked up from the letter with startled eyes and white cheeks. +What did it mean? What had he been doing in the night while she slept? +How was it possible for him to have saved Phil? + +Trembling, she sprang from her bed and began to dress. Possibly the note +to Mrs. Raleigh might explain the mystery. She would ride round with it +at once. + +She went into Tudor's room before starting and found the letter for the +colonel. It was addressed and sealed. She gave it to a _syce_ with +orders to deliver it into the colonel's own hands without delay. + +Then, still quivering with an apprehension she would not own, she +mounted and rode away to the surgeon's bungalow. + +Mrs. Raleigh received her with some surprise. + +"Ah, come in!" she said kindly. "I'm delighted to see you, dear; but, +sure, you are riding very late. And is there anything the matter?" + +"Yes," gasped Audrey breathlessly. "I mean no, I hope not. My husband +has--has gone to try to save Phil Turner; and--and he left a note for +you, which I was to deliver. He went away in the night, but he--of +course he'll--be back--soon!" + +Her voice faltered and died away. There was a look on Mrs. Raleigh's +face, hidden as it were behind her smile, that struck terror to Audrey's +heart. She thrust out the letter in an anguish of unconcealed suspense. + +"Read it! Read it!" she implored, "and tell me what has +happened--quickly, for I--I don't understand!" + +Mrs. Raleigh took the letter, passing a supporting arm around the girl's +quivering form. + +"Sit down, dear!" she said tenderly. + +Audrey obeyed, but her face was still raised in voiceless supplication +as Mrs. Raleigh opened the letter. The pause that followed was terrible +to her. She endured it in wrung silence, her hands fast gripped +together. + +Then Mrs. Raleigh turned, and in her eyes was a deep compassion, a +motherly tenderness of pity, that was to Audrey the confirmation of her +worst fears. + +She did not speak again. Her heart felt constricted, paralysed. But Mrs. +Raleigh saw the entreaty which her whole body expressed, and, stooping, +she took the rigid hands into hers. + +"My dear," she said, "he has gone into the Hills in disguise, up to the +native fort beyond Wara, as that is where he expects to find Phil. +Heaven help him and bring them both back!" + +Audrey stared at her with a stunned expression. Her lips were quite +white, and Mrs. Raleigh thought she was going to faint. + +But Audrey did not lose consciousness. She sat there as if turned to +stone, trying to speak and failing to make any sound. At last, +convulsively, words came. + +"They will take him for a spy," she said, both hands pressed to her +throat as if something there hurt her intolerably. "The +Waris--torture--spies!" + +"My darling, my darling, we must hope--hope and pray!" said the +Irishwoman, holding her closely. + +Audrey turned suddenly, passionately, in the enfolding arms and clung to +her as if in physical agony. + +"You may, you may," she said in a dreadful whisper, "but I can't--for I +don't believe. Do you in your heart believe he will ever come back?" + +Mrs. Raleigh did not answer. + +Audrey went on, still holding her tightly: + +"Do you think I don't know why he wrote to you? It was to put me in your +care, because--because he knew he was never coming back. And shall +I--shall I tell you why he went?" + +"Darling, hush--hush!" pleaded Mrs. Raleigh, her voice unsteady with +emotion. "There, don't say any more! Put your head on my shoulder, love. +Let me hold you so." + +But Audrey's convulsive hold did not relax. She had been a child all her +life up to that moment, but, like a worn-out garment, her childhood had +slipped from her, and she had emerged a woman. The old, happy ignorance +was gone for ever, and the revelation that had dispelled it was almost +more than she could bear. Her newly developed womanhood suffered as +womanhood alone can suffer. + +And yet, could she have drawn the veil once more before her eyes and so +have deadened that agonising pain, she would not have done so. + +She was awake now. The long, long sleep with its gay dreams, its +careless illusions, was over. But it was better to be awake, better to +see and know things as they were, even if the anguish thereof killed +her. And so she refused the hushing comfort that only a child--such a +child as she had been but yesterday--could have found satisfying. + +"Yes, I can tell you--now--why he went," she said, in that tense whisper +which so wrung Mrs. Raleigh's heart. "He went--for my sake! Think of it! +Think of it! He went because I was fretting about Phil. He went +because--because he thought--- that Phil's safety--meant--my happiness, +and that _his_ safety--his--his precious life--didn't--count!" + +The awful words sank into breathless silence. Mrs. Raleigh was crying +silently. She was powerless to cope with this. But Audrey shed no tears. +It was beyond tears and beyond mourning--this terrible revelation that +had come to her. By-and-by, it might be, both would come to her, if she +lived. + +She rose suddenly at length with a sharp gasp, as of one seeking air. + +"I am going," she said, in a clear, strong voice, "to the colonel. He +will help me to save my husband." + +And with that she turned to the veranda, and met the commanding-officer +face to face. There was another man behind him, but she did not look at +him. She instantly, without a second's pause, addressed the colonel. + +"I was coming to you," she said through her white lips. "You will help +me. You must help me. My husband is a prisoner, and I am going into the +Hills to find him. You must follow with men and guns. He must be +saved--whatever it costs." + +The colonel laid his hand on her shoulder, looking down at her very +earnestly, very kindly. + +"My dear Mrs. Tudor," he said, "all that can be done shall be done, all +that is humanly possible. I have already told Turner so. Did you know +that he was safe?" + +He drew her forward a step, and she saw that the man behind him was Phil +Turner himself--Phil Turner, grave, strong, resolute, with all his +manhood strung up to the moment's emergency, all his boyhood submerged +in a responsibility that overwhelmed the lesser part of him, leaving +only that which was great. + +He went straight up to Audrey and took the hands she stretched out to +him. Neither of them felt the presence of onlookers. + +"He saved my life, Mrs. Tudor!" he said simply. "He forced me to take it +at his hands. But I'm going back with some men to find him. You stay +here with Mrs. Raleigh till we come back. We shall be quicker alone." + +A great sob burst from Audrey. It was as if the few gallant words had +loosened the awful constriction at her heart. + +"Oh, Phil, Phil!" she cried brokenly. "You understand--what this is to +me--how I love him--how I love him! Bring him back to me! Promise, Phil, +promise!" + +And Phil bent till his lips touched the hands he held. + +"I will do it," he said with reverence--"so help me, God!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +A WOMAN'S AGONY + + +All through the day and the night that followed Audrey watched and +waited. + +She spent the terrible hours at the Raleighs' bungalow, scarcely +conscious of her surroundings in her anguish of suspense. It possessed +her like a raging fever, and she could not rest. At times it almost +seemed to suffocate her, and then she would pace to and fro, to and fro, +hardly knowing what she did. + +Mrs. Raleigh never left her, caring for her with a maternal tenderness +that never flagged. But for her Audrey would almost certainly have +collapsed under the strain. + +"If he had only known! If he had only known!" she kept repeating. "But +how could he know? for I never showed him. How could he even guess? And +now he never can know. It's too late, too late!" + +Futile, bitter regret! All through the night it followed her, and when +morning came the haggard misery it had wrought upon her face had robbed +it of all its youth. + +Mrs. Raleigh tried to comfort her with hopeful words, but she did not +seem so much as to hear them. She was listening, listening intently, for +every sound. + +It was about noon that young Travers raced in, hot and breathless, but +he stopped short in evident dismay when he saw Audrey. He would have +withdrawn as precipitately as he had entered, but she sprang after him +and caught him by the arms. + +"You have news!" she cried wildly. "What is it? Oh, what is it? Tell me +quickly!" + +He hesitated and glanced nervously at Mrs. Raleigh. + +"Yes, tell her," the latter said. "It is better than suspense." + +And so briefly, jerkily, the boy blurted on his news: + +"Phil's back again; but they haven't got the major. The fort was +deserted, except for one old man, and they have brought him along. They +are over at the colonel's bungalow now." + +He paused, shocked by the awful look his tidings had brought into +Audrey's eyes. + +The next instant she had sprung past him to the open door and was gone, +bareheaded and distraught, into the blazing sunshine. + +How she covered the distance of the long, white road to the colonel's +bungalow, Audrey never remembered afterwards. Her agony of mind was too +great for her brain to register any impression of physical stress. She +only knew that she ran and ran as one runs in a nightmare, till +suddenly she was on the veranda of the colonel's bungalow, stumbling, +breathless, crying hoarsely for "Phil! Phil!" + +He came to her instantly. + +"Where is he?" she cried, in high, strained tones. "Where is my husband? +You promised to bring him back to me! You promised--you promised--" + +Her voice failed. She felt choked, as if an iron hand were slowly, +remorselessly, crushing the life out of her panting heart. Thick +darkness hovered above her, but she fought it from her wildly, +frantically. + +"You promised--" She gasped again. + +He took her gently by the arm, supporting her. + +"Mrs. Tudor," he said very earnestly, "I have done my best." + +He led her unresisting into a room close by. The colonel was there, and +with him a man in flowing, native garments. + +"Mrs. Tudor," said Phil, his hand closing tightly upon her arm, "before +you blame me, I want you to speak to this man. He can tell you more +about your husband than I can." + +He spoke very quietly, very steadily, almost as if he were afraid she +might not understand him. + +Audrey made an effort to collect her reeling senses. The colonel bent +towards her. + +"Don't be afraid of him, Mrs. Tudor," he said kindly. "He is a friend, +and he speaks English." + +But Audrey did not so much as glance at the native, who stood, silent +and impassive, waiting to be questioned. The agony of the past thirty +hours had reached its limit. She sank into a chair by the colonel's +table and hid her face in her shaking hands. + +"I've nothing to ask him," she said hopelessly. "Eustace is +dead--dead--dead, without ever knowing how I loved him. Nothing matters +now. There is nothing left that ever can matter." + +Dead silence succeeded her words, then a quiet movement, then silence +again. + +She did not look up or stir. Her passion of grief had burnt itself out. +She was exhausted mentally and physically. + +Minutes passed, but she did not move. What was there to rouse her? There +was nothing left. She had no tears to shed. Tears were for small things. +This grief of hers was too immense, too infinite for tears. + +Only at last something, some inner prompting, stirred her, and as if at +the touch of a hand that compelled, she raised her head. + +She saw neither the colonel nor Phil, and a sharp prick of wonder +pierced her lethargy of despair. She turned in her chair, obedient still +to that inner force that compelled. Yes, they had gone. Only the native +remained--an old, bent man, who humbly awaited her pleasure. His face +was almost hidden in his _chuddah_. + +Audrey looked at him. + +"There is nothing to wait for," she said at length. "You need not +stay." + +He did not move. It was as if he had not heard. Her wonder grew into a +sort of detached curiosity. What did the man want? She remembered that +the colonel had told her that he understood English. + +"Is there--something--you wish to say to me?" she asked, and the bare +utterance of the words kindled a feeble spark of hope within her, almost +in spite of herself. + +He turned very slowly. + +"Yes, one thing," he said, paused an instant as she sprang to her feet +with a great cry, then straightened himself, pushed the _chuddah_ back +from his face, and flung out his arms to her passionately. + +"Audrey!" he said--"Audrey!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +HAPPINESS AGAIN + + +By slow degrees Audrey learnt the story of her husband's escape. + +It was Phil's doing in the main, he told her simply, and she understood +that but for Phil he would not have taken the trouble. Something Phil +had said to him that night had stuck in his mind, and it had finally +decided him to make the attempt. + +Circumstances had favoured him. Moreover it was by no means the first +time that he had been among the Hill tribes in native guise. One +sentinel alone had returned to guard the hut after Phil's departure, and +this man he had succeeded in overpowering without raising an alarm. + +Then, disguising himself once more, he had managed to escape just before +the dawn, and had lain hidden for hours among the boulders of the +river-bed, fearing to emerge by daylight. But in the evening he had left +his hiding-place, and found the fort to be occupied by British troops. +The Waris had gone to earth before their advance, and they had found the +place deserted. + +He had forthwith presented himself in his disguise and been taken +before Phil, the officer-in-command. + +"But surely he knew you?" + +"Yes, he knew me. But I swore him to secrecy." + +She drew a little closer to him. + +"Eustace, why?" she whispered. + +His arm tightened about her. + +"I had to know the truth first," he said. + +"Oh!" she murmured. "And now--are you satisfied?" + +He bent and kissed her forehead gravely, tenderly. + +"I am satisfied," he said. + + * * * * * + +"Well, didn't I tell you so?" laughed Phil, when they shook hands later. + +Audrey did not ask him what he meant, for, with all his honesty, Phil +could be enigmatical when he chose. Moreover, it really didn't much +matter, for, as she tacitly admitted to herself, fond as she was of him, +he no longer occupied the place of honour in her thoughts, and she was +not vitally interested in him now that the trouble was over. + +So when, a few weeks later, Phil cheerily packed his belongings and +departed to Poonah, having effected an exchange into the other battalion +stationed there, only his major understood why, and was sorry. + + + + +ETHEL M. DELL'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list + + +THE LAMP IN THE DESERT + +The scene of this splendid story is laid in India and tells of the lamp +of love that continues to shine through all sorts of tribulations to +final happiness. + + +GREATHEART + +The story of a cripple whose deformed body conceals a noble soul. + + +THE HUNDREDTH CHANCE + +A hero who worked to win even when there was only "a hundredth chance." + + +THE SWINDLER + +The story of a "bad man's" soul revealed by a woman's faith. + + +THE TIDAL WAVE + +Tales of love and of women who learned to know the true from the false. + + +THE SAFETY CURTAIN + +A very vivid love story of India. The volume also contains four other +long stories of equal interest. + + +Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Safety Curtain, and Other Stories +by Ethel M. Dell + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SAFETY CURTAIN *** + +***** This file should be named 16651-8.txt or 16651-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/6/5/16651/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Paul Ereaut and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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Dell. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right;} /* page numbers */ + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's The Safety Curtain, and Other Stories, by Ethel M. Dell + +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 Safety Curtain, and Other Stories + +Author: Ethel M. Dell + +Release Date: September 4, 2005 [EBook #16651] +[Last updated: August 10, 2013] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SAFETY CURTAIN *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Paul Ereaut and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="Illustration" id="Illustration"></a> +<img src="images/illustration.jpg" width="400" height="500" +alt=""You may take them to the devil!" Merryon said." +title=""You may take them to the devil!" merryon said." /> +<br /> +<h4>"You may take them to the devil!" Merryon said.</h4> +<h5>Drawn by Arthur I Keller. <i>(See <a href="#Page_85">page 85</a>)</i></h5> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE</h2> +<h2>SAFETY CURTAIN</h2> +<h2>AND OTHER STORIES</h2> + +<h3>by</h3> + +<h3>ETHEL M. DELL</h3> + + +<p>AUTHOR OF:-</p> + +<p>The Hundreth Chance<br /> +Greatheart<br /> +The Lamp in the Desert<br /> +The Tidal Wave<br /> +The Top of the World<br /> +The Obstacle Race<br /> +The Way of an Eagle<br /> +The Knave of Diamonds<br /> +The Rocks of Valpré<br /> +The Swindler<br /> +The Keeper of the Door<br /> +Bars of Iron<br /> +Rosa Mundi<br /> +Etc.</p> + +<p>GROSSET & DUNLAP +PUBLISHERS NEW YORK</p> + +<p>Made in the United States of America</p> + +<p>This edition is issued under arrangement with the publishers</p> + +<p>G.P. Putnam's Sons, New York and London</p> + +<p>Made in the United States of America</p> + +<p>The Knickerbocker Press, New York</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> + +<p> +<a href="#The_Safety_Curtain"><b>The Safety Curtain</b></a> +<br /> +<a href="#The_Experiment"><b>The Experiment</b></a> +<br /> +<a href="#Those_Who_Wait1"><b>Those Who Wait</b></a> +<br /> +<a href="#The_Eleventh_Hour2"><b>The Eleventh Hour</b></a> +<br /> +<a href="#The_Place_of_Honour"><b>The Place of Honour</b></a> +<br /> +<a href="#ETHEL_M_DELLS_NOVELS"><b class="smcap">ethel m. dell's novels</b></a> +</p> + +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="The_Safety_Curtain" id="The_Safety_Curtain"></a>The Safety Curtain</h2> + +<h3>CHAPTER I</h3> + +<h4>THE ESCAPE</h4> + + +<p>A great shout of applause went through the crowded hall as the +Dragon-Fly Dance came to an end, and the Dragon-Fly, with quivering, +iridescent wings, flashed away.</p> +<p><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1"></a></p> +<p>It was the third encore. The dance was a marvellous one, a piece of +dazzling intricacy, of swift and unexpec<a name="Page_2" id="Page_2"></a>ted subtleties, of almost +superhuman grace. It must have proved utterly exhausting to any ordinary +being; but to that creature of fire and magic it was no more than a +glittering fantasy, a whirl too swift for the eye to follow or the brain +to grasp.</p> + +<p>"Is it a boy or a girl?" asked a man in the front row.</p> + +<p>"It's a boy, of course," said his neighbour, shortly.</p> + +<p>He was the only member of the audience who did not take part in that +third encore. He sat squarely in his seat throughout the uproar, +watching the stage with piercing grey eyes that never varied in their +stern directness. His brows were drawn above them—thick, straight brows +that bespoke a formidable strength of purpose. He was plainly a man who +was accustomed to hew his own way through life, despising the trodden +paths, overcoming all obstacles by grim persistence.</p> + +<p>Louder and louder swelled the tumult. It was evident that nothing but a +repetition of the wonder-dance would content the audience. They yelled +themselves hoarse for it; and when, light as air, incredibly swift, the +green Dragon-Fly darted back, they outdid themselves in the madness of +their welcome. The noise seemed to shake the building.</p> + +<p>Only the man in the front row with the iron-grey eyes and iron-hard +mouth made no movement or sound of any sort. He merely watched with +unchanging intentness the face that gleamed, ashen-white, above the<a name="Page_3" id="Page_3"></a> +shimmering metallic green tights that clothed the dancer's slim body.</p> + +<p>The noise ceased as the wild tarantella proceeded. There fell a deep +hush, broken only by the silver notes of a flute played somewhere behind +the curtain. The dancer's movements were wholly without sound. The +quivering, whirling feet scarcely seemed to touch the floor, it was a +dance of inspiration, possessing a strange and irresistible fascination, +a weird and meteoric rush, that held the onlookers with bated breath.</p> + +<p>It lasted for perhaps two minutes, that intense and trancelike +stillness; then, like, a stone flung into glassy depths, a woman's +scream rudely shattered it, a piercing, terror-stricken scream that +brought the rapt audience back to earth with a shock as the liquid music +of the flute suddenly ceased.</p> + +<p>"Fire!" cried the voice. "Fire! Fire!"</p> +<p><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4"></a></p> +<p>There was an instant of horrified inaction, and in that instant a tongue +of flame shot like a fiery serpent through the closed curtains behind +the dancer. In a moment the cry was caught up and repeated in a dozen +directions, and even as it went from mouth to mouth the safety-curtain +began to descend.</p> + +<p>The dancer was forgotten, swept as it were from the minds of the +audience as an insect whose life was of no account. From the back of the +stage came a roar like the roar of an open furnace. A great wave of heat +rushed into the hall, and people turned like terrified, stampeding +animals and made for the exits.</p> + +<p>The Dragon-Fly still stood behind the footlights poised as if for +flight, glancing this way and that, shimmering from head to foot in the +awful glare that spread behind the descending curtain. It was evident +that retreat behind the scenes was impossible, and in another moment or +two that falling curtain would cut off the only way left.</p> + +<p>But suddenly, before the dancer's hunted eyes, a man leapt forward. He +held up his arms, making himself heard in clear command above<a name="Page_5" id="Page_5"></a><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6"></a> the +dreadful babel behind him.</p> + +<p>"Quick!" he cried. "Jump!"</p> + +<p>The wild eyes flashed down at him, wavered, and were caught in his +compelling gaze. For a single instant—the last—the trembling, +glittering figure seemed to hesitate, then like a streak of lightning +leapt straight over the footlights into the outstretched arms.</p> + +<p>They caught and held with unwavering iron strength. In the midst of a +turmoil indescribable the Dragon-Fly hung quivering on the man's breast, +the gauze wings shattered in that close, sustaining grip. The +safety-curtain came down with a thud, shutting off the horrors behind, +and a loud voice yelled through the building assuring the seething crowd +of safety.</p> + +<p>But panic had set in. The heat was terrific. People fought and struggled +to reach the exits.</p> + +<p>The dancer turned in the man's arms and raised a deathly face, gripping +his shoulders with clinging, convulsive fingers. Two wild dark eyes +looked up to his, desperately afraid, seeking reassurance.</p> +<p><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7"></a></p> +<p>He answered that look briefly with stern composure.</p> + +<p>"Be still! I shall save you if I can."</p> + +<p>The dancer's heart was beating in mad terror against his own, but at his +words it seemed to grow a little calmer. Quiveringly the white lips +spoke.</p> + +<p>"There is a door—close to the stage—a little door—behind a green +curtain—if we could reach it."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" the man said.</p> + +<p>His eyes went to the stage, from the proximity of which the audience had +fled affrighted. He espied the curtain.</p> + +<p>Only a few people intervened between him and it, and they were +struggling to escape in the opposite direction.</p> + +<p>"Quick!" gasped the dancer.</p> + +<p>He turned, snatched up his great-coat, and wrapped it about the slight, +boyish figure. The great dark eyes that shone out of the small white +face thanked him for the action. The clinging hands slipped from his +shoulders and clasped his arm. Together they faced the fearful heat that<a name="Page_8" id="Page_8"></a> +raged behind the safety-curtain.</p> + +<p>They reached the small door, gasping. It was almost hidden by green +drapery. But the dancer was evidently familiar with it. In a moment it +was open. A great burst of smoke met them. The man drew back. But a +quick hand closed upon his, drawing him on. He went blindly, feeling as +if he were stepping into the heart of a furnace, yet strangely +determined to go forward whatever came of it.</p> + +<p>The smoke and the heat were frightful, suffocating in their intensity. +The roar of the unseen flames seemed to fill the world.</p> + +<p>The door swung to behind them. They stood in seething darkness.</p> + +<p>But again the small clinging hand pulled upon the man.</p> + +<p>"Quick!" the dancer cried again.</p> + +<p>Choked and gasping, but resolute still, he followed. They ran through a +passage that must have been on the very edge of the vortex of flame, for +behind them ere they left it a red light glared.</p> + +<p>It showed another door in front of them with which the dancer struggled +a moment, then flung open. They burst through it together, and the cold +night wind met them like an angel of deliverance.</p> +<p><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9"></a></p> +<p>The man gasped and gasped again, filling his parched lungs with its +healing freshness. His companion uttered a strange, high laugh, and +dragged him forth into the open.</p> + +<p>They emerged into a narrow alley, surrounded by tall houses. The night +was dark and wet. The rain pattered upon them as they staggered out into +a space that seemed deserted. The sudden quiet after the awful turmoil +they had just left was like the silence of death.</p> + +<p>The man stood still and wiped the sweat in a dazed fashion from his +face. The little dancer reeled back against the wall, panting +desperately.</p> + +<p>For a space neither moved. Then, terribly, the silence was rent by a +crash and the roar of flames. An awful redness leapt across the darkness +of the night, revealing each to each.</p> + +<p>The dancer stood up suddenly and made an odd little gesture of +farewell; then, swiftly, to the man's amazement, turned back towards the +door through which they had burst but a few seconds before.</p> + +<p>He stared for a moment—only a moment—not believing he saw aright, then +with a single stride he reached and roughly seized the small, +oddly-draped figure.</p> + +<p>He heard a faint cry, and there ensued a sharp struggle against his +hold; but he pinioned the thin young arms without ceremony, gripping +them fast. In the awful, flickering glare above them his eyes shone +downwards, dominant, relentless.</p> + +<p>"Are you mad?" he said.</p> + +<p>The small dark head was shaken vehemently, with gestures curiously<a name="Page_10" id="Page_10"></a> +suggestive of an imprisoned insect. It was as if wild wings fluttered +against captivity.</p> + +<p>And then all in a moment the struggling ceased, and in a low, eager +voice the captive began to plead.</p> + +<p>"Please, please let me go! You don't know—you don't understand. I +came—because—because—you called. But I was wrong—I was wrong to +come. You couldn't keep me—you wouldn't keep me—against my will!"</p> + +<p>"Do you want to die, then?" the man demanded. "Are you tired of life?"</p> + +<p>His eyes still shone piercingly down, but they read but little, for the +dancer's were firmly closed against them, even while the dark cropped +head nodded a strangely vigorous affirmative.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that is it! I am so tired—so tired of life! Don't keep me! Let +me go—while I have the strength!" The little, white, sharp-featured +face, with its tight-shut eyes and childish, quivering mouth, was +painfully pathetic. "Death can't be more dreadful than life," the low +voice urged. "If I don't go back—I shall be so sorry afterwards. Why +should one live—to suffer?"</p> + +<p>It was piteously spoken, so piteously that for a moment the man seemed +moved to compassion. His hold relaxed; but when the little form between +his hands took swift advantage and strained afresh for freedom he +instantly tightened his grip.</p> + +<p>"No, No!" he said, harshly. "There are other things in life. You don't +know what you are doing. You are not responsible."</p> +<p><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11"></a></p> +<p>The dark eyes opened upon him then—wide, reproachful, mysteriously +far-seeing. "I shall not be responsible—if you make me live," said the +Dragon-Fly, with the air of one risking a final desperate throw.</p> + +<p>It was almost an open challenge, and it was accepted instantly, with +grim decision. "Very well. The responsibility is mine," the man said +briefly. "Come with me!"</p> + +<p>His arm encircled the narrow shoulders. He drew his young companion +unresisting from the spot. They left the glare of the furnace behind +them, and threaded their way through dark and winding alleys back to the +throbbing life of the city thoroughfares, back into the whirl and +stress of that human existence which both had nearly quitted—and one +had strenuously striven to quit—so short a time before.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER II</h3> + +<h4>NOBODY'S BUSINESS</h4> + + +<p>"My name is Merryon," the man said, curtly. "I am a major in the Indian +Army—home on leave. Now tell me about yourself!"</p> + +<p>He delivered the information in the brief, aggressive fashion that +seemed to be characteristic of him, and he looked over the head of his +young visitor as he did so, almost as if he made the statement against<a name="Page_12" id="Page_12"></a> +his will.</p> + +<p>The visitor, still clad in his great-coat, crouched like a dog on the +hearthrug before the fire in Merryon's sitting-room, and gazed with +wide, unblinking eyes into the flames.</p> + +<p>After a few moments Merryon's eyes descended to the dark head and +surveyed it critically. The collar of his coat was turned up all round +it. It was glistening with rain-drops and looked like the head of some +small, furry animal.</p> + +<p>As if aware of that straight regard, the dancer presently spoke, without +turning or moving an eyelid.</p> + +<p>"What you are doesn't matter to any one except yourself. And what I am +doesn't matter either. It's just—nobody's business."</p> + +<p>"I see," said Merryon.</p> + +<p>A faint smile crossed his grim, hard-featured face. He sat down in a low +chair near his guest and drew to his side a small table that bore a tray +of refreshments. He poured out a glass of wine and held it towards the +queer, elfin figure crouched upon his hearth.</p> + +<p>The dark eyes suddenly flashed from the fire to his face. "Why do you +offer me—that?" the dancer demanded, in a voice that was curiously +vibrant, as though it strove to conceal some overwhelming emotion. "Why +don't you give me—a man's drink?"</p> + +<p>"Because I think this will suit you better," Merryon said; and he spoke +with a gentleness that was oddly at variance with the frown that drew +his brows.</p><p><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13"></a></p> + +<p>The dark eyes stared up at him, scared and defiant, for the passage of +several seconds; then, very suddenly, the tension went out of the white, +pinched face. It screwed up like the face of a hurt child, and all in a +moment the little, huddled figure collapsed on the floor at his feet, +while sobs—a woman's quivering piteous sobs—filled the silence of the +room.</p> + +<p>Merryon's own face was a curious mixture of pity and constraint as he +set down the glass and stooped forward over the shaking, anguished form.</p> + +<p>"Look here, child!" he said, and whatever else was in his voice it +certainly held none of the hardness habitual to it. "You're +upset—unnerved. Don't cry so! Whatever you've been through, it's over. +No one can make you go back. Do you understand? You're free!"</p> + +<p>He laid his hand, with the clumsiness of one little accustomed to +console, upon the bowed black head.</p> + +<p>"Don't!" he said again. "Don't cry so! What the devil does it matter? +You're safe enough with me. I'm not the sort of bounder to give you +away."</p> + +<p>She drew a little nearer to him. "You—you're not a bounder—at all," +she assured him between her sobs. "You're just—a gentleman. That's what +you are!"</p><p><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14"></a></p> + +<p>"All right," said Merryon. "Leave off crying!"</p> + +<p>He spoke with the same species of awkward kindliness that characterized +his actions, and there must have been something strangely comforting in +his speech, for the little dancer's tears ceased as abruptly as they had +begun. She dashed a trembling hand across her<a name="Page_15" id="Page_15"></a> eyes.</p> + +<p>"Who's crying?" she said.</p> + +<p>He uttered a brief, half-grudging laugh. "That's better. Now drink some +wine! Yes, I insist! You must eat something, too. You look +half-starved."</p> + +<p>She accepted the wine, sitting in an acrobatic attitude on the floor +facing him. She drank it, and an odd sparkle of mischief shot up in her +great eyes. She surveyed him with an impish expression—much as a +grasshopper might survey a toad.</p> + +<p>"Are you married?" she inquired, unexpectedly.</p> + +<p>"No," said Merryon, shortly. "Why?"</p> + +<p>She gave a little laugh that had a catch in it. "I was only thinking +that your wife wouldn't like me much. Women are so suspicious."</p> + +<p>Merryon turned aside, and began to pour out a drink for himself. There +was something strangely elusive about this little creature whom Fortune +had flung to him. He wondered what he should do with her. Was she too +old for a foundling hospital?</p> + +<p>"How old are you?" he asked, abruptly.</p> + +<p>She did not answer.</p> +<p><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16"></a></p> +<p>He looked at her, frowning.</p> + +<p>"Don't!" she said. "It's ugly. I'm not quite forty. How old are you?"</p> + +<p>"What?" said Merryon.</p> + +<p>"Not—quite—forty," she said again, with extreme distinctness. "I'm +small for my age, I know. But I shall never grow any more now. How old +did you say you were?"</p> + +<p>Merryon's eyes regarded her piercingly. "I should like the truth," he +said, in his short, grim way.</p> + +<p>She made a grimace that turned into an impish smile. "Then you must +stick to the things that matter," she said. "That is—nobody's +business."</p> + +<p>He tried to look severe, but very curiously failed. He picked up a plate +of sandwiches to mask a momentary confusion, and offered it to her.</p> + +<p>Again, with simplicity, she accepted, and there fell a silence between +them while she ate, her eyes again upon the fire. Her face, in repose, +was the saddest thing he had ever seen. More than ever did she make him +think of a child that had been hurt.</p> + +<p>She finished her sandwich and sat for a while lost in thought. Merryon +leaned back in his chair, watching her. The little, pointed features +possessed no beauty, yet they had that which drew the attention<a name="Page_17" id="Page_17"></a> +irresistibly. The delicate charm of her dancing was somehow expressed in +every line. There was fire, too,—a strange, bewitching fire,—behind +the thick black lashes.</p> + +<p>Very suddenly that fire was turned upon him again. With a swift, darting +movement she knelt up in front of him, her clasped hands on his knees.</p> + +<p>"Why did you save me just now?" she said. "Why wouldn't you let me die?"</p> + +<p>He looked full at her. She vibrated like a winged creature on the verge +of taking flight. But her eyes—her eyes sought his with a strange +assurance, as though they saw in him a comrade.</p> + +<p>"Why did you make me live when I wanted to die?" she insisted. "Is life +so desirable? Have you found it so?"</p> + +<p>His brows contracted at the last question, even while his mouth curved +cynically. "Some people find it so," he said.</p> + +<p>"But you?" she said, and there was almost accusation in her voice, "Have +the gods been kind to you? Or have they thrown you the dregs—just the +dregs?"</p> + +<p>The passionate note in the words, subdued though it was, was not to be +mistaken. It stirred him oddly, making him see her for the first time as +a woman rather than as the fantastic being, half-elf, half-child, whom +he had wrested from the very jaws of Death against her will. He leaned +slowly forward, marking the deep, deep shadows about her eyes, the vivid +red of her lips.</p><p><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18"></a></p> + +<p>"What do you know about the dregs?" he said.</p> + +<p>She beat her hands with a small, fierce movement on his knees, mutely +refusing to answer.</p> + +<p>"Ah, well," he said, "I don't know why I should answer either. But I +will. Yes, I've had dregs—dregs—and nothing but dregs for the last +fifteen years."</p> + +<p>He spoke with a bitterness that he scarcely attempted to restrain, and +the girl at his feet nodded—a wise little feminine nod.</p> + +<p>"I knew you had. It comes harder to a man, doesn't it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know why it should," said Merryon, moodily.</p> + +<p>"I do," said the Dragon-Fly. "It's because men were made to boss +creation. See? You're one of the bosses, you are. You've been led to +expect a lot, and because you haven't had it you feel you've been +cheated. Life is like that. It's just a thing that mocks at you. I +know."</p> + +<p>She nodded again, and an odd, will-o'-the-wisp smile flitted over her +face.</p> + +<p>"You seem to know—something of life," the man said.</p> + +<p>She uttered a queer choking laugh. "Life is a big, big swindle," she +said. "The only happy people in the world are those who haven't found it +out. But you—you say there are other things in life besides suffering. +How did you know that if—if you've never had anything but dregs?"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" Merryon said. "You have me there."</p> + +<p>He was still looking full into those shadowy eyes with a curious, +dawning fellowship in his own.</p><p><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19"></a></p> + +<p>"You have me there," he repeated. "But I do know. I was happy enough +once, till—" He stopped.</p> + +<p>"Things went wrong?" insinuated the Dragon-Fly, sitting down on her +heels in a childish attitude of attention.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Merryon admitted, in his sullen fashion. "Things went wrong. I +found I was the son of a thief. He's dead now, thank Heaven. But he +dragged me under first. I've been at odds with life ever since."</p> + +<p>"But a man can start again," said the Dragon-Fly, with her air of +worldly wisdom.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I did that." Merryon's smile was one of exceeding bitterness. +"I enlisted and went to South Africa. I hoped for death, and I won a +commission instead."</p> + +<p>The girl's eyes shone with interest. "But that was luck!" she said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; it was luck of a sort—the damnable, unsatisfactory sort. I +entered the Indian Army, and I've got on. But socially I'm practically +an outcast. They're polite to me, but they leave me outside. The man who +rose from the ranks—the fellow with a shady past—fought shy of by the +women, just tolerated by the men, covertly despised by the +youngsters—that's the sort of person I am. It galled me once. I'm used<a name="Page_20" id="Page_20"></a> +to it now."</p> + +<p>Merryon's grim voice went into grimmer silence. He was staring sombrely +into the fire, almost as if he had forgotten his companion.</p> + +<p>There fell a pause; then, "You poor dear!" said the Dragon-Fly, +sympathetically. "But I expect you are like that, you know. I expect +it's a bit your own fault."</p> + +<p>He looked at her in surprise.</p> + +<p>"No, I'm not meaning anything nasty," she assured him, with that quick +smile of hers whose sweetness he was just beginning to realize. "But +after a bad knockout like yours a man naturally looks for trouble. He +gets suspicious, and a snub or two does the rest. He isn't taking any +more. It's a pity you're not married. A woman would have known how to +hold her own, and a bit over—for you."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't ask any woman to share the life I lead," said Merryon, with +bitter emphasis. "Not that any woman would if I did. I'm not a ladies' +man."</p> + +<p>She laughed for the first time, and he started at the sound, for it was +one of pure, girlish merriment.</p> + +<p>"My! You are modest!" she said. "And yet you don't look it, somehow." +She turned her right-hand palm upwards on his knee, tacitly inviting +his. "You're a good one to talk of life being worth while, aren't you?" +she said.</p> + +<p>He accepted the frank invitation, faintly smiling. "Well, I know the<a name="Page_21" id="Page_21"></a> +good things are there," he said, "though I've missed them."</p> + +<p>"You'll marry and be happy yet," she said, with confidence. "But I +shouldn't put it off too long if I were you."</p> + +<p>He shook his head. His hand still half-consciously grasped hers. "Ask a +woman to marry the son of one of the most famous swindlers ever known? I +think not," he said. "Why, even you—" His eyes regarded her, +comprehended her. He stopped abruptly.</p> + +<p>"What about me?" she said.</p> + +<p>He hesitated, possessed by an odd embarrassment. The dark eyes were +lifted quite openly to his. It came to him that they were accustomed to +the stare of multitudes—they met his look so serenely, so impenetrably.</p> + +<p>"I don't know how we got on to the subject of my affairs," he said, +after a moment. "It seems to me that yours are the most important just +now. Aren't you going to tell me anything about them?"</p> + +<p>She gave a small, emphatic shake of the head. "I should have been dead +by this time if you hadn't interfered," she said. "I haven't got any +affairs."</p> + +<p>"Then it's up to me to look after you," Merryon said, quietly.</p> + +<p>But she shook her head at that more vigorously still. "You look after +me!" Her voice trembled on a note of derision. "Sure, you're joking!" +she protested. "I've looked after myself ever since I was eight."</p> + +<p>"And made a success of it?" Merryon asked.</p> + +<p>Her eyes shot swift defiance. "That's nobody's business but my own," she<a name="Page_22" id="Page_22"></a> +said. "You know what I think of life."</p> + +<p>Merryon's hand closed slowly upon hers. "There seems to be a pair of +us," he said. "You can't refuse to let me help you—for fellowship's +sake."</p> + +<p>The red lips trembled suddenly. The dark eyes fell before his for the +first time. She spoke almost under her breath. "I'm too old—to take +help from a man—like that."</p> + +<p>He bent slightly towards her. "What has age to do with it?"</p> + +<p>"Everything." Her eyes remained downcast; the hand he held was trying +to wriggle free, but he would not suffer it.</p> + +<p>"Circumstances alter cases," he said. "I accepted the responsibility +when I saved you."</p> + +<p>"But you haven't the least idea what to do with me," said the +Dragon-Fly, with a forlorn smile. "You ought to have thought of that. +You'll be going back to India soon. And I—and I—" She stopped, still +stubbornly refusing to meet the man's eyes.</p> + +<p>"I am going back next week," Merryon said.</p> + +<p>"How fine to be you!" said the Dragon-Fly. "You wouldn't like to take me +with you now as—as <i>valet de chambre</i>?"</p><p><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23"></a></p> + +<p>He raised his brows momentarily. Then: "Would you come?" he asked, with +a certain roughness, as though he suspected her of trifling.</p> + +<p>She raised her eyes suddenly, kindled and eager. "Would I come!" she +said, in a tone that said more than words.</p> + +<p>"You would?" he said, and laid an abrupt hand on her shoulder. "You +would, eh?"</p> + +<p>She knelt up swiftly, the coat that enveloped her falling back, +displaying the slim, boyish figure, the active, supple limbs. Her +breathing came through parted lips.</p> + +<p>"As your—your servant—your valet?" she panted.</p> + +<p>His rough brows drew together. "My what? Good heavens, no! I could only +take you in one capacity."</p> + +<p>She started back from his hand. For a moment sheer horror looked out +from her eyes. Then, almost in the same instant, they were veiled. She +caught her breath, saying no word, only dumbly waiting.</p> + +<p>"I could only take you as my wife," he said, still in that +half-bantering, half-embarrassed fashion of his. "Will you come?"</p> + +<p>She threw back her head and stared at him. "Marry you! What, really? +Really?" she questioned, breathlessly.</p> + +<p>"Merely for appearances' sake," said Merryon, with grim irony. "The +regimental morals are somewhat easily offended, and an outsider like +myself can't be too careful."</p><p><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24"></a></p> + +<p>The girl was still staring at him, as though at some novel specimen of +humanity that had never before crossed her path. Suddenly she leaned +towards him, looking him full and straight in the eyes.</p> + +<p>"What would you do if I said 'Yes'?" she questioned, in a small, tense +whisper.</p> + +<p>He looked back at her, half-interested, half amused. "Do, urchin? Why, +marry you!" he said.</p> + +<p>"Really marry me?" she urged. "Not make-believe?"</p> + +<p>He stiffened at that. "Do you know what you're saying?" he demanded, +sternly.</p> + +<p>She sprang to her feet with a wild, startled movement; then, as he +remained seated, paused, looking down at him sideways, half-doubtful, +half-confiding. "But you can't be in earnest!" she said.</p> + +<p>"I am in earnest." He raised his face to her with a certain doggedness, +as though challenging her to detect in it aught but honesty. "I may be +several kinds of a fool," he said, "but I am in earnest. I'm no great +catch, but I'll marry you if you'll have me. I'll protect you, and I'll +be good to you. I can't promise to make you happy, of course, +but—anyway, I shan't make you miserable."</p> + +<p>"But—but—" She still stood before him as though hovering on the edge +of flight. Her lips were trembling, her whole form quivering and<a name="Page_25" id="Page_25"></a> +scintillating in the lamplight. She halted on the words as if uncertain +how to proceed.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" said Merryon.</p> + +<p>And then, quite suddenly, his mood softened. He leaned slowly forward.</p> + +<p>"You needn't be afraid of me," he said. "I'm not a heady youngster. I +shan't gobble you up."</p> + +<p>She laughed at that—a quick, nervous laugh. "And you won't beat me +either? Promise!"</p> + +<p>He frowned at her. "Beat you! I?"</p> + +<p>She nodded several times, faintly smiling. "Yes, you, Mr. Monster! I'm +sure you could."</p> + +<p>He smiled also, somewhat grimly. "You're wrong, madam. I couldn't beat a +child."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my!" she said, and threw up her arms with a quivering laugh, +dropping his coat in a heap on the floor. "How old do you think this +child is?" she questioned, glancing down at him in her sidelong, +speculative fashion.</p> + +<p>He looked at her hard and straight, looked at the slim young body in its +sheath of iridescent green that shimmered with every breath she drew, +and very suddenly he rose.</p> + +<p>She made a spring backwards, but she was too late. He caught and held +her.</p> + +<p>"Let me go!" she cried, her face crimson.</p><p><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26"></a></p> + +<p>"But why?" Merryon's voice fell curt and direct. He held her firmly by +the shoulders.</p> + +<p>She struggled against him fiercely for a moment, then became suddenly +still. "You're not a brute, are you?" she questioned, breathlessly. +"You—you'll be good to me? You said so!"</p> + +<p>He surveyed her grimly. "Yes, I will be good to you," he said. "But I'm +not going to be fooled. Understand? If you marry me, you must play the +part. I don't know how old you are. I don't greatly care. All I do care +about is that you behave yourself as the wife of a man in my position +should. You're old enough to know what that means, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>He spoke impressively, but the effect of his words was not quite what he +expected. The point of a very red tongue came suddenly from between the +red lips, and instantly disappeared.</p> + +<p>"That all?" she said. "Oh yes; I think I can do that. I'll try, anyway. +And if you're not satisfied—well, you'll have to let me know. See? +Now let me go, there's a good man! I don't like the feel of your +hands."</p> + +<p>He let her go in answer to the pleading of her eyes, and she slipped +from his grasp like an eel, caught up the coat at her feet, and wriggled +into it.</p> + +<p>Then, impishly, she faced him, buttoning it with nimble fingers the +while. "This is the garment of respectability," she declared. "It isn't<a name="Page_27" id="Page_27"></a> +much of a fit, is it? But I shall grow to it in time. Do you know, I +believe I'm going to like being your wife?"</p> + +<p>"Why?" said Merryon.</p> + +<p>She laughed—that laugh of irrepressible gaiety that had surprised him +before.</p> + +<p>"Oh, just because I shall so love fighting your battles for you," she +said. "It'll be grand sport."</p> + +<p>"Think so?" said Merryon.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you bet!" said the Dragon-Fly, with gay confidence. "Men never know +how to fight. They're poor things—men!"</p> + +<p>He himself laughed at that—his grim, grudging laugh. "It's a world of +fools, Puck," he said.</p> + +<p>"Or knaves," said the Dragon-Fly, wisely. And with that she stretched up +her arms above her head and laughed again. "Now I know what it feels +like," she said, "to have risen from the dead."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER III</h3> + +<h4>COMRADES</h4> + + +<p>There came the flash of green wings in the cypresses and a raucous +scream of jubilation as the boldest parakeet in the compound flew off +with the choicest sweetmeat on the tiffin-table in the veranda. There<a name="Page_28" id="Page_28"></a> +were always sweets at tiffin in the major's bungalow. Mrs. Merryon loved +sweets. She was wont to say that they were the best remedy for +homesickness she knew.</p> + +<p>Not that she ever was homesick. At least, no one ever suspected such a +possibility, for she had a smile and a quip for all, and her laughter +was the gayest in the station. She ran out now, half-dressed, from her +bedroom, waving a towel at the marauder.</p> + +<p>"That comes of being kind-hearted," she declared, in the deep voice that +accorded so curiously with the frothy lightness of her personality. +"Everyone takes advantage of it, sure."</p> + +<p>Her eyes were grey and Irish, and they flashed over the scene +dramatically, albeit there was no one to see and admire. For she was +strangely captivating, and perhaps it was hardly to be expected that +she should be quite unconscious of the fact.</p> + +<p>"Much too taking to be good, dear," had been the verdict of the +Commissioner's wife when she had first seen little Puck Merryon, the +major's bride.</p> + +<p>But then the Commissioner's wife, Mrs. Paget, was so severely plain in +every way that perhaps she could scarcely be regarded as an impartial +judge. She had never flirted with any one, and could not know the joys +thereof.</p> + +<p>Young Mrs. Merryon, on the other hand, flirted quite openly and very +sweetly with every man she met. It was obviously her nature so to do. +She had doubtless done it from her cradle, and would probably continue +the practice to her grave.</p> + +<p>"A born wheedler," the colonel called her; but his wife thought "saucy<a name="Page_29" id="Page_29"></a> +minx" a more appropriate term, and wondered how Major Merryon could put +up with her shameless trifling.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, Merryon wondered himself sometimes; for she flirted +with him more than all in that charming, provocative way of hers, coaxed +him, laughed at him, brilliantly eluded him. She would perch daintily on +the arm of his chair when he was busy, but if he so much as laid a hand +upon her she was gone in a flash like a whirling insect, not to return +till he was too absorbed to pay any attention to her. And often as those +daring red lips mocked him, they were never offered to his even in +jest. Yet was she so finished a coquette that the omission was never +obvious. It seemed the most natural thing in the world that she should +evade all approach to intimacy. They were comrades—just comrades.</p> + +<p>Everyone in the station wanted to know Merryon's bride. People had begun +by being distant, but that phase was long past. Puck Merryon had stormed +the citadel within a fortnight of her arrival, no one quite knew how. +Everyone knew her now. She went everywhere, though never without her +husband, who found himself dragged into gaieties for which he had scant +liking, and sought after by people who had never seemed aware of him +before. She had, in short, become the rage, and so gaily did she revel +in her triumph that he could not bring himself to deny her the fruits +thereof.</p> + +<p>On that particular morning in March he had gone to an early parade +without seeing her, for there had been a regimental ball the night +before, and she had danced every dance. Dancing seemed her one passion, +and to Merryon, who did not dance, the ball had been an unmitigated +weariness. He had at last, in sheer boredom, joined a party of +bridge-players, with the result that he had not seen much of his young +wife throughout the evening.</p> + +<p>Returning from the parade-ground, he wondered if he would find her up, +and then caught sight of her waving away the marauders in scanty attire +on the veranda.</p><p><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30"></a></p> + +<p>He called a greeting to her, and she instantly vanished into her room. +He made his way to the table set in the shade of the cluster-roses, and +sat down to await her.</p> + +<p>She remained invisible, but her voice at once accosted him. +"Good-morning, Billikins! Tell the <i>khit</i> you're ready! I shall be out +in two shakes."</p> + +<p>None but she would have dreamed of bestowing so frivolous an appellation +upon the sober Merryon. But from her it came so naturally that Merryon +scarcely noticed it. He had been "Billikins" to her throughout the brief +three months that had elapsed since their marriage. Of course, Mrs. +Paget disapproved, but then Mrs. Paget was Mrs. Paget. She disapproved +of everything young and gay.</p> + +<p>Merryon gave the required order, and then sat in stolid patience to +await his wife's coming. She did not keep him long. Very soon she came +lightly out and joined him, an impudent smile on her sallow little face, +dancing merriment in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Oh, poor old Billikins!" she said, commiseratingly. "You were bored +last night, weren't you? I wonder if I could teach you to dance."</p><p><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31"></a></p> + +<p>"I wonder," said Merryon.</p> + +<p>His eyes dwelt upon her in her fresh white muslin. What a child she +looked! Not pretty—no, not pretty; but what a magic smile she had!</p> + +<p>She sat down at the table facing him, and leaned her elbows upon it. "I +wonder if I could!" she said again, and then broke into her sudden +laugh.</p> + +<p>"What's the joke?" asked Merryon.</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing!" she said, recovering herself. "It suddenly came over me, +that's all—poor old Mother Paget's face, supposing she had seen me last +night."</p> + +<p>"Didn't she see you last night? I thought you were more or less in the +public eye," said Merryon.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I meant after the dance," she explained. "I felt sort of wound up +and excited after I got back. And I wanted to see if I could still do +it. I'm glad to say I can," she ended, with another little laugh.</p> + +<p>Her dark eyes shot him a tentative glance. "Can what?" asked Merryon.</p> + +<p>"You'll be shocked if I tell you."</p> +<p><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32"></a></p> +<p>"What was it?" he said.</p> + +<p>There was insistence in his tone—the insistence by which he had once +compelled her to live against her will. Her eyelids fluttered a little +as it reached her, but she cocked her small, pointed chin +notwithstanding.</p> + +<p>"Why should I tell you if I don't want to?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't you want to?" he said.</p> + +<p>The tip of her tongue shot out and in again. "Well, you never took me +for a lady, did you?" she said, half-defiantly.</p> + +<p>"What was it?" repeated Merryon, sticking to the point.</p> + +<p>Again she grimaced at him, but she answered, "Oh, I only—after I'd had +my bath—lay on the floor and ran round my head for a bit. It's not a +bit difficult, once you've got the knack. But I got thinking of Mrs. +Paget—she does amuse me, that woman. Only yesterday she asked me what +Puck was short for, and I told her Elizabeth—and then I got laughing so +that I had to stop."</p> + +<p>Her face was flushed, and she was slightly breathless as she ended, but +she stared across the table with brazen determination, like a naughty +child expecting a slap.</p> +<p><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33"></a></p> +<p>Merryon's face, however, betrayed neither astonishment nor disapproval. +He even smiled a little as he said, "Perhaps you would like to give me +lessons in that also? I've often wondered how it was done."</p> + +<p>She smiled back at him with instant and obvious relief.</p> + +<p>"No, I shan't do it again. It's not proper. But I will teach you to +dance. I'd sooner dance with you than any of 'em."</p> + +<p>It was naïvely spoken, so naïvely that Merryon's faint smile turned into +something that was almost genial. What a youngster she was! Her +freshness was a perpetual source of wonder to him when he remembered +whence she had come to him.</p> + +<p>"I am quite willing to be taught," he said. "But it must be in strict +privacy."</p> + +<p>She nodded gaily.</p> + +<p>"Of course. You shall have a lesson to-night—when we get back from the +Burtons' dinner. I'm real sorry you were bored, Billikins. You shan't be +again."</p> + +<p>That was her attitude always, half-maternal, half-quizzing, as if +something about him amused her; yet always anxious to please him, always +ready to set his wishes before her own, so long as he did not attempt to +treat her seriously. She had left all that was serious in that other +life that had ended with the fall of the safety-curtain on a certain<a name="Page_34" id="Page_34"></a> +night in England many æons ago. Her personality now was light as +gossamer, irresponsible as thistledown. The deeper things of life passed +her by. She seemed wholly unaware of them.</p> + +<p>"You'll be quite an accomplished dancer by the time everyone comes back +from the Hills," she remarked, balancing a fork on one slender brown +finger. "We'll have a ball for two—every night."</p> + +<p>"We!" said Merryon.</p> + +<p>She glanced at him.</p> + +<p>"I said 'we.'"</p> + +<p>"I know you did." The man's voice had suddenly a dogged ring; he looked +across at the vivid, piquant face with the suggestion of a frown between +his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Don't do that!" she said, lightly. "Never do that, Billikins! It's +most unbecoming behaviour. What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>"The matter?" he said, slowly. "The matter is that you are going to the +Hills for the hot weather with the rest of the women, Puck. I can't keep +you here."</p> + +<p>She made a rude face at him.</p> + +<p>"Preserve me from any cattery in the Hills!" she said. "I'm going to +stay with you."</p> + +<p>"You can't," said Merryon.</p> + +<p>"I can," she said.</p> + +<p>He frowned still more.</p><p><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35"></a></p> + +<p>"Not if I say otherwise, Puck."</p> + +<p>She snapped her fingers at him and laughed.</p> + +<p>"I am in earnest," Merryon said. "I can't keep you here for the hot +weather. It would probably kill you."</p> + +<p>"What of that?" she said.</p> + +<p>He ignored her frivolity.</p> + +<p>"It can't be done," he said. "So you must make the best of it."</p> + +<p>"Meaning you don't want me?" she demanded, unexpectedly.</p> + +<p>"Not for the hot weather," said Merryon.</p> + +<p>She sprang suddenly to her feet.</p> + +<p>"I won't go, Billikins!" she declared, fiercely, "I just won't!"</p> + +<p>He looked at her, sternly resolute.</p> + +<p>"You must go," he said, with unwavering decision.</p> + +<p>"You're tired of me! Is that it?" she demanded.</p><p><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36"></a></p> + +<p>He raised his brows. "You haven't given me much opportunity to be that, +have you?" he said.</p> + +<p>A great wave of colour went over her face. She put up her hand as though +instinctively to shield it.</p> + +<p>"I've done my best to—to—to—" She stopped, became piteously silent, +and suddenly he saw that she was crying behind the sheltering hand.</p> + +<p>He softened almost in spite of himself.</p> + +<p>"Come here, Puck!" he said.</p> + +<p>She shook her head dumbly.</p> + +<p>"Come here!" he repeated.</p> + +<p>She came towards him slowly, as if against her will. He reached forward, +still seated, and drew her to him.</p> + +<p>She trembled at his touch, trembled and started away, yet in the end she +yielded.</p> + +<p>"Please," she whispered; "please!"</p> + +<p>He put his arm round her very gently, yet with determination, making her +stand beside him.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you want to go to the Hills?" he said.</p> + +<p>"I'd be frightened," she murmured.</p><p><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37"></a></p> + +<p>"Frightened? Why?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," she said, vaguely.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but you do know. You must know. +Tell me." He spoke gently, but the stubborn note was in his voice and +his hold was insistent. "Leave off crying and tell me!"</p> + +<p>"I'm not crying," said Puck.</p> + +<p>She uncovered her face and looked down at him through tears with a +faintly mischievous smile.</p> + +<p>"Tell me!" he reiterated. "Is it because you don't like the idea of +leaving me?"</p> + +<p>Her smile flashed full out upon him on the instant.</p> + +<p>"Goodness, no! Whatever made you think that?" she demanded, briskly.</p> + +<p>He was momentarily disconcerted, but he recovered himself at once.</p> + +<p>"Then what is your objection to going?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She turned and sat down conversationally on the corner of the table.</p> + +<p>"Well, you know, Billikins, it's like this. When I married you—I did it +out of pity. See? I was sorry for you. You seemed such a poor, helpless +sort of creature. And I thought being married to me might help to +improve your position a bit. You see my point, Billikins?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, quite," he said. "Please go on!"</p> + +<p>She went on, with butterfly gaiety.</p> + +<p>"I worked hard—really hard—to get you out of your bog. It was a horrid +deep one, wasn't it, Billikins? My! You were floundering! But I've +pulled you out of it and dragged you up the bank a bit. You don't get +sniffed at anything like you used, do you, Billikins? But I daren't +leave you yet—I honestly daren't. You'd slip right back again directly +my back was turned. And I should have the pleasure of starting the<a name="Page_38" id="Page_38"></a> +business all over again. I couldn't face it, my dear. It would be too +disheartening."</p> + +<p>"I see," said Merryon. There was just the suspicion of a smile among the +rugged lines of his face. "Yes, I see your point. But I can show you +another if you'll listen."</p> + +<p>He was holding her two hands as she sat, as though he feared an attempt +to escape. For though Puck sat quite still, it was with the stillness of +a trapped creature that waits upon opportunity.</p> + +<p>"Will you listen?" he said.</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>It was not an encouraging nod, but he proceeded.</p> + +<p>"All the women go to the Hills for the hot weather. It's unspeakable +here. No white woman could stand it. And we men get leave by turns to +join them. There is nothing doing down here, no social round whatever. +It's just stark duty. I can't lose much social status that way. It will +serve my turn much better if you go up with the other women and continue +to hold your own there. Not that I care a rap," he added, with masculine +tactlessness. "I am no longer susceptible to snubs."</p> + +<p>"Then I shan't go," she said at once, beginning to swing a restless +foot.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but you will go," he said. "I wish it."</p> + +<p>"You want to get rid of me," said Puck, looking over his head with the +eyes of a troubled child.</p> + +<p>Merryon was silent. He was watching her with a kind of speculative +curiosity. His hands were still locked upon hers.</p> + +<p>Slowly her eyes came down to his.</p> + +<p>"Billikins," she said, "let me stay down for a little!" Her lips were +quivering. She kicked his chair agitatedly. "I don't want to go," she<a name="Page_39" id="Page_39"></a> +said, dismally. "Let me stay—anyhow—till I get ill!"</p> + +<p>"No," Merryon said. "It can't be done, child. I can't risk that. +Besides, there'd be no one to look after you."</p> + +<p>She slipped to her feet in a flare of indignation. "You're a pig, +Billikins! You're a pig!" she cried, and tore her hands free. "I've a +good mind to run away from you and never come back. It's what you +deserve, and what you'll get, if you aren't careful!"</p> + +<p>She was gone with the words—gone like a flashing insect disturbing the +silence for a moment, and leaving a deeper silence behind.</p> + +<p>Merryon looked after her for a second or two, and then philosophically +continued his meal. But the slight frown remained between his brows. The +veranda seemed empty and colourless now that she was gone.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER IV</h3> + +<h4>FRIENDS</h4> + + +<p>The Burtons' dinner-party was a very cheerful affair. The Burtons were +young and newly married, and they liked to gather round them all the +youth and gaiety of the station. It was for that reason that Puck's +presence had been secured, for she was the life of every gathering; and +her husband had been included in the invitation simply and solely +because from the very outset she had refused to go anywhere without him. +It was the only item of her behaviour of which worthy Mrs. Paget could<a name="Page_40" id="Page_40"></a> +conscientiously approve.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact Merryon had not the smallest desire to go, but he +would not say so; and all through the evening he sat and watched his +young wife with a curious hunger at his heart. He hated to think that he +had hurt her.</p> + +<p>There was no sign of depression about Puck, however, and he alone +noticed that she never once glanced in his direction. She kept everyone +up to a pitch of frivolity that certainly none would have attained +without her, and an odd feeling began to stir in Merryon, a sensation of +jealousy such as he had never before experienced. They seemed to +forget, all of them, that this flashing, brilliant creature was his.</p> + +<p>She seemed to have forgotten it also. Or was it only that deep-seated, +inimitable coquetry of hers that prompted her thus to ignore him?</p> + +<p>He could not decide; but throughout the evening the determination grew +in him to make this one point clear to her. Trifle as she might, she +must be made to understand that she belonged to him, and him alone. +Comrades they might be, but he held a vested right in her, whether he +chose to assert it or not.</p> + +<p>They returned at length to their little gimcrack bungalow—the +Match-box, as Puck called it—on foot under a blaze of stars. The +distance was not great, and Puck despised rickshaws.</p> + +<p>She flitted by his side in her airy way, chatting inconsequently, not +troubling about response, as elusive as a fairy and—the man felt it in +the rising fever of his veins—as maddeningly attractive.</p> + +<p>They reached the bungalow. She went up the steps to the rose-twined<a name="Page_41" id="Page_41"></a> +veranda as though she floated on wings of gossamer. "The roses are all +asleep, Billikins," she said. "They look like alabaster, don't they?"</p> + +<p>She caught a cluster to her and held it against her cheek for a moment.</p> + +<p>Merryon was close behind her. She seemed to realize his nearness quite +suddenly, for she let the flowers go abruptly and flitted on.</p> + +<p>He followed her till, at the farther end of the veranda, she turned and +faced him. "Goodnight, Billikins," she said, lightly.</p> + +<p>"What about that dancing-lesson?" he said.</p> + +<p>She threw up her arms above her head with a curious gesture. They +gleamed transparently white in the starlight. Her eyes shone like +fire-flies.</p> + +<p>"I thought you preferred dancing by yourself," she retorted.</p> + +<p>"Why?" he said.</p> + +<p>She laughed a soft, provocative laugh, and suddenly, without any +warning, the cloak had fallen from her shoulders and she was dancing. +There in the starlight, white-robed and wonderful, she danced as, it +seemed to the man's fascinated senses, no human had ever danced before. +She was like a white flame—a darting, fiery essence, soundless, +all-absorbing, all-entrancing.</p> + +<p>He watched her with pent breath, bound by the magic of her, caught, as +it were, into the innermost circle of her being, burning in answer to +her fire, yet so curiously enthralled as to be scarcely aware of the +ever-mounting, ever-spreading heat. She was l<a name="Page_42" id="Page_42"></a>ike a mocking spirit, a +will-o'-the-wisp, luring him, luring him—whither?</p> + +<p>The dance quickened, became a passionate whirl, so that suddenly he +seemed to see a bright-winged insect caught in an endless web and +battling for freedom. He almost saw the silvery strands of that web +floating like gossamer in the starlight.</p> + +<p>And then, with well-nigh miraculous suddenness, the struggle was over +and the insect had darted free. He saw her flash away, and found the +veranda empty.</p> + +<p>Her cloak lay at his feet. He stooped with an odd sense of giddiness and +picked it up. A fragrance of roses came to him with the touch of it, and +for an instant he caught it up to his face. The sweetness seemed to +intoxicate him.</p> + +<p>There came a light, inconsequent laugh; sharply he turned. She had +opened the window of his smoking-den and was standing in the entrance +with impudent merriment in her eyes. There was triumph also in her +pose—a triumph that sent a swirl of hot passion through him. He flung +aside the cloak and strode towards her.</p> + +<p>But she was gone on the instant, gone with a tinkle of maddening<a name="Page_43" id="Page_43"></a> +laughter. He blundered into the darkness of an empty room. But he was +not the man to suffer defeat tamely. Momentarily baffled, he paused to +light a lamp; then went from room to room of the little bungalow, +locking each door that she might not elude him a second time. His blood +was on fire, and he meant to find her.</p> + +<p>In the end he came upon her wholly unexpectedly, standing on the veranda +amongst the twining roses. She seemed to be awaiting him, though she +made no movement towards him as he approached.</p> + +<p>"Good-night, Billikins," she said, her voice very small and humble.</p> + +<p>He came to her without haste, realizing that she had given the game +into his hands. She did not shrink from him, but she raised an appealing +face. And oddly the man's heart smote him. She looked so pathetically +small and childish standing there.</p> + +<p>But the blood was still running fiercely in his veins, and that +momentary twinge did not cool him. Child she might be, but she had +played with fire, and she alone was responsible for the conflagration +that she had started.</p> + +<p>He drew near to her; he took her, unresisting, into his arms.</p> + +<p>She cowered down, hiding her face away from him. "Don't, Billikins! +Please—please, Billikins!" she begged, incoherently. "You promised—you +promised—"</p> + +<p>"What did I promise?" he said.</p><p><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44"></a></p> + +<p>"That you wouldn't—wouldn't"—she spoke breathlessly, for his hold was +tightening upon her—"gobble me up," she ended, with a painful little +laugh.</p> + +<p>"I see." Merryon's voice was deep and low. "And you meantime are at +liberty to play any fool game you like with me. Is that it?"</p> + +<p>She was quivering from head to foot. She did not lift her face. "It +wasn't—a fool game," she protested. "I did it because—because—you +were so horrid this morning, so—so cold-blooded. And I—and I—wanted +to see if—I could make you care."</p> + +<p>"Make me care!" Merryon said the words over oddly to himself; and then, +still fast holding her, he began to feel for the face that was so +strenuously hidden from him.</p> + +<p>She resisted him desperately. "Let me go!" she begged, piteously. "I'll +be so good, Billikins. I'll go to the Hills. I'll do anything you like. +Only let me go now! Billikins!"</p> + +<p>She cried out sharply, for he had overcome her resistance by quiet +force, had turned her white face up to his own.</p> + +<p>"I am not cold-blooded to-night, Puck," he said. "Whatever you +are—child or woman—gutter-snipe or angel—you are mine, all mine. +And—I want you!"</p> + +<p>The deep note vibrated in his voice; he stooped over her.</p> + +<p>But she flung herself back over his arm, striving desperately to avoid<a name="Page_45" id="Page_45"></a> +him. "No—no—no!" she cried, wildly. "You mustn't, Billikins! Don't +kiss me! Don't kiss me!"</p> + +<p>She threw up a desperate hand, covering his mouth. "Don't—oh, don't!" +she entreated, brokenly.</p> + +<p>But the fire she had kindled she was powerless to quench. He would not +be frustrated. He caught her hand away. He held her to his heart. He +kissed the red lips hotly, with the savage freedom of a nature long +restrained.</p> + +<p>"Who has a greater right?" he said, with fiery exultation.</p> + +<p>She did not answer him. But at the first touch of his lips upon her own +she resisted no longer, only broke into agonized tears.</p> + +<p>And suddenly Merryon came to himself—was furiously, overwhelmingly +ashamed.</p> + +<p>"God forgive me!" he said, and let her go.</p> + +<p>She tottered a little, covering her face with her hands, sobbing like a +hurt child. But she did not try to run away.</p> + +<p>He flung round upon his heel and paced the veranda in fierce discomfort. +Beast that he was—brute beast to have hurt her so! That piteous sobbing +was more than he could bear.</p> +<p><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46"></a></p> +<p>Suddenly he turned back to her, came and stood beside her. "Puck—Puck, +child!" he said.</p> + +<p>His voice was soft and very urgent. He touched the bent, dark head with +a hesitating caress.</p> + +<p>She started away from him with a gasp of dismay; but he checked her.</p> + +<p>"No, don't!" he said. "It's all right, dear. I'm not such a brute as I +seem. Don't be afraid of me!"</p> + +<p>There was more of pleading in his voice than he knew. She raised her +head suddenly, and looked at him as if puzzled.</p> + +<p>He pulled out his handkerchief and dabbed her wet cheeks with clumsy +tenderness. "It's all right," he said again. "Don't cry! I hate to see +you cry."</p> + +<p>She gazed at him, still doubtful, still sobbing a little. "Oh, +Billikins!" she said, tremulously, "why did you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," he said. "I was mad. It was your own fault, in a way. +You don't seem to realize that I'm as human as the rest of the world. +But I don't defend myself. I was an infernal brute to let myself go like +that."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, you weren't, Billikins!" Quite unexpectedly she answered him. +"You couldn't help it. Men are like that. And I'm glad you're human. +But—but"—she faltered a little—"I want to feel that you're safe, too. +I've always felt—ever since I jumped into your arms that night—that<a name="Page_47" id="Page_47"></a> +you—that you were on the right side of the safety-curtain. You are, +aren't you? Oh, please say you are! But I know you are." She held out +her hands to him with a quivering gesture of confidence. "If you'll +forgive me for—for fooling you," she said, "I'll forgive you—for being +fooled. That's a fair offer, isn't it? Don't let's think any more about +it!" Her rainbow smile transformed her face, but her eyes sought his +anxiously.</p> + +<p>He took the hands, but he did not attempt to draw her nearer. "Puck!" he +said.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" she whispered, trembling.</p> + +<p>"Don't!" he said. "I won't hurt you. I wouldn't hurt a hair of your +head. But, child, wouldn't it be safer—easier for both of us—if—if we +lived together, instead of apart?"</p> + +<p>He spoke almost under his breath. There was no hint of mastery about +him at that moment, only a gentleness that pleaded with her as with a +frightened child.</p> + +<p>And Puck went nearer to him on the instant, as it were instinctively, +almost involuntarily. "P'r'aps some day, Billikins!" she said, with a +little, quivering laugh. "But not yet—not if I've got to go to the +Hills away from you."</p> + +<p>"When I follow you to the Hills, then," he said.</p> + +<p>She freed one hand and, reaching up, lightly stroked his cheek. +"P'r'aps, Billikins!" she said again. "But—you'll have to be awfully +patient with me, because—because—" She paused, agitatedly; then went<a name="Page_48" id="Page_48"></a> +yet a little nearer to him. "You will be kind to me, won't you?" she +pleaded.</p> + +<p>He put his arm about her. "Always, dear," he said.</p> + +<p>She raised her face. She was still trembling, but her action was one of +resolute confidence. "Then let's be friends, Billikins!" she said.</p> + +<p>It was a tacit invitation. He bent and gravely kissed her.</p> + +<p>Her lips returned his kiss shyly, quiveringly. "You're the nicest man I +ever met, Billikins," she said. "Good-night!"</p> + +<p>She slipped from his encircling arm and was gone.</p> + +<p>The man stood motionless where she had left him, wondering at himself, +at her, at the whole rocking universe. She had kindled the Magic Fire +in him indeed! His whole being was aglow. And yet—and yet—she had had +her way with him. He had let her go.</p> + +<p>Wherefore? Wherefore? The hot blood dinned in his ears. His hands +clenched. And from very deep within him the answer came. Because he +loved her.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER V</h3> + +<h4>THE WOMAN</h4> + + +<p>Summer in the Plains! Pitiless, burning summer!</p><p><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49"></a></p> + +<p>All day a blinding blaze of sun beat upon the wooden roof, forced a way +through the shaded windows, lay like a blasting spell upon the parched +compound. The cluster-roses had shrivelled and died long since. Their +brown leaves still clung to the veranda and rattled desolately with a +dry, scaly sound in the burning wind of dawn.</p> + +<p>The green parakeets had ceased to look for sweets on the veranda. +Nothing dainty ever made its appearance there. The Englishman who came +and went with such grim endurance offered them no temptations.</p> + +<p>Sometimes he spent the night on a <i>charpoy</i> on the veranda, lying +motionless, though often sleepless, through the breathless, dragging +hours. There had been sickness among the officers and Merryon, who was +never sick, was doing the work of three men. He did it doggedly, with +the stubborn determination characteristic of him; not cheerfully—no one +ever accused Merryon of being cheerful—but efficiently and +uncomplainingly. Other men cursed the heat, but he never took the +trouble. He needed all his energies for what he had to do.</p> + +<p>His own chance of leave had become very remote. There was so much sick +leave that he could not be spared. Over that, also, he made no +complaint. It was useless to grumble at the inevitable. There was not a +man in the mess who could not be spared more easily than he.</p> + +<p>For he was indomitable, unfailing, always fulfilling his duties with +machine-like regularity, stern, impenetrable, hard as granite.</p> + +<p>As to what lay behind that hardness, no one ever troubled to inquire.<a name="Page_50" id="Page_50"></a> +They took him for granted, much as if he had been a well-oiled engine +guaranteed to surmount all obstacles. How he did it was nobody's +business but his own. If he suffered in that appalling heat as other men +suffered, no one knew of it. If he grew a little grimmer and a little +gaunter, no one noticed. Everyone knew that whatever happened to others, +he at least would hold on. Everyone described him as "hard as nails."</p> + +<p>Each day seemed more intolerable than the last, each night a perceptible +narrowing of the fiery circle in which they lived. They seemed to be +drawing towards a culminating horror that grew hourly more palpable, +more monstrously menacing—a horror that drained their strength even +from afar.</p> + +<p>"It's going to kill us this time," declared little Robey, the youngest +subaltern, to whom the nights were a torment unspeakable. He had been +within an ace of heat apoplexy more than once, and his nerves were +stretched almost to breaking-point.</p> + +<p>But Merryon went doggedly on, hewing his unswerving way through all. The +monsoon was drawing near, and the whole tortured earth seemed to be +waiting in dumb expectation.</p> + +<p>Night after night a glassy moon came up, shining, immense and awful, +through a thick haze of heat. Night after night Merryon lay on his +veranda, smoking his pipe in stark endurance while the dreadful hours +crept by. Sometimes he held a letter from his wife hard clenched in one +powerful hand. She wrote to him frequently—short, airy epistles, wholly +inconsequent, often provocatively meagre.</p> + +<p>"There is a Captain Silvester here," she wrote once; "such a bounder.<a name="Page_51" id="Page_51"></a> +But he is literally the only man who can dance in the station. So what +would you? Poor Mrs. Paget is so shocked!"</p> + +<p>Feathery hints of this description were by no means unusual, but though +Merryon sometimes frowned over them, they did not make him uneasy. His +will-o'-the-wisp might beckon, but she would never allow herself to be +caught. She never spoke of love in her letters, always ending demurely, +"Yours sincerely, Puck." But now and then there was a small cross +scratched impulsively underneath the name, and the letters that bore +this token accompanied Merryon through his inferno whithersoever he +went.</p><p><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52"></a></p> + +<p>There came at last a night of terrible heat, when it seemed as if the +world itself must burst into flames. A heavy storm rolled up, roared +overhead for a space like a caged monster, and sullenly rolled away, +without a single drop of rain to ease the awful tension of waiting that +possessed all things.</p> + +<p>Merryon left the mess early, tramping back over the dusty road, +convinced that the downpour for which they all yearned was at hand. +There was no moonlight that night, only a hot blackness, illumined now +and then by a brilliant dart of lightning that shocked the senses and +left behind a void indescribable, a darkness that could be felt. There +was something savage in the atmosphere, something primitive and +passionate that seemed to force itself upon him even against his will. +His pulses were strung to a tropical intensity that made him aware of +the man's blood in him, racing at fever heat through veins that felt +swollen to bursting.</p> + +<p>He entered his bungalow and flung off his clothes, took a plunge in a +bath of tepid water, from which he emerged with a pricking sensation all +over him that made the lightest touch a torture, and finally, keyed up +to a pitch of sensitiveness that excited his own contempt, he pulled on<a name="Page_53" id="Page_53"></a> +some pyjamas and went out to his <i>charpoy</i> on the veranda.</p> + +<p>He dismissed the <i>punkah</i> coolie, feeling his presence to be +intolerable, and threw himself down with his coat flung open. The +oppression of the atmosphere was as though a red-hot lid were being +forced down upon the tortured earth. The blackness beyond the veranda +was like a solid wall. Sleep was out of the question. He could not +smoke. It was an effort even to breathe. He could only lie in torment +and wait—and wait.</p> + +<p>The flashes of lightning had become less frequent. A kind of waking +dream began to move in his brain. A figure gradually grew upon that +screen of darkness—an elf-like thing, intangible, transparent, a +quivering, shadowy image, remote as the dawn.</p> + +<p>Wide-eyed, he watched the vision, his pulses beating with a mad longing +so fierce as to be utterly beyond his own control. It was as though he +had drunk strong wine and had somehow slipped the leash of ordinary +convention. The savagery of the night, the tropical intensity of it, had +got into him. Half-naked, wholly primitive, he lay and waited—and +waited.</p> + +<p>For a while the vision hung before him, tantalizing him, maddening him, +eluding him. Then came a flash of lightning, and it was gone.</p> + +<p>He started up on the <i>charpoy</i>, every nerve tense as stretched wire.</p><p><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54"></a></p> + +<p>"Come back!" he cried, hoarsely. "Come back!"</p> + +<p>Again the lightning streaked the darkness.</p> + +<p>There came a burst of thunder, and suddenly, through it and above it, +he heard the far-distant roar of rain. He sprang to his feet. It was +coming.</p> + +<p>The seconds throbbed away. Something was moving in the compound, a +subtle, awful Something. The trees and bushes quivered before it, the +cluster-roses rattled their dead leaves wildly. But the man stood +motionless in the light that fell across the veranda from the open +window of his room, watching with eyes that shone with a fierce and +glaring intensity for the return of his vision.</p> + +<p>The fevered blood was hammering at his temples. For the moment he was +scarcely sane. The fearful strain of the past few weeks that had +overwhelmed less hardy men had wrought upon him in a fashion more subtle +but none the less compelling. They had been stricken down, whereas he +had been strung to a pitch where bodily suffering had almost ceased to +count. He had grown used to the torment, and now in this supreme moment +it tore from him his civilization, but his physical strength remained +untouched. He stood alert and ready, like a beast in a cage, waiting for +whatever the gods might deign to throw him.</p><p><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55"></a></p> + +<p>The tumult beyond that wall of blackness grew. It became a swirling +uproar. The rose-vines were whipped from the veranda and flung writhing +in all directions. The trees in the compound strove like terrified +creatures in the grip of a giant. The heat of the blast was like tongues +of flame blown from an immense furnace. Merryon's whole body seemed to +be wrapped in fire. With a fierce movement, he stripped the coat from +him and flung it into the room behind him. He was alone save for the +devils that raged in that pandemonium. What did it matter how he met +them?</p> + +<p>And then, with the suddenness of a stupendous weight dropped from +heaven, came rain, rain in torrents and billows, rain solid as the +volume of Niagara, a crushing mighty force.</p> + +<p>The tempest shrieked through the compound. The lightning glimmered, +leapt, became continuous. The night was an inferno of thunder and +violence.</p> + +<p>And suddenly out of the inferno, out of the awful strife of elements, +out of that frightful rainfall, there came—a woman!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER VI</h3> +<h4>LOVERS<a name="Page_56" id="Page_56"></a></h4> + + +<p>She came haltingly, clinging with both hands to the rail of the veranda, +her white face staring upwards in terror and instinctive appeal. She was +like an insect dragging itself away from destruction, with drenched and +battered wings.</p> + +<p>He saw her coming and stiffened. It was his vision returned to him, but +till she came within reach of him he was afraid to move. He stood +upright against the wall, every mad instinct of his blood fiercely awake +and clamouring.</p> + +<p>The noise and wind increased. It swirled along the veranda. She seemed +afraid to quit her hold of the balustrade lest she should be swept away. +But still she drew nearer to the lighted window, and at last, with +desperate resolution, she tore herself free and sprang for shelter.</p> + +<p>In that instant the man also sprang. He caught her in arms that almost +expected to clasp emptiness, arms that crushed in a savage ecstasy of +possession at the actual contact with a creature of flesh and blood. In +the same moment the lamp in the room behind him flared up and went out.</p> + +<p>There arose a frightened crying from his breast. For a few moments she +fought like a mad thing for freedom. He felt her teeth set in his arm, +and laughed aloud. Then very suddenly her struggles ceased. He became +aware of a change in her. She gave her whole weight into his arms, and +lay palpitating against his heart.</p> +<p><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57"></a></p> +<p>By the awful glare of the lightning he found her face uplifted to his. +She was laughing, too, but in her eyes was such a passion of love as he +had never looked upon before. In that moment he knew that she was +his—wholly, completely, irrevocably his. And, stooping, he kissed the +upturned lips with the fierce exultation of the conqueror.</p> + +<p>Her arms slipped round his neck. She abandoned herself wholly to him. +She gave him worship for worship, passion for passion.</p> + +<p>Later, he awoke to the fact that she was drenched from head to foot. He +drew her into his room and shut the window against the driving blast. +She clung to him still.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it dreadful?" she said, shuddering. "It's just as if Something +Big is trying to get between us."</p> + +<p>He closed the shutter also, and groped for matches. She accompanied him +on his search, for she would not lose touch with him for a moment.</p> + +<p>The lamp flared on her white, childish face, showing him wild joy and +horror strangely mingled. Her great eyes laughed up at him.</p> + +<p>"Billikins, darling! You aren't very decent, are you? I'm not decent +either, Billikins. I'd like to take off all my clothes and dance on my +head."</p><p><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58"></a></p> + +<p>He laughed grimly. "You will certainly have to undress—the sooner the +better."</p> + +<p>She spread out her hands. "But I've nothing to wear, Billikins, nothing +but what I've got on. I didn't know it was going to rain so. You'll have +to lend me a suit of pyjamas, dear, while I get my things dried. You +see"—she halted a little—"I came away in rather a hurry. I—was +bored."</p> + +<p>Merryon, oddly sobered by her utter dependence upon him, turned aside +and foraged for brandy. She came close to him while he poured it out.</p> + +<p>"It isn't for me, is it? I couldn't drink it, darling. I shouldn't know +what was happening for the next twenty-four hours if I did."</p> + +<p>"It doesn't matter whether you do or not," he said. "I shall be here to +look after you."</p> + +<p>She laughed at that, a little quivering laugh<a name="Page_59" id="Page_59"></a> of sheer content. Her +cheek was against his shoulder. "Live for ever, O king!" she said, and +softly kissed it.</p> + +<p>Then she caught sight of something on the arm below. "Oh, darling, did I +do that?" she cried, in distress.</p> + +<p>He put the arm about her. "It doesn't matter. I don't feel it," he +said. "I've got you."</p> + +<p>She lifted her lips to his again. "Billikins, darling, I didn't know it +was you—at first, not till I heard you laugh. I'd rather die than hurt +you. You know it, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I know it," he said.</p> + +<p>He caught her to him passionately for a moment, then slowly relaxed his +hold. "Drink this, like a good child," he said, "and then you must get +to bed. You are wet to the skin."</p> + +<p>"I know I am," she said, "but I don't mind."</p> + +<p>"I mind for you," he said.</p> + +<p>She laughed up at him, her eyes like stars. "I was lucky to get in when +I did," she said. "Wasn't the heat dreadful—and the lightning? I ran<a name="Page_60" id="Page_60"></a> +all the way from the station. I was just terrified at it all. But I kept +thinking of you, dear—of you, and how—and how you'd kissed me that +night when I was such a little idiot as to cry. Must I really drink it, +Billikins? Ah, well, just to please you—anything to please you. But you +must have one little sip first. Yes, darling, just one. That's to please +your silly little wife, who wants to share everything with you now. +There's my own boy! Now I'll drink every drop—every drop."</p> + +<p>She began to drink, standing in the circle of his arm; then looked up at +him with a quick grimace. "It's powerful strong, dear. You'll have to +put me to bed double quick after this, or I shall be standing on my head +in earnest."</p> + +<p>He laughed a little. She leaned back against him.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know, darling. You're a man that likes to manage, aren't you? +Well, you can manage me and all that is mine for the rest of my natural +life. I'm never going to leave you again, Billikins. That's understood, +is it?"</p> + +<p>His face sobered. "What possessed you to come back to this damnable +place?" he said.</p> + +<p>She laughed against his shoulder. "Now, Billikins, don't you start +asking silly questions. I'll tell you as much as it's good for you to<a name="Page_61" id="Page_61"></a> +know all in good time. I came mainly because I wanted to. And that's the +reason why I'm going to stay. See?"</p> + +<p>She reached up an audacious finger and smoothed the faint frown from his +forehead with her sunny, provocative smile.</p> + +<p>"It'll have to be a joint management," she said. "There are so many +things you mustn't do. Now, darling, I've finished the brandy to please +you. So suppose you look out your prettiest suit of pyjamas, and I'll +try and get into them." She broke into a giddy little laugh. "What would +Mrs. Paget say? Can't you see her face? I can!"</p> + +<p>She stopped suddenly, struck dumb by a terrible blast of wind that shook +the bungalow to its foundations.</p> + +<p>"Just hark to the wind and the rain, Billikins!" she whispered, as it +swirled on. "Did you ever hear anything so awful? It's as if—as if God +were very furious—about something. Do you think He is, dear? Do you?" +She pressed close to him with white, pleading face upraised. "Do you +believe in God, Billikins? Honestly now!"</p> + +<p>The man hesitated, holding her fast in his arms, seeing only the +quivering, childish mouth and beseeching eyes.</p> + +<p>"You don't, do you?" she said. "I don't myself, Billikins. I think He's +just a myth. Or anyhow—if He's there at all—He doesn't bother about +the people who were born on the wrong side of the safety-curtain. There, +darling! Kiss me once more—I love your kisses—I love them! And now go! +Yes—yes, you must go—just while I make myself respectable. Yes, but +you can leave the door ajar, dear heart! I want to feel you close at +hand. I am yours—till I die—king and master!"</p> +<p><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62"></a></p> +<p>Her eyes were brimming with tears; he thought her overwrought and weary, +and passed them by in silence.</p> + +<p>And so through that night of wonder, of violence, and of storm, she lay +against his heart, her arms wound about his neck with a closeness which +even sleep could not relax.</p> + +<p>Out of the storm she had come to him, like a driven bird seeking refuge; +and through the fury of the storm he held her, compassing her with the +fire of his passion.</p> + +<p>"I am safe now," she murmured once, when he thought her sleeping. "I am +quite—quite safe."</p> + +<p>And he, fancying the raging of the storm had disturbed her, made hushing +answer, "Quite safe, wife of my heart."</p> + +<p>She trembled a little, and nestled closer to his breast.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER VII</h3> + +<h4>THE HONEYMOON</h4> + + +<p>"You can't mean to let your wife stay here!" ejaculated the colonel,<a name="Page_63" id="Page_63"></a> +sharply. "You wouldn't do anything so mad!"</p> + +<p>Merryon's hard mouth took a sterner downward curve. "My wife refuses to +leave me, sir," he said.</p> + +<p>"Good heavens above, Merryon!" The colonel's voice held a species of +irritated derision. "Do you tell me you can't manage—a—a piece of +thistledown like that?"</p> + +<p>Merryon was silent, grimly, implacably silent. Plainly he had no +intention of making such an admission.</p> + +<p>"It's madness—criminal madness!" Colonel Davenant looked at him +aggressively, obviously longing to pierce that stubborn calm with which +Merryon had so long withstood the world.</p> + +<p>But Merryon remained unmoved, though deep in his private soul he knew +that the colonel was right, knew that he had decided upon a course of +action that involved a risk which he dreaded to contemplate.</p> + +<p>"Oh, look here, Merryon!" The colonel lost his temper after his own +precipitate fashion. "Don't be such a confounded fool! Take a +fortnight's leave—I can't spare you longer—and go back to the Hills +with her! Make her settle down with my wife at Shamkura! Tell her you'll +beat her if she doesn't!"</p> + +<p>Merryon's grim face softened a little. "Thank you very much, sir! But +you can't spare me even for so long. Moreover, that form of punishment +wouldn't scare her. So, you see, it would come to the same thing in the +end. She is determined to face what I face for the present."</p> +<p><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64"></a></p> +<p>"And you're determined to let her!" growled the colonel.</p> + +<p>Merryon shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"You'll probably lose her," the colonel persisted, gnawing fiercely at +his moustache. "Have you considered that?"</p> + +<p>"I've considered everything," Merryon said, rather heavily. "But she +came to me—through that inferno. I can't send her away again. She +wouldn't go."</p> + +<p>Colonel Davenant swore under his breath. "Let me talk to her!" he said, +after a moment.</p> + +<p>The ghost of a smile touched Merryon's face. "It's no good, sir. You can +talk. You won't make any impression."</p> + +<p>"But it's practically a matter of life and death, man!" insisted the +colonel. "You can't afford any silly sentiment in an affair like this."</p> + +<p>"I am not sentimental," Merryon said, and his lips twitched a little +with the words. "But all the same, since she has set her heart on +staying, she shall stay. I have promised that she shall."</p> + +<p>"You are mad," the colonel declared. "Just think a minute! Think what<a name="Page_65" id="Page_65"></a> +your feelings will be if she dies!"</p> + +<p>"I have thought, sir." The dogged note was in Merryon's voice again. His +face was a mask of impenetrability. "If she dies, I shall at least have +the satisfaction of knowing that I made her happy first."</p> + +<p>It was his last word on the subject. He departed, leaving the colonel +fuming.</p> + +<p>That evening the latter called upon Mrs. Merryon. He found her sitting +on her husband's knee smoking a Turkish cigarette, and though she +abandoned this unconventional attitude to receive her visitor, he had a +distinct impression that the two were in subtle communion throughout his +stay.</p><p><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66"></a></p> + +<p>"It's so very nice of you to take the trouble," she said, in her +charming way, when he had made his most urgent representations. "But +really it's much better for me to be with my husband here. I stayed at +Shamkura just as long as I could possibly bear it, and then I just had +to come back here. I don't think I shall get ill—really. And if I +do"—she made a little foreign gesture of the hands—"I'll nurse +myself."</p> + +<p>As Merryon had foretold, it was useless to argue with her. She +dismissed all argument with airy unreason. But yet the colonel could not +find it in his heart to be angry with her. He was very angry with +Merryon, so angry that for a whole fortnight he scarcely spoke to him.</p> + +<p>But when the end of the fortnight came, and with it the first break in +the rains, little Mrs. Merryon went smiling forth and returned his call.</p> + +<p>"Are you still being cross with Billikins?" she asked him, while her +hand lay engagingly in his. "Because it's really not his fault, you +know. If he sent me to Kamchatka, I should still come back."</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't if you belonged to me," said Colonel Davenant, with a +grudging smile.</p> + +<p>She laughed and shook her head. "Perhaps I shouldn't—not unless I loved +you as dearly as I love Billikins. But I think you needn't be cross<a name="Page_67" id="Page_67"></a> +about it. I'm quite well. If you don't believe me, you can look at my +tongue."</p> + +<p>She shot it out impudently, still laughing. And the colonel suddenly and +paternally patted her cheek.</p> + +<p>"You're a very naughty girl," he said. "But I suppose we shall have to +make the best of you. Only, for Heaven's sake, don't go and get ill on +the quiet! If you begin to feel queer, send for the doctor at the +outset!"</p> + +<p>He abandoned his attitude of disapproval towards Merryon after that +interview, realizing possibly its injustice. He even declared in a +letter to his wife that Mrs. Merryon was an engaging chit, with a will +of her own that threatened to rule them all! Mrs. Davenant pursed her +lips somewhat over the assertion, and remarked that Major Merryon's wife +was plainly more at home with men than women. Captain Silvester was so +openly out of temper over her absence that it was evident she had been +"leading him on with utter heartlessness," and now, it seemed, she meant +to have the whole mess at her beck and call.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, Puck saw much more of the mess than she desired. It +became the fashion among the younger officers to drop into the Merryons' +bungalow at the end of the evening. Amusements were scarce, and Puck was +a vigorous antidote to boredom. She always sparkled in society, and she +was too sweet-natured to snub "the boys," as she called them. The smile +of welcome was ever ready on her little, thin white face, the quick jest +on her nimble tongue.</p> + +<p>"We mustn't be piggy just because we are happy," she said to her husband +once. "How are they to know we are having our honeymoon?" And then she<a name="Page_68" id="Page_68"></a> +nestled close to him, whispering, "It's quite the best honeymoon any +woman ever had."</p> + +<p>To which he could make but the one reply, pressing her to his heart and +kissing the red lips that mocked so merrily when the world was looking +on.</p> + +<p>She had become the hub of his existence, and day by day he watched her +anxiously, grasping his happiness with a feeling that it was too great +to last.</p> + +<p>The rains set in in earnest, and the reek of the Plains rose like an +evil miasma to the turbid heavens. The atmosphere was as the interior of +a steaming cauldron. Great toadstools spread like a loathsome disease +over the compound. Fever was rife in the camp. Mosquitoes buzzed +incessantly everywhere, and rats began to take refuge in the bungalow. +Puck was privately terrified at rats, but she smothered her terror in +her husband's presence and maintained a smiling front. They laid down +poison for the rats, who died horribly in inaccessible places, making +her wonder if they were not almost preferable alive. And then one night +she discovered a small snake coiled in a corner of her bedroom.</p> + +<p>She fled to Merryon in horror, and he and the <i>khitmutgar</i> slew the +creature. But Puck's nerves were on edge from that day forward. She went +through agonies of cold fear whenever she was left alone, and she +feverishly encouraged the subalterns to visit her during her husband's +absence on duty.</p> +<p><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69"></a></p> +<p>He raised no objection till he one day returned unexpectedly to find her +dancing a hornpipe for the benefit of a small, admiring crowd to whom +she had been administering tea.</p> + +<p>She sprang like a child to meet him at his entrance, declaring the +entertainment at an end; and the crowd soon melted away.</p> + +<p>Then, somewhat grimly, Merryon took his wife to task.</p> + +<p>She sat on the arm of his chair with her arms round his neck, swinging +one leg while she listened. She was very docile, punctuating his remarks +with soft kisses dropped inconsequently on the top of his head. When he +ended, she slipped cosily down upon his knee and promised to be good.</p> + +<p>It was not a very serious promise, and it was plainly proffered in a +spirit of propitiation. Merryon pursued the matter no further, but he +was vaguely dissatisfied. He had a feeling that she regarded his +objections as the outcome of eccentric prudishness, or at the best an +unreasonable fit of jealousy. She smoothed him down as though he had +been a spoilt child, her own attitude supremely unabashed; and though he +could not be angry with her, an uneasy sense of doubt pressed upon him. +Utterly his own as he knew her to be, yet dimly, intangibly, he began to +wonder what her outlook on life could be, how she regarded the tie that +bound them. It was impossible to reason seriously with her. She floated +out of his reach at the first touch.</p> + +<p>So that curious honeymoon of theirs continued, love and passion crudely +mingled, union without knowledge, flaming worship and blind possession.</p> +<p><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70"></a></p> +<p>"You are happy?" Merryon asked her once.</p> + +<p>To which she made ardent answer, "Always happy in your arms, O king."</p> + +<p>And Merryon was happy also, though, looking back later, it seemed to him +that he snatched his happiness on the very edge of the pit, and that +even at the time he must have been half-aware of it.</p> + +<p>When, a month after her coming, the scourge of the Plains caught her, as +was inevitable, he felt as if his new-found kingdom had begun already to +depart from him.</p> + +<p>For a few days Puck was seriously ill with malaria. She came through it +with marvellous resolution, nursed by Merryon and his bearer, the +general factotum of the establishment.</p> + +<p>But it left her painfully weak and thin, and the colonel became again +furiously insistent that she should leave the Plains till the rains were +over.</p> + +<p>Merryon, curiously enough, did not insist. Only one evening he took the +little wasted body into his arms and begged her—actually begged her—to +consent to go.</p> + +<p>"I shall be with you for the first fortnight," he said. "It won't be +more than a six-weeks' separation."</p><p><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71"></a></p> + +<p>"Six weeks!" she protested, piteously.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps less," he said. "I may be able to come to you for a day or two +in the middle. Say you will go—and stay, sweetheart! Set my mind at +rest!"</p> + +<p>"But, darling, you may be ill. A thousand things may happen. And I +couldn't go back to Shamkura. I couldn't!" said Puck, almost crying, +clinging fast around his neck.</p> + +<p>"But why not?" he questioned, gently. "Weren't they kind to you there? +Weren't you happy?"</p> + +<p>She clung faster. "Happy, Billikins! With that hateful Captain Silvester +lying in wait to—to make love to me! I didn't tell you before. But +that—that was why I left."</p> + +<p>He frowned above her head. "You ought to have told me before, Puck."</p> + +<p>She trembled in his arms. "It didn't seem to matter when once I'd got +away; and I knew it would only make you cross."</p> + +<p>"How did he make love to you?" demanded Merryon.</p> +<p><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72"></a></p> +<p>He tried to see her face, but she hid it resolutely against him. "Don't, +Billikins! It doesn't matter now."</p> + +<p>"It does matter," he said, sternly.</p> + +<p>Puck was silent.</p> + +<p>Merryon continued inexorably. "I suppose it was your own fault. You led +him on."</p> + +<p>She gave a little nervous laugh against his breast. "I never meant to, +Billikins. I—I don't much like men—as a rule."</p> + +<p>"You manage to conceal that fact very successfully," he said.</p> + +<p>She laughed again rather piteously. "You don't know me," she whispered. +"I'm not—like that—all through."</p> + +<p>"I hope not," said Merryon, severely.</p> + +<p>She turned her face slightly upwards and snuggled it into his neck. "You +used not to mind," she said.</p> + +<p>He held her close in his arms the while he steeled himself against her. +"Well, I mind now," he said. "And I will have no more of it. Is that +clearly understood?"</p> +<p><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73"></a></p> +<p>She assented dubiously, her lips softly kissing his neck. "It isn't—all +my fault, Billikins," she whispered, wistfully, "that men treat +me—lightly."</p> + +<p>He set his teeth. "It must be your fault," he declared, firmly. "You can +help it if you try."</p> + +<p>She turned her face more fully to his. "How grim you look, darling! You +haven't kissed me for quite five minutes."</p> + +<p>"I feel more like whipping you," he said, grimly.</p> + +<p>She leapt in his arms as if he had been about to put his words into +action. "Oh, no!" she cried. "No, you wouldn't beat me, Billikins. +You—you wouldn't, dear, would you?" Her great eyes, dilated and +imploring, gazed into his for a long desperate second ere she gave +herself back to him with a sobbing laugh. "You're not in earnest, of +course. I'm silly to listen to you. Do kiss me, darling, and not +frighten me anymore!"</p> + +<p>He held her close, but still he did not comply with her request. "Did +this Silvester ever kiss you?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She shook her head vehemently, hiding her face.</p> + +<p>"Look at me!" he said.</p> + +<p>"No, Billikins!" she protested.</p> + +<p>"Then tell me the truth!" he said.</p> +<p><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74"></a></p> +<p>"He kissed me—once, Billikins," came in distressed accents from his +shoulder.</p> + +<p>"And you?" Merryon's words sounded clipped and cold.</p> + +<p>She shivered. "I ran right away to you. I—I didn't feel safe any more."</p> + +<p>Merryon sat silent. Somehow he could not stir up his anger against her, +albeit his inner consciousness told him that she had been to blame; but +for the first time his passion was cooled. He held her without ardour, +the while he wondered.</p> + +<p>That night he awoke to the sound of her low sobbing at his side. His +heart smote him. He put forth a comforting hand.</p> + +<p>She crept into his arms. "Oh, Billikins," she whispered, "keep me with +you! I'm not safe—by myself."</p> + +<p>The man's soul stirred within him. Dimly he began to understand what his +protection meant to her. It was her anchor, all she had to keep her from +the whirlpools. Without it she was at the mercy of every wind that blew. +Again cold doubt assailed him, but he put it forcibly away. He gathered +her close, and kissed the tears from her face and the trouble from her +heart.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER VIII</h3> + +<h4>THE MOUTH OF THE PIT</h4> + +<p><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75"></a></p> +<p>So Puck had her way and stayed.</p> + +<p>She was evidently sublimely happy—at least in Merryon's society, but +she did not pick up her strength very quickly, and but for her unfailing +high spirits Merryon would have felt anxious about her. There seemed to +be nothing of her. She was not like a creature of flesh and blood. Yet +how utterly, how abundantly, she satisfied him! She poured out her love +to him in a perpetual offering that never varied or grew less. She gave +him freely, eagerly, glowingly, all she had to give. With passionate +triumph she answered to his need. And that need was growing. He could +not blind himself to the fact. His profession no longer filled his life. +There were times when he even resented its demands upon him. The sick +list was rapidly growing, and from morning till night his days were +full.</p> + +<p>Puck made no complaint. She was always waiting for him, however late the +hour of his return. She was always in his arms the moment the dripping +overcoat was removed. Sometimes he brought work back with him, and +wrestled with regimental accounts and other details far into the night. +It was not his work, but someone had to do it, and it had devolved upon +him.</p> + +<p>Puck never would go to bed without him. It was too lonely, she said; she +was afraid of snakes, or rats, or bogies. She used to curl up on the +<i>charpoy</i> in his room, clad in the airiest of wrappers, and doze the +time away till he was ready.</p> + +<p>One night she actually fell into a sound sleep thus, and he, finishing +his work, sat on and on, watching her, loath to disturb her. There was +deep pathos in her sleeping face. Lines that in her waking moments were +never apparent were painfully noticeable in repose. She had the puzzled, +wistful look of a child who has gone through trouble without<a name="Page_76" id="Page_76"></a> +understanding it—a hurt and piteous look.</p> + +<p>He watched her thus till a sense of trespass came upon him, and then he +rose, bent over her, and very tenderly lifted her.</p> + +<p>She was alert on the instant, with a sharp movement of resistance. Then +at once her arms went round his neck. "Oh, darling, is it you? Don't +bother to carry me! You're so tired!"</p> + +<p>He smiled at the idea, and she nestled against his heart, lifting soft +lips to his.</p> + +<p>He carried her to bed, and laid her down, but she would not let him go +immediately. She yet clung about his neck, hiding her face against it.</p> + +<p>He held her closely. "Good-night, little pal—little sweetheart," he +said.</p> + +<p>Her arms tightened. "Billikins!" she said.</p> + +<p>He waited. "What is it, dear?"</p> + +<p>She became a little agitated. He could feel her lips moving, but they +said no audible word.</p> + +<p>He waited in silence. And suddenly she raised her face and looked at him +fully. There was a glory in her eyes such as he had never seen before.</p> + +<p>"I dreamt last night that the wonderfullest thing happened," she said, +her red lips quivering close to his own. "Billikins, what if—the dream +came true?"</p> + +<p>A hot wave of feeling went through him at her words. He crushed her to +him, feeling the quick beat of her heart against his own, the throbbing +surrender of her whole being to his. He kissed her burningly, with such +a passion of devotion as had never before moved him.</p> + +<p>She laughed rapturously. "Isn't it great, Billikins?" she said. "And I'd +have missed it all if it hadn't been for you. Jus<a name="Page_77" id="Page_77"></a>t think—if I hadn't +jumped—before the safety-curtain—came—down!"</p> + +<p>She was speaking between his kisses, and eventually they stopped her.</p> + +<p>"Don't think," he said; "don't think!"</p> + +<p>It was the beginning of a new era, the entrance of a new element into +their lives. Perhaps till that night he had never looked upon her wholly +in the light of wife. His blind passion for her had intoxicated him. +She had been to him an elf from fairyland, a being elusive who offered +him all the magic of her love, but upon whom he had no claims. But from +that night his attitude towards her underwent a change. Very tenderly he +took her into his own close keeping. She had become human in his eyes, +no longer a wayward sprite, but a woman, eager-hearted, and his own. He +gave her reverence because of that womanhood which he had only just +begun to visualize in her. Out of his passion there had kindled a +greater fire. All that she had in life she gave him, glorying in the +gift, and in return he gave her love.</p> + +<p>All through the days that followed he watched over her with unfailing +devotion—a devotion that drew her nearer to him than she had ever been +before. She was ever responsive to his mood, keenly susceptible to his<a name="Page_78" id="Page_78"></a> +every phase of feeling. But, curiously, she took no open notice of the +change in him. She was sublimely happy, and like a child she lived upon +happiness, asking no questions. He never saw her other than content.</p> + +<p>Slowly that month of deadly rain wore on. The Plains had become a vast +and fetid swamp, the atmosphere a weltering, steamy heat, charged with +fever, leaden with despair.</p> + +<p>But Puck was like a singing bird in the heart of the wilderness. She +lived apart in a paradise of her own, and even the colonel had to +relent again and bestow his grim smile upon her.</p> + +<p>"Merryon's a lucky devil," he said, and everyone in the mess agreed with +him.</p> + +<p>But, "You wait!" said Macfarlane, the doctor, with gloomy emphasis. +"There's more to come."</p> + +<p>It was on a night of awful darkness that he uttered this prophecy, and +his hearers were in too overwhelming a state of depression to debate the +matter.</p> + +<p>Merryon's bungalow was actually the only one in the station in which +happiness reigned. They were sitting together in his den smoking a great +many cigarettes, listening to the perpetual patter of the rain on the +roof and the drip, drip, drip of it from gutter to veranda, superbly +content and "completely weather-proof," as Puck expressed it.</p> +<p><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79"></a></p> +<p>"I hope none of the boys will turn up to-night," she said. "We haven't +room for more than two, have we?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, someone is sure to come," responded Merryon. "They'll be getting +bored directly, and come along here for coffee."</p> + +<p>"There's someone there now," said Puck, cocking her head. "I think I +shall run along to bed and leave you to do the entertaining. Shall I?"</p> + +<p>She looked at him with a mischievous smile, very bright-eyed and alert.</p> + +<p>"It would be a quick method of getting rid of them," remarked Merryon.</p> + +<p>She jumped up. "Very well, then. I'll go, shall I? Shall I, darling?"</p> + +<p>He reached out a hand and grasped her wrist. "No," he said, +deliberately, smiling up at her. "You'll stay and do your duty—unless +you're tired," he added. "Are you?"</p> + +<p>She stooped to bestow a swift caress upon his forehead. "My own +Billikins!" she murmured. "You're the kindest husband that ever was. Of +course, I'm going to stay."</p> + +<p>She could scarcely have effected her escape had she so desired, for +already a hand was on the door. She turned towards it with the roguish +smile still upon her lips.</p> + +<p>Merryon was looking at her at the moment. She interested him far more +than the visitor, whom he guessed to be one of the subalterns. And so +looking, he saw the smile freeze upon her face to a mask-like +immobility. And very suddenly he remembered a man whom he had once seen +killed on a battlefield—killed instantaneously—while laughing at some +joke. The frozen mirth, the starting eyes, the awful vacancy where the +soul had been—he saw them all again in the face of his wife.</p><p><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80"></a></p> + +<p>"Great heavens, Puck! What is it?" he said, and sprang to his feet.</p> + +<p>In the same instant she turned with the movement of one tearing herself +free from an evil spell, and flung herself violently upon his breast. +"Oh, Billikins, save me—save me!" she cried, and broke into hysterical +sobbing.</p> + +<p>His arms were about her in a second, sheltering her, sustaining her. His +eyes went beyond her to the open door.</p> + +<p>A man was standing there—a bulky, broad-featured, coarse-lipped man +with keen black eyes that twinkled maliciously between thick lids, and a +black beard that only served to emphasize an immensely heavy under-jaw. +Merryon summed him up swiftly as a Portuguese American with more than a +dash of darker blood in his composition.</p> + +<p>He entered the room in a fashion that was almost insulting. It was +evident that he was summing up Merryon also.</p> + +<p>The latter waited for him, stiff with hostility, his arms still tightly +clasping Puck's slight, cowering form. He spoke as the stranger +advanced, in his voice a deep menace like the growl of an angry beast<a name="Page_81" id="Page_81"></a> +protecting its own.</p> + +<p>"Who are you? And what do you want?"</p> + +<p>The stranger's lips parted, showing a gleam of strong white teeth. "My +name," he said, speaking in a peculiarly soft voice that somehow +reminded Merryon of the hiss of a reptile, "is Leo Vulcan. You have +heard of me? Perhaps not. I am better known in the Western Hemisphere. +You ask me what I want?" He raised a brown, hairy hand and pointed +straight at the girl in Merryon's arms. "I want—my wife!"</p> + +<p>Puck's cry of anguish followed the announcement, and after it came +silence—a tense, hard-breathing silence, broken only by her long-drawn, +agonized sobbing.</p> + +<p>Merryon's hold had tightened all unconsciously to a grip; and she was +clinging to him wildly, convulsively, as she had never clung before. He +could feel the horror that pulsed through her veins; it set his own +blood racing at fever-speed.</p> + +<p>Over her head he faced the stranger with eyes of steely hardness. "You +have made a mistake," he said, briefly and sternly.</p> + +<p>The other man's teeth gleamed again. He had a way of lifting his lip +when talking which gave him an oddly bestial look. "I think not," he +said. "Let the lady speak for herself! She will not—I think—deny me."</p> + +<p>There was an intolerable sneer in the last sentence. A sudden awful +doubt smote through Merryon. He turned to the girl sobbing at his +breast.</p><p><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82"></a></p> + +<p>"Puck," he said, "for Heaven's sake—what is this man to you?"</p> + +<p>She did not answer him; perhaps she could not. Her distress was terrible +to witness, utterly beyond all control.</p> + +<p>But the newcomer was by no means disconcerted by it. He drew near with +the utmost assurance.</p> + +<p>"Allow me to deal with her!" he said, and reached out a hand to touch +her.</p> + +<p>But at that action Merryon's wrath burst into sudden flame. "Curse you, +keep away!" he thundered. "Lay a finger on her at your peril!"</p> + +<p>The other stood still, but his eyes gleamed evilly. "My good sir," he +said, "you have not yet grasped the situation. It is not a pleasant one +for you—for either of us; but it has got to be grasped. I do not happen +to know under what circumstances you met this woman; but I do know that +she was my lawful wife before the meeting took place. In whatever light +you may be pleased to regard that fact, you must admit that legally she +is my property, not yours!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no—no—no!" moaned Puck.</p> + +<p>Merryon said nothing. He felt strangled, as if a ligature about his +throat had forced all the blood to his brain and confined it there.</p><p><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83"></a></p> + +<p>After a moment the bearded man continued: "You may not know it, but she +is a dancer of some repute, a circumstance which she owes entirely to +me. I picked her up, a mere child in the streets of London, turning +cart-wheels for a living. I took her and trained her as an acrobat. She +was known on the stage as Toby the Tumbler. Everyone took her for a boy. +Later, she developed a talent for dancing. It was then that I decided to +marry her. She desired the marriage even more than I did." Again he +smiled his brutal smile.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" sobbed Puck. "Oh, no!"</p> + +<p>He passed on with a derisive sneer. "We were married about two years +ago. She became popular in the halls very soon after, and it turned her +head. You may have discovered yourself by this time that she is not +always as tractable as she might be. I had to teach her obedience and +respect, and eventually I succeeded. I conquered her—as I +hoped—completely. However, six months ago she took advantage of a stage +fire to give me the slip, and till recently I believed that she was +dead. Then a friend of mine—Captain Silvester—met her out here in +India a few weeks back at a place called Shamkura, and recognized her. +Her dancing qualities are superb. I think she displayed them a little +rashly if she really wished to remain hidden. He sent me the news, and I +have come myself to claim her—and take her back."</p> + +<p>"You can't take me back!" It was Puck's voice, but not as Merryon had +ever heard it before. She flashed round like a hunted creature at bay, +her eyes blazing a wild defiance into the mocking eyes opposite. "You<a name="Page_84" id="Page_84"></a> +can't take me back!" she repeated, with quivering insistence. "Our +marriage was—no marriage! It was a sham—a sham! But even if—even +if—it had been—a true marriage—you would have to—set me—free—now."</p> + +<p>"And why?" said Vulcan, with his evil smile.</p> + +<p>She was white to the lips, but she faced him unflinching. "There is—a +reason," she said.</p> + +<p>"In—deed!" He uttered a scoffing laugh of deadly insult. "The same +reason, I presume, as that for which you married me?"</p> + +<p>She flinched at that—flinched as if he had struck her across the face. +"Oh, you brute!" she said, and shuddered back against Merryon's +supporting arm. "You wicked brute!"</p> + +<p>It was then that Merryon wrenched himself free from that paralysing +constriction that bound him, and abruptly intervened.</p> + +<p>"Puck," he said, "go! Leave us! I will deal with this matter in my own +way."</p> + +<p>She made no move to obey. Her face was hidden in her hands. But she was +sobbing no longer, only sickly shuddering from head to foot.</p> + +<p>He took her by the shoulder. "Go, child, go!" he urged.</p> + +<p>But she shook her head. "It's no good," she said. "He has got—the +whip-hand."</p> +<p><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85"></a></p> +<p>The utter despair of her tone pierced straight to his soul. She stood as +one bent beneath a crushing burden, and he knew that her face was +burning behind the sheltering hands.</p> + +<p>He still held her with a certain stubbornness of possession, though she +made no further attempt to cling to him.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that?" he said, bending to her. "Tell me what you +mean! Don't be afraid to tell me!"</p> + +<p>She shook her head again. "I am bound," she said, dully, "bound hand and +foot."</p> + +<p>"You mean that you really are—married to him?" Merryon spoke the words +as it were through closed lips. He had a feeling as of being caught in +some crushing machinery, of being slowly and inevitably ground to +shapeless atoms.</p> + +<p>Puck lifted her head at length and spoke, not looking at him. "I went +through a form of marriage with him," she said, "for the sake +of—of—of—decency. I always loathed him. I always shall. He only wants +me now because I am—I have been—valuable to him. When he first took me +he seemed kind. I was nearly starved, quite desperate, and alone. He +offered to teach me to be an acrobat, to make a living. I'd better have +drowned myself." A little tremor of passion went through her voice; she +paused to steady it, then went on. "He taught by fear—and cruelty. He +opened my eyes to evil. He used to beat me, too—tie me up in the +gymnasium—and beat me with a whip till—till I was nearly beside myself<a name="Page_86" id="Page_86"></a> +and ready to promise anything—anything, only to stop the torture. And +so he got everything he wanted from me, and when I began to be +successful as a dancer he—married me. I thought it would make things +better. I didn't think, if I were his wife, he could go on ill-treating +me quite so much. But I soon found my mistake. I soon found I was even +more his slave than before. And then—just a week before the +fire—another woman came, and told me that it was not a real marriage; +that—that he had been through exactly the same form with her—and there +was nothing in it."</p> + +<p>She stopped again at sound of a low laugh from Vulcan. "Not quite the +same form, my dear," he said. "Yours was as legal and binding as the +English law could make it. I have the certificate with me to prove this. +As you say, you were valuable to me then—as you will be again, and so I +was careful that the contract should be complete in every particular. +Now—if you have quite finished your—shall we call it confession?—I +suggest that you should return to your lawful husband and leave this +gentleman to console himself as soon as may be. It is growing late, and +it is not my intention that you should spend another night under his +protection."</p> + +<p>He spoke slowly, with a curious, compelling emphasis, and as if in +answer to that compulsion Puck's eyes came back to his.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" she said, in a quick, frightened whisper. "No! I can't! I +can't!"</p> +<p><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87"></a></p> +<p>Yet she made a movement towards him as if drawn irresistibly.</p> + +<p>And at that movement, wholly involuntary as it was, something in +Merryon's brain seemed to burst. He saw all things a burning, +intolerable red. With a strangled oath he caught her back, held her +violently—a prisoner in his arms.</p> + +<p>"By God, no!" he said. "I'll kill you first!"</p> + +<p>She turned in his embrace. She lifted her lips and passionately kissed +him. "Yes, kill me! Kill me!" she cried to him. "I'd rather die!"</p> + +<p>Again the stranger laughed, though his eyes were devilish. "You had +better come without further trouble," he remarked. "You will only add to +your punishment—which will be no light one as it is—by these +hysterics. Do you wish to see my proofs?" He addressed Merryon with +sudden open malignancy. "Or am I to take them to the colonel of your +regiment?"</p> + +<p>"You may take them to the devil!" Merryon said. He was holding her +crushed to his heart. He flung his furious challenge over her head. "If +the marriage was genuine you shall set her free. If it was not"—he +paused, and ended in a voice half-choked with passion—"you can go to +blazes!"</p> + +<p>The other man showed his teeth in a wolfish snarl. "She is my wife," he +said, in his slow, sibilant way. "I shall not set her free. +And—wherever I go, she will go also."</p> + +<p>"If you can take her, you infernal blackguard!" Merryon threw at him. +"Now get out. Do you hear? Get out—if you don't want to be shot! +Whatever happens to-morrow, I swear by God in heaven she shall not go +with you to-night!"</p> +<p><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88"></a></p> +<p>The uncontrolled violence of his speech was terrible. His hold upon Puck +was violent also, more violent than he knew. Her whole body lay a +throbbing weight upon him, and he was not even aware of it.</p> + +<p>"Go!" he reiterated, with eyes of leaping flame. "Go! or—" He left the +sentence uncompleted. It was even more terrible than his flow of words +had been. The whole man vibrated with a wrath that possessed him in a +fashion so colossal as to render him actually sublime. He mastered the +situation by the sheer, indomitable might of his fury. There was no +standing against him. It would have been as easy to stem a racing +torrent.</p> + +<p>Vulcan, for all his insolence, realized the fact. The man's strength in +that moment was gigantic, practically limitless. There was no coping +with it. Still with the snarl upon his lips he turned away.</p> + +<p>"You will pay for this, my wife," he said. "You will pay in full. When I +punish, I punish well."</p> + +<p>He reached the door and opened it, still leering back at the limp, +girlish form in Merryon's arms.</p><p><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89"></a></p> + +<p>"It will not be soon over," he said. "It will take many days, many +nights, that punishment—till you have left off crying for mercy, or +expecting it."</p> + +<p>He was on the threshold. His eyes suddenly shot up with a gloating +hatred to Merryon's.</p> + +<p>"And you," he said, "will have the pleasure of knowing every night when +you lie down alone that she is either writhing under the lash—a +frequent exercise for a while, my good sir—or finding subtle comfort in +my arms; both pleasant subjects for your dreams."</p> + +<p>He was gone. The door closed slowly, noiselessly, upon his exit. There +was no sound of departing feet.</p> + +<p>But Merryon neither listened nor cared. He had turned Puck's deathly +face upwards, and was covering it with burning, passionate kisses, +drawing her back to life, as it were, by the fiery intensity of his +worship.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER IX</h3> + +<h4>GREATER THAN DEATH</h4> + + +<p>She came to life, weakly gasping. She opened her eyes upon him with the<a name="Page_90" id="Page_90"></a> +old, unwavering adoration in their depths. And then before his burning +look hers sank. She hid her face against him with an inarticulate sound +more anguished than any weeping.</p> + +<p>The savagery went out of his hold. He drew her to the <i>charpoy</i> on which +she had spent so many evenings waiting for him, and made her sit down.</p> + +<p>She did not cling to him any longer; she only covered her face so that +he should not see it, huddling herself together in a piteous heap, her +black, curly head bowed over her knees in an overwhelming agony of +humiliation.</p> + +<p>Yet there was in the situation something that was curiously reminiscent +of that night when she had leapt from the burning stage into the safety +of his arms. Now, as then, she was utterly dependent upon the charity of +his soul.</p> + +<p>He turned from her and poured brandy and water into a glass. He came +back and knelt beside her.</p> + +<p>"Drink it, my darling!" he said.</p> + +<p>She made a quick gesture as of surprised protest. She did not raise her +head. It was as if an invisible hand were crushing her to the earth.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you—kill me?" she said.</p> + +<p>He laid his hand upon her bent head. "Because you are the salt of the +earth to me," he said; "because I worship you."</p><p><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91"></a></p> + +<p>She caught the hand with a little sound of passionate endearment, and +laid her face down in it, her hot, quivering lips against his palm. "I +love you so!" she said. "I love you so!"</p> + +<p>He pressed her face slowly upwards. But she resisted. "No, no! I +can't—meet—your—eyes."</p> + +<p>"You need not be afraid," he said. "Once and for all, Puck, believe me +when I tell you that this thing shall never—can never—come between +us."</p> + +<p>She caught her breath sharply; but still she refused to look up. "Then +you don't understand," she said. "You—you—can't understand +that—that—I was—his—his—" Her voice failed. She caught his hand in +both her own, pressing it hard over her face, writhing in mute shame +before him.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do understand," Merryon said, and his voice was very quiet, full +of a latent force that thrilled her magnetically. "I understand that +when you were still a child this brute took possession of you, broke you +to his will, did as he pleased with you. I understand that you were as +helpless as a rabbit in the grip of a weasel. I understand that he was +always an abomination and a curse to you, that when deliverance offered +you seized it; and I do not forget that you would have preferred death +if I would have let you die. Do you know, Puck"—his voice had softened +by imperceptible degrees; he was bending towards her so that she could +feel his breath on her neck while he spoke—"when I took it upon me to +save you from yourself that night I knew—I guessed—what had happened +to you? No, don't start like that! If there was anything to forgive I<a name="Page_92" id="Page_92"></a> +forgave you long ago. I understood. Believe me, though I am a man, I can +understand."</p> + +<p>He stopped. His hand was all wet with her tears. "Oh, darling!" she +whispered. "Oh, darling!"</p> + +<p>"Don't cry, sweetheart!" he said. "And don't be afraid any longer! I +took you from your inferno. I learnt to love you—just as you were, +dear, just as you were. You tried to keep me at a distance; do you +remember? And then—you found life was too strong for you. You came back +and gave yourself to me. Have you ever regret<a name="Page_93" id="Page_93"></a>ted it, my darling? Tell me +that!"</p> + +<p>"Never!" she sobbed. "Never! Your love—your love—has been—the +safety-curtain—always—between me and—harm."</p> + +<p>And then very suddenly she lifted her face, her streaming eyes, and met +his look.</p> + +<p>"But there's one thing, darling," she said, "which you must know. I +loved you always—always—even before that monsoon night. But I came to +you then because—because—I knew that I had been recognized, and—I was +afraid—I was terrified—till—till I was safe in your arms."</p> + +<p>"Ah! But you came to me," he said.</p> + +<p>A sudden gleam of mirth shot through her woe. "My! That was a night, +Billikins!" she said. And then the clouds came back upon her, +overwhelming her. "Oh, what is there to laugh at? How could I laugh?"</p> + +<p>He lifted the glass he held and drank from it, then offered it to her. +"Drink with me!" he said.</p> + +<p>She took, not the glass, but his wrist, and drank with her eyes upon his +face.</p> + +<p>When she had finished she drew his arms about her, and lay against his<a name="Page_94" id="Page_94"></a> +shoulder with closed eyes for a space, saying no word.</p> + +<p>At last, with a little murmuring sigh, she spoke. "What is going to +happen, Billikins?"</p> + +<p>"God knows," he said.</p> + +<p>But there was no note of dismay in his voice. His hold was strong and +steadfast.</p> + +<p>She stirred a little. "Do you believe in God?" she asked him, for the +second time.</p> + +<p>He had not answered her before; he answered her now without hesitation. +"Yes, I do."</p> + +<p>She lifted her head to look at him. "I wonder why?" she said.</p> + +<p>He was silent for a moment; then, "Just because I can hold you in my +arms," he said, "and feel that nothing else matters—or can matter +again."</p> + +<p>"You really feel that?" she said, quickly. "You really love me, dear?"</p> + +<p>"That is love," he said, simply.</p> + +<p>"Oh, darling!" Her breath came fast. "Then, if they try to take me from +you—you will really do it—you won't be afraid?"</p> + +<p>"Do what?" he questioned, sombrely.</p><p><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95"></a></p> + +<p>"Kill me, Billikins," she answered, swiftly. "Kill me—sooner than let +me go."</p> + +<p>He bent his head. "Yes," he said. "My love is strong enough for that."</p> + +<p>"But what would you do—afterwards?" she breathed, her lips raised to +his.</p> + +<p>A momentary surprise showed in his eyes. "Afterwards?" he questioned.</p> + +<p>"After I was gone, darling?" she said, anxiously.</p> + +<p>A very strange smile came over Merryon's face. He pressed her to him, +his eyes gazing deep into hers. He kissed her, but not passionately, +rather with reverence.</p> + +<p>"Your afterwards will be mine, dear, wherever it is," he said. "If it +comes to that—if there is any going—in that way—we go together."</p> + +<p>The anxiety went out of her face in a second. She smiled back at him +with utter confidence. "Oh, Billikins!" she said. "Oh, Billikins, that +will be great!"</p> + +<p>She went back into his arms, and lay there for a further space, saying +no word. There was something sacred in the silence between them, +something mysterious and wonderful. The drip, drip, drip of the +ceaseless rain was the only sound in the stillness. They seemed to be +alone together in a sanctuary that none other might enter, husband and<a name="Page_96" id="Page_96"></a> +wife, made one by the Bond Imperishable, waiting together for +deliverance. They were the most precious moments that either had ever +known, for in them they were more truly wedded in spirit than they had +ever been before.</p> + +<p>How long the great silence lasted neither could have said. It lay like a +spell for awhile, and like a spell it passed.</p> + +<p>Merryon moved at last, moved and looked down into his wife's eyes.</p> + +<p>They met his instantly without a hint of shrinking; they even smiled. +"It must be nearly bedtime," she said. "You are not going to be busy +to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Not to-night," he said.</p> + +<p>"Then don't let's sit up any longer, darling," she said. "We can't +either of us afford to lose our beauty sleep."</p> + +<p>She rose with him, still with her shining eyes lifted to his, still with +that brave gaiety sparkling in their depths. She gave his arm a tight +little squeeze. "My, Billikins, how you've grown!" she said, admiringly. +"You always were—pretty big. But to-night you're just—titanic!"</p> + +<p>He smiled and touched her cheek, not speaking.</p> + +<p>"You fill the world," she said.</p> + +<p>He bent once more to kiss her. "You fill my heart," he said.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER X</h3> + +<h4>THE SACRIFICE</h4> + + +<p>They went round the bungalow together to see to the fastenings of doors<a name="Page_97" id="Page_97"></a> +and windows. The <i>khitmutgar</i> had gone to his own quarters for the +night, and they were quite alone. The drip, drip, drip of the rain was +still the only sound, save when the far cry of a prowling jackal came +weirdly through the night.</p> + +<p>"It's more gruesome than usual somehow," said Puck, still fast clinging +to her husband's arm. "I'm not a bit frightened, darling, only sort of +creepy at the back. But there's nobody here but you and me, is there?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody," said Merryon.</p> + +<p>"And will you please come and see if there are any snakes or scorpions +before I begin to undress?" she said. "The very fact of looking under my +bed makes my hair stand on end."</p> + +<p>He went with her and made a thorough investigation, finding nothing.</p> + +<p>"That's all right," she said, with a sigh of relief. "And yet, somehow, +I feel as if something is waiting round the corner to pounce out on us. +Is it Fate, do you think? Or just my silly fancy?"</p> + +<p>"I think it is probably your startled nerves, dear," he said, smiling a +little.</p> + +<p>She assented with a half-suppressed shudder. "But I'm sure something +will happen directly," she said. "I'm sure. I'm sure."</p> + +<p>"Well, I shall only be in the next room if it does," he said.</p> + +<p>He was about to leave her, but she sprang after him, clinging to his +arm. "And you won't be late, will you?" she pleaded. "I can't sleep +without you. Ah, what is that? What is it? What is it?"</p> + +<p>Her voice rose almost to a shriek. A sudden loud knocking had broken<a name="Page_98" id="Page_98"></a> +through the endless patter of the rain.</p> + +<p>Merryon's face changed a very little. The iron-grey eyes became stony, +quite expressionless. He stood a moment listening. Then, "Stay here!" he +said, his voice very level and composed. "Yes, Puck, I wish it. Stay +here!"</p> + +<p>It was a distinct command, the most distinct he had ever given her. Her +clinging hands slipped from his arm. She stood rigid, unprotesting, +white as death.</p> + +<p>The knocking was renewed with fevered energy as Merryon turned quietly +to obey the summons. He closed the door upon his wife and went down the +passage.</p> + +<p>There was no haste in his movements as he slipped back the bolts, rather +the studied deliberation of purpose of a man armed against all +emergency. But the door burst inwards against him the moment he opened +it, and one of his subalterns, young Harley, almost fell into his arms.</p> + +<p>Merryon steadied him with the utmost composure. "Halloa, Harley! You, is +it? What's all this noise about?"</p> + +<p>The boy pulled himself together with an effort. He was white to the +lips.</p> + +<p>"There's cholera broken out," he said. "Forbes and Robey—both down—at +their own bungalow. And they've got it at the barracks, too. +Macfarlane's there. Can you come?"</p> + +<p>"Of course—at once." Merryon pulled him forward. "Go in there and get a +drink while I speak to my wife!"</p> + +<p>He turned back to her door, but she met him on the threshold. Her eyes +burned like stars in her little pale face.</p> +<p><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99"></a></p> +<p>"It's all right, Billikins," she said, and swallowed hard. "I heard. +You've got to go to the barracks, haven't you, darling? I knew there was +going to be—something. Well, you must take something to eat in your +pocket. You'll want it before morning. And some brandy too. Give me your +flask, darling, and I'll fill it!"</p> + +<p>Her composure amazed him. He had expected anguished distress at the bare +idea of his leaving her, but those brave, bright eyes of hers were +actually smiling.</p> + +<p>"Puck!" he said. "You—wonder!"</p> + +<p>She made a small face at him. "Oh, you're not the only wonder in the +world," she told him. "Run along and get yourself ready! My! You are +going to be busy, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>She nodded to him and ran into the drawing-room to young Harley. He +heard her chatting there while he made swift preparations for departure, +and he thanked Heaven that she realized so little the ghastly nature of +the horror that had swept down upon them. He hoped the boy would have +the sense to let her remain unenlightened. It was bad enough to have to +leave her after the ordeal they had just faced together. He did not want +her terrified on his account as well.</p> + +<p>But when he joined them she was still smiling, eager only to provide for +any possible want of his, not thinking of herself at all.</p> +<p><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100"></a></p> +<p>"I hope you will enjoy your picnic, Billikins," she said. "I'll shut the +door after you, and I shall know it's properly fastened. Oh, yes, the +<i>khit</i> will take care of me, Mr. Harley. He's such a brave man. He kills +snakes without the smallest change of countenance. Good-night, +Billikins! Take care of yourself. I suppose you'll come back sometime?"</p> + +<p>She gave him the lightest caress imaginable, shook hands affectionately +with young Harley, who was looking decidedly less pinched than he had +upon arrival, and stood waving an energetic hand as they went away into +the dripping dark.</p> + +<p>"You didn't tell her—anything?" Merryon asked, as they plunged down the +road.</p> + +<p>"Not more than I could help, Major. But she seemed to know without." +The lad spoke uncomfortably, as if against his will.</p> + +<p>"She asked questions, then?" Merryon's voice was sharp.</p> + +<p>"Yes, a few. She wanted to know about Forbes and Robey. Robey is awfully +bad. I didn't tell her that."</p> + +<p>"Who is looking after them?" Merryon asked.</p> + +<p>"Only a native orderly now. The colonel and Macfarlane both had to go to +the barracks. It's frightful there. About twenty cases already. Oh, hang +this rain!" said Harley, bitterly.</p> + +<p>"But couldn't they take them—Forbes, I mean, and Robey—to the +hospital?" questioned Merryon.</p><p><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101"></a></p> + +<p>"No. To tell you the truth, Robey is pegging out, poor fellow. It's +always the best chaps that go first, though. Heaven knows, we may be all +gone before this time to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Don't talk like a fool!" said Merryon, curtly.</p> + +<p>And Harley said no more.</p> + +<p>They pressed on through mud that was ankle-deep to the barracks.</p> + +<p>There during all the nightmare hours that followed Merryon worked with +the strength of ten. He gave no voluntary thought to his wife waiting +for him in loneliness, but ever and anon those blazing eyes of hers rose +before his mental vision, and he saw again that brave, sweet smile with +which she had watched him go.</p> + +<p>The morning found him haggard but indomitable, wrestling with the +difficulties of establishing a camp a mile or more from the barracks out +in the rain-drenched open. There had been fourteen deaths in the night, +and seven men were still fighting a losing battle for their lives in the +hospital. He had a native officer to help him in his task; young Harley +was superintending the digging of graves, and the colonel had gone to +the bungalow where the two stricken officers lay.</p> + +<p>Dank and gruesome dawned the day, with the smell of rot in the air and +the sense of death hovering over all. And there came to Merryon a +sudden, overwhelming desire to go back to his bungalow beyond the fetid +town and see how his wife was faring. She was the only white woman in +the place, and the thought of her isolation came upon him now like a +fiery torture.</p><p><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102"></a></p> + +<p>It was the fiercest temptation he had ever known. Till that day his +regimental duties had always been placed first with rigorous +determination. Now for the first time he found himself torn by +conflicting ties. The craving for news of her possessed him like a +burning thirst. Yet he knew that some hours must elapse before he could +honestly consider himself free to go.</p> + +<p>He called an orderly at last, finding the suspense unendurable, and gave +him a scribbled line to carry to his wife.</p> + +<p>"Is all well, sweetheart? Send back word by bearer," he wrote, and told +the man not to return without an answer.</p> + +<p>The orderly departed, and for a while Merryon devoted himself to the +matter in hand, and crushed his anxiety into the background. But at the +end of an hour he was chafing in a fever of impatience. What delayed the +fellow? In Heaven's name, why was he so long?</p> + +<p>Ghastly possibilities arose in his mind, fears unspeakable that he dared +not face. He forced himself to attend to business, but the suspense was +becoming intolerable. He began to realize that he could not stand it +much longer.</p> + +<p>He was nearing desperation when the colonel came unexpectedly upon the +scene, unshaven and haggard as he was himself, but firm as a rock in the +face of adversity.</p> + +<p>He joined Merryon, and received the latter's report, grimly taciturn.<a name="Page_103" id="Page_103"></a> +They talked together for a space of needs and expediencies. The fell +disease had got to be checked somehow. He spoke of recalling the +officers on leave. There had been such a huge sick list that summer that +they were reduced to less than half their normal strength.</p> + +<p>"You're worth a good many," he said to Merryon, half-grudgingly, "but +you can't work miracles. Besides, you've got—" He broke off abruptly. +"How's your wife?"</p> + +<p>"That's what I don't know, sir." Feverishly Merryon made answer. "I left +her last night. She was well then. But since—I sent down an orderly over an hour ago. +He's not come back."</p> + +<p>"Confound it!" said the colonel, testily. "You'd better go yourself."</p> + +<p>Merryon glanced swiftly round.</p> + +<p>"Yes, go, go!" the colonel reiterated, irritably. "I'll relieve you for +a spell. Go and satisfy yourself—and me! None but an infernal fool +would have kept her here," he added, in a growling undertone, as Merryon +lifted a hand in brief salute and started away through the sodden mists.</p> + +<p>He went as he had never gone in his life before, and as he went the +mists parted before him and a blinding ray of sunshine came smiting +through the gap like the sword of the destroyer. The simile rushed +through his mind and out again, even as the grey mist-curtain closed +once more.</p> + +<p>He reached the bungalow. It stood like a shrouded ghost, and the drip, +drip, drip of the rain on the veranda came to him like a death-knell.</p> +<p><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104"></a></p> +<p>A gaunt figure met him almost on the threshold, and he recognized his +messenger with a sharp sense of coming disaster. The man stood mutely at +the salute.</p> + +<p>"Well? Well? Speak!" he ordered, nearly beside himself with anxiety. +"Why didn't you come back with an answer?"</p> + +<p>The man spoke with deep submission. "<i>Sahib</i>, there was no answer."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that? What the—Here, let me pass!" cried Merryon, in a ferment. "There must have +been—some sort of answer."</p> + +<p>"No, <i>sahib</i>. No answer." The man spoke with inscrutable composure. "The +<i>mem-sahib</i> has not come back," he said. "Let the <i>sahib</i> see for +himself."</p> + +<p>But Merryon had already burst into the bungalow; so he resumed his +patient watch on the veranda, wholly undisturbed, supremely patient.</p> + +<p>The <i>khitmutgar</i> came forward at his master's noisy entrance. There was +a trace—just the shadow of a suggestion—of anxiety on his dignified +face under the snow-white turban. He presented him with a note on a +salver with a few murmured words and a deep salaam.</p><p><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105"></a></p> + +<p>"For the <i>sahib's</i> hands alone," he said.</p> + +<p>Merryon snatched up the note and opened it with shaking hands.</p> + +<p>It was very brief, pathetically so, and as he read a great emptiness +seemed to spread and spread around him in an ever-widening desolation.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, my Billikins!" Ah, the pitiful, childish scrawl she had made +of it! "I've come to my senses, and I've gone back to him. I'm not +worthy of any sacrifice of yours, dear. And it would have been a big +sacrifice. You wouldn't like being dragged through the mud, but I'm used +to it. It came to me just that moment that you said, 'Yes, of course,' +when Mr. Harley came to call you back to duty. Duty is better than a +worthless woman, my Billikins, and I was never fit to be anything more +than a toy to you—a toy to play with and toss aside. And so good-bye, +good-bye!"</p> + +<p>The scrawl ended with a little cross at the bottom of the page. He +looked up from it with eyes gone blind with pain and a stunned and awful +sense of loss.</p> + +<p>"When did the <i>mem-sahib</i> go?" he questioned, dully.</p> + +<p>The <i>khitmutgar</i> bent his stately person. "The <i>mem-sahib</i> went in +haste," he said, "an hour before midnight. Your servant followed her to +the <i>dâk-bungalow</i> to protect her from <i>budmashes</i>, but she dismissed me +ere she entered in. <i>Sahib</i>, I could do no more."</p> + +<p>The man's eyes appealed for one instant, but fell the next before the<a name="Page_106" id="Page_106"></a> +dumb despair that looked out of his master's.</p> + +<p>There fell a terrible silence—a pause, as it were, of suspended +vitality, while the iron bit deeper and deeper into tissues too numbed +to feel.</p> + +<p>Then, "Fetch me a drink!" said Merryon, curtly. "I must be getting back +to duty."</p> + +<p>And with soundless promptitude the man withdrew, thankful to make his +escape.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER XI</h3> + +<h4>THE SACRED FIRE</h4> + + +<p>"Well? Is she all right?" Almost angrily the colonel flung the question +as his second-in-command came back heavy-footed through the rain. He had +been through a nasty period of suspense himself during Merryon's +absence.</p> + +<p>Merryon nodded. His face was very pale and his lips seemed stiff.</p> + +<p>"She has—gone, sir," he managed to say, after a moment.</p> + +<p>"Gone, has she?" The colonel raised his brows in astonished +interrogation. "What! Taken fright at last? Well, best thing she could +do, all things considered. You ought to be very thankful."</p><p><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107"></a></p> + +<p>He dismissed the subject for more pressing matters, and he never noticed +the awful whiteness of Merryon's face or the deadly fixity of his look.</p> + +<p>Macfarlane noticed both, coming up two hours later to report the death +of one of the officers at the bungalow.</p> + +<p>"For Heaven's sake, man, have some brandy!" he said, proffering a flask +of his own. "You're looking pretty unhealthy. What is it? Feeling a bit +off, eh?"</p> + +<p>He held Merryon's wrist while he drank the brandy, regarding him with a +troubled frown the while.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter with you, man?" he said. "You're not frightening +yourself? You wouldn't be such a fool!"</p> + +<p>Merryon did not answer. He was never voluble. To-day he seemed +tongue-tied.</p> + +<p>Macfarlane continued with an uneasy effort to hide a certain doubt +stirring in his mind. "I hear there was a European died at the +<i>dâk-bungalow</i> early this morning. I wanted to go round and see, but I +haven't been able. It's fairly widespread, but there's no sense in +getting scared. Halloa, Merryon!"</p> + +<p>He broke off, staring. Merryon had given a great start. He looked like a +man stabbed suddenly from a dream to full consciousness.</p><p><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108"></a></p> + +<p>"A European—at the <i>dâk-bungalow</i>—dead, did you say?"</p> + +<p>His words tumbled over each other; he gripped Macfarlane's shoulder and +shook it with fierce impatience.</p> + +<p>"So I heard. I don't know any details. How should I? Merryon, are you +mad?" Macfarlane put up a quick hand to free himself, for the grip was +painful. "He wasn't a friend of yours, I suppose? He wouldn't have been +putting up there if he had been."</p> + +<p>"No, no; not—a friend." The words came jerkily. Merryon was breathing +in great spasms that shook him from head to foot. "Not—a friend!" he +said again, and stopped, gazing before him with eyes curiously +contracted as the eyes of one striving to discern something a long way +off.</p> + +<p>Macfarlane slipped a hand under his elbow. "Look here," he said, "you +must have a rest. You can be spared for a bit now. Walk back with me to +the hospital, and we will see how things are going there."</p> + +<p>His hand closed urgently. He began to draw him away.</p> + +<p>Merryon's eyes came back as it were out of space, and gave him a quick +side-glance that was like the turn of a rapier. "I must go down to the +<i>dâk-bungalow</i>," he said, with decision.</p> + +<p>Swift protest rose to the doctor's lips, but it died there. He tightened +his hold instead, and went with him.</p> + +<p>The colonel looked round sharply at their app<a name="Page_109" id="Page_109"></a>roach, looked—and swore +under his breath. "Yes, all right, major, you'd better go," he said. +"Good-bye."</p> + +<p>Merryon essayed a grim smile, but his ashen face only twisted +convulsively, showing his set teeth. He hung on Macfarlane's shoulder +while the first black cloud of agony possessed him and slowly passed.</p> + +<p>Then, white and shaking, he stood up. "I'll get round to the <i>dâk</i> now, +before I'm any worse. Don't come with me, Macfarlane! I'll take an +orderly."</p> + +<p>"I'm coming," said Macfarlane, stoutly.</p> + +<p>But they did not get to the <i>dâk-bungalow</i>, or anywhere near it. Before +they had covered twenty yards another frightful spasm of pain came upon +Merryon, racking his whole being, depriving him of all his powers, +wresting from him every faculty save that of suffering. He went down +into a darkness that swallowed him, soul and body, blotting out all +finite things, loosening his frantic clutch on life, sucking him down as +it were into a frightful emptiness, where his only certainty of +existence lay in the excruciating agonies that tore and convulsed him +like devils in some inferno under the earth.</p> + +<p>Of time and place and circumstance thereafter he became as completely<a name="Page_110" id="Page_110"></a> +unconscious as though they had ceased to be, though once or twice he was +aware of a merciful hand that gave him opium to deaden—or was it only +to prolong?—his suffering. And æons and eternities passed over him +while he lay in the rigour of perpetual torments, not trying to escape, +only writhing in futile anguish in the bitter dark of the prison-house.</p> + +<p>Later, very much later, there came a time when the torture gradually +ceased or became merged in a deathly coldness. During that stage his +understanding began to come back to him like the light of a dying day. A +vague and dreadful sense of loss began to oppress him, a feeling of +nakedness as though the soul of him were already slipping free, passing +into an appalling void, leaving an appalling void behind. He lay quite +helpless and sinking, sinking—slowly, terribly sinking into an +overwhelming sea of annihilation.</p> + +<p>With all that was left of his failing strength he strove to cling to +that dim light which he knew for his own individuality. The silence and +the darkness broke over him in long, soundless waves; but each time he +emerged again, cold, cold as death, but still aware of self, aware of +existence, albeit the world he knew had dwindled to an infinitesimal +smallness, as an object very far away, and floating ever farther and +farther from his ken.</p> + +<p>Vague paroxysms of pain still seized him from time to time, but they no +longer affected him in the same way. The body alone agonized. The soul +stood apart on the edge of that dreadful sea, shrinking afraid from the +black, black depths and the cruel cold of the eternal night. He was +terribly, crushingly alone.</p> +<p><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111"></a></p> +<p>Someone had once, twice, asked him a vital question about his belief in +God. Then he had been warmly alive. He had held his wife close in his +arms, and nothing else had mattered. But now—but now—he was very far +from warmth and life. He was dying in loneliness. He was perishing in +the outer dark, where no hand might reach and no voice console. He had +believed—or thought he believed—in God. But now his faith was wearing +very thin. Very soon it would crumble quite away, just as he himself was +crumbling into the dreadful silence of the ages. His life—the brief +passion called life—was over. Out of the dark it had come; into the +dark it went. And no one to care—no one to cry farewell to him across +that desolation of emptiness that was death! No one to kneel beside him +and pray for light in that awful, all-encompassing dark!</p> + +<p>Stay! Something had touched him even then. Or was it but his dying +fancy? Red lips he had kissed and that had kissed him in return, eager +arms that had clung and clung, eyes of burning adoration! Did they truly +belong all to the past? Or were they here beside him even now—even now? +Had he wandered backwards perchance into that strange, sweet heaven of +love from which he had been so suddenly and terribly cast out? Ah, how +he had loved her! How he had loved her! Very faintly there began to stir +within him the old fiery longing that she, and she alone, had ever waked +within him. He would worship her to the last flicker of his dying soul. +But the darkness was spreading, spreading, like a yawning of a great +gulf at his feet. Already he was slipping over the edge. The light was +fading out of his sky.</p> + +<p>It was the last dim instinct of nature that made him reach out a +groping hand, and with lips that would scarcely move to whisper, "Puck!"</p> + +<p>He did not expect an answer. The things of earth were done with. His<a name="Page_112" id="Page_112"></a> +life was passing swiftly, swiftly, like the sands running out of a +glass. He had lost her already, and the world had sunk away, away, with +all warmth and light and love.</p> + +<p>Yet out of the darkness all suddenly there came a voice, eager, +passionate, persistent. "I am here, Billikins! I am here! Come back to +me, darling! Come back!"</p> + +<p>He started at that voice, started and paused, holding back as it were on +the very verge of the precipice. So she was there indeed! He could hear +her sobbing breath. There came to him the consciousness of her hands +clasping his, and the faintest, vaguest glow went through his ice-cold +body. He tried, piteously weak as he was, to bend his fingers about +hers.</p> + +<p>And then there came the warmth of her lips upon them, kissing them with +a fierce passion of tenderness, drawing them close as if to breathe her +own vitality into his failing pulses.</p> + +<p>"Open your eyes to me, darling!" she besought him. "See how I love you! +And see how I want your love! I can't do without it, Billikins. It's my +only safeguard. What! He is dead? I say he is not—he is not! Or if he +is, he shall rise again. He shall come back. See! He is looking at me! +How dare you say he is dead?"</p><p><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113"></a></p> + +<p>The wild anguish of her voice reached him, pierced him, rousing him as +no other power on earth could have roused him. Out of that deathly +inertia he drew himself, inch by inch, as out of some clinging swamp. +His hand found strength to tighten upon hers. He opened his eyes, +leaden-lidded as they were, and saw her face all white and drawn, gazing +into his own with such an agony of love, such a consuming fire of +worship, that it seemed as if his whole being were drawn by it, warmed, +comforted, revived.</p> + +<p>She hung above him, fierce in her devotion, driving back the destroyer +by the sheer burning intensity of her love. "You shan't die, Billikins!" +she told him, passionately. "You can't die—now I am here!"</p> + +<p>She stooped her face to his. He turned his lips instinctively to meet +it, and suddenly it was as though a flame had kindled between them—hot, +ardent, compelling. His dying pulses thrilled to it, his blood ran +warmer.</p> + +<p>"You—have—come—back!" he said, with slow articulation.</p> + +<p>"My darling—my darling!" she made quivering answer. "Say I've come—in +time!"</p> + +<p>He tried to speak again, but could not. Yet the deathly cold was giving<a name="Page_114" id="Page_114"></a> +way like ice before the sun. He could feel his heart beating where +before he had felt nothing. A hand that was not Puck's came out of the +void beyond her and held a spoonful of spirit to his mouth. He swallowed +it with difficulty, and was conscious of a greater warmth.</p> + +<p>"There, my own boy, my own boy!" she murmured over him. "You're coming +back to me. Say you're coming back!"</p> + +<p>His lips quivered like a child's. He forced them to answer her. "If +you—will—stay," he said.</p> + +<p>"I will never leave you again, darling," she made swift answer. "Never, +never again! You shall have all that you want—all—all!"</p> + +<p>Her arms closed about him. He felt the warmth of her body, the +passionate nearness of her soul; and therewith the flame that had +kindled between them leaped to a great and burning glow, encompassing +them both—the Sacred Fire.</p> + +<p>A wonderful sense of comfort came upon him. He turned to her as a man +turns to only one woman in all the world, and laid his head upon her +breast.</p> +<p><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115"></a></p> +<p>"I only want—my wife," he said.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER XII</h3> + +<h4>FREEDOM</h4> + + +<p>It took him many days to climb back up that slope down which he had +slipped so swiftly in those few awful hours. Very slowly, with painful +effort, but with unfailing purpose, he made his arduous way. And through +it all Puck never left his side.</p> + +<p>Alert and vigilant, very full of courage, very quick of understanding, +she drew him, leaning on her, back to a life that had become strangely +new to them both. They talked very little, for Merryon's strength was +terribly low, and Macfarlane, still scarcely believing in the miracle +that had been wrought under his eyes, forbade all but the simplest and +briefest speech—a prohibition which Puck strenuously observed; for +Puck, though she knew the miracle for an accomplished fact, was not +taking any chances.</p> + +<p>"Presently, darling; when you're stronger," was her invariable answer to +any attempt on his part to elicit information as to the events that had<a name="Page_116" id="Page_116"></a> +immediately preceded his seizure. "There's nothing left to fret about. +You're here—and I'm here. And that's all that matters."</p> + +<p>If her lips quivered a little over the last assertion, she turned her +head away that he might not see. For she was persistently cheery in his +presence, full of tender humour, always undismayed.</p> + +<p>He leaned upon her instinctively. She propped him so sturdily, with a +strength so amazing and so steadfast. Sometimes she laughed softly at +his weakness, as a mother might laugh at the first puny efforts of her +baby to stand alone. And he knew that she loved his dependence upon her, +even in a sense dreaded the time when his own strength should reassert +itself, making hers weak by comparison.</p> + +<p>But that time was coming, slowly yet very surely. The rains were +lessening at last, and the cholera-fiend had been driven forth. Merryon +was to go to the Hills on sick leave for several weeks. Colonel Davenant +had awaked to the fact that his life was a valuable one, and his +admiration for Mrs. Merryon was undisguised. He did not altogether +understand her behaviour, but he was discreet enough not to seek that +enlightenment which only one man in the world was ever to receive.</p> + +<p>To that man on the night before their departure came Puck, very pale and +resolute, with shining, unwavering eyes. She knelt down before him with +small hands tightly clasped.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to say something dreadful, Billikins," she said.</p> +<p><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117"></a></p> +<p>He looked at her for a moment or two in silence.</p> + +<p>Then, "I know what you are going to say," he said.</p> + +<p>She shook her head. "Oh, no, you don't, darling. It's something that'll +make you frightfully angry."</p> + +<p>The faintest gleam of a smile crossed Merryon's face. "With you?" he +said.</p> + +<p>She nodded, and suddenly her eyes were brimming with tears. "Yes, with +me."</p> + +<p>He put his hand on her shoulder. "I tell you, I know what it is," he +said, with a certain stubbornness.</p> + +<p>She turned her cheek for a moment to caress the hand; then suddenly all +her strength went from her. She sank down on the floor at his feet, +huddled together in a woeful heap, just as she had been on that first +night when the safety-curtain had dropped behind her.</p> + +<p>"You'll never forgive me!" she sobbed. "But I knew—I knew—I always +knew!"</p> + +<p>"Knew what, child?" He was stooping over her. His hand, trembling still +with weakness, was on her head. "But, no, don't tell me!" he said, and +his voice was deeply tender. "The fellow is dea<a name="Page_118" id="Page_118"></a>d, isn't he?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, he's dead." Quiveringly, between piteous sobs, she answered +him. "He—was dying before I reached him—that dreadful night. He +just—had strength left—to curse me! And I am cursed! I am cursed!"</p> + +<p>She flung out her arms wildly, clasping his feet.</p> + +<p>He stooped lower over her. "Hush—hush!" he said.</p> + +<p>She did not seem to hear. "I let you take me—I stained your honour—I +wasn't a free woman. I tried to think I was; but in my heart—I always +knew—I always knew! I wouldn't have your love at first—because I knew. +And I came to you—that monsoon night—chiefly because—I wanted—when +he came after me—as I knew he would come—to force him—to set +me—free."</p> + +<p>Through bitter sobbing the confession came; in bitter sobbing it ended.</p> + +<p>But still Merryon's hand was on her head, still his face was bent above +her, grave and sad and pitiful, the face of a strong man enduring grief.</p> + +<p>After a little, haltingly, she spoke again. "And I wasn't coming back to +you—ever. Only—someone—a <i>syce</i>—told me you had been stricken down. +And then I had to come. I couldn't leave you to die. That's all—that's<a name="Page_119" id="Page_119"></a> +all! I'm going now. And I shan't come back. I'm not—your wife. You're +quite, quite free. And I'll never—bring shame on you—again."</p> + +<p>Her straining hands tightened. She kissed, the feet she clasped. "I'm a +wicked, wicked woman," she said. "I was born—on the wrong side—of the +safety-curtain. That's no—excuse; only—to make you understand."</p> + +<p>She would have withdrawn herself then, but his hands held her. She +covered her face, kneeling between them.</p> + +<p>"Why do you want me to understand?" he said, his voice very low.</p> + +<p>She quivered at the question, making no attempt to answer, just weeping +silently there in his hold.</p> + +<p>He leaned towards her, albeit he was trembling with weakness. "Puck, +listen!" he said. "I do understand."</p> + +<p>She caught her breath and became quite still.</p> + +<p>"Listen again!" he said. "What is done—is done; and nothing can alter +it. But—your future is mine. You have forfeited the right to leave me."</p> + +<p>She uncovered her face in a flash to gaze at him as one confounded.</p> + +<p>He met the look with eyes that held her own. "I say it," he said. "You +have forfeited the right. You say I am free. Am I free?"</p><p><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120"></a></p> + +<p>She nodded, still with her eyes on his. "I have—no claim on you," she +whispered, brokenly.</p> + +<p>His hands tightened; he brought her nearer to him. "And when that dream +of yours comes true," he said, "what then? What then?"</p> + +<p>Her face quivered painfully at the question. She swallowed once or twice +spasmodically, like a hurt child trying not to cry.</p> + +<p>"That's—nobody's business but mine," she said.</p> + +<p>A very curious smile drew Merryon's mouth. "I thought I had had +something to do with it," he said. "I think I am entitled to +part-ownership, anyway."</p> + +<p>She shook her head, albeit she was very close to his breast. "You're +not, Billikins!" she declared, with vehemence. "You only say that—out +of pity. And I don't want pity. I—I'd rather you hated me than that! +Miles rather!"</p> + +<p>His arms went round her. He uttered a queer, passionate laugh and drew +her to his heart. "And what if I offer you—love?" he said. "Have you no +use for that either, my wife—my wife?"</p> + +<p>She turned and clung to him, clung fast and desperately, as a drowning +person clings to a spar. "But I'm not, Billikins! I'm not!" she +whispered, with her face hidden.</p> + +<p>"You shall be," he made steadfast answer. "Before God you shall be."</p> + +<p>"Ah, do you believe in God?" she murmured.</p><p><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121"></a></p> + +<p>"I do," he said, firmly.</p> + +<p>She gave a little sob. "Oh, Billikins, so do I. At least, I think I do; +but I'm half afraid, even now, though I did try to do—the right thing. +I shall only know for certain—when the dream comes true." Her face came +upwards, her lips moved softly against his neck. "Darling," she +whispered, "don't you hope—it'll be—a boy?"</p> + +<p>He bent his head mutely. Somehow speech was difficult.</p> + +<p>But Puck was not wanting speech of him just then. She turned her red +lips to his. "But even if it's a girl, darling, it won't matter, for +she'll be born on the right side of the safety-curtain now, thanks to +your goodness, your generosity."</p> + +<p>He stopped her sharply. "Puck! Puck!"</p> + +<p>Their lips met. Puck was sobbing a little and smiling at the same time.</p> + +<p>"Your love is the safety-curtain, Billikins darling," she whispered, +softly. "And I'm going to thank God for it—every day of my life."</p> + +<p>"My darling!" he said. "My wife!"</p> + +<p>Her eyes shone up to his through tears. "Oh, do you realize," she said, "that +we have risen from the dead?"</p><p><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="The_Experiment" id="The_Experiment"></a>The Experiment</h2> + +<h3>CHAPTER I</h3> + +<h4>ON TRIAL</h4> + + +<p>"I really don't know why I accepted him. But somehow it was done before +I knew. He waltzes so divinely that it intoxicates me, and then I +naturally cease to be responsible for my actions."</p> + +<p>Doris Fielding leant back luxuriously, her hands clasped behind her +head.</p> + +<p>"I can't think what he wants to marry me for," she said reflectively. "I +am quite sure I don't want to marry him."</p> + +<p>"Then, my dear child, what possessed you to accept him?" remonstrated +her friend, Vera Abingdon, from behind the tea-table.</p> + +<p>"That's just what I don't know," said Doris, a little smile twitching +the corner of her mouth. "However, it doesn't signify greatly. I don't +mind being engaged for a little while if he is good, but I certainly +shan't go on if I don't like it. It's in the nature of an experiment, +you see; and it really is necessary, for there is absolutely no other +way of testing the situation."</p><p><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123"></a></p> + +<p>She glanced at her friend and burst into a gay peal of laughter. No one +knew how utterly charming this girl could be till she laughed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't look so shocked, please!" she begged. "I know I'm flippant, +flighty, and foolish, but really I'm not a bit wicked. Ask Phil if I am. +He has known me all my life."</p> + +<p>"I do not need to ask him, Dot." Vera spoke with some gravity +notwithstanding. "I have never for a moment thought you wicked. But I do +sometimes think you are rather heartless."</p> + +<p>Doris opened her blue eyes wide.</p> + +<p>"Oh, why? I am sure I am not. It really isn't my fault that I have been +engaged two or three times before. Directly I begin to get pleasantly +intimate with any one he proposes, and how can I possibly know, unless I +am on terms of intimacy, whether I should like to marry him or not? I am +sure I don't want to be engaged to any one for any length of time. It's +as bad as being cast up on a desert island with only one wretched man to +speak to. As a matter of fact, what you call heartlessness is sheer +broad-mindedness on my part. I admit that I do occasionally sail near +the wind. It's fun, and I like it. But I never do any harm—any real +harm I mean. I always put my helm over in time. And I must protect +myself somehow against fortune-hunters."</p> + +<p>Vera was silent. This high-spirited young cousin of her husband's was +often a sore anxiety to her. She had had sole charge of the girl for the +past three years and had found it no light responsibility.</p> + +<p>"Cheer up, darling!" besought Doris. "There is not the smallest cause +for a wrinkled brow. Perhaps the experiment will turn out a success this<a name="Page_124" id="Page_124"></a> +time. Who knows? And even if it doesn't, no one will be any the worse. I +am sure Vivian Caryl will never break his heart for me."</p> + +<p>But Vera Abingdon shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I don't like you to be so wild, Dot. It makes people think lightly of +you. And you know how angry Phil was last time."</p> + +<p>Dot snapped her fingers airily and rose.</p> + +<p>"Who cares for Phil? Besides, it really was not my fault last time, +whatever any one may say. Are you going to ask my <i>fiancé</i> down to +Rivermead for Easter? Because if so, I do beg you won't tell everybody +we are engaged. It is quite an informal arrangement, and perhaps, +considering all the circumstances, the less said abou<a name="Page_125" id="Page_125"></a><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126"></a>t it the better."</p> + +<p>She stopped and kissed Vera's grave face, laughed again as though she +could not help it, and flitted like a butterfly from the room.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER II</h3> + +<h4>HIS INTENTIONS</h4> + + +<p>"Where is Doris?" asked Phil Abingdon, looking round upon the guests +assembled in his drawing-room at Rivermead. "We are all waiting for +her."</p> + +<p>"I think we had better go in without her," said his wife, with her +nervous smile. "She arranged to motor down with Mrs. Lockyard and her +party this afternoon. Possibly they have persuaded her to dine with +them."</p> + +<p>"She would never do that surely," said Phil, with an involuntary glance +at Vivian Caryl who had just entered.</p> + +<p>"If you are talking about my <i>fiancé</i>, I think it more than probable +that she would," the latter remarked. "Mrs. Lockyard's place is just<a name="Page_127" id="Page_127"></a> +across the river, I understand? Shall I punt over and fetch Doris?"</p> + +<p>"No, no!" broke in his hostess anxiously. "I am sure she wouldn't come +if you did. Besides—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, as to that," said Vivian Caryl, with a grim smile, "I think, with +all deference to your opinion, that the odds would be in my favour. +However, let us dine first, if you prefer it."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Abingdon did prefer it, and said so hastily. She seemed to have a +morbid dread of a rupture between Doris Fielding and her <i>fiancé</i>, a +feeling with which Caryl quite obviously had no sympathy. There was +nothing very remarkable about the man save this somewhat supercilious +demeanour which had caused Vera to marvel many times at Doris's choice.</p> + +<p>They went in to dinner without further discussion. Caryl sat on Vera's +left, and amazed her by his utter unconcern regarding the absentee. He +seemed to be in excellent spirits, and his dry humour provoked a good +deal of merriment.</p> + +<p>She led the way back to the drawing-room as soon as possible. There was +a billiard-room beyond to which the members of her party speedily betook +themselves, and here most of the men joined them soon after. Neither +Caryl nor Abingdon was with them, and Vera counted the minutes of their +absence with a sinking heart while her guests buzzed all unheeding +around her.</p> + +<p>It was close upon ten o'clock when she saw her husband's face for a +moment in the doorway. He made a rapid sign to her, and with a murmured<a name="Page_128" id="Page_128"></a> +excuse she went to him, closing the door behind her.</p> + +<p>Caryl was standing with him, calm as ever, though she fancied that his +eyes were a little wider than usual and his bearing less supercilious.</p> + +<p>Her husband, she saw at a glance, was both angry and agitated.</p> + +<p>"She has gone off somewhere with that bounder Brandon," he said. "They +got down to tea, and went off again in the motor afterwards, Mrs. +Lockyard doesn't seem to know for certain where."</p> + +<p>"Phil!" she exclaimed in consternation, and added with her eyes on +Caryl, "What is to be done? What can be done?"</p> + +<p>Caryl made quiet reply:</p> + +<p>"There was some talk of Wynhampton. I am going there now on your +husband's motor-bicycle. If I do not find her there——"</p> + +<p>He paused, and on the instant a girl's high peal of laughter rang +through the house. The drawing-room door was flung back, and Doris +herself stood on the threshold.</p> + +<p>"Goodness!" she cried. "What a solemn conclave! You can't think how +funny you all look! Do tell me what it is all about!"</p> + +<p>She stood before them, the motor-veil thrown back from her dainty face, +her slight figure quivering with merriment.</p><p><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129"></a></p> + +<p>Vera hastened to meet her with outstretched hands.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear, you can't think how anxious we have been about you."</p> + +<p>Doris took her by the shoulders and lightly kissed her.</p> + +<p>"Silly! Why? You know I always come up smiling. Why, Phil, you are +looking positively green! Have you been anxious, too? I am indeed +honoured."</p> + +<p>She swept him a curtsey, her face all dimples and laughter.</p> + +<p>"We've had the jolliest time," she declared. "We motored to Wynhampton +and saw the last of the races. After that, we dined at a dear little +place with a duckpond at the bottom of the garden. And finally we +returned—it ought to have been by moonlight, only there was no moon. +Where is everyone? In the billiard-room? I want some milk and soda +frightfully. Vivian, you might, like the good sort you are, go and get +me some."</p> + +<p>She bestowed a dazzling smile upon her <i>fiancé</i> and offered him one +finger by way of salutation.</p> + +<p>Abingdon, who had been waiting to get in a word, here exploded with some<a name="Page_130" id="Page_130"></a> +violence and told his young cousin in no measured terms what he thought +of her conduct.</p> + +<p>She listened with her head on one side, her eyes brimful of mischief, +and finally with an airy gesture turned to Caryl.</p> + +<p>"Don't you want to scold me, too? I am sure you do. You had better be +quick or there will be nothing left to say."</p> + +<p>Abingdon turned on his heel and walked away. He was thoroughly angry and +made no attempt to hide it. His wife lingered a moment irresolute, then +softly followed him. And as the door closed, Caryl looked very steadily +into the girl's flushed face and spoke:</p> + +<p>"All I have to say is this. Maurice Brandon is no fit escort for any +woman who values her reputation. And I here and now forbid you most +strictly, most emphatically, ever to go out with him alone again."</p> + +<p>He paused. She was looking straight back at him with her chin in the +air.</p> + +<p>"Dear me!" she said. "Do you really? And who gave you the right to +dictate to me?"</p> + +<p>"You yourself," he answered quietly.</p> + +<p>"Indeed! May I ask when?"</p> +<p><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131"></a></p> +<p>He stiffened a little, but his face did not alter.</p> + +<p>"When you promised to be my wife," he said.</p> + +<p>Her eyes blazed instant defiance.</p> + +<p>"An engagement can be broken off!" she declared recklessly.</p> + +<p>"By mutual consent," said Caryl drily.</p> + +<p>"That is absurd," she rejoined. "You couldn't possibly hold me to it +against my will."</p> + +<p>"I am quite capable of doing so," he told her coolly, "if I think it +worth my while."</p> + +<p>"Worth your while!" she exclaimed, staring at him as if she doubted his +sanity.</p> + +<p>"Even so," he said. "When I have fully satisfied myself that a heartless +little flirt like you can be transformed into a virtuous and amiable +wife. It may prove a difficult process, I admit, and perhaps not +altogether a pleasant one. But I shall not shirk it on that account."</p> + +<p>He leant back against the mantelpiece with a gesture that plainly said +that so far as he was concerned the matter was ended.</p> + +<p>But it was not so with Doris. She stood before him for several seconds +absolutely motionless, all the vivid colour gone from her face, her blue +eyes blazing with speechless fury. At length, with a sudden, fierce +movement, she tore the ring he had given her from her finger and held it<a name="Page_132" id="Page_132"></a> +out to him.</p> + +<p>"Take it!" she said, her voice high-pitched and tremulous. "This is the +end!"</p> + +<p>He did not stir a muscle.</p> + +<p>"Not yet, I think," he said.</p> + +<p>She flashed a single glance at him in which pride and uncertainty were +strangely mingled, then made a sudden swoop towards the fire. He read +her intention in a second, and stooping swiftly caught her hand. The +ring shot from her hold, gleamed in a shining curve in the firelight, +and fell with a tinkle among the ashes of the fender.</p> + +<p>Caryl did not utter a word, but his face was fixed and grim as, still +tightly gripping the hand he had caught, he knelt and groped among the +half-dead embers for the ring it had wantonly flung there. When he found +it he rose.</p> + +<p>"Before you do anything of that sort again," he said, "let me advise you +to stop and think. It will do you no harm, and may save trouble."</p> + +<p>He took her left hand, paused a moment, and then deliberately fitted the +ring back upon her finger. She made no resistance, for she was +instinctively aware that he would brook no morefrom her just then. She +was in fact horribly scared, though his voice was still perfectly quiet +and even. Something in his touch had set her heart beating, something +electric, something terrifying. She dared not meet his eyes.</p> + +<p>He dropped her hand almost contemptuously. There was nothing lover-like<a name="Page_133" id="Page_133"></a> +about him at that moment.</p> + +<p>"And remember," he said, "that no experiment can ever prove a success +unless it is given a fair trial. You will continue to be engaged to me +until I set you free. Is that understood?"</p> + +<p>She did not answer him. She was pulling at the loose ends of her veil +with restless fingers, her face downcast and very pale.</p> + +<p>"Doris!" he said.</p> + +<p>She glanced up at him sharply.</p> + +<p>"I am rather tired," she said, and her voice quivered a little. "Do you +mind if I say good-night?"</p> + +<p>"Answer me first," he said.</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I forget what you asked me. It doesn't matter, does it? There's someone +coming, and I don't want to be caught. Good-night!"</p> + +<p>She whisked round with the words before he could realize her intention, +and in a moment was at the door. She waved a hand to him airily as she +disappeared. And Caryl was left to wonder if her somewhat precipitate +departure could be regarded as a sign of defeat or merely a postponement +of the struggle.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER III</h3> + +<h4>THE KNIGHT ERRANT</h4> + + +<p>It was the afternoon of Easter Day, and a marvellous peace lay upon all<a name="Page_134" id="Page_134"></a> +things.</p> + +<p>Maurice Brandon, a look of supreme boredom on his handsome face, had +just sauntered down to the river bank. A belt of daffodils nodded to him +from the shrubbery on the farther shore. He stood and stared at them +absently while he idly smoked a cigarette.</p> + +<p>Finally, after a long and quite unprofitable inspection, he turned aside +to investigate a boathouse under the willows on Mrs. Lockyard's side of +the stream. He found the door unlocked, and discovered within a somewhat +dilapidated punt. This, after considerable exertion, he managed to drag +forth and finally to run into the water. The craft seemed seaworthy, and +he proceeded to forage for a punt-pole.</p> + +<p>Fully equipped at length, he stepped on board and poled himself out from +the shore. Arrived at the farther bank, he calmly disembarked and tied +up under the willows. He paused a few seconds to light another +cigarette, then turned from the river and sauntered up the path between +the high box hedges.</p> + +<p>The garden was deserted, and he pursued his way unmolested till he came +within sight of the house. Here for the first time he stopped to take +deliberate stock of his surroundings. Standing in the shelter of a giant +rhododendron, he saw two figures emerge and walk along the narrow +gravelled terrace before the house. As he watched, they reached the +farther end and turned. He recognized them both. They were Caryl and his +host Abingdon.</p> + +<p>For a few moments they stood talking, then went away together round an +angle of the house.</p> + +<p>Scarcely had they disappeared before a girl's light figure appeared at<a name="Page_135" id="Page_135"></a> +an upstairs window. Doris's mischievous face peeped forth, wearing her +gayest, most impudent grimace.</p> + +<p>There was no one else in sight, and with instant decision Brandon +stepped into full view, and without the faintest suggestion of +concealment began to stroll up the winding path.</p> + +<p>She heard his footsteps on the gravel, and turned her eyes upon him with +a swift start of recognition.</p> + +<p>He raised his hand in airy salute, and he heard her low murmur of +laughter as she waved him a hasty sign to await her in the shrubbery +from which he had just emerged.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"Did you actually come across the river?" said Doris. "Whatever made +you do that?"</p> + +<p>"I said I should come and fetch you, you know, if you didn't turn up," +he said.</p> + +<p>She laughed.</p> + +<p>"Do you always keep your word?"</p> + +<p>"To you—always," he assured her.</p> + +<p>Her merry face coloured a little, but she met his eyes with absolute +candour.</p> + +<p>"And now that you have come what can we do? Are you going to take me on +the river? It looks rather dangerous."</p> + +<p>"It is dangerous," Brandon said coolly, "but I think I can get you over +in safety if you will allow me to try. In any case, I won't let you +drown."</p> +<p><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136"></a></p> +<p>"I shall be furious if anything happens," she told him—"if you splash +me even. So beware!"</p> + +<p>He pushed out from the bank with a laugh. It was evident that her threat +did not greatly impress him.</p> + +<p>As for Doris, she was evidently enjoying the adventure, and the risks +that attended it only added to its charm. There was something about this +man that fascinated her, a freedom and a daring to which her own +reckless spirit could not fail to respond. He was the most interesting +plaything she had had for a long time. She had no fear that he would +ever make the mistake of taking her seriously.</p> + +<p>They reached the opposite bank in safety, and he handed her ashore with +considerable <i>empressement</i>.</p> + +<p>"I have a confession to make," he said, as they walked up to the house.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know what it is," she returned carelessly. "Mrs. Lockyard did not +expect me and has gone out."</p> + +<p>He nodded.</p> +<p><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137"></a></p> +<p>"You are taking it awfully well. One would almost think you didn't +mind."</p> + +<p>She laughed.</p> + +<p>"I never mind anything so long as I am not bored."</p> + +<p>"Nor do I," said Brandon. "We seem to have a good deal in common. But +what puzzles me—"</p> + +<p>He broke off. They had reached the open French window that led into Mrs. +Lockyard's drawing-room. He stood aside for her to enter.</p> + +<p>"Well?" she said, as she passed him. "What is this weighty problem?"</p> + +<p>He followed her in.</p> + +<p>"What puzzles me," he said, "is how a girl with your natural +independence and love of freedom can endure to remain unmarried."</p> + +<p>She opened her eyes wide in astonishment.</p> + +<p>"My good sir, you have expressed the exact reason in words which could +not have been better chosen. Independence, love of freedom, and a very +strong preference for going my own way."</p> + +<p>He laughed a little.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but you would have all these things a thousand times multiplied if +you were married.<a name="Page_138" id="Page_138"></a> +Look at all the restraints and restrictions to which girls are +subjected where married women simply please themselves. Why, you are +absolutely hedged round with conventions. You can scarcely go for a ride +with a man of your acquaintance in broad daylight without endangering +your reputation. What would they say—your cousin and Mrs. Abingdon—if +they knew that you were here with me now? They would hold up their hands +in horror."</p> + +<p>The girl's thoughts flashed suddenly to Caryl. How much freedom might +she expect from him?</p> + +<p>"It's all very well," she said, with a touch of petulance, "but +easy-going husbands don't grow on every gooseberry-bush. I have never +yet met the man who wouldn't want to arrange my life in every detail if +I married him."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you have," said Brandon.</p> + +<p>He spoke with deliberate emphasis, and she knew that as he spoke he +looked at her in a manner that there could be no mistaking. Her heart +quickened a little, and she felt the colour rise in her face.</p> + +<p>"Do you know that I am engaged to Vivian Caryl?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Perfectly," he answered. "I also know that you have not the smallest +intention of marrying him."</p> + +<p>She frowned, but did not contradict him.</p> + +<p>He continued with considerable assurance:</p> + +<p>"He is not the man to make you happy, and I think you know it. My only +wonder is that you didn't realize it earlier—before you became engaged +to him."</p> + +<p>"My engagement was only an experiment," she said quickly.</p> + +<p>"And therefore easily broken," he rejoined. "Why don't you put a stop to<a name="Page_139" id="Page_139"></a> +it?"</p> + +<p>She hesitated.</p> + +<p>He bent towards her.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say that he is cad enough to hold you against your +will?"</p> + +<p>Still she hesitated, half-afraid to speak openly.</p> + +<p>He leant nearer; he took her hand.</p> + +<p>"My dear child," he said, "don't for Heaven's sake give in to such +tyranny as that, and be made miserable for the rest of your life. Oh, I +grant you he is the sort of fellow who would make what is called a good +husband, but not the sort of husband you want. He would keep you in +order, shackle you at every turn. Marry him, and it will be good-bye to +liberty—even such liberty as you have now—forever."</p> + +<p>Her face had changed. She was very pale.</p> + +<p>"I know all that," she said, speaking rapidly, with headlong impulse. +"But, don't you see how difficult it is for me? They are all on his +side, and he is so horribly strong. Oh, I was a fool I know to accept +him. But we were waltzing and it came so suddenly. I never stopped to +think. I wish I could get away now, but I can't."</p> + +<p>"I can tell you of a way," said Brandon.</p> + +<p>She glanced at him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I know. But I can't be engaged to two people at once. I +couldn't face it. I detest scenes."</p> + +<p>"There need be no scene," he said. "You have only to come to me and give +me the right to defend you. I ask for nothing better. Even Caryl would +scarcely have the impertinence to dispute it. As my wife you will be<a name="Page_140" id="Page_140"></a> +absolutely secure from any interference."</p> + +<p>She was gazing at him wide-eyed.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean a runaway marriage?" she questioned slowly.</p> + +<p>He drew nearer still, and possessed himself of her hands.</p> + +<p>"Yes, just that," he said. "It would take a little courage, but you have +plenty of that. And the rest I would see to. It wouldn't be so very +difficult, you know. Mrs. Lockyard would help us, and you would be +absolutely safe with me. I haven't much to offer you, I admit. I'm as +poor as a church mouse. But at least you would find me"—he smiled into +her startled eyes—"a very easy-going husband, I assure you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know!" Doris said. "I don't know!"</p> + +<p>Yet still she left her hands in his and still she listened to him. That +airy reference of his to his poverty affected her favourably. He would +scarcely have made it, she told herself, with an unconscious effort to +silence unacknowledged misgivings, if her fortune had been the sole +attraction.</p> + +<p>"Look here," he said, breaking in upon these hasty meditations, "I don't +want you to do anything in a hurry. Take a little while to think it +over. Let me know to-morrow. I am not leaving till the evening. You +shall do nothing, so far as I am concerned, against your will. I want +you, now and always, to do exactly as you like. You believe that?"</p> + +<p>"I quite believe you mean it at the present moment," she said with a +decidedly doubtful smile.</p><p><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141"></a></p> + +<p>"It will be so always," said Brandon, "whether you believe it or not."</p> + +<p>And with considerable ceremony he raised her hands to his lips and +deliberately kissed them. It seemed to Doris at that moment that even so +headlong a scheme as this was not without its very material advantages. +There were so many drawbacks to being betrothed.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER IV</h3> + +<h4>AT CLOSE QUARTERS</h4> + + +<p>When Doris descended to breakfast on the following morning she found an +animated party in the dining-room discussing the best means of spending +the day. Abingdon himself and most of his guests were in favour of +attending an aviation meeting at Wynhampton a few miles away.</p> + +<p>Caryl was not present, but as she passed through the hall a little +later, he came in at the front door.</p> + +<p>"I was just coming to you," he remarked, pausing to flick the ash from +his cigarette before closing the door. "I have been making arrangements +for you to drive to Wynhampton with me."</p> + +<p>Doris made a stiff movement that seemed almost mechanical. But the next +moment she recovered her self-control. Why was she afraid of this man, +she asked herself desperately? No man had ever managed to frighten her +before.</p> + +<p>"I think I should prefer to go in the motor," she said, and smiled with +quivering lips. "Get Phil to drive with you. He likes the dog-cart +better than I do."</p> +<p><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142"></a></p> +<p>"I have talked it over with him," Caryl responded gravely. "He agrees +with me that this is the best arrangement."</p> + +<p>There was to be no escape then. Once more the stronger will prevailed. +Without another word she turned from him and went upstairs. She might +have defied him, but she knew in her heart that he could compass his +ends in spite of her. And she was afraid.</p> + +<p>She had a moment of absolute panic as she mounted into the high cart. He +handed her up, and his grasp, close and firm, seemed to her eloquent of +that deadly resolution with which he mastered her.</p> + +<p>For the first half-mile he said nothing whatever, being fully occupied +with the animal he was driving—a skittish young mare impatient of +restraint.</p> + +<p>Doris on her side sat in unbroken silence, enduring the strain with a +set face, dreading the moment when he should have leisure to speak.</p> + +<p>He was evidently in no hurry to do so. Or was it possible that he found +some difficulty in choosing his words?</p> + +<p>At length he turned his head and spoke.</p> + +<p>"I secured this interview," he said, "because there is an important +point which I want to discuss with you."</p> + +<p>"What is it?"</p><p><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143"></a></p> + +<p>She nerved herself to meet his look, but her eyes fell before its steady +mastery almost instantly.</p> + +<p>"About our wedding," he said in his calm, deliberate voice. "I should +like to have the day fixed."</p> + +<p>Her heart gave a great thump of dismay.</p> + +<p>"Do you really mean to hunt me down then and—and marry me against my +will?" she said, almost panting out the words.</p> + +<p>Caryl turned his eyes back to the mare.</p> + +<p>"I mean to marry you—yes," he said. "I think you forget that you +accepted me of your own accord."</p> + +<p>"I was mad!" she broke in passionately.</p> + +<p>"People in love are never wholly sane," he remarked cynically.</p> + +<p>"I was never in love with you!" she cried. "N<a name="Page_144" id="Page_144"></a>ever, never!"</p> + +<p>He raised his eyebrows.</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless you will marry me," he said.</p> + +<p>"Why?" she gasped back furiously. "Why should I marry you? You know I +hate you, and you—you—surely you must hate me?"</p> + +<p>"No," he said with extreme deliberation, "strange as it may seem, I +don't."</p> + +<p>Something in the words quelled her anger. Abruptly she abandoned the +struggle and fell silent, her face averted.</p> + +<p>"And so," he proceeded, "we may as well decide upon the wedding-day +without further argument."</p> + +<p>"And, if—if I refuse?" she murmured rather incoherently.</p> + +<p>"You will not refuse," he said with a finality so absolute that her +last hope went out like an extinguished candle.</p> + +<p>She seized her courage with both hands and turned to him.</p> + +<p>"You will give me a little while to think it over?"</p> +<p><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145"></a></p> +<p>"Why?" said Caryl.</p> + +<p>"Because I—I can't possibly decide upon the spur of the moment," she +said confusedly.</p> + +<p>Was he going to refuse her even this small request? It almost seemed +that he was.</p> + +<p>"How long will it take you?" he asked. "Will you give me an answer +to-night?"</p> + +<p>Her heart leapt to a sudden hope called to life by his words.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow!" she said quickly.</p> + +<p>"I said to-night."</p> + +<p>"Very well," she rejoined, yielding. "To-night, if you prefer it."</p> + +<p>"Thanks. I do."</p> + +<p>They were his last words on the subject. He seemed to think it ended +there, and there was nothing more to be said.</p> + +<p>As for Doris, she sat by his side, outwardly calm but inwardly shaken to +the depths. To be thus firmly caught in the meshes of her own net was an +experience so new and so terrifying that she was utterly at a loss as to +how to cope with it. Yet there was a chance, one ray of hope to help +her. There was Major Brandon, the man who had offered her freedom. He +was to have his answer to-day. For the first time she began seriously to +ponder what that answer should be.</p> +<p><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146"></a></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER V</h3> + +<h4>THE WAY TO FREEDOM</h4> + + +<p>So far as Doris was concerned the aviation meeting was not a success. +There were some wonderful exhibitions of flying, but she was too +preoccupied to pay more than a very superficial attention to what she +saw.</p> + +<p>They lunched at a great hotel overlooking the aviation ground. The place +was crowded, and they experienced some difficulty in finding places. +Eventually Doris found herself seated at a square table with Caryl and +two others in the middle of the great room.</p> + +<p>She was studying a menu as a pretext for avoiding conversation with her +<i>fiancé</i>, when a man's voice murmured hurriedly in her ear:</p> + +<p>"Will you allow me for a moment please? The lady who has just left this +table thinks she must have dropped one of her gloves under it."</p> + +<p>Doris pushed back her chair and would have risen, but the speaker was +already on his knees and laid a hasty, restraining hand upon her. It +found hers and, under cover of the table-cloth, pressed a screw of paper +into her fingers.</p> + +<p>The next instant he emerged, very red in the face, but triumphant, a +lady's gauntlet glove in his hand.</p> + +<p>"Awfully obliged!" he declared. "Sorry to have disturbed you. Thought I +should find it here."</p> + +<p>He smiled, bowed, and departed, leaving Doris amazed at his audacity. +She had met this young man often at Mrs. Lockyard's house, where he was<a name="Page_147" id="Page_147"></a> +invariably referred to as "the little Fricker boy."</p> + +<p>She threw a furtive glance at Caryl, but he had plainly noticed nothing. +With an uneasy sense of shame she slipped the note into her glove.</p> + +<p>She perused it on the earliest opportunity. It contained but one +sentence:</p> + +<p>"If you still wish for freedom, you can find it down by the river at any +hour to-night."</p> + +<p>There was no signature of any sort; none was needed, She hid the message +away again, and for the rest of the afternoon she was almost feverishly +gay to hide the turmoil of indecision at her heart.</p> + +<p>She saw little of Caryl after luncheon, but he re-appeared again in time +to drive her back in the dog-cart as they had come. She found him very +quiet and preoccupied, on the return journey, but his presence no longer +dismayed her. It was the consciousness that a way of escape was open to +her that emboldened her.</p> + +<p>They were nearing the end of the drive, when he at length laid aside his +preoccupation and spoke:</p> + +<p>"Have you made up your mind yet?"</p> + +<p>That query of his was the turning point with her. Had he shown the +smallest sign of relenting from his grim purpose, had he so much as +couched his question in terms of kindness, he might have melted her even +then; for she was impulsive ever and quick to respond to any warmth. But +the coldness of his question, the unyielding mastery of his manner, +impelled her to final rebellion. In the moment that intervened between +his question and her reply her decision was made.</p> + +<p>"You shall have my answer to-night," she said.</p><p><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148"></a></p> + +<p>He turned from her without a word, and a little wonder quivered through +her as to the meaning of his silence. She was glad when they reached +Rivermead and she could take refuge in her own room.</p> + +<p>Here once more she read Brandon's message; read it with a thumping +heart, but no thought of drawing back. It w<a name="Page_149" id="Page_149"></a>as the only way out for her.</p> + +<p>She dressed for dinner, and then made a few hasty preparations for her +flight. She laid no elaborate plans for effecting it, for she +anticipated no difficulty. The night would be dark, and she could rely +upon her ingenuity for the rest. Failure was unthinkable.</p> + +<p>When they rose from the table she waited for Vera and slipped a hand +into her arm.</p> + +<p>"Do make an excuse for me," she whispered. "I have had a dreadful day, +and I can't stand any more. I am going upstairs."</p> + +<p>"My dear!" murmured back Vera, by way of protest.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless she made the excuse almost as soon as they entered the +drawing-room, and Doris fled upstairs on winged feet. At the head she +met Caryl about to descend; almost collided with him. He had evidently +been up to his room to fetch something.</p> + +<p>He stood aside for her at once.</p> + +<p>"You are not retiring yet?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She scarcely glanced at him. She would not give herself time to be +disconcerted.</p> +<p><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150"></a></p> +<p>"I am coming down again," she said, and ran on.</p> + +<p>Barely a quarter of an hour after the encounter with Caryl, dressed in a +long dark motoring coat and closely veiled, she slipped down the back +stairs that led to the servants' quarters, stood listening against a +baize door that led into the front hall, then whisked it open and fled +across to open the conservatory door, noiseless as a shadow.</p> + +<p>The conservatory was in semi-darkness. She expected to see no one; +looked for no one. A moment she paused by the door that led into the +garden, and in that pause she heard a slight sound. It might have been +anything. It probably was a creak from one of the wicker chairs that +stood in a corner. Whatever its origin, it startled her to greater +haste. She fumbled at the door and pulled it open.</p> + +<p>A gust of wind and rain blew in upon her, but she was scarcely aware of +it. In another moment she had softly closed the door again and was +scudding across the terrace to the steps that led towards the river +path.</p> + +<p>As she reached it a light shone out in front of her, wavered, and was +gone.</p> + +<p>"This way to freedom, lady mine," said Brandon's voice close to her, and +she heard in it the laugh he did not utter. "Mind you don't tumble in."</p> + +<p>His hand touched her arm, closed upon it, drew her to his side. In +another instant it encircled her, but she pushed him vehemently away.</p> + +<p>"Let us go!" she said feverishly. "Let us go!"</p> + +<p>"Come along then," he said gaily. "The boat is just here. You'll have to<a name="Page_151" id="Page_151"></a> +hold the lantern. Mind how you get on board."</p> + +<p>As he pushed out from the bank, he told her something of his +arrangements.</p> + +<p>"There's a motor waiting—not the one Polly usually hires, but it's +quite a decent little car. By the way, she has gone straight up to Town +from Wynhampton; said we should do our eloping best alone. We shan't be +quite alone, though, for Fricker is going to drive us. But he's a +negligible quantity, eh? His only virtue is that he isn't afraid of +driving in the dark."</p> + +<p>"You will take me to Mrs. Lockyard?" said Doris quickly.</p> + +<p>"Of course. She is at her flat, she and Mrs. Fricker. We shall be there +soon after midnight, all being well. Confound this stream! It swirls +like a mill-race."</p> + +<p>He fell silent, and devoted all his attention to reaching the farther +bank.</p> + +<p>Doris sat with the lantern in her hands, striving desperately to control +her nervous excitement. Her absence could not have been discovered yet, +she was sure, but she was in a fever of anxiety notwithstanding. She +would not feel safe until she was actually on the road.</p> + +<p>The boat bumped at last against the bank, and she drew a breath of +relief. The journey had seemed interminable.</p> + +<p>Suddenly through the windy darkness there came to them the hoot of a<a name="Page_152" id="Page_152"></a> +motor-horn.</p> + +<p>"That's all right," said Brandon cheerily. "That's Fricker, wanting to +know if all's well."</p> + +<p>He hurried her over the wet grass, skirted the house by a side-path that +ran between dripping laurels, and brought her out finally into the +little front garden.</p> + +<p>A glare of acetylene lamps met them abruptly as they emerged, dazzling +them for the moment. The buzz of a motor engine also greeted them, and a +smell of petrol hung in the wet air.</p> + +<p>As her eyes accustomed themselves to the brightness, Doris made out a +small closed motor-car, with a masked chauffeur seated at the wheel.</p> + +<p>"Good little Fricker!" said Brandon, slapping the chauffeur's shoulder +as he passed. "So you've got your steam up! Straight ahead then, and as +fast as you like. Don't get run in, that's all."</p> + +<p>He handed Doris into the car, followed her, and slammed the door.</p> + +<p>The next moment they passed swiftly out on to the road, and Doris knew +that the die was cast. She stood finally committed to this, the wildest, +most desperate venture of her life.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153"></a></p> +<h3>CHAPTER VI</h3> + +<h4>A MASTER STROKE</h4> + + +<p>"Here beginneth," laughed Brandon, sliding his arm around her as she sat +tense in every nerve gazing at the rain-blurred window.</p> + +<p>She did not heed him; it was almost as if she had not heard. Her hands +were tightly clasped upon one another, and her face was turned from him. +There was no lamp inside the car, the only illumination proceeding from +those without, showing them the driver huddled over the wheel, but +shedding little light into the interior.</p> + +<p>He tightened his arm about her, laying his other hand upon her clasped +ones.</p> + +<p>"By Jove, little girl, you're cold!" he said.</p> + +<p>She was—cold as ice. She parted her fingers stiffly to free them from +his grasp.</p> + +<p>"I—I'm quite comfortable," she assured him, without turning her head. +"Please don't trouble about me."</p> + +<p>But he was not to be thus discouraged.</p> + +<p>"You can't be comfortable," he argued. "Why, you're shivering. Let me +see what I can do to make things better."</p> + +<p>He tried to draw her to him, but she resisted almost angrily.</p><p><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154"></a></p> + +<p>"Oh, do leave me alone! I'm not uncomfortable. I'm only thinking."</p> + +<p>"Well, don't be silly!" he urged. "It's no use thinking at this stage. +The thing is done now, and well done. We shall be man and wife by this +time to-morrow. We'll go to Paris, eh, and have no end of a spree."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," she said, not looking at him or yielding an inch to his +persuasion.</p> + +<p>It was plain that for some reason she desired to be left in peace, and +after a brief struggle with himself, Brandon decided that he would be +wise to let her have her way. He leant back and crossed his arms in +silence.</p> + +<p>The car sped along at a pace which he found highly satisfactory. He had +absolute faith in Fricker's driving and knowledge of the roads.</p> + +<p>They had been travelling for the greater part of an hour, when Doris at +length relaxed from her tense attitude and lay back in her corner, +nestling into it with a long shiver.</p> + +<p>Brandon was instantly on the alert.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure you are cold. Here's a rug here. Let me—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, do please leave me alone!" she said, with a sob. "I'm so horribly +tired."</p> + +<p>Beseechingly almost she laid her hand upon his arm with the words.</p> + +<p>The touch fired him. He considered that he had been patient long<a name="Page_155" id="Page_155"></a> +enough. Abruptly he caught her to him.</p> + +<p>"Come, I say," he said, half-laughing, half in savage earnest, "I can't +have you crying on what's almost our wedding trip!"</p> + +<p>He certainly did not expect the absolutely furious resistance with which +she met his action. She thrust him from her with the strength of frenzy.</p> + +<p>"How dare you?" she cried passionately. "How dare you touch me, you—you +hateful cad?"</p> + +<p>For the moment, such was his astonishment, he suffered her to escape +from his hold. Then, called into activity by <a name="Page_156" id="Page_156"></a>her unreasoning fury, the +devil in him leapt suddenly up and took possession. With a snarling +laugh he gripped her by the arms, holding her by brutal force.</p> + +<p>"You little wild cat!" he said in a voice that shook between anger and +amusement. "So this is your gratitude, is it? I am to give all and +receive nothing for my pains. Then let me make it quite clear to you +here and now that that is not my intention. I will be kind to you, but +you must be kind to me, too. The benefit is to be mutual."</p> + +<p>It was premature. In his heart he knew it, but she had provoked him to +it and there was no turning back now. He resented the provocation, that +was all, and it made him the more brutally inclined towards her.</p> + +<p>As for Doris, she fought and tore at his grasp like a mad creature; and +when he mastered her, when, still laughing between his teeth, he forced +her face upwards and kissed it fiercely and violently, she shrieked +between his kisses, shrieked and shrieked again.</p> + +<p>The sudden grinding of the brake recalled Brandon to his senses. The +fool was actually stopping the car. He relinquished his hold upon the +girl to dash his hand against the window in front.</p> + +<p>"Drive on, curse you, drive on!" he shouted through the glass. "I'll let +you know if we want to stop."</p> + +<p>But the car stopped in spite of him. The chauffeur, shining from head to +foot in his oil-skins, sprang to the ground. A moment and he was at the +door, had wrenched it open, and was peering within.</p> + +<p>"What are you gaping there for, you fool?" raved Brandon, his hand upon<a name="Page_157" id="Page_157"></a> +Doris, who was suddenly straining forward. "It's all right, I tell you. +Go on."</p> + +<p>"I am going on," the chauffeur responded calmly through his mask. "But I +am not taking you any farther, Major Brandon. So tumble out at once, you +dirty, thieving hound!"</p> + +<p>The words, the tone, the attitude, flashed such a revelation upon Doris +that she cried out in amazement, and then with a revulsion of feeling so +great that it deprived her of all speech she threw herself forward and +clung to the masked chauffeur in an agony of tears.</p> + +<p>Brandon was staring at him with dropped jaw.</p> + +<p>"Who the blazes are you?" he said.</p> + +<p>"You know me, I think," the chauffeur responded quietly. He was pressing +Doris back into her seat with absolute steadiness. "We have met before. +I was present at your first wedding ten years ago, and—as a junior +counsel—I helped to divorce you a few months after. My name is Vivian +Caryl."</p> + +<p>He freed a hand to push up his mask. His pale face with its heavy-lidded +eyes stared, supremely contemptuous, into Brandon's suffused +countenance. His composure was somehow disconcerting.</p> + +<p>"Suppose you get out," he suggested. "I can talk to you then in a +language you will understand."</p> + +<p>"Curse you!" bawled Brandon. "Where's Fricker?"</p> + +<p>Caryl shrugged his shoulders.</p><p><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158"></a></p> + +<p>"You have seen him since I have. Are you going to get out? Ah, I thought +you would."</p> + +<p>He stood aside to allow him to do so, and then stepped back to shut the +door. He did not utter a word to the girl cowering within, but that +action of his was a mute command. She crouched in the dark and listened, +but she did not dare to follow or to flee.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER VII</h3> + +<h4>THE MAN AT THE WHEEL</h4> + + +<p>When Caryl came back to the motor his handkerchief was bound about the +knuckles of his right hand, and his face wore a faint smile that had in +it more of grimness than humour.</p> + +<p>He paused at the open window and looked in on Doris without opening the +door. The sound of the rain pattering heavily upon his shoulders filled +in a silence that she found terrible. He spoke at length:</p> + +<p>"You had better shut the window, the rain is coming in."</p> +<p><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159"></a></p> +<p>That was all, spoken in his customary drawl without a hint of anger or +reproach. They cut her hard, those few words of his. It was as if he +deemed her unworthy even of his contempt.</p> + +<p>She raised her white face.</p> + +<p>"What—are you going to do?" she managed to ask through her quivering +lips.</p> + +<p>"I am going to take you to the nearest town—to Bramfield to spend the +rest of the night. It is getting late, you know—past midnight already."</p> + +<p>"Bramfield!" she echoed with a start. "Then—then we have been going +north all this time?"</p> + +<p>"We have been going north," he said.</p> + +<p>She glanced around. Her eyes were hunted.</p> + +<p>"No," said Caryl. "I haven't killed him. He is sitting under the hedge +about fifty yards up the road, thinking things over."</p> + +<p>He opened the door then abruptly, and she held her breath and became +still and tense with apprehension. But he only pulled up the window, +closed the door again with a sharp click, and left her. When she dared +to breathe again the car was in motion.</p> + +<p>She took no interest in her surroundings. Her destination had become a +matter of such secondary importance that she gave it no consideration<a name="Page_160" id="Page_160"></a> +whatever. What mattered, all that mattered, was that she was now in the +hands and absolutely at the mercy of the man whom she feared as she +feared no one else on earth, the man with whom in her mad coquetry she +had dared to trifle.</p> + +<p>The car was stopping. It came to a standstill almost imperceptibly, and +Caryl stepped into the road. Tensely she watched him; but he did not so +much as glance her way. He turned aside to a little gate in a high hedge +of laurel, and passed within, leaving her alone in the night.</p> + +<p>Soon she heard his deliberate footfalls returning. In a moment he had +reached the door, his hand was upon it. She turned stiffly towards him +as it opened.</p> + +<p>He spoke at once in his calm, unmoved voice:</p> + +<p>"A very old friend of mine lives here. She will put you up for the +night and see to your comfort. Will you get out?"</p> + +<p>Mutely she did so, feeling curiously weak and unstrung. He put his arm +around her, and led her into the dim cottage garden.</p> + +<p>They went up a tiled path to an open door from which the light of a +single candle gleamed fitfully in the draught. She stumbled at the +doorstep, but he held her up. He was almost carrying her.</p> + +<p>As they entered, an old woman, bent and indescribably wrinkled, rose +from her knees before a deep old-fashioned fireplace on the other side +of the little kitchen, and came to meet them. She had evidently just +coaxed a dying fire back to life.</p> + +<p>"Ah, poor dear," she said at sight of the girl'<a name="Page_161" id="Page_161"></a>s exhausted face. "She +looks more dead than alive. Bring her to the fire, Master Vivian. I'll +soon have some hot milk for the poor lamb."</p> + +<p>Caryl led her to an arm-chair that stood on one side of the blaze, and +made her sit down. Then, stooping, he took one of her nerveless hands +and held it closely in his own.</p> + +<p>He did not speak to her, and she was relieved by his forbearance. As the +warmth of his grasp gradually communicated itself to her numbed fingers, +she felt her racing pulses grow steadier; but she was glad when he laid +her hand down quietly in her lap and turned away.</p> + +<p>He bent over her again in a few minutes with a cup of steaming milk. +She took it from him, tasted it, and shuddered.</p> + +<p>"There is brandy in it."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Caryl.</p> + +<p>She turned her head away.</p> + +<p>"I don't want it. I hate brandy."</p> + +<p>He put his hand on her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"You had better drink it all the same," he said.</p> + +<p>She glanced at him, caught her breath sharply, then dumbly gave way. He +kept his hand upon her while she drank, and only removed it to take the +empty cup.</p><p><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162"></a></p> + +<p>After that, standing gravely before her, he spoke again.</p> + +<p>"I am going on into the town now with the motor, and I shall put up +there. My old nurse will take care of you. I shall come back in the +morning."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER VIII</h3> + +<h4>THE SURRENDER OF THE CITADEL</h4> + + +<p>Old Mrs. Maynard, sweeping her brick floor with wide-open door through +which the April sunlight streamed gloriously, nodded to herself a good +many times over the doings of the night. A very discreet creature was +Mrs. Maynard, faithful to the very heart of her, but she would not have +been mortal had she not been intensely curious to know what were the +circumstances that had led Vivian Caryl to bring to her door that +shrinking, exhausted girl who still lay sleeping in the room above.</p> + +<p>When Doris awoke in response to her deferential knock, only the +reticence of the trained servant greeted her. The motherliness of the +night before had completely vanished.</p> + +<p>Doris was glad of it. She had to steel herself for the coming interview +with Caryl; she had to face the result of her headlong actions with as +firm a front as she could assume. She needed all her strength, and she<a name="Page_163" id="Page_163"></a> +could not have borne sympathy just then.</p> + +<p>She thanked Mrs. Maynard for her attentions and saw her withdraw with +relief. Then, having nibbled very half-heartedly at the breakfast +provided, she arose with a great sigh, and began to prepare for whatever +might lie before her.</p> + +<p>Dressed at length, she sat down by the open window to wait—and wonder.</p> + +<p>The click of the garden gate fell suddenly across her meditations, and +she drew back sharply out of sight. He was entering.</p> + +<p>She heard his leisurely footfall on the tiles and then his quiet voice +below. Her heart began to thump with thick, uncertain beats. She was +horribly afraid.</p> + +<p>Yet when she heard the old woman ascending the stairs, she had the +courage to go to the door and open it.</p> + +<p>Mr. Caryl was in the parlour, she was told. He would be glad to see her +at her convenience.</p> + +<p>"I will go to him," she said, and forthwith descended to meet her fate.</p> + +<p>He stood by the window when she entered, but wheeled round at once with +his back to the light. She felt that this did not make much difference. +She knew exactly how he was looking—cold, self-contained, implacable as +granite. She had seldom seen him look otherwise. His face was a<a name="Page_164" id="Page_164"></a> +perpetual mask to her. It was this very inscrutability of his that had +first waked in her the desire to see him among her retinue of slaves.</p> + +<p>She went forward slowly, striving to attain at least a semblance of +composure. At first it seemed that he would wait for her where he was; +then unexpectedly he moved to meet her. He took her hand into his own, +and she shrank a little involuntarily. His touch unnerved her.</p> + +<p>"You have slept?" he asked. "You are better?"</p> + +<p>Something in his tone made her glance upwards, catching her breath. But +she decided instantly that she had been mistaken. He would not, he could +not, mean to be kind at such a moment.</p> + +<p>She made answer with an assumption of pride. She dared not let herself +be natural just then.</p> + +<p>"I am quite well. There was nothing wrong with me last night. I was only +tired."</p> + +<p>He suffered her hand to slip from his.</p> + +<p>"I wonder what you think of doing," he said quietly. "Have you made any +plans?"</p> + +<p>The hot blood rushed to her face before she was aware of it. She turned +it sharply aside.</p> +<p><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165"></a></p> +<p>"Am I to have a voice in the matter?" she said, her voice very low. "You +did not think it worth while to consult me last night."</p> + +<p>"You were scarcely in a fit state to be consulted," he answered gravely. +"That is why I postponed the discussion. But I was then—as I am +now—entirely at your disposal. I will take you back to your people at +once if you wish it."</p> + +<p>She made a quick, passionate gesture of protest, and moved away from +him.</p> + +<p>"Have you any alternative in your mind?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She remained with her back to him.</p> + +<p>"I shall go away," she said, a sudden note of recklessness in her +voice. "I shall travel."</p> + +<p>"Alone?" he questioned.</p> + +<p>"Yes, alone." This time her voice rang defiance. She wheeled round +quivering from head to foot. "But for you," she said, "but for your<a name="Page_166" id="Page_166"></a> +unwarrantable interference I should never have been placed in this +hateful, this impossible, position. I should have been with my friends +in London. It would have been my wedding-day."</p> + +<p>The attack was plainly unexpected. Even Caryl was taken by surprise. But +the next moment he was ready for her.</p> + +<p>"Then by all means," he said, "let me take you to your friends in +London. Doubtless your chivalrous lover has found his way thither long +ere this."</p> + +<p>She stamped like a little fury.</p> + +<p>"Do you think I would marry him—now? Do you think I would marry any one +after—after what happened last night? Oh, I hate you—I hate you all!"</p> + +<p>Her voice broke. She covered her face, with tempestuous sobbing, and +sank into a chair.</p> + +<p>Caryl stood silent, biting his lip as if in irresolution. He did not try +to comfort her.</p> + +<p>After a while, her weeping still continuing, he leant across the table.</p> + +<p>"Doris," he said, "leave off crying and listen to me. I know it is out +of the question for you to marry that scoundrel whom I had the pleasure +of thrashing last night. It always has been out of the question. That +is one reason why I have been keeping such a hold upon you. Now that you +admit the impossibility of it, I set you free. But you will be wise to +think well before you accept your freedom from me. You are in an<a name="Page_167" id="Page_167"></a> +intolerable position, and I am quite powerless to help you unless you +place yourself unreservedly in my hands and give me the right to protect +you. It means a good deal, I know. It means, Doris, the sacrifice of +your independence. But it also means a safe haven, peace, comfort, if +not happiness. You may not love me. I never seriously thought that you +did. But if you will give me your trust—I shall try to be satisfied +with that."</p> + +<p>Love! She had never heard the word on his lips before. It sent a curious +thrill through her to hear it then. She had listened to him with her +face hidden, though her tears had ceased. But as he ended, she slowly +raised her head and looked at him.</p> + +<p>"Are you asking me to marry you?" she said.</p> + +<p>"I am," said Caryl.</p> + +<p>She lowered her eyes from his, and began to trace a design on the +table-cloth with one finger.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to marry you," she said at length.</p> + +<p>"I know," said Caryl.</p> + +<p>She did not look up.</p> + +<p>"No, you don't know. That's just it. You think you know everything. But +you don't. For instance, you think you know why I ran away with Major Brandon. But +you don't. You never will know—unless I tell you, probably not even +then."</p> + +<p>She broke off with an abrupt sigh, and leant back in her chair.</p> + +<p>"One thing I do thank you for," she said irrelevantly. "And that is that +you didn't take me back to Rivermead last night. Have they, I wonder, +any idea where I am?"</p> +<p><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168"></a></p> +<p>"I left a message for your cousin before I left," Caryl said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, then he knew—?"</p> + +<p>"He knew that I had you under my protection," Caryl told her grimly. "I +did not go into details. It was unnecessary. Only Flicker knew the +details. I marked him down in the afternoon, after the incident at +luncheon."</p> + +<p>She opened her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Then you guessed—?"</p> + +<p>"I knew he did not find the missing glove under the table," said Caryl +quietly. "I did not need any further evidence than that. I knew, +moreover, that you had not devoted the whole of the previous afternoon +to your correspondence. I was waiting for your cousin in the +conservatory when you joined Brandon in the garden."</p> + +<p>"And you—you were in the conservatory last night when I went through. +I—I felt there was someone there."</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered. "I waited to see you go."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you stop me?"</p> + +<p>For an instant her eyes challenged his.</p> + +<p>He stood up, straightening himself slowly.</p> + +<p>"It would not have answered my purpose," he told her steadily.</p> + +<p>She stood up also, her face gone suddenly white.</p><p><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169"></a></p> + +<p>"You chose this means of—of forcing me to marry you?"</p> + +<p>"I chose this means—the only means to my hand—of opening your eyes," +he said. "It has not perhaps been over successful. You are still blind +to much that you ought to see. But you will understand these things +better presently."</p> + +<p>"Presently?" she faltered.</p> + +<p>"When you are my wife," he said.</p> + +<p>She flashed him a swift glance.</p> + +<p>"I am to marry you then?"</p> + +<p>He held out his hand to her across the table.</p> + +<p>"Will you marry me, Doris?"</p> + +<p>She hesitated for a single instant, her eyes downcast. Then suddenly, +without speaking, she put her hand into his, glad that, notwithstanding +the overwhelming strength of his position, he had allowed her the +honours of war.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER IX</h3> + +<h4>THE WILLING CAPTIVE</h4> + +<p><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170"></a></p> +<p>"And so you were obliged to marry your <i>bête noire</i> after all! My dear, +it has been the talk of the town. Come, sit down, and tell me all about +it. I am burning to hear how it came about."</p> + +<p>Doris's old friend, Mrs. Lockyard, paused to flick the ash from her +cigarette, and to laugh slyly at the girl's face of discomfiture.</p> + +<p>Doris also held a cigarette between her fingers, but she was only toying +with it restlessly.</p> + +<p>"There isn't much to tell," she said. "We were married by special +licence. I was not obliged to marry him. I chose to do so."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lockyard laughed again, not very pleasantly.</p> + +<p>"And left poor Maurice in the lurch. That was rather cruel of you after +all his chivalrous efforts to deliver you from bondage. And he so hard +up, too."</p> + +<p>A flush of anger rose in the girl's face. She tilted her chin with the +old proud gesture.</p> + +<p>"I should not have married him in any case," she said. "He made that +quite impossible by his own act. He—was not so chivalrous as I +thought."</p> + +<p>A gleam of malice shone for a moment in Mrs. Lockyard's eyes, and just a +hint of it was perceptible in her voice as she made response.</p> + +<p>"One has to make allowances sometimes. All men are not made after the +pattern of your chosen lord and master. He, I grant you, is hard as +granite and about as impassive. Still I mustn't depreciate your prize +since it was of your own choosing. Let me wish you instead every +happiness."</p><p><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171"></a></p> + +<p>"He was not impassive that night," said Doris quickly, with a sharp +inward sense of injustice.</p> + +<p>"No?" questioned Mrs. Lockyard.</p> + +<p>"No. At least—Major Brandon did not find him so." Doris's blue eyes +took fire at the recollection. "He gave him his deserts," she said, with +a certain exultation. "He thrashed him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear, he would have done that in any case. That was an old, old +score paid off at last. Forgive me for depriving you of this small +gratification. But that debt was contracted many years ago when you were +scarcely out of your cradle. Your presence was a mere incident. You were +the opportunity, not the cause."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you mean," said Doris, looking her straight in the +face.</p> + +<p>"No? Well, my dear, it isn't my business to enlighten you. If you really +want to know, I must refer you to your husband. Surely that is Mrs. +Fricker over there. You will not mind if she joins us?"</p> + +<p>"I am going!" Doris announced abruptly—"I really only looked in to see +if there were any letters."</p> + +<p>She dropped her cigarette with determination and turned to the nearest +door.</p> + +<p>It was true that she had run into the club for her correspondence, but +having met Mrs. Lockyard she had been almost compelled to linger, albeit +unwillingly. Now from the depths of her soul she regretted the impulse +that had borne her thither. She vowed to herself that she would not +enter the club again so long as Mrs. Lockyard remained in town.</p> + +<p>Three weeks had elapsed since her marriage; three weeks of shopping in +Paris with Caryl somewhere in the background,<a name="Page_172" id="Page_172"></a> looking on but never +advising.</p> + +<p>He had been very kind on the whole, she was fain to admit, but she was +further from understanding him now than she had ever been. He had +retired into his shell so completely that it seemed unlikely that he +would ever again emerge, and she did not dare to make the first advance.</p> + +<p>Her return to London had been one of the greatest ordeals she had ever +faced, but she had endured it unflinchingly, and had found that London +had already almost forgotten the eccentricity of her marriage. In the +height of the season memories are short.</p> + +<p>Caryl had taken a flat overlooking the river, and here they had settled +down. He spent the greater part of his day at the Law Courts, and Doris +found herself thrown a good deal upon her own resources. In happier days +this had been her ideal, but for some reason it did not now content her.</p> + +<p>Returning from her encounter with Mrs. Lockyard at the club, she told +herself with sudden petulance that life in town had lost all charm for +her.</p> + +<p>Entering the dainty sitting-room that looked on to the river, she +dropped into a chair by the window and stared out with her chin in her +hands. The river was a blaze of gold. A line of long black barges was +drifting down-stream in the wake of a noisy steam-tug. She watched them +absently, sick at heart.</p> +<p><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173"></a></p> +<p>Gradually the shining water grew blurred and dim. Its beauty wholly +passed her by, or if she saw it, it was only in vivid contrast to the +darkness in her soul. For a little, wide-eyed, she resisted the impulse +that tugged at her heart-strings; but at last in sheer weariness she +gave in. What did it matter, a tear more or less? There was no one to +know or care. And tears were sometimes a relief. She bowed her head upon +the sill and wept.</p> + +<p>"Why, Doris!" a quiet voice said.</p> + +<p>She started, started violently, and sprang upright.</p> + +<p>Caryl was standing slightly behind her, his hand on the back of her +chair, but as she rose he came forward and stood beside her.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" he said. "Why are you crying?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not!" she declared vehemently. "I wasn't! You—you startled +me—that's all."</p> + +<p>She turned her back on him and hastily dabbed her eyes. She was furious +with him for coming upon her thus.</p> + +<p>He stood at the window, looking out upon the long, black barges in +silence.</p> + +<p>After a few seconds of desperate effort she controlled herself and +turned round.</p> + +<p>"I never heard you come in. I—must have been asleep."</p> + +<p>He did not look at her, or attempt to refute the statement.</p> +<p><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174"></a></p> +<p>"I thought you were going to be out this afternoon," he said.</p> + +<p>"So I was. So I have been. I went to the club to get my letters."</p> + +<p>"Didn't you find any one there to talk to?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No one," she answered somewhat hastily; then, moved by some impulse she +could not have explained, "That is, no one that counts. I saw Mrs. +Lockyard."</p> + +<p>"Doesn't she count?" asked Caryl, still with his eyes on the river.</p> + +<p>"I hate the woman!" Doris declared passionately.</p> + +<p>He turned slowly round.</p> + +<p>"What has she been saying to you?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing."</p> + +<p>Again he made no comment on the obvious lie.</p> + +<p>"Look here," he said. "Can't we go out somewhere to-night? There is a +new play at the Regency. They say it's good. Shall we go?"</p> + +<p>The suggestion was quite unexpected; she looked at him in surprise.</p> + +<p>"I have promised Vera to dine there," she said.</p><p><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175"></a></p> + +<p>"Ring her up and say you can't," said Caryl.</p> + +<p>She hesitated.</p> + +<p>"I must make some excuse if I do. What shall I say?"</p> + +<p>"Say I want you," he said, and suddenly that rare smile of his for which +she had wholly ceased to look flashed across his face, "and tell the +truth for once."</p> + +<p>She did not see him again till she entered the dining-room an hour +later. He was waiting for her there, and as she came in he presented her +with a spray of lilies.</p> + +<p>Again in astonishment she looked up at him.</p> + +<p>"Don't you like them?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Of course I do. But—but—"</p> + +<p>Her answer tailed off in confusion. Her lip quivered uncontrollably, and +she turned quickly away.</p> + +<p>Caryl was plainly unaware of anything unusual in her demeanour. He +talked throughout dinner in his calm, effortless drawl, and gradually +under its soothing influence she recovered herself.</p><p><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176"></a></p> + +<p>She enjoyed the play that followed. It was a simple romance, well +staged, and superbly acted. She breathed a sigh of regret when it was +over.</p> + +<p>Driving home again with Caryl, she thanked him impulsively for taking +her.</p> + +<p>"You weren't bored?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Of course not," she said.</p> + +<p>She would have said more, but something restrained her. A sudden shyness +descended upon her that lasted till they reached the flat.</p> + +<p>She left Caryl at the outer door and turned into the room overlooking +the river. The window was open as she had left it, and the air blew in +sweetly upon her over the water. She had dropped her wrap from her +shoulders, and she shivered a little as she stood, but a feeling of +suspense kept her motionless.</p> + +<p>Caryl had entered the room behind her. She wondered if he would pause at +the table where a tray of refreshments was standing. He did not, and her +nerves tingled and quivered as he passed it by.</p> + +<p>He joined her at the window, and they stood together for several seconds +looking out upon the great river with its myriad lights.</p> + +<p>She had not the faintest idea as to what was passing in his mind, but +her heart-beats quickened in his silence to such a tumult that at last +she could bear it no longer. She turned back into the room.</p> + +<p>He followed her instantly, and she fancied that he sighed.</p> + +<p>"Won't you have anything before you go?" he said.</p><p><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177"></a></p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Good-night!" she said almost inaudibly.</p> + +<p>For a moment—no longer—her hand lay in his. She did not look at him. +There was something in his touch that thrilled through her like an +electric current.</p> + +<p>But his grave "Good-night!" had in it nothing startling, and by the time +she reached her own room she had begun to ask herself what cause there +had been for her agitation. She was sure he must have thought her very +strange, very abrupt, even ungracious.</p> + +<p>And at that her heart smote her, for he had been kinder that evening +than ever before. The fragrance of the lilies at her breast reminded her +how kind.</p> + +<p>She bent her head to them, and suddenly, as though the flowers exhaled +some potent charm, impulse—blind, domineering impulse—took possession +of her.</p> + +<p>She turned swiftly to the door, and in a moment her feet were bearing +her, almost without her voluntary effort, back to the room she had left.</p> + +<p>The door was unlatched. She pushed it open, entering impetuously. And +she came upon Caryl suddenly—as he had come upon her that +afternoon—sunk in a chair by the window, with his head in his hands.</p> + +<p>He rose instantly at her entrance, rose and closed the window; then +lowered the blind very quietly, very slowly, and finally turned round to +her.</p> + +<p>"What is it? You have forgotten something?"</p> + +<p>Except that he was paler than usual, his face bore no trace of emotion. +He looked at her with his heavy eyes gravely, with unfailing patience.</p> + +<p>For an instant she stood irresolute, afraid; then again that urging<a name="Page_178" id="Page_178"></a> +impulse drove her forward. She moved close to him.</p> + +<p>"I only came back to say—I only wanted to tell you—Vivian, I—I was +horrid to you this afternoon. Forgive me!"</p> + +<p>She stretched out her trembling hands to him, and he took them, held +them fast, then sharply let them go.</p> + +<p>"My dear," he said, "you were in trouble, and I intruded upon you. It +was no case for forgiveness."</p> + +<p>But she would not accept his indulgence.</p> + +<p>"I was horrid," she protested, with a catch in her voice. "Why are you +so patient with me? You never used to be."</p> + +<p>He did not answer her. He seemed to regard the question as superfluous.</p> + +<p>She drew a little nearer. Her fingers fastened quivering upon his coat.</p> + +<p>"Don't be too kind to me, Vivian," she said, her voice trembling. +"It—it isn't good for me."</p> + +<p>He took her by the wrists and drew her hands away.</p> + +<p>"You want to tell me something," he said. "What is it?"</p> + +<p>She glanced upwards, meeting his look with sudden resolution.</p> + +<p>"You asked me this afternoon why I was crying," she said. "And I—I lied +to you. You asked me, too, what Mrs. Lockyard said to me. And I lied +again. I will tell you now, if—if you will listen to me."</p> + +<p>Caryl was still holding her wrists. There was a hint of sternness in his<a name="Page_179" id="Page_179"></a> +attitude.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he said quietly. "What did she say?"</p> + +<p>"She said"—Doris spoke with an effort—"she said, or rather she hinted, +that there was an old grudge between you and Major Brandon, a matter +with which I was in no way concerned, an affair of many years' standing. +She said that was why you followed him up and—thrashed him that night. +She implied that I didn't count at all. She made me wonder +if—if—"—she was speaking almost inarticulately, with bent head—"if +perhaps it was only to satisfy this ancient grudge that you married me."</p> + +<p>Her words went into silence. She could not look him in the face. If he +had not held her wrists so firmly she would have been tempted to turn +and flee. As it was, she could only stand before him in quivering +suspense.</p> + +<p>He moved at length, moved suddenly and disconcertingly, freeing one +hand to turn her face quietly upwards. She did not resist him, but she +shrank as she met his eyes. She fancied she had never seen him look so +grim.</p> + +<p>"And that was why you were crying?" he asked, deliberately searching her +reluctant eyes.</p> + +<p>"That was—one reason," she acknowledged faintly.</p> + +<p>"Then there was something more than that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes." She laid her hand pleadingly on his arm, and he released her. "I +will tell you," she said tremulously, keeping her face upturned to his. +"At least, I will try. But it's very difficult because—"</p><p><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180"></a></p> + +<p>She began to falter under his look.</p> + +<p>"Because," he said slowly, "you have no confidence in me. That I can +well understand. You married me more or less under compulsion, and when +a wife is no more than a guest in her husband's house, confidence +between them, of any description, is almost an impossibility."</p> + +<p>He spoke without anger, but with a sadness that pierced her to the +heart; and having so spoken he leant his arm upon the mantelpiece, +turning slightly from her.</p> + +<p>"I will tell you," he said, his voice very quiet and even, "exactly what +Mrs. Lockyard was hinting at. Ten years ago I was engaged to a +girl—like you in many ways—gay, impulsive, bewitching. I was young in +those days, romantic, too. I worshipped her as a goddess. I was utterly +blind to her failings. They simply didn't exist for me. She rewarded me +by running away with Maurice Brandon. I knew he was a blackguard, but +how much of a blackguard I did not realize till later. However, I didn't +trust him even then, and I followed them and insisted that they should +be married in my presence. Six months later I heard from her. He had +treated her abominably, had finally deserted her, and she was trying to +get a divorce. I did my best to help her, and eventually she obtained +it." He paused a moment, then went on with bent head, "I never saw her +after she gained her freedom. She went to her people, and very soon +after—she died."</p> + +<p>Again he paused, then slowly straightened himself.</p> + +<p>"I never cared for any woman after that," he said, "until I met you. As +for Brandon, he kept out of my way, and I had no object in seeking him. +In fact, I took no interest in his doings till I found that you were in +Mrs. Lockyard's set. That, I admit, was something of a shock. And then<a name="Page_181" id="Page_181"></a> +when I found that you liked the man—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't!" she broke in. "Don't! I was mad ever to tolerate him. Let +me forget it! Please let me forget it!"</p> + +<p>She spoke passionately, and as if her emotion drew him he turned fully +round to her.</p> + +<p>"If you could have forgotten him sooner," he said, with a touch of +sternness, "you would not find yourself tied now to a man you never +loved."</p> + +<p>The effect of his words was utterly unexpected. She started as one +stricken, wounded in a vital place, and clasped her hands tightly +against her breast, crushing the flowers that drooped there.</p> + +<p>"It is a lie!" she cried wildly. "It is a lie!"</p> + +<p>"What is a lie?"</p> + +<p>He took a step towards her, for she was swaying as she stood; but she +flung out her hands, keeping him from her.</p> + +<p>Her face was working convulsively. She turned and moved unsteadily away +from him, groping out before her as she went. So groping, she reached +the door, and blindly sought the handle. But before she found it he +spoke in a tone that had subtly altered:</p> +<p><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182"></a></p> +<p>"Doris!"</p> + +<p>Her hands fell. She stood suddenly still, listening.</p> + +<p>"Come here!" he said.</p> + +<p>He crossed the room and reached her.</p> + +<p>"Look at me!" he said.</p> + +<p>She refused for a little, trembling all over. Then suddenly as he waited +she threw back her head and met his eyes. She was sobbing like a child +that has been hurt.</p> + +<p>He bent towards her, looking closely, closely into her quivering face.</p> + +<p>"So," he said, "it was a lie, was it? But, my own girl, how was I to +know? Why on earth didn't you say so before?"</p> + +<p>She broke into a laugh that had in it the sound of tears.</p> + +<p>"How could I? You never asked. How could I?"</p> + +<p>"Shall I ask you now?" he said.</p> + +<p>She stretched up her arms and clasped his neck.</p> + +<p>"No," she whispered back. "Take me—take everything—for granted. It's +the only way, if you want to turn a heartless little flirt like me +into—into a virtuous and amiable wife!"</p><p><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183"></a></p> + +<p>And so, clinging to him, her lips met his in the first kiss that had +ever passed between them.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Those_Who_Wait1" id="Those_Who_Wait1"></a>Those Who Wait<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h2> + + +<p>A faint draught from the hills found its way through the wide-flung door +as the sun went down. It fluttered the papers on the table, and stirred +a cartoon upon the wall with a dry rustling as of wind in corn.</p> + +<p>The man who sat at the table turned his face as it were mechanically +towards that blessed breath from the snows. His chin was propped on his +hand. He seemed to be waiting.</p> + +<p>The light failed very quickly, and he presently reached out and drew a +reading-lamp towards him. The flame he kindled flickered upward, +throwing weird shadows upon his lean, brown face, making the sunken +hollows of his eyes look cavernous.</p> + +<p>He turned the light away so that it streamed upon the open doorway. Then +he resumed his former position of sphinx-like waiting, his chin upon his +hand.</p><p><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184"></a></p> + +<p>Half an hour passed. The day was dead. Beyond the radius of the lamp +there hung a pall of thick darkness—a fearful, clinging darkness that +seemed to wrap the whole earth. The heat was intense, unstirred by any +breeze. Only now and then the cartoon on the wall moved as if at the +touch of ghostly fingers, and each time there came that mocking whisper +that was like wind in corn.</p> + +<p>At length there sounded through the night the dull throbbing of a +horse's feet, and the man who sat waiting raised his head. A gleam of +expectancy shone in his sombre eyes. Some of the rigidity went out of +his attitude.</p> + +<p>Nearer came the hoofs and nearer yet, and with them, mingling +rhythmically, a tenor voice that sang.</p> + +<p>As it reached him the man at the table pulled out a drawer with a sharp +jerk. His hand sought something within it, but his eyes never left the +curtain of darkness that the open doorway framed.</p> + +<p>Slowly, very slowly at last, he withdrew his hand empty; but he only +partially closed the drawer.</p> + +<p>The voice without was nearer now, was close at hand. The horse's hoofs +had ceased to sound. There came the ring of spurred heels without, a +man's hand tapped upon the doorpost, a man's figure showed suddenly +against the darkness.</p> + +<p>"Hallo, Conyers! Still in the land of the living? Ye gods, what a +fiendish night! Many thanks for the beacon! It's kept me straight for +more than half the way."</p> + +<p>He entered carelessly, the lamplight full upon him—a handsome, +straight-limbed young Hercules—tossed down his riding-whip, and looked +round for a drink.</p> +<p><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185"></a></p> +<p>"Here you are!" said Conyers, turning the rays of the lamp full upon +some glasses on the table.</p> + +<p>"Ah, good! I'm as dry as a smoked herring. You must drink too, though. +Yes, I insist. I have a toast to propose, so be sociable for once. What +have you got in that drawer?"</p> + +<p>Conyers locked the drawer abruptly, and jerked out the key.</p> + +<p>"What do you want to know for?"</p> + +<p>His visitor grinned boyishly.</p> + +<p>"Don't be bashful, old chap! I always guessed you kept her there. We'll +drink her health, too, in a minute. But first of all"—he was splashing +soda-water impetuously out of a syphon as he spoke—"first of all—quite +ready, I say? It's a grand occasion—here's to the best of good fellows, +that genius, that inventor of guns, John Conyers! Old chap, your +fortune's made. Here's to it! Hip—hip—hooray!"</p> + +<p>His shout was like the blare of a bull. Conyers rose, c<a name="Page_186" id="Page_186"></a>rossed to the +door, and closed it.</p> + +<p>Returning, he halted by his visitor's side, and shook him by the +shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Stop rotting, Palliser!" he said rather shortly.</p> + +<p>Young Palliser wheeled with a gigantic laugh, and seized him by the +arms.</p> + +<p>"You old fool, Jack! Can't you see I'm in earnest? Drink, man, drink, +and I'll tell you all about it. That gun of yours is going to be an +enormous success—stupendous—greater even than I hoped. It's true, by +the powers! Don't look so dazed. All comes to those who wait, don't you +know. I always told you so."</p> + +<p>"To be sure, so you did." The man's words came jerkily. They had an odd, +detached sound, almost as though he were speaking in his sleep. He +turned away from Palliser, and took up his untouched glass.</p> + +<p>But the next instant it slipped through his fingers, and crashed upon<a name="Page_187" id="Page_187"></a> +the table edge. The spilt liquid streamed across the floor.</p> + +<p>Palliser stared for an instant, then thrust forward his own glass.</p> + +<p>"Steady does it, old boy! Try both hands for a change. It's this +infernal heat."</p> + +<p>He turned with the words, and picked up a paper from the table, frowning +over it absently, and whistling below his breath.</p> + +<p>When he finally looked round again his face cleared.</p> + +<p>"Ah, that's better! Sit down, and we'll talk. By Jove, isn't it +colossal? They told me over at the fort that I was a fool to come across +to-night. But I simply couldn't keep you waiting another night. Besides, +I knew you would expect me."</p> + +<p>Conyers' grim face softened a little. He could scarcely have said how he +had ever come to be the chosen friend of young Hugh Palliser. The +intimacy had been none of his seeking.</p> + +<p>They had met at the club on the occasion of one of his rare appearances +there, and the younger man, whose sociable habit it was to know +everyone, had scraped acquaintance with him.</p> + +<p>No one knew much about Conyers. He was not fond of society, and, as a +natural consequence, society was not fond of him. He occupied the humble +position of a subordinate clerk in an engineer's office. The work was +hard, but it did not bring him prosperity. He was one of those men who +go silently on week after week, year after year, till their very<a name="Page_188" id="Page_188"></a> +existence comes almost to be overlooked by those about them. He never +seemed to suffer as other men suffered from the scorching heat of that +tropical corner of the Indian Empire. He was always there, whatever +happened to the rest of the world; but he never pushed himself forward. +He seemed to lack ambition. There were even some who said he lacked +brains as well.</p> + +<p>But Palliser was not of these. His quick eyes had detected at a glance +something that others had never taken the trouble to discover. From the +very beginning he had been aware of a force that contained itself in +this silent man. He had become interested, scarcely knowing why; and, +having at length overcome the prickly hedge of reserve which was at +first opposed to his advances, he had entered the private place which it +defended, and found within—what he certainly had not expected to +find—a genius.</p> + +<p>It was nearly three months now since Conyers, in a moment of unusual +expansion, had laid before him the invention at which he had been +working for so many silent years. The thing even then, though complete +in all essentials, had lacked finish, and this final touch young +Palliser, himself a gunner with a positive passion for guns, had been +able to supply. He had seen the value of the invention and had given it +his ardent support. He had, moreover, friends in high places, and could +obtain a fair and thorough investigation of the idea.</p> + +<p>This he had accomplished, with a result that had transcended his high +hopes, on his friend's behalf; and he now proceeded to pour out his +information with an accompanying stream of congratulation, to which +Conyers sat and listened with scarcely the movement of an eyelid.</p> + +<p>Hugh Palliser found his impassivity by no means disappointing. He was +used to it. He had even expected it. That momentary unsteadiness on +Conyers' part had astonished him far more.</p> + +<p>Concluding his narration he laid the official correspondence before him, +and got up to open the door. The night was black and terrible, the heat<a name="Page_189" id="Page_189"></a> +came in overwhelming puffs, as though blown from a blast furnace. He +leaned against the doorpost and wiped his forehead. The oppression of +the atmosphere was like a tangible, crushing weight. Behind him the +paper on the wall rustled vaguely, but there was no other sound. After +several minutes he turned briskly back again into the room, whistling a +sentimental ditty below his breath.</p> + +<p>"Well, old chap, it was worth waiting for, eh? And now, I suppose, +you'll be making a bee-line for home, you lucky beggar. I shan't be long +after you, that's one comfort. Pity we can't go together. I suppose you +can't wait till the winter."</p> + +<p>"No, my boy. I'm afraid I can't." Conyers spoke with a faint smile, his +eyes still fixed upon the blue official paper that held his destiny. +"I'm going home forthwith, and be damned to everything and +everybody—except you. It's an understood thing, you know, Palliser, +that we are partners in this deal."</p> + +<p>"Oh, rot!" exclaimed Palliser impetuously. "I don't agree to that. I did +nothing but polish the thing up. You'd have done it yourself if I +hadn't."</p> + +<p>"In the course of a few more years," put in Conyers drily.</p> + +<p>"Rot!" said Palliser again. "Besides, I don't want any pelf. I've quite +as much as is good for me, more than I want. That's why I'm going to get +married. You'll be going the same way yourself now, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"You have no reason whatever for thinking so," responded Conyers.</p> + +<p>Palliser laughed lightheartedly and sat down on the table. "Oh, haven't<a name="Page_190" id="Page_190"></a> +I? What about that mysterious locked drawer of yours? Don't be shy, I +say! You had it open when I came in. Show her to me like a good chap! I +won't tell a soul."</p> + +<p>"That's not where I keep my love-tokens," said Conyers, with a grim +twist of the mouth that was not a smile.</p> + +<p>"What then?" asked Palliser eagerly. "Not another invention?"</p> + +<p>"No." Conyers inserted the key in the lock again, turned it, and pulled +open the drawer. "See for yourself as you are so anxious."</p> + +<p>Palliser leaned across the table and looked. The next instant his glance +flashed upwards, and their eyes met.</p> + +<p>There was a sharply-defined pause. Then, "You'd never be fool enough for +that, Jack!" ejaculated Palliser, with vehemence.</p> + +<p>"I'm fool enough for anything," said Conyers, with his cynical smile.</p> + +<p>"But you wouldn't," the other protested almost incoherently. "A fellow +like you—I don't believe it!"</p> + +<p>"It's loaded," observed Conyers quietly. "No, leave it alone, Hugh! It +can remain so for the present. There is not the smallest danger of its<a name="Page_191" id="Page_191"></a> +going off—or I shouldn't have shown it to you."</p> + +<p>He closed the drawer again, looking steadily into Hugh Palliser's face.</p> + +<p>"I've had it by me for years," he said, "just in case the Fates should +have one more trick in store for me. But apparently they haven't, though +it's never safe to assume anything."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't talk like an idiot!" broke in Palliser heatedly. "I've no +patience with that sort of thing. Do you expect me to believe that a +fellow like you—a fellow who knows how to wait for his luck—would give +way to a cowardly impulse and destroy himself all in a moment because +things didn't go quite straight? Man alive! I know you better than that; +or if I don't, I've never known you at all."</p> + +<p>"Ah! Perhaps not!" said Conyers.</p> + +<p>Once more he turned the key and withdrew it. He pushed back his chair so +that his face was in shadow.</p> + +<p>"You don't know everything, you know, Hugh," he said.</p> + +<p>"Have a smoke," said Palliser, "and tell me what you are driving at."</p><p><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192"></a></p> + +<p>He threw himself into a bamboo chair by the open door, the light +streaming full upon him, revealing in every line of him the arrogant +splendour of his youth. He looked like a young Greek god with the world +at his feet.</p> + +<p>Conyers surveyed him with his faint, cynical smile. "No," he said, "you +certainly don't know everything, my son. You never have come a cropper +in your life."</p> + +<p>"Haven't I, though?" Hugh sat up, eager to refute this criticism. +"That's all you know about it. I suppose you think you have had the +monopoly of hard knocks. Most people do."</p> + +<p>"I am not like most people," Conyers asserted deliberately. "But you +needn't tell me that you have ever been right under, my boy. For you +never have."</p> + +<p>"Depends what you call going under," protested Palliser. "I've been down +a good many times, Heaven knows. And I've had to wait—as you have—all +the best years of my life."</p> + +<p>"Your best years are to come," rejoined Conyers. "Mine are over."</p> + +<p>"Oh, rot, man! Rot—rot—rot! Why, you are just coming into your own! +Have another drink and give me the toast of your heart!" Hugh Palliser +sprang impulsively to his feet. "Let me mix it! You can't—you shan't be<a name="Page_193" id="Page_193"></a> +melancholy to-night of all nights."</p> + +<p>But Conyers stayed his hand.</p> + +<p>"Only one more drink to-night, boy!" he said. "And that not yet. Sit +down and smoke. I'm not melancholy, but I can't rejoice prematurely. +It's not my way."</p> + +<p>"Prematurely!" echoed Hugh, pointing to the official envelope.</p> + +<p>"Yes, prematurely," Conyers repeated. "I may be as rich as Croesus, and +yet not win my heart's desire."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know that," said Hugh quickly. "I've been through it myself. It's +infernal to have everything else under the sun and yet to lack the one +thing—the one essential—the one woman."</p> + +<p>He sat down again, abruptly thoughtful. Conyers smoked silently, with +his face in the shadow.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Hugh looked across at him.</p> + +<p>"You think I'm too much of an infant to understand," he said. "I'm +nearly thirty, but that's a detail."</p> + +<p>"I'm forty-five," said Conyers.</p> + +<p>"Well, well!" Hugh frowned impatiently. "It's a detail, as I said +before. Who cares for a year more or less?"</p> +<p><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194"></a></p> +<p>"Which means," observed Conyers, with his dry smile, "that the one woman +is older than you are."</p> + +<p>"She is," Palliser admitted recklessly. "She is five years older. But +what of it? Who cares? We were made for each other. What earthly +difference does it make?"</p> + +<p>"It's no one's business but your own," remarked Conyers through a haze +of smoke.</p> + +<p>"Of course it isn't. It never has been." Hugh yet sounded in some +fashion indignant. "There never was any other possibility for me after I +met her. I waited for her six mortal years. I'd have waited all my life. +But she gave in at last. I think she realized that it was sheer waste of +time to go on."</p> + +<p>"What was she waiting for?" The question came with a certain weariness +of intonation, as though the speaker were somewhat bored; but Hugh +Palliser was too engrossed to notice.</p> + +<p>He stretched his arms wide with a swift and passionate gesture.</p> + +<p>"She was waiting for a scamp," he declared.</p> + +<p>"It is maddening to think of—the sweetest woman on earth, Conyers, +wasting her spring and her summer over a myth, an illusion. It was an +affair of fifteen years ago. The fellow came to grief and disappointed +her. She told me all about it on the day she promised to marry me. I +believe her heart was nearly broken at the time, but she has got over +it—thank Heaven!—at last. Poor Damaris! My Damaris!"</p><p><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195"></a></p> + +<p>He ceased to speak, and a dull roar of thunder came out of the night +like the voice of a giant in anguish.</p> + +<p>Hugh began to smoke, still busy with his thoughts.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said presently, "I believe she would actually have waited all +her life for the fellow if he had asked it of her. Luckily he didn't go +so far as that. He was utterly unworthy of her. I think she sees it now. +His father was imprisoned for forgery, and no doubt he was in the know, +though it couldn't be brought home to him. He was ruined, of course, and +he disappeared, just dropped out, when the crash came. He had been on +the verge of proposing to her immediately before. And she would have had +him too. She cared."</p> + +<p>He sent a cloud of smoke upwards with savage vigour.</p> + +<p>"It's damnable to think of her suffering for a worthless brute like +that!" he exclaimed. "She had such faith in him too. Year after year she +was expecting him to go back to her, and she kept me at arm's length, +till at last she came to see that both our lives were being sacrificed +to a miserable dream. Well, it's my innings now, anyway. And we are +going to be superbly happy to make up for it."</p> + +<p>Again he flung out his arms with a wide gesture, and again out of the +night there came a long roll of thunder that was like the menace of a +tortured thing. A flicker of lightning gleamed through the open door for +a moment, and Conyers' dark face was made visible. He had ceased to +smoke, and was staring with fixed, inscrutable eyes into the darkness. +He did not flinch from the lightning; it was as if he did not see it.</p><p><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196"></a></p> + +<p>"What would she do, I wonder, if the prodigal returned," he said +quietly. "Would she be glad—or sorry?"</p> + +<p>"He never will," returned Hugh quickly. "He never can—after fifteen +years. Think of it! Besides—she wouldn't have him if he did."</p> + +<p>"Women are proverbially faithful," remarked Conyers cynically.</p> + +<p>"She will stick to me now," Hugh returned with confidence. "The other +fellow is probably dead. In any case, he has no shadow of a right over +her. He never even asked her to wait for him."</p> + +<p>"Possibly he thought that she would wait without being asked," said +Conyers, still cynical.</p> + +<p>"Well, she has ceased to care for him now," asserted Hugh. "She told me +so herself."</p> + +<p>The man opposite shifted his position ever so slightly. "And you are +satisfied with that?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Of course I am. Why not?" There was almost a challenge in Hugh's voice.</p> + +<p>"And if he came back?" persisted the other. "You would still be +satisfied?"</p> + +<p>Hugh sprang to his feet with a movement of fierce impatience. "I believe +I should shoot him!" he said vindictively. He looked like a splendid +wild animal suddenly awakened. "I tell you, Conyers," he declared +passionately, "I could kill him with my hands if he came between us +now."</p> +<p><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197"></a></p> +<p>Conyers, his chin on his hand, looked him up and down as though +appraising his strength.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he sat bolt upright and spoke—spoke briefly, sternly, harshly, +as a man speaks in the presence of his enemy. At the same instant a +frightful crash of thunder swept the words away as though they had never +been uttered.</p> + +<p>In the absolute pandemonium of sound that followed, Hugh Palliser, with +a face gone suddenly white, went over to his friend and stood behind +him, his hands upon his shoulders.</p> + +<p>But Conyers sat quite motionless, staring forth at the leaping +lightning, rigid, sphinx-like. He did not seem aware of the man behind +him, till, as the uproar began to subside, Hugh bent and spoke.</p> + +<p>"Do you know, old chap, I'm scared!" he said, with a faint, shamed +laugh. "I feel as if there were devils abroad. Speak to me, will you, +and tell me I'm a fool!"</p> + +<p>"You are," said Conyers, without turning.</p> + +<p>"That lightning is too much for my nerves," said Hugh uneasily. "It's +almost red. What was it you said just now? I couldn't hear a word."</p> + +<p>"It doesn't matter," said Conyers.</p> + +<p>"But what was it? I want to know."</p><p><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198"></a></p> + +<p>The gleam in the fixed eyes leaped to sudden terrible flame, shone hotly +for a few seconds, then died utterly away. "I don't remember," said +Conyers quietly. "It couldn't have been anything of importance. Have a +drink! You will have to be getting back as soon as this is over."</p> + +<p>Hugh helped himself with a hand that was not altogether steady. There +had come a lull in the tempest. The cartoon on the wall was fluttering +like a caged thing. He glanced at it, then looked at it closely. It was +a reproduction of Doré's picture of Satan falling from heaven.</p> + +<p>"It isn't meant for you surely!" he said.</p> + +<p>Conyers laughed and got to his feet. "It isn't much like me, is it?"</p> + +<p>Hugh looked at him uncertainly. "I never noticed it before. It might +have been you years ago."</p> + +<p>"Ah, perhaps," said Conyers. "Why don't you drink? I thought you were +going to give me a toast."</p> + +<p>Hugh's mood changed magically. He raised his glass high. "Here's to your +eternal welfare, dear fellow! I drink to your heart's desire."</p> + +<p>Conyers waited till Hugh had drained his glass before he lifted his own.</p><p><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199"></a></p> + +<p>Then, "I drink to the one woman," he said, and emptied it at a draught.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The storm was over, and a horse's feet clattered away into the darkness, +mingling rhythmically with a cheery tenor voice.</p> + +<p>In the room with the open door a man's figure stood for a long while +motionless.</p> + +<p>When he moved at length it was to open the locked drawer of the +writing-table. His right hand felt within it, closed upon something that +lay there; and then he paused.</p> + +<p>Several minutes crawled away.</p> + +<p>From afar there came the long rumble of thunder. But it was not this +that he heard as he stood wrestling with the fiercest temptation he had +ever known.</p> + +<p>Stiffly at last he stooped, peered into the drawer, finally closed it +with an unfaltering hand. The struggle was over.</p> + +<p>"For your sake, Damaris!" he said aloud, and he spoke without cynicism. +"I should know how to wait by now—even for death—which is all I have +to wait for."</p> + +<p>And with that he pulled the fluttering paper from the wall, crushed it +in his hand, and went out heavily into the night.</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> This story was originally issued in the <i>Red Magazine</i>.</p></div> +<p><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200"></a></p> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="The_Eleventh_Hour2" id="The_Eleventh_Hour2"></a>The Eleventh Hour<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></h2> + +<h3>CHAPTER I</h3> + +<h4>HIS OWN GROUND</h4> + + +<p>"Oh, to be a farmer's wife!"</p> + +<p>Doris Elliot paused, punt-pole in hand, to look across a field of +corn-sheaves with eyes of shining appreciation.</p> + +<p>Her companion, stretched luxuriously on his back on a pile of cushions, +smiled a contemplative smile and made no comment.</p> + +<p>The girl's look came down to him after a moment. She regarded him with +friendly contempt.</p> + +<p>"You're very lazy, Hugh," she said.</p> + +<p>"I know it," said Hugh Chesyl comfortably.</p> + +<p>She dropped the pole into the water and drove the punt towards the bank. +"It's a pity you're such a slacker," she said.</p> + +<p>He removed his cigarette momentarily. "You wouldn't like me any better +if I weren't," he said.</p><p><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201"></a></p> + +<p>"Indeed I should—miles!"</p> + +<p>"No, you wouldn't." His smile became more pronounced. "If I were more +energetic, I should be for ever pestering you to marry me. And, you +know, you wouldn't like that. As it is, I take 'No,' for an answer and +rest content."</p> + +<p>Doris was silent. Her slim, white-clad figure was bent to the task of +bringing the punt to a pleasant anchorage in an inviting hollow in the +grassy shore. Hugh Chesyl clasped his hands behind his head and watched +her with placid admiration.</p> + +<p>The small brown hands were very capable. They knew exactly what to do, +and did it with precision. When they had finally secured the punt, with +him in it, to the bank he sat up.</p> + +<p>"Are we going to have tea here? What a charming spot! Sweetly romantic, +isn't it? I wonder why you particularly want to be a farmer's wife?"</p> + +<p>Doris's pointed chin still looked slightly scornful. "You wouldn't +wonder if you took the trouble to reflect, Mr. Chesyl," she said.</p> + +<p>He laughed easily. "Oh, don't ask me to do that! You know what a +sluggish brain mine is. I can quite understand your not wanting to marry +me, but why you should want to marry a farmer—like Jeff Ironside—I +cannot see."</p> + +<p>"Who is Jeff Ironside?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>"He's the chap who owns this property. Didn't you know? A frightfully +energetic person; prosperous, too, for a wonder. But an absolute tinker, +my dear. I shouldn't marry him—all his fair acres notwithstanding—if +I were you. I don't think the county would approve."</p><p><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202"></a></p> + +<p>Doris snapped her fingers with supreme contempt. "That for the county! +What a snob you are!"</p> + +<p>"Am I?" said Hugh. "I didn't know."</p> + +<p>She nodded severely. "Do you mind moving your legs? I want to get at the<a name="Page_203" id="Page_203"></a><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204"></a> +tea-basket."</p> + +<p>"Don't mention it!" he said accommodatingly. "Are you going to give me +tea now? How nice! You are looking awfully pretty to-day, do you know? I +can't think how you do it. There isn't a feature in your face worth +mentioning, but, notwithstanding, you make an entrancing whole."</p> + +<p>Doris sternly repressed a smile. "Please don't take the trouble to be +complimentary."</p> + +<p>Hugh groaned. "There's no pleasing you. And still you haven't let me +into the secret as to why you want to be a farmer's wife."</p> + +<p>Doris was unpacking the tea-things energetically. "You never understand +anything without being told," she said. "Don't you know that I +positively hate the life I live now?"</p> + +<p>"I can quite believe it," said Hugh Chesyl. "But, if you will allow me +to say so, I think your remedy would be worse than the disease. Your +utmost ingenuity will fail to persuade me that the life of a farmer's +wife would suit you."</p> + +<p>"I should like the simplicity of it," she maintained.</p> + +<p>"And getting up at five in the morning to make the butter? And having a +hulking brute of a husband—like Jeff Ironside—tramping into your +kitchen with his muddy boots and beastly clothes (which you would have +to mend) just when you had got things into good order? I can see you +doing it!" Hugh Chesyl's speech went into his easy, high-bred laugh. +"You of all people—the dainty and disdainful Miss Elliot, for whom no +man is good enough!"</p> + +<p>"I don't know why you say that." There was quick protest in the girl's +voice. She clattered the cups and saucers as if something in the lazy +argument had exasperated her. "I like a man who is a man—the hard, +outdoor, wholesome kind—who isn't afraid of taking a little +trouble—who knows what he wants and how to get it. I shouldn't quarrel +with him on the score of muddy boots. I should be only glad that he had<a name="Page_205" id="Page_205"></a> +enough of the real thing in him to go out in all weathers and not to +care."</p> + +<p>"All of which is aimed at me," said Hugh to the trees above him. "I'm +afraid I'm boring you more than usual this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"You can't help it," said Doris.</p> + +<p>Hugh Chesyl's good-looking face crumpled a little, then smoothed itself +again to its usual placid expression. "Ah, well!" he said equably, "we +won't quarrel about it. Let's have some tea!"</p> + +<p>He sat up in the punt and looked across at her; but she would not meet +his eyes, and there ensued a considerable pause before he said gently, +"I'm sorry you are not happy, you know."</p> + +<p>"Are you?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes. That's why I want you to marry me."</p> + +<p>"Should I be any happier if I did?" said Doris, with a smile that was +somehow slightly piteous.</p> + +<p>"I don't know." Hugh Chesyl's voice was as pleasantly vague as his +personality. "I shouldn't get in your way at all, and, at least, you +would have a home of your own."</p> + +<p>"To be miserable in," said Doris, with suppressed vehemence.</p> +<p><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206"></a></p> +<p>"I don't know why you should be miserable," he said. "You wouldn't have +anything to do that you didn't like."</p> + +<p>She uttered a laugh that caught her breath as if it had been a sob. "Oh, +don't talk about it, Hugh! I should be bored—bored to death. I want the +real thing—the real thing—not a polite substitute."</p> + +<p>"Sorry," said Hugh imperturbably. "I have offered the utmost of which I +am capable. May I have my tea here, please? It's less trouble than +scrambling ashore."</p> + +<p>She acceded to his request without protest; but she stepped on to the +bank herself, and sat down with her back to a corn-sheaf. Very young and +slender she looked sitting there with the sunshine on her brown, +elf-like face, but she was by no means without dignity. There was a +fairy queenliness about her that imparted an indescribable charm to her +every movement. Her eyes were grey and fearless.</p> + +<p>"How lovely to own a field like this!" she said. "And plough it and sow +it and watch it grow up, and then cut it and turn it into sheaves! How +proud the man who owns it must be!"</p> + +<p>Something stirred on the other side of the sheaf, and she started a +little and glanced backwards. "What's that?"</p> + +<p>"A rat probably," said Hugh Chesyl serenely from his couch in the punt. +"I expect the place is full of 'em. Won't you continue your rhapsody? +The man who owns this particular field is a miller as well as a farmer. +He grinds his own grain."</p> + +<p>"Oh, is he that man?" Eagerly she broke in. "Does he live in that +perfectly exquisite old red-brick house on the water with the wheel +turning all day long? Oh, isn't he lucky?"</p><p><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207"></a></p> + +<p>"I doubt if he thinks so," said Hugh Chesyl. "I've never met a contented +farmer yet."</p> + +<p>"I don't like people to be too contented," said Doris perversely. "It's +a sign of laziness and—yes—weakness of purpose."</p> + +<p>"Oh, is it?" Again he uttered his good-tempered laugh; then, as he began +to drink his tea, he gradually sobered. "Has anything happened lately to +make you specially discontented with your lot?" he asked presently.</p> + +<p>Doris's brows contracted. "Things are always happening. My stepmother +gets more unbearable every day. I sometimes think I will go and work +for my living, but my father won't hear of it. And what can I do? I +haven't qualified for anything. The only thing open to me is to fill a +post of unpaid companion to a rich and elderly cousin who would put up +with me but doesn't much want me. She lives at Kensington, too, and I +can breathe only in the country."</p> + +<p>"Poor little girl!" said Hugh kindly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't pity me!" she said quickly. "You can't do anything to help. +And I shouldn't grumble to you if there were anyone else to grumble to." +She leaned back against her sheaf with her eyes on the sunlit water +below. "I suppose I shall just go on in the same old way till something +happens. Anyhow, I can't see my way out at present. It's such a shame to +be unhappy, too, when life might be so ecstatic."</p><p><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208"></a></p> + +<p>"How could life be ecstatic?" asked Hugh, passing up his cup to be +refilled.</p> + +<p>She threw him a quick glance. "You wouldn't understand if I were to tell +you," she said. "It never could be—for you."</p> + +<p>He sighed. "I know I'm very limited. But it's a mistake to expect too +much from life, believe me. Ask but little, and perhaps—if you're +lucky—you won't be disappointed."</p> + +<p>"I would rather have nothing than that," she said quickly.</p> + +<p>Hugh Chesyl turned and regarded her curiously. "Would you really?" he +said.</p> + +<p>She nodded several times emphatically. "Yes; just live my own life +out-of-doors and do without everything else." She pulled a long stalk of +corn from the sheaf against which she rested and looked at it +thoughtfully. Her eyes were downcast, and the man in the punt could not +see the deep shadow of pain they held. "If I can't have corn," she said +slowly, with the air of one pronouncing sentence, "I won't have husks. I +will die of starvation sooner."</p> + +<p>And with that very suddenly she rose and walked round the sheaf.</p> + +<p>The movement was abrupt, so abrupt that Hugh Chesyl lifted his brows in +astonishment. He was still more surprised a moment later when he heard +her clear, girlish voice raised in admonition.</p> + +<p>"I don't think it's very nice of you to lie there listening and not to<a name="Page_209" id="Page_209"></a> +let us know."</p> + +<p>Hugh sat upright in the punt. Who on earth was it that she was reproving +thus?</p> + +<p>The next moment he saw. A huge man with the frame of a bull rose from +behind the sheaf and confronted his young companion. He had his hat in +his hand, and the afternoon sun fell full upon his uncovered head, +revealing a rugged, clean-shaven face that had in it a good deal of +British strength and a suspicion of gipsy alertness. To Chesyl's further +amazement he did not appear in the least abashed by the encounter.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry I overheard you," he said, with blunt deference. "I was +half-asleep at first. Afterwards, I didn't like to intrude."</p> + +<p>Doris's grey eyes looked him up and down for a moment or two in +silence, and a flush rose in her tanned face. It seemed to Hugh that she +was likely to become the more embarrassed of the two, and he wondered if +he ought to go to the rescue.</p> + +<p>Then swiftly Doris collected her forces. "I suppose you know you are +trespassing?" she said.</p> + +<p>At that Hugh laid himself very suddenly down again in the bottom of the +boat, and left her to fight her own battles.</p> + +<p>The man on the bank looked down at his small assailant with a face of +grim decorum. "No, I didn't know," he said.</p> + +<p>"Well, you are," said Doris. "All this ground is private property. You<a name="Page_210" id="Page_210"></a> +can see for yourself. It's a cornfield."</p> + +<p>The intruder's eyes travelled over the upstanding sheaves, passed +gravely over the man in the punt, and came back to the girl. "Yes; I +see," he said stolidly.</p> + +<p>"Then don't you think you'd better go?" she said.</p> + +<p>He put his hat on somewhat abruptly. "Yes. I think I had better," he +said, and with that he turned on his heel and walked away through the +stubble.</p> + +<p>"Such impertinence!" said Doris, as she stepped down the bank to her +companion.</p> + +<p>"It was rather," said Hugh.</p> + +<p>She looked at him somewhat sharply. "I don't see that there is anything +to laugh at," she said.</p> + +<p>"Don't you?" said Hugh.</p> + +<p>"No. Why are you laughing?"</p> + +<p>Hugh explained. "It only struck me as being a little funny that you +should order the man off his own ground in that cavalier fashion."</p> + +<p>"Hugh!" Genuine dismay shone in the girl's eyes. "That wasn't—wasn't—"</p> + +<p>"Jeff Ironside? Yes, it was," said Hugh. "I wonder you have never come +across him before. He works like a nigger."</p><p><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211"></a></p> + +<p>"Hugh!" Doris collapsed upon the bank in sheer horror. "I have seen him +before—seen him several times. I thought he was just—a labourer—till +to-day."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," said Hugh. "He's just your hard, outdoor, wholesome farmer. +Fine animal, isn't he? Always reminds me of a prize bull."</p> + +<p>"How frightful!" said Doris with a gasp. "It's the worst <i>faux pas</i> I +have ever made."</p> + +<p>"Cheer up!" said Hugh consolingly. "No doubt he was flattered by the +little attention. He took it very well."</p> + +<p>"That doesn't make matters any better," said Doris. "I almost wish he +hadn't."</p> + +<p>Whereupon Hugh laughed again. "Oh, don't wish that! I should think he +would be quite a nasty animal when roused. I shouldn't have cared to +fight him on your behalf. He could wipe the earth with me were he so +minded."</p> + +<p>Doris's eyes, critical though not unkindly, rested upon him as he lay. +"Yes," she said thoughtfully, "I should almost think he could."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER II</h3> + +<h4>THE PLOUGHMAN<a name="Page_212" id="Page_212"></a></h4> + + +<p>It was on a day six weeks later that Doris Elliot next found herself +upon the scene of her discomfiture. She had ridden from her home three +miles distant very early on a morning of September to join a meeting of +the foxhounds and go cub-hunting. There had been a heavy fall of rain, +and the ground was wet and slippery.</p> + +<p>The field that had been all yellow with the shocks of corn was now in +process of being ploughed, and her horse Hector sank up to the fetlocks +at every stride, a fact which he resented with obvious impatience. She +guided him down to the edge of the river where the ground looked a +little harder.</p> + +<p>The run was over and she had enjoyed it; but she wanted now to take as +short a cut home as possible, and it was through this particular field +that the most direct route undoubtedly lay. She was alone, but she knew +every inch of the countryside, and but for this mischance of the plough +she would have been well on her way. Being a sportswoman, she made the +best of things, and did her utmost to soothe her mount's somewhat fiery +temper.</p> + +<p>"You shall have a clean jump at the end, Hector, old boy," she promised +him. "We shall soon be out of it."</p> + +<p>But in this matter also she was to receive a check; for when they came +to the clean jump, it was to find a formidable fence of wooden paling +confronting them, intervening directly in their line of march. It seemed +that the energetic owner had been attending to his boundaries with a +zeal that no huntsman would appreciate.</p> +<p><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213"></a></p> +<p>Doris bit her lip with a murmured "Too bad!"</p> + +<p>There was nothing for it but to skirt the hedge in search of a gate. +Hector was naturally even more indignant than she, and stamped and +squealed as she turned him from the obstacle. He also wanted to get +home, and he was tired of fighting his way through ploughed land that +held him like a bog. To add to their discomfort it had begun to rain +again, and there seemed every prospect of being speedily soaked to the +skin.</p> + +<p>Altogether the outlook was depressing; but someone was whistling +cheerily on the farther side of the field, and Doris took heart. It was +a long way to the gate, however, and when she reached it at length it +was to find another disappointment in store. The gate was padlocked.</p> + +<p>She looked round in desperation. Her only chance of escape was +apparently to return by the way she had come by means of a gap which had +not yet been repaired, and which would lead her in directly the +opposite direction to that which she desired to take.</p> + +<p>The rain was coming down in a sharp shower, and Hector was becoming more +and more restive. She halted him by the gate and looked over. Beyond lay +a field from which she knew the road to be easily accessible. She hated +to turn her back upon it.</p> + +<p>Behind her over a rise came the plough, drawn by two stout horses, +driven by a sturdy figure that loomed gigantic against the sky. Glancing +back, Doris saw this figure, and an odd little spirit of dare-devilry +entered into her. She did not want to come face to face with the +ploughman, neither did she want to beat a retreat before the five-barred +gate that opposed her progress.</p> + +<p>She spoke to Hector reassuringly and backed him several paces. He was +quick to grasp her desire and eager to fall in with it. She felt him +bracing himself under her, and she laughed in sheer delight as she set +him at the gate.</p><p><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214"></a></p> + +<p>He went at it with a will over the broken ground, rose as she lifted +him, and made a gallant effort to clear the obstacle. But he was too +heavily handicapped. He slipped as he rose to the leap. He blundered +badly against the top bar of the gate, finally stumbled over and fell on +the other side, pitching his rider headlong i<a name="Page_215" id="Page_215"></a>nto a slough of trampled +mud.</p> + +<p>He was up in a moment and careering across the field, but Doris was not +so nimble. It was by no means her first tumble, nor had it been wholly +unexpected; but she had fallen with considerable violence, and it took +her a second or two to collect her wits. Then, like Hector, she sprang +up—only to reel back through the slippery mud and catch at the +splintered gate for support, there to cling sick and dizzy, with eyes +fast shut, while the whole world rocked around her in chaos +indescribable.</p> + +<p>A full minute must have passed thus, then very suddenly out of the +confusion came a voice. Vaguely she recognized it, but she was too +occupied in the struggle to keep her senses to pay much attention to +what it said.</p> + +<p>"I mustn't faint!" she gasped desperately through her set teeth. "I +mustn't faint!"</p> + +<p>A steady arm encircled her, holding her up.</p> + +<p>"You'll be all right in half a minute," said the voice, close to her +now. "You came down rather hard."</p> + +<p>She fought with herself and opened her eyes. Her head was swimming<a name="Page_216" id="Page_216"></a> +still, but she compelled herself to look.</p> + +<p>Jeff Ironside was beside her, one foot lodged upon the lowest bar of the +gate while he propped her against his bent knee.</p> + +<p>He looked down at her with a certain sternness of demeanour that was +characteristic of him. "Take your time," he said. "It was a nasty +knock-out."</p> + +<p>"I—I'm all right," she told him breathlessly. "Where—where is Hector?"</p> + +<p>"If you mean your animal," he said in the slow, grim way which she +began to remember as his, "he is probably well on his way home by now. +He'll be all right," he added. "The gate from this field into the road +is open."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" The faintness was overcoming her again as she tried to stand. She +clutched and held his arm. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I—never felt so +stupid before."</p> + +<p>"Don't be in a hurry!" he said. "You can't help it."</p> + +<p>She sank back against his support again and so remained for a few +seconds. He stood like a rock till she opened her eyes once more.</p> + +<p>She found his own upon her, but he dropped them instantly. "You are not<a name="Page_217" id="Page_217"></a> +hurt anywhere, are you?" he said.</p> + +<p>She shook her head. "No, it's nothing. I've wrenched my shoulder a +little, but it isn't much."</p> + +<p>"Which shoulder?"</p> + +<p>"The right. No, really it isn't serious." She winced as he touched it +with his hand nevertheless.</p> + +<p>"Sure?" he said.</p> + +<p>He began to feel it very carefully, and she winced again with indrawn +breath.</p> + +<p>"It's only bruised," she said.</p> + +<p>"It's painful, anyhow," he remarked bluntly. "Well, you must be wet to +the skin. You had better come with me to the mill and get dry."</p> + +<p>Doris flushed a little. "Oh, thank you, but really—I don't want to—to +trespass on your kindness. I can quite well walk home—from here."</p> + +<p>"You can't," he said flatly. "Anyhow, you are not going to try. You had +better let me carry you."</p> + +<p>But Doris drew back at that with swift decision. "Oh no! I am quite well +now—I can walk."</p><p><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218"></a></p> + +<p>She stood up and he took his foot from the gate. She glanced at the top +bar thereof that hung in splinters.</p> + +<p>"I'm so sorry," she murmured apologetically.</p> + +<p>He also looked at his damaged property. "Yes, it was a pity you +attempted it," he said.</p> + +<p>"I shall know better next time," she said with a wry smile. "Will it +cost much?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it can't be mended for nothing," said Jeff Ironside. "Things +never are."</p> + +<p>Doris considered him for a moment. He was certainly a fine animal, as +Hugh Chesyl had said, well made and well put together. She liked the +freedom of his pose, the strength of the great bull neck. At close +quarters he certainly did not look like an ordinary labourer. He had an +air of command that his rough clothes could not hide. There was nothing +of the clod-hopper about him albeit he followed the plough. He was +obviously a son of the soil, and he would wrest his living therefrom, +but he would do it with brain as well as hands. He had a wide forehead +above his somewhat sombre eyes.</p> + +<p>"I am very sorry," she said again.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry for you," he said. "Wouldn't it be as well to get out of +this rain? It's only a step to the mill."</p> + +<p>She turned with docility and looked towards the two horses standing +patiently where he had left them on the brown slope of the hill.</p> +<p><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219"></a></p> +<p>"Not that way," he said. "Come across this field to the road. It is no +distance from there."</p> + +<p>Doris began to gather up her skirt. It was wet through and caked with +mud. She caught her breath again as she did it. The pain in her shoulder +was becoming intense.</p> + +<p>And then, to her amazement, Jeff Ironside suddenly stooped and put his +arms about her. Almost before she realized his intention, and while she +was still gasping her astonishment, he had lifted her and begun to move +with long, easy strides over the sodden turf.</p> + +<p>"Oh," she said, "you—you—really you shouldn't!"</p> + +<p>"It's the only thing to do," he returned.</p> + +<p>And somehow—perhaps because he spoke with such finality—she did not +feel inclined to dispute the point. She submitted with a confused murmur +of thanks.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER III</h3> + +<h4>THE APOLOGY</h4> + + +<p>On an old oaken settle, cushioned like a church-pew, before a generous, +open fire, Doris began to forget her woes. She looked about her with +interest the while she endeavoured to sip a cup of steaming milk treated +with brandy that Jeff Ironside had brought her.</p> + +<p>An old, old woman hobbled about the oak-raftered kitchen behind her +while Jeff himself knelt before her and unlaced her mud-caked boots. She +would have protested against his doing this had protest been of the<a name="Page_220" id="Page_220"></a> +smallest avail, but when she attempted it he only smiled a faint, grim +smile and continued his task.</p> + +<p>As he finally drew them off she thanked him in a small, shy voice. "You +are very kind—much kinder than I deserve," she said. "Do you know I've +often thought that I ought to have come to apologize for—for ordering +you off your own ground that day in the summer?"</p> + +<p>He looked up at her as he knelt, and for the first time she heard him +laugh. There was something almost boyish in his laugh. It transformed +him utterly, and it had a marvellous effect upon her.</p> + +<p>She laughed also and was instantly at her ease. She suddenly discovered +that he was young in spite of his ruggedness, and she warmed to him in +consequence.</p> + +<p>"But I really was sorry," she protested. "And I knew I ought to have +told you so before. But, somehow"—she flushed under his eyes—"I hadn't +the courage. Besides, I didn't know you."</p> + +<p>"It wasn't a very serious offence, was it?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I should have been furious in your place," she said.</p> + +<p>"It takes more than that to make me angry," said Jeff Ironside.</p> + +<p>She put out her hand to him impulsively, the flush still in her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"I am still perfectly furious with myself," she told him, "whenever I +think about it."</p> + +<p>His hand enclosed hers in an all-enveloping grasp. "Then I shouldn't +think about it any more if I were you," he said.</p> +<p><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221"></a></p> +<p>"Very well, I won't," said Doris; adding with her own quaint air of +graciousness, "and thank you for being so friendly about it."</p> + +<p>He released her hand somewhat abruptly and got to his feet. "How is your +shoulder now? Any better?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, it's better," she assured him. "Only rather stiff. Now, won't +you sit down and have your breakfast? Please don't bother about me any +more; I've wasted quite enough of your time."</p> + +<p>He turned towards the table. "You must have some too. And then, when +you're ready, I will drive you home."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but that will waste your time still more," she protested. "I'm sure +I can walk."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure you won't try," he rejoined with blunt deliberation. "I hope +you don't mind eating in the kitchen, Miss Elliot. I would have had a +fire in the parlour if I had expected you."</p> + +<p>"But, of course, I don't mind," she said. "And it's quite the finest old +kitchen I've ever seen."</p> + +<p>He turned to the old woman who still hovered in the background. "All +right, Granny. Sit down and have your own."</p> + +<p>"I'll wait on the lady first, Master Jeff," she returned, smiling upon +him.</p> +<p><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222"></a></p> +<p>"No. I'm going to wait on the lady," said Jeff. "You sit down."</p> + +<p>He had his way. It occurred to Doris that he usually did so. And +presently he was waiting upon her as she lay against the cushions, as +though she had been a princess in distress.</p> + +<p>Their intimacy progressed steadily during the meal, and very soon +Doris's shyness had wholly worn away. She could not quite decide if Jeff +were shy or not. He was obviously quiet by nature. But his grimness +certainly disappeared, and more than once she found herself wondering at +his consideration and thought for her.</p> + +<p>He went out after breakfast to put in the horse, and at once his old +housekeeper expanded into ardent praise of him.</p> + +<p>"He works as hard as ten men," she said. "That's how it is he gets on. I +often think to myself that he works harder than he ought. It's all work +and no play with him. But there, it's no good my talking. He only laughs +at me, though I brought him up from his cradle. And a fine baby he was +to be sure. His poor mother—she came of gentlefolk, ran away from home +she did to marry Farmer Ironside—she died three days after he was born, +which was a pity, for the old master was just wrapped up in her, and was +never the same again. Well, as I was saying, his poor mother, she'd set +her heart on his being given the education of a gentleman; which he was, +but he always clung to the land did Master Jeff. He was sent to<a name="Page_223" id="Page_223"></a> +Fordstead Grammar School along with the gentry, and a fine figure he cut +there. But then his father died, and he had to settle down to farming at +seventeen, and he's been farming ever since. He's very well-to-do is +Master Jeff, thanks to his own energy and perseverance; for farming +isn't what it was. But it's time he took a rest and looked about him. +He's thirty come Michaelmas, and he ought to be settling down. As I say +to him: 'Granny Grimshaw won't be here for always, and you won't like +any other kind of housekeeper save and unless she's a wife as well.' He +always laughs at me," said Granny Grimshaw, shaking her head. "But it's +true as the sun's above us. Master Jeff ought to be stirring himself to +find a wife. But he'll go to the gentry for one, same as his father did +before him. He won't be satisfied with any of them saucy country lasses. +He don't ever mix with them. He'll look high will Master Jeff if the +time ever comes that he looks at all. He's a gentleman himself right +through to the backbone, and he'll marry a lady."</p> + +<p>By the time Jeff returned to announce that the rain had ceased and the +cart was waiting, there were not many of his private affairs of the +knowledge of which Doris had not been placed in possession.</p> + +<p>She was smiling a little to herself over the old woman's garrulous +confidences when he entered, and it was evident that he caught the +smile, for he looked from her to his housekeeper with a touch of +sharpness.</p> + +<p>Granny Grimshaw hastened to efface herself with apologetic promptitude, +and retired to the scullery to wash up.</p> + +<p>Doris turned at once to her host. "Will you take me over the mill some<a name="Page_224" id="Page_224"></a> +day?" she asked.</p> + +<p>He looked momentarily surprised at the suggestion, and then in a second +he smiled. "Of course. When will you come?"</p> + +<p>"On Sunday?" she ventured.</p> + +<p>"It won't be working then."</p> + +<p>"No. But other days you are busy."</p> + +<p>Jeff dropped upon his knees again in front of her, and turned his +attention to brushing the worst of the mud from her skirt. He attacked +it with extreme vigour, his smooth lips firmly shut.</p> + +<p>At the end of nearly a minute he paused. "I shan't be too busy for that +any day," he said.</p> + +<p>"Not really?" Doris sounded a little doubtful.</p> + +<p>He looked at her, and somehow his brown eyes made her lower her own. +They held a mastery, a confidence, that embarrassed her subtly and quite +inexplicably.</p> + +<p>"Come any time," he said, "except market-day. Mrs. Grimshaw will always +know where I am to be found, and will send me word."</p> + +<p>She nodded. "I shall come one morning then. I will ride round, shall I?"</p> + +<p>He returned to his task, faintly smiling. "Don't take any five-barred +gates on your way!" he said.</p> + +<p>"No, I shan't do that again," she promised. "Five-barred gates have +their drawbacks."</p><p><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225"></a></p> + +<p>"As well as their advantages," said Jeff Ironside enigmatically.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER IV</h3> + +<h4>CORN</h4> + + +<p>"Master Jeff!" The kitchen door opened with a nervous creak and a +wrinkled brown face, encircled by the frills of a muslin nightcap, +peered cautiously in. "Are you asleep, my dear?" asked Granny Grimshaw +with tender solicitude.</p> + +<p>He was sitting at the table with his elbows upon it and his head in his +hands. She saw the smoke curling upwards from his pipe, and rightly +deduced from this that he was not asleep.</p> + +<p>She came forward, candle in hand. "Master Jeff, you'll pardon me, I'm<a name="Page_226" id="Page_226"></a> +sure. But it's getting so late—nigh upon twelve o'clock. You won't be +getting anything of a night's rest if you don't go to bed."</p> + +<p>Jeff raised his head. His eyes, sombre with thought, met hers. "Is it +late?" he said abstractedly.</p> + +<p>"And you such an early riser," said Granny Grimshaw.</p> + +<p>She went across to the fire and began to rake it out, he watching her in +silence, still with that sombre look in his dark eyes.</p> + +<p>Very suddenly Granny Grimshaw turned and, poker in hand, confronted +him. She was wearing a large Paisley shawl over her pink flannel +nightdress, but the figure she presented, though quaint, was not +unimposing.</p> + +<p>"Master Jeff," she said, "don't you be too modest and retiring, my dear. +You're just as good as the best of 'em."</p> + +<p>A slow, rather hard smile drew the corners of the man's mouth. "They +don't think so," he observed.</p> + +<p>"They mayn't," said Granny Grimshaw severely. "But that don't alter what +is. You're a good man, and, what's more, a man of substance, which is +better than can be said for old Colonel Elliot, with one foot in the +grave, so to speak, and up to his eyes in debt. He owes money all over +the place, I'm told, and the place is mortgaged for three times its +proper value. His wife has a little of her own, so they say; but this +poor young lady as was here this morning, she'll be thrown on the world +without a penny to her name. A winsome young lady, too, Master Jeff. And +she don't look as if she were made to stand many hard knocks. She may +belong to the county, as they say, but her heart's in the right place.<a name="Page_227" id="Page_227"></a> +She'd make a bonny mistress in this old place, and it wants a mistress +badly enough. Old Granny Grimshaw has done her best, my dear, and always +will. But she isn't the woman she was." An odd, wheedling note crept +into the old woman's voice. "She'll be wanting to sit in the +chimney-corner soon, Master Jeff, and just mind the little ones. You +wouldn't refuse her that?"</p> + +<p>Jeff rose abruptly and went across to the fire to knock the ashes from +his pipe. Having done so, he remained bent for several seconds, as +though he were trying to read his fortune in the dying embers. Then very +slowly he straightened himself and spoke.</p> + +<p>"I think you forget," he said, "that Colonel Elliot was the son of an +earl."</p> + +<p>But Granny Grimshaw remained unabashed and wholly unimpressed. She laid +down the poker with decision. "I was never one to sneer at good birth," +she said. "But I hold that you come of a breed as old and as good as any +in the land. Your father was a yeoman of the good old-fashioned sort; +and your mother—well, everyone hereabouts knows that she was a lady +born and bred. I don't see what titles have to do with breeding," said +Granny Grimshaw stoutly. "Not that I despise the aristocracy. Dear me, +no! But when all is said and done, no man can be better than a +gentleman, and no woman can look higher. And there are gentlemen in +every walk of life just the same as there are the other sort. And you, +Master Jeff, you're one of the gentlemen."</p> + +<p>Jeff laughed a somewhat grim laugh, and turned to put out the lamp.</p> +<p><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228"></a></p> +<p>"You're a very nice old woman, Granny," he said. "But you are not an +impartial judge."</p> + +<p>"Ah, my dearie," said Granny Grimshaw, "but I know what women's hearts +are made of."</p> + +<p>A somewhat irrelevant retort, which nevertheless closed the discussion.</p> + +<p>They went upstairs together, and parted on the landing.</p> + +<p>"And you'll go to bed now, won't you?" urged Granny Grimshaw.</p> + +<p>"All right," said Jeff.</p> + +<p>But once in his own room he went to the low lattice-window that +overlooked the mill-stream, and stood before it looking gravely forth +over the still water. It was a night of many stars. Beyond the stream +there stretched a dream-valley across which the river mists were +trailing. The tall trees in the meadows stood up with a ghostly +magnificence against them. The whole scene was one of wondrous peace, +and all, as far as he could see, was his. But the man's eyes brooded +over his acres with a dumb dissatisfaction, and when he turned from the +window at last it was with a gesture of hopelessness.</p> + +<p>"God help me for a fool!" he muttered between his teeth. "If I went near +her, they would kick me out by the back door."</p><p><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229"></a></p> + +<p>He began to undress with savage energy, and finally flung himself down +on the old four-poster in which his father had lain before him, lying +there motionless, with fixed and sleepless eyes, while the hours went by +over his head.</p> + +<p>Once—it was just before daybreak—he rose and went again to the open +window that overlooked his prosperous valley. A change had come over the +face of it. The mists were lifting, lifting. He saw the dark forms of +cattle standing here and there. The river wound, silent and mysterious, +away into the dim, quiet distance. A church clock struck, its tone vague +and remote as a voice from another world. And as if in answer to its +solemn call a lark soared upwards from the meadow by the mill-stream +with a burst of song.</p> + +<p>The east was surely lightening. The night was gone. Jeff leaned his +burning temple against the window-frame with a feeling akin to physical +sickness. He was tired—dead tired; but he knew that he could not sleep +now. The world was waking. From the farmyard round the corner of the +house there came the flap of wings and the old rooster's blatant +greeting to the dawn.</p> + +<p>In another half-hour the whole place would be stirring. He had wasted a +whole night's rest.</p> +<p><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230"></a></p> +<p>Fiercely he straightened himself. Surely his brain must be going! Why, +he had only spoken to her twice. And then, like a spirit that mocked, +the words ran through his brain: "Who ever loved that loved not at first +sight?"</p> + +<p>So this was love, was it? This—was love!</p> + +<p>With clenched hands he stood looking out to the dawning, while the wild +fever leaped and seethed in his veins. He called up before his inner +vision the light, dainty figure, the level, grey eyes, fearless, yet in +a fashion shy, the glow of the sun-tanned skin, the soft, thick hair, +brown in the shadow, gold in the sun.</p> + +<p>Straight before him, low in the sky, hung the morning star. It almost +looked as if it were drifting earthwards with all its purity, all its +glistening sweetness, drifting straight to the heart of the world. He +fixed his eyes upon it, drawn by its beauty almost in spite of himself. +It was the only star in the sky, and it almost seemed as if it had a +message for him.</p> + +<p>But the day was dawning, the star fading, and the message hard to read. +Why had she refused to marry Chesyl? he asked himself. The man was +lukewarm in speech and action; but that surely was but the way of the +world to which he belonged. No excess of emotion was ever encouraged +there. Doubtless behind that amiable mask there beat the same devouring +longing that throbbed in his own racing pulses. Surely Doris knew this! +Surely she understood her own kind!</p> +<p><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231"></a></p> +<p>He recalled those words of hers that he had overheard, the slow +utterance of them as of some pronouncement of doom. "If I can't have +corn, I won't have husks. I will die of starvation sooner."</p> + +<p>He had caught the pain in those words. Had Hugh Chesyl failed to do so? +If so, Hugh Chesyl was a fool. He had never thought very highly of him, +though he supposed him to be clever after his own indolent fashion.</p> + +<p>Chesyl was the old squire's nephew and heir—a highly suitable <i>parti</i> +for any girl. Yet Doris had refused him, not wholly without ignominy. A +gentleman, too! Jeff's mouth twisted. The thought came to him, and +ripened to steady conviction, that had Chesyl taken the trouble to woo, +he must in time have won. The girl was miserable enough to admit the +fact of her misery, and he offered her marriage with him as a friendly +means of escape. On other ground he could have won her. On this ground +he was probably the least likely man to win. She asked for corn, and he +offered husks. What wonder that she preferred starvation!</p> + +<p>His hands were still clenched as he turned from the window. Oh, to have +been in Hugh Chesyl's place! She would have had no complaint then to +make as to the quality of his offering. He would never have suffered her +to go hungry. And yet the feeling that Hugh Chesyl loved her lingered +still in his soul. Ah, what a fool! What a fool!</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was nearly three hours later that Jim Dawlish the miller answered +Jeff Ironside's gruff morning greeting with an eager, "Have you heard +the news, sir?"</p><p><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232"></a></p> + +<p>Dawlish was of a cheery, expansive disposition, and not much of the +village gossip ever escaped him or remained with him.</p> + +<p>"What news?" demanded Jeff.</p> + +<p>"Why, about the old Colonel up at the Place, to be sure," said Dawlish, +advancing his floury person towards the doorway in which stood the +master's square, strong figure.</p> + +<p>"Colonel Elliot?" queried Jeff sharply. "What about him?"</p> + +<p>Dawlish wagged a knowing head. "Ah, you may well ask that, sir. He +died—early this morning—quite unexpected. Had a fit or some'at. They +say it's an open question whether there'll be enough money to bury him. +He has creditors all over the county."</p> + +<p>"Good heavens!" said Jeff. He drew back swiftly into the open air as if +he found the atmosphere of the mill oppressive. "Are you quite sure it's +true?" he questioned. "How did you hear?"</p> + +<p>"It's true enough," said the miller, with keen enjoyment. "I heard it +from the police-sergeant. He says it was so sudden that there'll have to +be an inquest. I'm sorry for the widow and orphans though. It'll fall a +bit hard on them."</p> + +<p>"Good heavens!" said Jeff again. "Good heavens!"</p> + +<p>And then very abruptly he turned and left the mill.</p><p><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233"></a></p> + +<p>"What's the matter with the boss?" asked the miller's underling. "Did +the Colonel owe him money too?"</p> + +<p>"That's about the ticket," said Jim Dawlish cheerily. "That comes of +lending, that does. It just shows the truth of the old saying, 'Stick to +your money and your money'll stick to you.' There never was a truer +word."</p> + +<p>"Wonder if he's lost much?" said the underling speculatively.</p> + +<p>Whereupon Jim Dawlish waxed suddenly severe. He never tolerated idle +gossip among his inferiors. "And that's no concern of yours, Charlie +Bates," he said. "You get on with your work and don't bother your pudden +head about what ain't in no way your business. Mr. Ironside is about the +soundest man within fifty miles, and don't you forget it!"</p> + +<p>"He wasn't best pleased to hear about the poor old Colonel though for +all that," said Charlie Bates tenaciously. "And I'd give something to +know what'll come of it."</p> + +<p>If he had known, neither he nor Jim Dawlish would have got through much +work that morning.</p> + + +<p><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234"></a></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER V</h3> + +<h4>A BARGAIN</h4> + + +<p>It was nearly a fortnight after Colonel Elliot's death that Jeff +Ironside went to the stable somewhat suddenly one morning, saddled his +mare, and, without a word to anyone, rode away.</p> + +<p>Granny Grimshaw was the only witness of his departure, and she turned +from the kitchen window with a secret smile and nod.</p> + +<p>It was an autumn morning of mist and sunshine. The beech trees shone +golden overhead, and the robins trilled loudly from the clematis-draped +hedges. Jeff rode briskly, with too set a purpose to bestow any +attention upon these things. He took a short cut across his own land and +entered the grounds belonging to the Place by a side drive seldom used.</p> + +<p>Thence he rode direct to the front door of the great Georgian house and +boldly demanded admittance.</p> + +<p>The footman who opened to him looked him up and down interrogatively. +"Miss Elliot is at home, but I don't know if she will see anyone," he +said uncompromisingly.</p> + +<p>"Ask her!" said Jeff tersely. "My name is Ironside."</p> +<p><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235"></a></p> +<p>While the man was gone he took the mare to a yew tree that shadowed the +drive at a few yards' distance and tied her to it. There was an air of +grim resolution about all his actions. This accomplished, he returned to +the great front door.</p> + +<p>As he reached it there came the sound of light, hastening feet within, +and in a moment the half-open door was thrown back. Doris herself, very +slim and pale, but withal very queenly in her deep mourning, came forth +with outstretched hand to greet him.</p> + +<p>"But why did they leave you here?" she said. "Please come in!"</p> + +<p>He followed her in with scarcely a word.</p> + +<p>She led him down a long oak passage to a room that was plainly the +library, and there in her quick, gracious way she turned and faced him.</p> + +<p>"I am very pleased to see you, Mr. Ironside. I was going to write to you +to thank you again for all your kindness, but lately—there has been so +much to think about—so much to do. I know you will understand. Do sit +down!"</p> + +<p>But Jeff remained squarely on his feet. "I hope you have quite recovered +from your fall?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Quite, thank you." She smiled faintly. "It seems such an age ago. +Hector came home quite safely too." She broke off short, paused as if +seeking for words, then said rather abruptly, "I shall never go hunting +again."</p> + +<p>"You mean not this year?" suggested Jeff.</p><p><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236"></a></p> + +<p>She looked at him, and he saw that her smile Was piteous. "No, I mean +never. Everything is to be sold. Haven't you heard?"</p> + +<p>He nodded. "Yes, I had heard. I hoped it wasn't true."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is true." Her two hands fastened very tightly upon the back of +a chair. There was something indescribably pathetic in the action. She +seemed on the verge of saying more, but in the end she did not say it. +She just stood looking at him with the wide grey eyes that tried so hard +not to be tragic.</p> + +<p>Jeff stood looking back with great sturdiness and not much apparent +feeling. He offered no word of condolence or sympathy. Only after a very +decided pause he said, "I wonder what you will do?"</p> + +<p>"I am going to London," she said.</p> +<p><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237"></a></p> +<p>"Soon?" Jeff's voice was curt, almost gruff.</p> + +<p>"Yes, very soon." She hesitated momentarily, then went on rapidly, as if +it were a relief to tell someone. "My father's life was insured. It has +left my stepmother enough to live on; but, of course, not here. The +place is mortgaged up to the hilt. I have nothing at all. I have got to +make my own living."</p> + +<p>"You?" said Jeff.</p> + +<p>She smiled again faintly, "Yes, I. What is there in that? Lots of women +work for their living."</p> + +<p>"You are not going to work for yours," he said.</p> + +<p>She thrust the chair from her with a quick little movement of the hands. +"I would begin to-morrow—if I only knew how. But I don't—yet. I've got +to look about me for a little. I am going first to a cousin at +Kensington."</p> + +<p>"Who doesn't want you," said Jeff.</p> + +<p>She looked at him in sharp surprise. "Who—who told you that?"</p> + +<p>"You did," he said doggedly. "At least, you told Mr. Chesyl—in my<a name="Page_238" id="Page_238"></a> +presence."</p> + +<p>"Ah, I remember!" She uttered a tremulous little laugh. "That was the +day I caught you eavesdropping and ordered you off your own ground."</p> + +<p>"It was," said Jeff. "I heard several things that day, and I +guessed—other things." He paused, still looking straight at her. "Miss +Elliot," he said, "wouldn't it be easier for you to marry than to work +for your living?"</p> + +<p>The pretty brows went up in astonishment. "Oh!" she said, in quick +confusion. "You heard that too?"</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't it be easier?" persisted Jeff in his slow, stubborn way.</p> + +<p>She shook her head swiftly and vehemently. "I shall never marry Mr. +Chesyl," she said with determination.</p> + +<p>"Where is he?" asked Jeff.</p> + +<p>The soft colour rose in her face at the question. She looked away from +him for the first time. "I don't quite know where he is. I believe he is +up north somewhere—in Scotland."</p> + +<p>"He knows what has been happening here?" questioned Jeff.</p> + +<p>She made a slight movement as of protest. "No doubt," she said in a low +voice.</p> +<p><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239"></a></p> +<p>Jeff's square jaw hardened. Abruptly he thrust Chesyl out of the +conversation. "It doesn't matter," he said. "That isn't what I came to +talk about. May I tell you just what I have come for? Will you give me a +patient hearing?"</p> + +<p>She turned to him again in renewed surprise. "Of course," she said.</p> + +<p>His dark eyes were upon her. "It may not please you," he said slowly, +"though I ask you to believe that it is not my intention to give you +offence."</p> + +<p>"But, of course, I know you would not," she said.</p> + +<p>Jeff's fingers clenched upon his riding-switch. He spoke with +difficulty, but not without a certain native dignity that made him +impressive. "I have come," he said, "just to say to you that if it is +possible that no one in your own world is wanting you, I am wanting you. +All that I have is absolutely at your disposal. I heard you say—that +day—that you would like to be a farmer's wife. Well—if you really +meant it—you have your opportunity."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Ironside!" She was gazing at him in wide-eyed amazement.</p> + +<p>A dark flush rose in his swarthy face under her eyes, "I had to say it," +he said with heavy deliberation, "though I know I'm only hammering nails +into my own coffin. I had to take my only chance of telling you. Of +course, I know you won't listen. I'm not of your sort—respectable +enough, but not quite—not quite—" He broke off grimly, and for an +instant his teeth showed clenched upon his lower lip. "But if by any +chance, when everything else has failed," resolutely he went on, "you +could bring yourself to think of me—in that way, I shall always be +ready, quite ready, for you. That's what I came to say."</p><p><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240"></a></p> + +<p>He straightened himself upon the words, and made as if he would turn and +leave her. But Doris was too quick for him. She moved like a flash. She +came between him and the door. "Please—please," she said, "you mustn't +go yet!"</p> + +<p>He stopped instantly and she stood before him breathing quickly, her +hand upon the door.</p> + +<p>She did not speak again very quickly; she was plainly trying to master +considerable agitation.</p> + +<p>Jeff waited immovably with eyes unvaryingly upon her. "I don't want to +hurry you," he said at last. "I know, of course, what your answer will +be. But I can wait for it."</p> + +<p>That faint, fugitive smile of hers went over her face. She took her hand +from the door.</p> + +<p>"You—you haven't been very—explicit, have you?" she said. "Are +you—are you being just kind to me, Mr. Ironside, like—like Hugh +Chesyl?"</p> + +<p>Her voice quivered as she asked the question, but her eyes met his with +direct steadfastness.</p> + +<p>He lowered his own very suddenly. "No," he said. "I wouldn't insult you +by being kind. I shouldn't ask you to marry me if I didn't love you with +all my heart and soul."</p> + +<p>The words came quickly, with something of a burning quality. She made a +slight movement as if she were taken by surprise.</p> + +<p>After a moment she spoke. "There are two kinds of love," she said. +"There's the big, unselfish kind—the real thing; and there's the<a name="Page_241" id="Page_241"></a> +other—the kind that demands everything, and even then, perhaps, is +never satisfied. You hardly know me well enough to—to care for me in +the first big way, do you? You don't even know if I'm worth it."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," said Jeff Ironside. "I think I do know you well +enough for that. Anyhow, if you could bring yourself to marry me, I +should be satisfied. The right to take care of you—make you +comfortable—wait on you—that's all I'm asking. That would be enough +for me—more than I've dared to hope for."</p> + +<p>"That would make you happy?" she asked.</p> + +<p>He kept his eyes lowered. "It would be—enough," he repeated.</p> + +<p>She uttered a sudden quick sigh. "But wouldn't you rather marry a woman +who was in love with you in just the ordinary way?" she said.</p> + +<p>"No," said Jeff curtly.</p> + +<p>"It would be much better for you," she protested.</p> + +<p>He smiled a grim smile. "I am the best judge of that," he said.</p> + +<p>She held out her hand to him. "Mr. Ironside, tell me honestly, wouldn't +you despise me if I married you in that way—taking all and giving +nothing?"</p> + +<p>He crushed her hand in his. The red blood rose to his forehead. He +looked at her for a moment—only a moment—and instantly looked away +again.</p><p><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242"></a></p> + +<p>"No," he said, "I shouldn't."</p> + +<p>"I should despise myself," said Doris.</p> + +<p>"I don't know why you should," he said.</p> + +<p>She smiled again with lips that quivered. "No, you don't understand. +You're too big for me altogether. I can't say 'Yes,' but I feel very +highly honoured all the same. You'll believe that, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Why can't you say 'Yes'?" asked Jeff.</p> + +<p>She hesitated momentarily. "You see, I'm afraid I don't care for +you—like that," she said.</p> + +<p>"Does that matter?" said Jeff.</p> + +<p>She looked at him, her hand still in his. "Don't you think so?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't," he said, "unless you think you couldn't be happy."</p> + +<p>"I was thinking of you," she said gently.</p> + +<p>"Of me?" He looked surprised for an instant, and again his eyes met hers +in a quick glance. "If you're going to think of me," he said, "you'll do +it. I have told you, you needn't be afraid of my expecting too much."</p> + +<p>But she shook her head. "I should be much more afraid of taking too much +from you," she said. "The little I could offer would never satisfy you."</p><p><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243"></a></p> + +<p>"Yes it would," he insisted. "I'm only asking to stand between you and +trouble. It's all I want in life."</p> + +<p>Again his eyes were upon her, dark and resolute. His hand held hers in a +steady grip. For the first time her own resolution began to falter.</p> + +<p>"Let me write to you, Mr. Ironside," she said at last, with a vague idea +of softening a refusal that had become inexplicably hard.</p> + +<p>"Write and say 'No'?" said Jeff.</p> + +<p>She smiled a little, but her eyes filled with sudden tears. "You make it +very hard for me to say 'No,'" she said.</p> + +<p>"I would like to make it impossible," he said.</p> + +<p>"Even when I have told you that I can't—that I don't—love you in the +ordinary way?" she said almost pleadingly.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to be loved in the ordinary way," he answered doggedly.</p> + +<p>"I should be a perpetual disappointment to you," she said.</p> + +<p>"I would rather have even that than—nothing," said Jeff.</p> + +<p>One of the tears ran over and fell upon their clasped hands. "In fact, +you want me at any price," she said.</p> + +<p>"At any price," said Jeff.</p><p><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244"></a></p> + +<p>She bent her head and choked back a sob. "And no one else wants me at +all," she whispered.</p> + +<p>He stooped towards her. Perhaps for her peace of mind it was as well +that she did not see the sudden fire that blazed in his deep-set eyes as +he did so.</p> + +<p>"So you'll change your mind," he said, after a moment, to the bowed +head. "You'll have me—you will?"</p> + +<p>She caught back another sob and said nothing.</p> + +<p>He straightened himself sharply. "Miss Elliot, if it's going to make you +miserable, you had better send me away. I'll go—if it's for that."</p> + +<p>He would have released her hand, but it tightened very suddenly upon +his. "No, don't go—don't go!" she said.</p> + +<p>"But you're crying," muttered Jeff uneasily.</p> + +<p>She gave a big gulp and raised her head. The tears were running down her +cheeks, but she smiled at him bravely notwithstanding. "I believe I +should cry—much more—if you were to go now," she told him, with a +quaint effort at humour.</p> + +<p>Jeff Ironside put a strong grip upon himself. His heart was thumping +like the strokes of a heavy hammer. "Then you'll have me?" he said.</p> + +<p>She put her other hand, with a very winning gesture of confidence, into +his. "I don't see how I can help it," she said. "You've knocked down all +my obstacles. But you do understand, don't you? You won't—won't—"</p> + +<p>"Abuse your trust? No, never!" said Jeff Ironside. "I will die by my own +hand sooner."</p> + +<p>"Ah, I can't help liking you," Doris said impulsively, as if in +explanation or excuse. "You're so big."</p><p><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245"></a></p> + +<p>"Thank you," Jeff said very earnestly. "And you won't cry any more?"</p> + +<p>She uttered a whimsical little laugh. "But I wasn't crying for myself," +she said, as she dried her eyes. "I was crying for you."</p> + +<p>"Well, you mustn't," said Jeff. "You have given me all I want—much more +than I dared to hope for." He paused a moment, then abruptly, "You won't +think better of it when I'm gone, will you?" he said. "You won't write +and say you have changed your mind?"</p> + +<p>She gave him her hand again with an air of comradeship. "It's a bargain, +Mr. Ironside," she said, with gentle dignity. "A very one-sided one, I +fear, but still—a bargain."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," murmured Jeff.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER VI</h3> + +<h4>THE WEDDING PRESENT</h4> + + +<p>The marriage of Jeff Ironside to Colonel Elliot's daughter created a +sensation in the neighbourhood even greater than that which followed the +Colonel's death. But the ceremony itself was strictly private. It took +place so quietly and so suddenly very early on a misty October morning +that it was over before most people knew anything about it. Jim Dawlish +knew, and was present with old Granny Grimshaw; but, save for the family +lawyer who gave away the bride and the aged rector who married them, no<a name="Page_246" id="Page_246"></a> +one else was in the secret.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Elliot knew, but she and her stepdaughter had never been in +sympathy, and she had already left the place and gone to town.</p> + +<p>Very small and pathetic looked the bride in her deep mourning on that +dim autumn morning, but she played her part with queenly dignity, +unfaltering, undismayed. If she had acted upon impulse she was fully +prepared to face the consequences.</p> + +<p>As for Jeff, he was gruff almost to rudeness, so desperate was the +turmoil of his soul. Not one word did he address to his bride from the +moment of entering the church to that of leaving it save such as were +contained in the marriage service. And even when they passed out +together into the grey churchyard he remained grimly silent till she +turned with a little smile and addressed him.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, Jeff!" she said, and her slender, ungloved hand, very +cold but superbly confident, found its way into his.</p> + +<p>He looked down at her then and found his voice, the while his fingers +closed protectingly upon hers. "You're cold," he said. "They ought to +have warmed the church."</p> + +<p>She turned her face up to the sky. "The sun will be through soon. Will +you take me home across the fields?"</p> + +<p>"Too wet," said Jeff.</p> + +<p>"Not if we keep to the path," she said. "I must just say good-bye to Mr. +Webster first."</p> + +<p>Mr. Webster was the family lawyer. He came up with stilted phrases of<a name="Page_247" id="Page_247"></a> +felicitation which sent Jeff instantly back into his impenetrable shell +of silence. Doris made reply on his behalf and her own with a dainty +graciousness that covered all difficulties, and finally extricated +herself and Jeff from the situation with a dexterity that left him +spellbound.</p> + +<p>She had her way. They went by way of the fields, he and she alone +through the lifting mist, while Granny Grimshaw and Jim Dawlish marched +solemnly back to the mill by the road.</p> + +<p>"It's a very good morning's work," asserted Granny Grimshaw with much +satisfaction. "I always felt that Master Jeff would never marry any but +a lady."</p> + +<p>"I'd rather him than me," returned Jim Dawlish obscurely.</p> + +<p>Which remark Granny Grimshaw treated as unworthy of notice.</p> + +<p>As Jeff Ironside and his bride neared the last stile the sun came +through and shone upon all things.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad we came this way," she said.</p> + +<p>Jeff said nothing. He never spoke unless he had something to say.</p> + +<p>They reached the stile. He strode over and reached back a hand to her. +She took it, mounted and stepped over, then sat down unexpectedly on the +top bar with the hand in hers.</p> + +<p>"Jeff!" she said.</p> +<p><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248"></a></p> +<p>He looked up at her. Her voice was small and shy, her cheeks very +delicately flushed.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" said Jeff.</p> + +<p>She looked down at the brown hand she held, all roughened and hardened +by toil, and hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Well?" said Jeff.</p> + +<p>She turned her eyes upon his face. "Are you going back to work to-day, +just as if—as if nothing had happened?" she asked.</p> + +<p>He looked straight back at her. "You don't want me, do you?" he said.</p> + +<p>She nodded. "Shall we go for a picnic?" she said.</p> + +<p>"A picnic!" He seemed surprised at the suggestion.</p> + +<p>She laughed a little. "Do you never go for picnics? I do—all by myself +sometimes. It's rather fun, you know."</p> + +<p>"By yourself?" said Jeff.</p> +<p><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249"></a></p> +<p>She rose from her perch. "It's more fun with someone certainly," she +said.</p> + +<p>Jeff's face reflected her smile for an instant. "All right," he said. +"I'll take a holiday for once. But come home now and have some +breakfast."</p> + +<p>She stepped down beside him. "It's nice of you to give me the very first +thing I ask for," she said. "Will you do something else for me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Jeff.</p> + +<p>"Then will you call me Dot?" she said. "It was the pet name my mother +gave me. No one has used it since she died."</p> + +<p>"Dot," repeated Jeff. "You really want me to call you that?"</p> + +<p>"But, of course," she said, smiling, "you haven't called me anything +yet. Please begin at once! It really isn't difficult."</p> + +<p>"Very well, Dot," he said. "And where are we going for our picnic?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, not very far," she said. "Somewhere within a quite easy walk."</p> + +<p>"Can't we ride?" suggested Jeff.</p> + +<p>"Ride?" She looked at him in surprise.</p> + +<p>"I have a horse who would carry you," he said.</p> + +<p>"Have you—have you, really?" Quick pleasure came into her eyes. "Oh,<a name="Page_250" id="Page_250"></a> +Jeff, how kind of you!"</p> + +<p>"No, it isn't," said Jeff bluntly. "I want you to be happy."</p> + +<p>She laughed her quick, light laugh. "So you're going to spoil me?" she +said.</p> + +<p>They reached the pretty Mill House above the stream and found breakfast +awaiting them in the oak-panelled parlour that overlooked a sunny +orchard.</p> + +<p>"How absolutely sweet!" said Doris.</p> + +<p>He came and stood beside her at the window, looking silently forth.</p> + +<p>She glanced at him half-shyly. "Aren't you very fond of it all?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said.</p> + +<p>"And I think I am going to be," said Doris.</p> + +<p>"I hope you will," said Jeff.</p> + +<p>She turned from him to Granny Grimshaw who entered at the moment with a +hot dish.</p> + +<p>"I don't think we ought to have been married so early," she said. "You +must be quite tired out. Now, please, Mrs. Grimshaw, do sit down and let +me wait on you for a change!"</p> + +<p>Granny Grimshaw smiled at the bare suggestion.</p> + +<p>"No, no, Mrs. Ironside, my dear. This is for you and Master Jeff. I've +got mine in the kitchen."</p> + +<p>"I never heard such a thing!" declared Doris. "Jeff, surely you are not +going to allow that!"</p> +<p><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251"></a></p> +<p>Jeff came from the window. "Of course you must join us, Granny," he +said.</p> + +<p>But Granny Grimshaw was obdurate on that point. "My place is in the +kitchen," she said firmly. "And there I must bide. But I am ready to +show you the way to your room, my dear, whenever you want to go."</p> + +<p>Doris bent forward impulsively and kissed her. "You are much, much too +kind to me, you and Jeff," she said.</p> + +<p>But as soon as she was alone with Jeff her shyness returned. She could +not feel as much at ease with him in the house as in the open air. She +did not admit it even to herself, but deep in her heart she had begun to +be a little afraid.</p> + +<p>Till then she had gone blindly forward, taking in desperation the only +course that seemed to offer her escape from a position that had become +wholly intolerable. But now for the first time misgivings arose within +her. She remembered how slight was her knowledge of the man to whom she +had thus impetuously entrusted her future; and, remembering, something +of her ready confidence went from her. She fell silent also.</p> + +<p>"You are not eating anything," said Jeff. She started at his voice and +looked up.</p> + +<p>"No, I'm not hungry," she said. "I shall eat all the more presently when +we get out into the open."</p> + +<p>He said no more, but finished his own breakfast with businesslike +promptitude.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Grimshaw will take you upstairs," he said then, and went to the +door to call her.</p> + +<p>"Where will you be?" Doris asked him shyly, as he stood back for her to +pass.</p> +<p><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252"></a></p> +<p>"I am going round to the stable," he said.</p> + +<p>"May I come to you there?" she suggested.</p> + +<p>He assented gravely: "Do!"</p> + +<p>Granny Grimshaw was in her most garrulous mood. She took Doris up the +old steep stairs and into the low-ceiled room with the lattice window +that looked over the river meadows.</p> + +<p>"It's the best room in the house," she told her. "Master Jeff was born +in it, and he's slept here for the past ten years. You won't be lonely, +my dear. My room is just across the passage, and he has gone to the room +at the end which he always had as a boy."</p> + +<p>"This is a lovely room," said Doris.</p> + +<p>She stood where Jeff had stood before the open window and looked across +the valley.</p> + +<p>"I hope you will be very happy here, my dear," said Granny Grimshaw +behind her.</p> + +<p>Doris turned round to her impetuously. "Dear Mrs. Grimshaw, I don't like +Jeff to give up the best room to me," she said. "Isn't there another one +that I could have?"</p> + +<p>She glanced towards a door that led out of the room in which they were.</p> + +<p>"Yes, go in, my dear!" said Granny Grimshaw with a chuckle. "It's all +for you."</p> + +<p>Doris opened the door with a quick flush on her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Master Jeff thought you would like a little sitting-room of your own," +said the old woman behind her.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he shouldn't. He shouldn't!" Doris said.</p> + +<p>She stood on the threshold of a sunny room that overlooked the garden +with its hedge of lavender and beyond it the orchard with its wealth of +ripe apples shining in the sun. The room had been evidently furnished<a name="Page_253" id="Page_253"></a> +for her especial use. There was a couch in one corner, a cottage piano +in another, and a writing-table near the window.</p> + +<p>"The old master bought those things for his bride," said Granny +Grimshaw. "They are just as good as new yet, and Master Jeff has had the +piano put in order for you. I expect you know how to play the piano, my +dear?"</p> + +<p>Doris went forward into the room. The tears were not far from her eyes. +"He is too good to me. He is much too good," she said.</p> + +<p>"Ah, my dear, and you'll be good to him too, won't you?" said Granny +Grimshaw coaxingly.</p> + +<p>"I'll do my best," said Doris quietly.</p> + +<p>She went down to Jeff in the stable-yard a little later with a heart +brimming with gratitude, but that strange, new shyness was with her +also. She did not know how to give him her thanks.</p> + +<p>He was waiting for her, and escorted her across to the stable. "You will +like to see your mount," he said, cutting her short almost before she +had begun.</p> + +<p>She followed him into the stable. Jeff's own mare poked an inquiring +nose over the door of her loose-box. Doris stopped to fondle her. Jeff +plunged a hand into his pocket and brought out some sugar.</p> + +<p>From the stall next to them came a low whinny. Doris, in the act of +feeding the mare, looked up sharply. The next moment with a little cry +she had sprung forward and was in the stall with her arms around the<a name="Page_254" id="Page_254"></a> +neck of its occupant—a big bay, who nozzled against her shoulder with +evident pleasure.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Hector! Hector!" she cried. "However did you come here?"</p> + +<p>"I bought him," said Jeff, "as a wedding present."</p> + +<p>"For me? Oh, Jeff!" She left Hector and came to him with both hands +outstretched. "Oh, Jeff, I don't know how to thank you. You are so much +too good. What can I say?"</p> + +<p>He took the hands and gripped them. His dark eyes looked straight and +hard into hers, and a little tremor went through her. She lowered her +own instinctively, and in the same instant he let her go. He did not +utter a word, and she turned from him in silence with a face on fire.</p> + +<p>She made no further effort to express her gratitude.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER VII</h3> + +<h4>THE END OF THE PICNIC</h4> + + +<p>Those odd silences of Jeff's fell very often throughout the day, and +they lay upon Doris's spirit like a physical weight. They rode through +autumn woodlands, and picnicked on the side of a hill. The day was warm +and sunny, and the whole world shone as through a pearly veil. There +were blackberries in abundance, large and ripe, and Doris wandered about +picking them during the afternoon while Jeff lounged against a tree and +smoked.</p> + +<p>He did not offer to join her, but she had a feeling that his eyes +followed her wherever she went, and a great restlessness kept her +moving. She could not feel at her ease in his vicinity. She wanted very<a name="Page_255" id="Page_255"></a> +urgently to secure his friendship. She had counted upon that day in his +society to do so. But it seemed to be his resolve to hold aloof. He +seemed disinclined to commit himself to anything approaching intimacy, +and that attitude of his filled her with misgiving. Had he begun to +repent of the one-sided bargain, she asked herself? Or could it be that +he also was oppressed by shyness? She longed intensely to know.</p> + +<p>The sun was sinking low in the sky when at length reluctantly she went +back to him. "It's getting late," she said. "Don't you think we ought to +go home?"</p> + +<p>He was standing in the level sun-rays gazing sombrely down into the +valley from which already the mists were beginning to rise.</p> + +<p>He turned at her voice, and she knew he looked at her, though she did +not meet his eyes. For a moment or two he stood, not speaking, but as +though on the verge of speech; and her heart quickened to a nervous +throbbing.</p> + +<p>Then unexpectedly he turned upon his heel. "Yes. Wait here, won't you, +while I go and fetch the animals?"</p> + +<p>He went, and a sharp sense of relief shot through her. She was sure that +he had something on his mind; but inexplicably she was thankful that he +had not uttered it.</p> + +<p>The sun was dropping out of sight behind the opposite hill, and she was +conscious of a growing chill in the atmosphere. A cockchafer whirred +past her and buried itself in a tuft of grass hard by. In the wood +behind her a robin trilled a high sweet song. From the farther side of +the valley came a trail of smoke from a cottage bonfire, and the scent +of it hung heavy in the evening air.</p> +<p><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256"></a></p> +<p>All these things she knew and loved, and they were to be hers for the +rest of her life; yet her heart was heavy within her. She turned and +looked after Jeff with a wistful drooping of the lips.</p> + +<p>He had passed out of sight behind some trees, but as she turned she +heard a footfall in the wood close at hand, and almost simultaneously a +man emerged carrying a gun.</p> + +<p>He stopped at sight of her, and on the instant Doris made a swift +movement of recognition.</p> + +<p>"Why Hugh!" she said.</p> + +<p>He came straight to her, with hand outstretched. "My dear, dear girl!" +he said.</p> + +<p>Her hand lay in his, held in a clasp such as Hugh Chesyl had never +before given her, and then all in a moment she withdrew it.</p> + +<p>"Why, where have you come from?" she said, with a little nervous laugh.</p> + +<p>His eyes looked straight down to hers. "I've been yachting," he said, +"along Argyll and Skye. I didn't know till the day before yesterday +about the poor old Colonel. I came straight back directly I knew, got +here this morning, but heard that you had gone to town. I was going to +follow you straightway, but the squire wouldn't hear of it. You know +what he is. So I had to compromise and spend on<a name="Page_257" id="Page_257"></a>e night with him. By +Jove! it's a bit of luck finding you here. I'm pleased, Doris, jolly +pleased. I've been worried to death about you—never moved so fast in my +life."</p> + +<p>"Haven't you?" said Doris; she was still smiling a small, tired smile. +"But why? I don't see."</p> + +<p>"Don't you?" said Hugh. "How shall I explain? You have got such a rooted +impression of me as a slacker that I am half afraid of taking your +breath away."</p> + +<p>She laughed again, not very steadily. "Oh, are you turning over a new +leaf? I am delighted to hear it."</p> + +<p>He smiled also, his eyes upon hers. "Well, I am, in a way. It's come to +me lately that I've been an utter ass all this time. I expect you've +been thinking the same, haven't you?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't think so," said Doris.</p> + +<p>"No? That's nice of you," said Hugh. "But it's the truth nevertheless. I +haven't studied the art of expressing myself properly. I can't do it +even yet. But it occurred to me—it just occurred to me—that perhaps<a name="Page_258" id="Page_258"></a> +I'd never succeeded in making you understand how awfully badly I want to +marry you. I think I never told you so. I always somehow took it for +granted that you knew. But now—especially now, Doris, when you're in +trouble—I want you more than ever. Even if you can't love me as I love +you—"</p> + +<p>He stopped, for she had flung out her hands with an almost agonized +gesture, and her eyes implored him though she spoke no word.</p> + +<p>"Won't you listen to me just this once—just this once?" he pleaded. "My +dear, I love you so. I love you enough for both if you'll only marry +me, and give me the chance of making you happy."</p> + +<p>An unwonted note of feeling sounded in his voice. He stretched out his +hand to her.</p> + +<p>"Doris, darling, won't you change your mind? I'm miserable without you."</p> + +<p>And then very suddenly Doris found her voice. She spoke with breathless +entreaty. "Hugh, don't—don't! I can't listen to you. I married Jeff +Ironside this morning."</p> + +<p>His hand fell. He stared at her as if he thought her mad. +"You—married—Jeff Ironside! I don't believe it!"</p> + +<p>She clenched her hands tightly to still her agitation. "But it's true," +she said.</p> +<p><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259"></a></p> +<p>"Doris!" he said.</p> + +<p>She nodded vehemently, keeping her eyes on his. "It's true," she said +again.</p> + +<p>He straightened himself up with the instinctive movement of a man +bracing himself to meet a sudden strain. "But why? How? I didn't even +know you knew the man."</p> + +<p>She nodded again. "He helped me once when I was out cubbing, and I went +to his house. After that—when he heard that I had nothing to live +on—he came and asked me if I would marry him. And I was very miserable +because nobody wanted me. So I said 'Yes.'"</p> + +<p>Her voice sank. Her lips were quivering.</p> + +<p>"I wanted you," Hugh said.</p> + +<p>She was silent.</p> + +<p>He bent slowly towards her, looking into her eyes. "My dear, didn't you +really know—didn't you understand?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head; her eyes were suddenly full of tears. "No, Hugh."</p> + +<p>He held out his hand again and took hers. "Don't cry, Doris! You haven't +lost much. I shall get over it somehow. I know you never cared for me."</p> + +<p>She bent her head with some murmured words he could not catch.</p><p><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260"></a></p> + +<p>He leaned nearer. "What, dear, what? You never did, did you?"</p> + +<p>He waited for her answer, and at last through tears it came. "I've been +struggling so hard, so hard, to keep myself from caring."</p> + +<p>He was silent a moment, and again it was as if he were collecting his +strength for that which had to be endured. Then slowly: "You thought I +wasn't in earnest?" he said. "You thought I didn't care enough?"</p> + +<p>She did not answer him in words; her silence was enough.</p> + +<p>"God forgive me!" whispered Hugh....</p> + +<p>There came the thud of horses' hoofs upon the grass, and his hand +relinquished hers. He turned to see Jeff Ironside barely ten paces away, +leading the two animals. Very pale but wholly collected, Hugh moved to +meet him.</p> + +<p>"I have just been hearing about your marriage, Ironside," he said. "May +I congratulate you?"</p> + +<p>Jeff's eyes, with the red sunlight turning them to a ruddy brown, met +his with absolute directness as he made brief response. "You are very +kind."</p> + +<p>"Doris and I are old friends," said Hugh.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know," said Jeff.</p> +<p><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261"></a></p> +<p>Spasmodically Doris turned and joined the two men. "We hope Mr. Chesyl +will come and see us sometimes, don't we, Jeff?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said Jeff, "when he has nothing better to do."</p> + +<p>She turned to Hugh with a bright little smile. Her tears were wholly +gone, and he marvelled. "I hope that will be often, Hugh," she said.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," Hugh said gravely. "Thank you very much." He added, after a +moment, to Jeff: "I shall probably be down here a good deal now. The +squire is beginning to feel his age. In fact, he wants me to make my +home with him. I don't propose to do that entirely, but I can't leave +him alone for long at a time."</p> + +<p>"I see," said Jeff. He glanced towards Doris. "Shall we start back?" he +said.</p> + +<p>Hugh propped his gun against a tree, and stepped forward to mount her. +"So you still have Hector," he said.</p> + +<p>"Jeff's wedding present," she answered, still smiling.</p> + +<p>Lightly she mounted, and for a single moment he felt her passing touch +upon his shoulder. Then Hector moved away, stepping proudly. Jeff was +already in the saddle.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye!" said Doris, looking back to him. "Don't forget to come and +see us!"</p> + +<p>She was gone.</p> + +<p>Hugh Chesyl turned with the sun-rays dazzling him, and groped for his +gun.</p> + +<p>He found it, shouldered it, and strode away down the woodland path. His +face as he went was the face of a man suddenly awakened to the stress +and the turmoil of life.</p><p><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER VIII</h3> + +<h4>THE NEW LIFE</h4> + + +<p>There was no doubt about it. Granny Grimshaw was not satisfied. Deeper +furrows were beginning to appear in her already deeply furrowed face. +She shook her head very often with pursed lips when she was alone. And +this despite the fact that she and the young mistress of the Mill House +were always upon excellent terms. No difficulties ever arose between +them. Doris showed not the smallest disposition to usurp the old +housekeeper's authority. Possibly Granny Grimshaw would have been better +pleased if she had. She spent much of her time out-of-doors, and when in +the house she was generally to be found in the little sitting-room that +Jeff had fitted up for her.</p> + +<p>She had her meals in the parlour with Jeff, and these were the sole +occasions on which they were alone together. If Doris could have had her +way, Granny Grimshaw would have been present at these also, but on this +point the old woman showed herself determined, not to say obstinate. She +maintained that her place was the kitchen, and that her presence was +absolutely necessary there, a point of view which no argument of +Doris's could persuade her to relinquish.</p> + +<p>So she and Jeff breakfasted, dined, and supped in solitude, and though +Doris became gradually accustomed to these somewhat silent meals, she +never enjoyed them. Of difficult moments there were actually very few.<a name="Page_263" id="Page_263"></a> +They mutually avoided any but the most general subjects for +conversation. But of intimacy between them there was none. Jeff had +apparently drawn a very distinct boundary-line which he never permitted +himself to cross. He never intruded upon her. He never encroached upon +the friendship she shyly proffered. Once when she somewhat hesitatingly +suggested that he should come to her sitting-room for a little after +supper he refused, not churlishly, but very decidedly.</p> + +<p>"I like to have my pipe and go to bed," he said.</p> + +<p>"But you can bring your pipe, too," she said.</p> + +<p>"No, thanks," said Jeff. "I always smoke in the kitchen or on the step."</p> + +<p>She said no more, but went up to her room, and presently Jeff, moodily +puffing at his briar in the porch, heard the notes of her piano +overhead. She played softly for some little time, and Jeff's pipe went +out before it was finished—a most rare occurrence with him.</p> + +<p>Only when the piano ceased did he awake to the fact, and then +half-savagely he knocked out its half-consumed contents and turned +inwards.</p> + +<p>He found Granny Grimshaw standing in the passage in a listening +attitude, and paused to bid her good-night.</p> + +<p>"Be you going to bed, Master Jeff?" she said. "My dear, did you ever +hear the like? She plays like an angel."</p> + +<p>He smiled somewhat grimly, without replying.</p> + +<p>The old woman came very close to him. "Master Jeff, why don't you go and +make love to her? Don't you know she's waiting for you?"</p> +<p><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264"></a></p> +<p>"Is she?" said Jeff, but he said it in the tone of one who does not +require an answer, and with the words very abruptly he passed her by.</p> + +<p>Granny Grimshaw shook her head and sighed, "Ah, dear!" after his +retreating form.</p> + +<p>It was a few days after this that a letter came for Doris, one morning, +bearing the Squire's crest. Her husband handed it to her at the +breakfast-table, and she received it with a flush. After a moment, +seeing him occupied with a newspaper, she opened it.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Dear Doris," it said. "You asked me to come and see you, but I +have not done so as I was not sure if, after all, you meant me +to take the invitation literally. We have b<a name="Page_265" id="Page_265"></a>een friends for so +long that I feel constrained to speak openly. For myself, I only +ask to go on being your friend, and to serve you in any way +possible. But perhaps I can serve you best by keeping away from +you. If so, then I will do even that.—Yours ever,</p> + +<p>"Hugh."</p></div> + +<p>Something within moved Doris to raise her eyes suddenly, and instantly +she encountered Jeff's fixed upon her. The flush in her cheeks deepened +burningly. With an effort she spoke:</p> + +<p>"Hugh Chesyl wants to know if he may come to see us."</p> + +<p>"I thought you asked him," said Jeff.</p> + +<p>A little quiver of resentment went through her; she could not have said +wherefore. "He was not sure if I meant it," she said.</p> + +<p>There was an instant's silence; then Jeff did an extraordinary thing. He +stretched out his hand across the table, keeping his eyes on hers.</p><p><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266"></a></p> + +<p>"Let me have his letter to answer!" he said.</p> + +<p>She made a sharp instinctive movement of withdrawal. "Oh, no!" she said. +"No!"</p> + +<p>Jeff said nothing; but his face hardened somewhat, and his hand remained +outstretched.</p> + +<p>Doris's grey eyes gleamed. "No, Jeff!" she repeated, more calmly, and +with the words she slipped Hugh's envelope into the bosom of her dress. +"I can't give you my letters to answer indeed."</p> + +<p>Jeff withdrew his hand, and began to eat his breakfast in utter silence.</p> + +<p>Doris played with hers until the silence became intolerable, and then, +very suddenly and very winningly, she leaned towards him.</p> + +<p>"Dear Jeff, surely you are not vexed!" she said.</p> + +<p>He looked at her again, and in spite of herself she felt her heart +quicken.</p> + +<p>"Are you, Jeff?" she said, and held out her hand to him.</p> + +<p>For a moment he sat motionless, then abruptly he grasped the hand.</p> + +<p>"May I say what I think?" he asked her bluntly.</p> +<p><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267"></a></p> +<p>"Of course," she said.</p> + +<p>"Then I think from all points of view that you had better leave Chesyl +alone," he said.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" Quickly she asked the question; the colour flamed in +her face once more. "Tell my why you think that!" she said.</p> + +<p>"I would rather not," said Jeff.</p> + +<p>"But that is not fair of you, Jeff," she protested.</p> + +<p>He released her hand slowly. "I am sorry," he said. "If I were more to +you, I would say more. As it is—well, I would rather not."</p> + +<p>She rose impetuously. "You are very—difficult," she said.</p> + +<p>To which he made answer with that silence which was to her more +difficult than speech.</p> + +<p>Yet later, when she was alone, her sense of justice made her admit that +he had not been altogether unreasonable. She recalled the fact that he +had overheard that leisurely proposal of marriage that Hugh had made her +in the cornfield on the occasion of their first meeting, and her face +burned afresh as she remembered certain other items of that same +conversation that he must also have overheard. No, on the whole it was +not surprising that he did not greatly care for Hugh—poor Hugh, who +loved her and had so narrowly missed winning her for himself. She +wondered if Hugh were really very miserable. She herself had passed +through so many stages of misery since her wedding-day. But she had +sufficient knowledge of herself to realize that it was the loneliness +and lack of sympathy that weighed upon her most.</p><p><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268"></a></p> + +<p>Her feeling for Hugh was still an undeveloped quantity, though the +certainty of his love for her had quickened it to keener life. She was +not even yet absolutely certain that he could have satisfied her. It was +true that he had been deeply stirred for the moment, but how deeply and +how lastingly she had no means of gauging. Knowing the indolence of his +nature, she was inclined to mistrust the permanence of his feeling. And +so resolutely had she restrained her own feeling for him during the +whole length of their acquaintance that she was able still to keep it +within bounds. She knew that the sympathy between them was fundamental +in character, but she had often suspected—in her calmer moments she +suspected still—that it was of the kind that engenders friendship +rather than passion.</p> + +<p>But even so, his friendship was essentially precious to her, all the +more so for the daily loneliness of spirit that she found herself +compelled to endure. For—with this one exception—she was practically +friendless. She had known that in marrying Jeff Ironside she was +relinquishing her own circle entirely. But she had imagined that there +would be compensations. Moreover, so far as society was concerned, she +had not had any choice. It had been this or exile. And she had chosen +this.</p> + +<p>Wherefore? Simply and solely because Jeff, of all she knew, had wanted +her.</p> + +<p>Again that curious little tremor went through her. Had he wanted her so +very badly after all? Not once since their wedding-day had he made any +friendly overture or responded to any overture of hers. They were as +completely strangers now as they had been on the day he had proposed to +her.</p> + +<p>A sharp little sigh came from her. She had not thought somehow that Jeff +would be so difficult. He had told her that he loved her. She had +counted on that for the foundation of their friendship, but no structure +had she succeeded in raising thereon. He asked nothing of her, and, save<a name="Page_269" id="Page_269"></a> +for material comforts, he bestowed nothing in return. True, it was what +she had bargained for. But yet it did not satisfy her. She was not at +her ease with him, and she began to think she never would be.</p> + +<p>As to Hugh, she hardly knew how to proceed; but she finally wrote him a +friendly note, concurring with his suggestion that they should not meet +again for a little while—"only for a little while, Hugh," she added, +almost in spite of herself, "for I can't afford to lose a friend like +you."</p> + +<p>And she did not guess how the heart-cry of her loneliness echoed through +the words.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER IX</h3> + +<h4>THE WAY TO BE HAPPY</h4> + + +<p>It was not until the week before Christmas that Doris saw Hugh again. +They met in the hunting-field. It was the first hunt she had attended +since her marriage, and she went to it alone.</p> + +<p>The meet was some distance away, and she arrived after the start, +joining the ranks of the riders as they waited outside a copse which the +hounds were drawing.</p> + +<p>The day was chill and grey. She did not altogether know why she went, +save that the loneliness at the Mill House seemed to become daily harder +to bear, and the longing to escape it, if only for a few hours, was not +to be denied.</p><p><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270"></a></p> + +<p>She was scarcely in a sporting mood, and the sight of old acquaintances, +though they greeted her kindly enough, did not tend to raise her +spirits.</p> + +<p>The terrible conviction had begun to grow upon her of late that she had +committed a great mistake that no effort of hers could ever remedy, and +the thought of it weighed her down perpetually night and day.</p> + +<p>But the sight of Hugh as he came to her along the edge of the wood was +a welcome one. She greeted him almost with eagerness, and the friendly +grasp of his hand sent warmth to her lonely young heart.</p> + +<p>"I am very glad to see you following the hounds," Hugh said. "Are you +alone?"</p> + +<p>"Quite alone," she said, feeling a lump rise in her throat.</p> + +<p>"Then you'll let me take care of you," he said, with a friendly smile.</p> + +<p>And she could but smile and thank him.</p> + +<p>It was not a particularly satisfactory day from a fox-hunting point of +view. The weather did not improve, and the scent was misleading. They<a name="Page_271" id="Page_271"></a> +found and lost, found and lost again, and a cold drizzle setting in with +the afternoon effectually cooled the ardour of even the most +enthusiastic.</p> + +<p>Yet Doris enjoyed herself. She and Hugh ate their lunch together under +some dripping trees, and they managed to make merry over it in spite of +the fact that both were fairly wet through. He made her share the sherry +in his flask, laughing down all protests, treating her with the absolute +ease that had always characterized their friendship. It was such a day +as Doris had often spent in his company, and the return to the old +genial atmosphere was like the sweetness of a spring day in the midst of +winter.</p> + +<p>It was he who at length suggested the advisability of returning home. +"I'm sure you ought to get back and change," he said. "It'll be getting +dark in another hour."</p> + +<p>Her face fell, "I have enjoyed it," she said regretfully.</p> + +<p>"You'll come again," said Hugh. "They are meeting at Kendal's Corner on +Christmas Eve. I shall look out for you."</p> + +<p>She smiled. "Very well, I'll be there. Thank you for giving me such a +good time, Hugh."</p> + +<p>"My dear girl!" said Hugh.</p> + +<p>They rode back together through a driving drizzle, and, as Hugh had +predicted, the early dusk had fallen before they reached the mill. The +roar of the water sounded indescribably desolate as they drew near, and +Doris gave a sharp, involuntary shiver.</p> + +<p>It was then that Hugh drew close to her and s<a name="Page_272" id="Page_272"></a>tretched out a hand in the +growing darkness. "Doris!" he said softly.</p> + +<p>She put her own into it swiftly, impulsively. "Oh, Hugh!" she said with +a sob.</p> + +<p>"Don't!" said Hugh gently. "Stick to it, dear! I think you won't be +sorry in the end. I believe he's a good chap. Give him all you can! It's +the only way to be happy."</p> + +<p>Her fingers tightened convulsively upon his. She spoke no word.</p> + +<p>"Don't, dear!" he said again very earnestly. "It's such a mistake. +Honestly, I don't think you've anything to be sorry for. So don't let +yourself be faint-hearted! I know he's not a bad sort."</p> + +<p>"He's very good," whispered Doris.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's just it," said Hugh. "So don't be afraid of giving! You'll +never regret it. No one could help loving you, Doris. Remember that, +dear, when you're feeling down! You're just the sweetest woman in the +world, and the man who couldn't worship you would be a hopeless fool."</p> + +<p>They were passing over the bridge that spanned the stream. The road was +narrow, and their horses moved side by side. They went over it with +hands locked.</p> +<p><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273"></a></p> +<p>They were nearing the house when Doris reined in. "Good-bye, dear Hugh!" +she said. "You're the truest friend any woman ever had."</p> + +<p>He reined in also. They stood in the deep shadow of some trees close to +the gate that led into the Mill House garden. The roar of the water was +all about them. They seemed to be isolated from all the world. And so +Hugh Chesyl, being moved beyond his wont, lifted the hand that lay so +confidingly in his, and kissed it with all reverence.</p> + +<p>"I want you to be happy," he said.</p> + +<p>A moment later they parted without further words on either side, he to +retrace his steps across the bridge, she to turn wearily in at the iron +gate under the dripping trees that led to the Mill House porch.</p> + +<p>She heard a man's step in front of her as she went, and at the porch she +found her husband.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jeff!" she said, slightly startled. "I didn't know it was you."</p> + +<p>"I've been looking out for you for some time," he said. "You must be +very wet."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's rained nearly all day, hasn't it? We didn't have much sport, +but I enjoyed it." Doris slid down into the hands he held up to her. +"Why, you are wet too," she said. "Hadn't you better change?"</p> + +<p>"I'll take the horse round first," he said. "Won't you go in?"</p> + +<p>She went in with a feeling of deep depression. Jeff's armour of reserve +seemed impenetrable. With lagging feet she climbed the stairs and +entered her sitting-room.</p><p><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274"></a></p> + +<p>A bright fire was burning there, and the lamp was alight. A little +thrill of purely physical pleasure went through her at the sight. She +paused to take off her hat, then went forward and stooped to warm her +hands at the blaze.</p> + +<p>She was certainly very tired. The arm-chair by the hearth was invitingly +near. She sank into it with a sigh and closed her eyes.</p> + +<p>It must have been ten minutes later that the door, which she had left +ajar, was pushed open, and Jeff stood on the threshold.</p> + +<p>He was carrying a steaming cup of milk. A moment he paused as if on the +verge of asking admittance; then as his eyes fell upon the slight young +figure sunk in the chair, he closed his lips and came forward in +silence.</p> + +<p>A few seconds later, Doris opened her eyes with a start at the touch of +his hand on her shoulder.</p> + +<p>She sat up sharply. "Oh, Jeff, how you startled me!"</p> + +<p>It was the first time she had ever seen him in her little sitting-room, +though she had more than once invited him thither. His presence at that +moment was for some reason peculiarly disconcerting.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry," he said, in his slow way. "The door was half open, and I +saw you were asleep. I don't think you are wise to sit down in your wet +clothes. I have brought you some milk and brandy."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I never take brandy," she said, collecting herself with a +little smile and rising. "It's very kind of you, Jeff. But I can't drink +it, really. It would go straight to my head."</p><p><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275"></a></p> + +<p>"You must drink it," said Jeff.</p> + +<p>He presented it to her with the words, but Doris backed away +half-laughing.</p> + +<p>"No, really, Jeff! I'll go and have a hot bath. That will do quite as +well."</p> + +<p>"You must drink this first," said Jeff.</p> + +<p>There was a dogged note in his voice, and at sound of it Doris's brows +went up, and her smile passed.</p> + +<p>"I mean it," said Jeff, setting cup and saucer on the table before her. +"I can't run the risk of having you laid up. Drink it now, before it +gets cold!"</p> + +<p>A little gleam of mutiny shone in Doris's eyes. "My dear Jeff," she said +very decidedly. "I have told you already that I do not drink brandy. I +am going to have a hot bath and change, and after that I will have some +tea. But I draw the line at hot grog. So, please, take it away! Give it +to Granny Grimshaw! It would do her more good."</p> + +<p>She smiled again suddenly and winningly with the words. After all it was +absurd to be vexed over such a trifle.</p> + +<p>But, to her amazement, Jeff's face hardened. He stepped to her, and, as +if she had been a child, took her by the shoulders, and put her down<a name="Page_276" id="Page_276"></a> +into a chair by the table.</p> + +<p>"Doris," he said, and his voice sounded deep and stern above her head, +"I may not get much out of my bargain, but I think I may claim obedience +at least. There is not enough brandy there to hurt you, and I wish you +to take it."</p> + +<p>She stiffened at his action, as if she would actively resist; but she +only became rigid under his hands.</p> + +<p>There followed a tense and painful silence. Then without a word Doris +took the cup and raised it unsteadily to her lips. In the same moment +Jeff took his hands from her shoulders, straightened himself, and in +silence left the room.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER X</h3> + +<h4>CHRISTMAS EVE</h4> + + +<p>It was only a small episode, but it made an impression upon Doris that +she was slow to forget. It was not that she resented the assertion of +authority. She had the fairness to admit his right, but in a very subtle +fashion it hurt her. It made her feel more than ever the hollowness of +the bargain, to which he had made such grim allusion. It added, +moreover, to her uneasiness, making her suspect that he was fully as +dissatisfied as she. Yet, in face of the stony front he presented she +could not continue to proffer her friendship. He seemed to have no use +for it. He seemed, in fact, to avoid her, and the old shyness that had<a name="Page_277" id="Page_277"></a> +oppressed her in the beginning returned upon her fourfold. She admitted +to herself that she was becoming afraid of the man. The very sound of +his voice made her heart beat thick and hard, and each succeeding day +witnessed a diminishing of her confidence.</p> + +<p>Under these circumstances she withdrew more and more into her solitude, +and it was with something like dismay that she received the news from +Granny Grimshaw at the beginning of Christmas week that it was Jeff's +custom to entertain two or three of his farmer friends at supper on +Christmas Eve.</p> + +<p>"Only the menkind, my dear," said Granny Grimshaw consolingly. "And +they're easy enough to amuse, as all the world knows. Give 'em a good +feed, and they won't give any trouble. It's quite a job to get ready for +'em, that it is, but it's the only bit of entertaining he does all the +year round, so I don't grudge it."</p> + +<p>"You must let me help you," Doris said.</p> + +<p>And help she did, protest notwithstanding, so that Jeff, returning from +his work in the middle of the day, was surprised to find her flushed and +animated in the kitchen, clad in one of Granny Grimshaw's aprons, +rolling out pastry with the ready deftness of a practised pastry-cook.</p> + +<p>There was no dismay in her greeting of him, and only she knew of that +sudden quickening of the heart that invariably followed his appearance.</p> + +<p>"You didn't tell me about your Christmas party, Jeff," she said. "Granny +and I are going to give you a big spread. I hope you will invite me to +the feast."</p> + +<p>Jeff's dark face flushed a little as he made reply. "I'm afraid you<a name="Page_278" id="Page_278"></a> +wouldn't enjoy it much."</p> + +<p>"But you haven't introduced me to any of your friends yet," she +protested. "I should like to meet them."</p> + +<p>"I'm not so sure of that," said Jeff.</p> + +<p>She looked up at him for a moment. "Don't you think that's rather a +mistake?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Why?" said Jeff.</p> + +<p>With something of an effort she explained. "To take it for granted that +I shall look down on them. I don't want to look down on them, Jeff."</p> + +<p>"It isn't that," said Jeff curtly. "But they're not your sort. They +don't talk your language. I'm not sure that I want you to meet them."</p> + +<p>"But you can't keep me away from everyone, can you?" she said gently.</p> + +<p>He did not answer her, and she returned to her pastry-making in silence.</p> + +<p>But evidently her words had made some impression, for that evening when +she rose from the supper table to bid him a formal good-night, he very +abruptly reverted to the subject.</p> + +<p>"If you really think you can stand the racket on Christmas Eve, I hope +you will join the party. There will be only<a name="Page_279" id="Page_279"></a> four or five besides myself. +I have never invited the womenkind."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps by next Christmas I shall have got to know them a little," said +Doris, "and then we can invite them too. Thank you for asking me, Jeff. +I'll come."</p> + +<p>But yet she viewed the prospect with considerable misgiving, and would +have thankfully foregone the ordeal, if she had not felt constrained to +face it.</p> + +<p>The preparations went forward under Granny Grimshaw's guidance without a +hitch, but they were kept busy up to the last moment, and on the day +before Christmas Eve Doris scribbled a hasty note to Hugh Chesyl, +excusing herself from attending the meet.</p> + +<p>It was the only thing to be done, for she could not let him expect her +in vain, but she regretted it later when at the breakfast-table the +following day her husband silently handed to her Hugh's reply.</p> + +<p>Hugh had written to convey his good wishes for Christmas, and this she +explained to Jeff; but he received her explanation in utter silence, and<a name="Page_280" id="Page_280"></a> +she forthwith abandoned the subject. A smouldering resentment began to +burn within her. What right had he to treat Hugh's friendship with her +as a thing to be ashamed of? She longed to ask him, but would not risk +an open rupture. She knew that if she gave her indignation rein she +would not be able to control it.</p> + +<p>So the matter passed, and she slipped Hugh's note into her bosom with a +sense of outraged pride that went with her throughout the day. It was +still present with her like an evil spirit when she went to her room to +dress.</p> + +<p>She had not much time at her disposal, and she slipped into her black +evening gown with a passing wonder as to how Jeff's friends would be +attired. Descending again, she found Jim Dawlish fixing a piece of +mistletoe over the parlour door, and smiled at his occupation.</p> + +<p>He smiled at her in a fashion that sent the blood suddenly and hotly to +her face, and she passed on to the kitchen, erect and quivering with +anger.</p> + +<p>"Lor', my dearie, what a pretty picture you be, to be sure!" was Granny +Grimshaw's greeting, and again a tremor of misgiving went through the +girl's heart. Had she made herself too pretty for the occasion?</p> + +<p>She mustered spirit, however, to laugh at the compliment, and busied +herself with the final arrangements.</p> + +<p>Jeff appeared a few minutes later, clad in black but not in evening +dress. His eyes dwelt upon his wife for a moment or two before he +addressed her.</p> + +<p>"Do you mind being in the parlour when they come in?"</p><p><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281"></a></p> + +<p>She looked up at him with a smile which she knew to be forced. "Are you +sure I shan't be one too many, Jeff?"</p> + +<p>"Quite," said Jeff.</p> + +<p>There was no appealing against that, and she accompanied him without +further words.</p> + +<p>Jim Dawlish was standing by the parlour door, admiring his handiwork. He +nudged Jeff as he went by, and was rewarded by Jeff's heaviest scowl.</p> + +<p>A minute later, to Doris's mingled relief and dread, came the sounds of +the first arrival.</p> + +<p>This proved to be a Mr. Griggs and his son, a horsey young man, whom she +vaguely knew by sight, having encountered him when following the hounds. +Mr. Griggs was a jolly old farmer, with a somewhat convivial +countenance. He shook her warmly by the hand, and asked her how she +liked being married.</p> + +<p>Doris was endeavouring to reply to this difficult question as airily as +possible, when three more of Jeff's friends made their appearance, and +were brought up by Jeff in a group for introduction, thereby relieving +her of the obligation.</p> + +<p>The party was now complete, and they all sat down to supper in varying +degrees of shyness. Doris worked hard to play her part as hostess, but +it was certainly no light task. Two of the last-comers were brothers of +the name of Chubb, and from neither of these could she extract more than +one word at a time. The third, Farmer Locke, was of the aggressive, +bulldog type, and he very speedily asserted himself. He seemed, indeed,<a name="Page_282" id="Page_282"></a> +somewhat inclined to browbeat her, loudly arguing her slightest remark +after a fashion which she found decidedly exasperating, but presently +discovered to be his invariable habit with everyone. He flatly +contradicted even Jeff, but she was pleased to hear Jeff bluntly hold +his own, and secretly admired him for the achievement.</p> + +<p>On the whole, the meal was not quite so much of an ordeal as she had +anticipated, and she was just beginning to congratulate herself upon +this fact when she discovered that young Griggs was ogling her with most +unmistakable familiarity whenever she glanced his way. She at once cut +him pointedly and with supreme disdain, only to find his father, who +was seated on her right, doing exactly the same thing.</p> + +<p>Furious indignation entered her sore soul at this second discovery, and +from the smiling, genial hostess she froze into a marble statue of +aloofness. But tongues were loosened somewhat by that time, and her +change of attitude did not apparently affect the guests.</p> + +<p>Mr. Locke continued his aggressive course, and the brothers Chubb were +emboldened to take it by turns to oppose him, while old Griggs drank +deeply and smacked his lips, and young Griggs told Jeff anecdotes in an +undertone which he interspersed with bold glances in the direction of +his stony-faced young hostess.</p> + +<p>The appearance of Jim Dawlish carrying a steaming bowl of punch seemed +to Doris at length the signal for departure, and she rose from the +table.</p><p><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283"></a></p> + +<p>Jeff instantly rose at the farther end, and she divined that he had no +wish to detain her. Mr. Griggs the elder, on the other hand, was loud in +protest.</p> + +<p>"We haven't drunk your health yet, missis," he said.</p> + +<p>She forced herself to smile. "That is very kind of you. I am sure Jeff +will return thanks for me."</p> + +<p>She made it evident that she had no intention of remaining, protest +notwithstanding, so Mr. Griggs arose and turned to open the door, still +loudly deploring her departure. Young Griggs was already there, +however. He leered at her as she approached him, and it occurred to her +that he was not very steady on his legs. She prepared him an icy bow, +which she was in the very act of executing when he made a sudden lurch +forward, and caught her round the waist. She heard him laugh with coarse +mirth, and had a glimpse of the bunch of mistletoe dangling above their +heads ere she fiercely pushed him from her into the passage.</p> + +<p>The next instant Jeff was beside her, and she turned and clung to him in +desperation.</p> + +<p>"Jeff, don't let him!" she cried.</p> + +<p>Jeff stretched out an arm to keep the young man back. A roar of laughter +rose from the remaining guests.</p> + +<p>"Kiss her yourself then, Jeff!" cried old Griggs, hammering on the +table. "You've got her under the mistletoe."</p> + +<p>"He daren't!" said Jim Dawlish, with a wink.</p><p><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284"></a></p> + +<p>"Afraid to kiss his own wife!" gibed Locke, and the Chubb brothers +laughed in uproarious appreciation of the sally.</p> + +<p>It was then that Doris became aware of a change in Jeff. The arm he had +stretched out for her protection suddenly encircled her. He bent his +face to hers.</p> + +<p>"They shan't say that!" he muttered under his breath.</p> + +<p>She divined his intention in an instant, and a wild flame of anger shot +up within her. This was how he treated her confidence! She made a swift +effort to wrench herself from him, then, feeling his arm tighten to +frustrate her, she struck him across the face in frantic indignation.</p> + +<p>Again a roar of laughter arose behind them, and then very suddenly she +forgot everyone in the world but Jeff, for it was as if at that blow of +hers an evil spirit had taken swift possession of him. He gripped her +hands with savage strength, forcing them behind her, and so holding her, +with eyes that seared her soul, he kissed her passionately, violently, +devouringly, on face and neck and throat, sparing her not a whit, till +in an agony of helpless shame she sank powerless in his arms.</p> + +<p>She heard again the jeering laughter in the room behind her, but between +herself and Jeff there was a terrible silence, till abruptly he set her<a name="Page_285" id="Page_285"></a> +free, saying curtly, "You brought it on yourself. Now go!"</p> + +<p>Her knees were shaking under her. She was burning from head to foot, as +though she had been wrapped in flame. But with an effort she controlled +herself.</p> + +<p>She went in utter silence, feeling as if her heart were dead within her, +mounted the stairs with growing weakness, found and fumbled at her own +door, entered at last, and sank inert upon the floor.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER XI</h3> + +<h4>CHRISTMAS MORNING</h4> + + +<p>Christmas morning broke with a sprinkle of snow, and an icy wind that +blew from the north, promising a heavier fall ere the day was over.</p> + +<p>Jeff was late in descending, and he saw that the door of Doris's room +was open as he passed. He glanced in, saw that the room was empty, and +entered to lay a packet that he carried on her dressing-table. As he did +so, his eyes fell upon an envelope lying there, and that single glance +revealed the fact that it was addressed to him.</p> + +<p>He picked it up, and, turning, cast a searching look around the room. +Across the end of the great four-poster bed hung the black lace gown she<a name="Page_286" id="Page_286"></a> +had worn the previous evening, but the bed itself was undisturbed. He +saw in a moment that it had not been slept in. Sharply he turned to the +envelope in his hand, and ripped it open. Something bright rolled out +upon the floor. He stopped it with his foot. It was her wedding-ring.</p> + +<p>An awful look showed for a moment in Jeff's eyes and passed. He stooped +and picked up the ring; then, with a species of deadly composure more +terrible than any agitation, he took out the letter that the envelope +contained.</p> + +<p>It was very short—the first letter that she had ever written to him.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Dear Jeff," it ran, "after what happened last night, I do not +think you will be surprised to hear that I feel I cannot stay +any longer under your roof. I have tried to be friends with you, +but you would not have it so, and now it has become quite +impossible for me to go on. I am leaving for town by the first +train I can catch. I am going to work for my living, and some +day I shall hope to make good to you all that I know you have +spent on my comfort.</p> + +<p>"Please do not imagine I am going in anger. I blame myself more +than I blame you. I never ought to have married you, knowing +that I did not love you in the ordinary way. But this is the +only course open to me now. So good-bye!</p> + +<p>"Doris."</p></div> + +<p>Jeff Ironside looked up from the letter, and out across the grey +meadows. His face was pale, the square jaw absolutely rigid; but there<a name="Page_287" id="Page_287"></a> +was no anger in his eyes, only the iron of an implacable determination. +For several seconds he watched the feathery snowflakes drifting over the +fields; then, with absolute steadiness, he returned both letter and ring +to the envelope, placed them in his pocket, and, turning, left the room.</p> + +<p>Granny Grimshaw met him at the foot of the stairs. "Oh, Master Jeff," +she said, "I am that worried. We can't find Mrs. Ironside."</p> + +<p>Jeff paused an instant and turned his grim face to her. "It's all right, +Granny. I know where she is," he said. "Keep the breakfast hot!"</p> + +<p>And with that he was gone.</p> + +<p>He drove out of the yard a few minutes later in his dog-cart, muffled in +a great coat with the collar up to his ears.</p> + +<p>At the station, Doris sat huddled in a corner of the little waiting-room +counting the dreary minutes as she waited for her train. No one beside +herself was going by it.</p> + +<p>She had walked across the fields, and had made a <i>détour</i> to leave a +note at the Manor for Hugh. She could not leave Hugh in ignorance of her +action.</p> + +<p>She glanced nervously at the watch on her wrist. Yes, Jeff probably knew +by this time. How was he taking it? Was he ve<a name="Page_288" id="Page_288"></a>ry angry? But surely even +he must see how impossible he had made her life with him.</p> + +<p>Restlessly she arose and went to the window. It had begun to snow in +earnest. The road was all blurred and grey with the falling flakes. She +shivered again. Her feet were like ice. Very oddly her thoughts turned +to that day in September when Jeff had knelt before her and drawn off +her muddy boots before the great open fire. A great sigh welled up +within her and her eyes filled with quick tears. If only he would have +consented to be her friend. She was so lonely—so lonely!</p> + +<p>There came the sound of wheels along the road, and she turned away. +Evidently someone else was coming for the train. A little tremor of +impatience went through her. Would the train never come?</p> + +<p>The wheels stopped before the station door. Someone descended, and there +followed the sound of a man's feet approaching her retreat. A hand was +laid upon the door, and she braced herself to meet a possible +acquaintance. It opened, and she glanced up.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jeff!" she said.</p> + +<p>He shut the door behind him and came forward. His face was set in +dogged, unyielding lines.</p><p><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289"></a></p> + +<p>"I have come to take you back," he said.</p> + +<p>She drew sharply away from him. This was the last thing she had +expected.</p> + +<p>Desperately she faced him. "I can't come with you, Jeff," she said. "My +mind is quite made up. I am very sorry for everything, especially sorry +that you have taken the trouble to follow me. But my decision is quite +unalterable."</p> + +<p>Her breath came fast as she ended. Her heart was throbbing in thick, +heavy strokes. There was something so implacable in his attitude.</p> + +<p>He did not speak at once, and she stood before him, striving with all +her strength to still her agitation. Then quite calmly he stood back and +motioned her to pass him. "Whatever you decide to do afterwards," he +said, "you must come back with me now. We had better start at once +before it gets worse."</p> + +<p>A quiver of anger went through her; it was almost a sensation of hatred. +She remained motionless. "I refuse," she said in a low voice, her grey +eyes steadily raised to his.</p> + +<p>She saw his black brows meet, but he gave no sign of impatience. "And +I—insist," he said stubbornly.</p> + +<p>She felt the blood receding from her face. It was to be open conflict,<a name="Page_290" id="Page_290"></a> +then. She collected all her resolution to oppose him, for to yield at +that moment was out of the question.</p> + +<p>It was then, while she stood summoning her forces, that there came to +her ears the distant hum and throb of an approaching train. It was +coming at last. A porter ran past the window that looked upon the +platform, announcing its approach with a dismal yell. Doris straightened +and turned to go.</p> + +<p>Jeff turned also. An odd light sprang up in his gipsy eyes. He went +straight to the door ere she could reach it, locked it, and withdrew the +key.</p> + +<p>That fired Doris. Her composure went in a single instant. "Jeff," she +exclaimed, "how dare you?"</p> + +<p>He turned to the dingy window overlooking the line. "You compel me," he +said.</p> + +<p>She sank back impotent against the table. He stood staring grimly forth, +filling the window with his bulk.</p> + +<p>Nearer came the train and nearer. Doris felt the hot blood drumming in +her brain. Something that was very nearly akin to frenzy entered into +her. She stood up with sudden, fierce resolution.</p> + +<p>"Jeff," she said, "I will not be kept here against my will! Do you hear? +I will not! Give me that key!"</p><p><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291"></a></p> + +<p>He took no more notice of the command than if it had been the buzzing of +a fly. His attention apparently was caught by something outside. He +leaned forward, watching intently.</p> + +<p>Something in his attitude checked her wrath at its height. It was as +though a cold hand had been laid upon her heart. What was it he was +looking at? She felt she must know. As the train thundered into the +station she went to his side and looked forth also.</p> + +<p>The next moment, with a shock that was physical, she saw the object of +his interest. Hugh Chesyl, with a face of grave perturbation, was +standing on the platform, searching this way and that. It was evident +that he had but just arrived at the station, and in a flash she divined +the reason of his coming. Quite obviously he was looking for her.</p> + +<p>Sharply she withdrew herself from the window, and in the same moment +Jeff also turned. Their eyes met, and Doris caught her breath.</p> + +<p>For it was as if a sword had pierced her. In a single, blinding instant +of revelation she read his thought, and sheer horror held her silent +before him. She stood as one paralyzed.</p> + +<p>He did not utter a word, simply stood and looked at her, with eyes grown +devilish in their scrutiny. Then very suddenly and terribly he laughed, +and flung round upon his heel.</p> + +<p>In that instant Doris's powers returned to her, urged by appalling +necessity. She sprang forward, reached the door, set her back against +it, faced him with the wild courage of agonizing fear.</p> + +<p>"Jeff! Jeff!" she panted. "What are you going to do?"</p><p><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292"></a></p> + +<p>The train had come to a standstill. There was a commotion of voices and +running feet. Jeff, still with that awful look in his eyes, stood still.</p> + +<p>"You will miss your train," he said.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do?" she reiterated.</p> + +<p>He smiled—a grim, dreadful smile. "I am going to see you off. You can +go now. Your friend Chesyl can follow by the next train—when I have +done with him."</p> + +<p>He had the key in his hand. He stooped to insert it in the lock. But +swiftly she caught his wrist. "Jeff, stop—stop!" she gasped; and, as he +looked at her: "I'm not going away now!"</p> + +<p>He wrung his hand free. "You had better go—for your own sake!" he said.</p> + +<p>She flinched in spite of herself from the blazing menace of his eyes, +but again necessity spurred her. She stretched out her arms, barring his +way.</p> + +<p>"I won't! I can't! Jeff—Jeff—for Heaven's sake—Jeff!" Her voice +broke into wild entreaty. He had taken her roughly by the shoulders, +pulling her from his path. He would have put her from him, but she +snatched her opportunity and clung to him fast with all her quivering +strength.</p> + +<p>He stood still then, suddenly rigid. "I have warned you!" he said, in a +voice so deep with passion that her heart quailed and ceased to beat.</p> + +<p>"Let me go!"</p> + +<p>But she only tightened her trembling hold. "You shan't go, Jeff! You<a name="Page_293" id="Page_293"></a> +shan't insult Hugh Chesyl! He is a gentleman!"</p> + +<p>"Is he?" said Jeff, very bitterly.</p> + +<p>She could feel his every muscle strung and taut, ready for uncontrolled +violence. Yet still with her puny strength she held him, for she dared +not let him go.</p> + +<p>"Jeff, listen to me! You must listen! Hugh is my very good friend—no +more than that. He has come here to say 'Good-bye.' I left a note for +him on my way here, just to tell him I was going. He is my friend—only +my friend."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe you," said Jeff.</p> + +<p>She shrank as if he had struck her, but her hands still clutched his +coat. She attempted no further protestations, only stood with her white +face lifted and clear eyes fixed on his. The red fire that shone +fiercely back on her was powerless to subdue her steady regard, though +she felt as though it scorched her through and through.</p> + +<p>From the platform came the shriek of the guard's whistle. The train was +departing.</p> + +<p>Doris heard it go with a sick sense of despair. She knew that her +liberty went with it. As the last carriage passed she spoke again.</p><p><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294"></a></p> + +<p>"I will go back with you now."</p> + +<p>"If I will take you back," said Jeff.</p> + +<p>Her hands clenched upon his coat. An awful weakness had begun to assail +her. She fought against it desperately.</p> + +<p>Someone tried the handle of the door, pulled at it and desisted. She +caught her breath. Jeff's hand went out to open, but she shifted her +grasp, and again gripped his wrist.</p> + +<p>"Wait! Wait!" she whispered through her white lips.</p> + +<p>This time he did not shake her off. He stood with his eyes on hers and +waited.</p> + +<p>The man on the other side of the door, evidently concluding that the +waiting-room had not been opened that day, gave up the attempt and +passed on. With straining ears Doris listened to his departing +footsteps. A few seconds later she saw Jeff's eyes go to the farther +window. Her own followed them. Hugh Chesyl, clad in a long grey ulster, +was tramping away through the snow.</p> + +<p>He passed from sight, and Doris relaxed her hold. Her face was white and +spent. "Will you take me home?" she said faintly.</p> + +<p>Slowly Jeff's eyes came back to her, dwelt upon her. He must have seen +the exhaustion in her face, but his own showed no softening.</p> + +<p>He spoke at last sternly, with grim mastery. "If I take you back it must +be on a different footing. You tell me this man is no more to you than a +friend. I am even less. Do you think I will be satisfied with that?"</p> +<p><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295"></a></p> +<p>"I have tried to make you my friend," she said.</p> + +<p>"And you have failed," he said. "Shall I tell you why? Or can you +guess?"</p> + +<p>She was silent.</p> + +<p>He clenched his hands hard against his sides. "You know what happened +yesterday," he said. "It had nearly happened a hundred times before. I +kept it back till it got too strong for me. You dangled your friendship +before me till I was nearly mad with the want of you. You had better +have offered me nothing at all than that."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jeff!" she said.</p> + +<p>He went on, heedless of reproach. "It has come to this with me: +friendship, if it comes at all, must come after. You tell me Chesyl is +not your lover. Do you deny that he has ever made love to you?"</p> + +<p>"Since he knew of my marriage—never!" she said.</p> + +<p>"Yet you ride home with him in the dark hand in hand!" said Jeff.</p> + +<p>The colour flamed in her face and as swiftly died. "Hugh Chesyl is not +my lover," she said proudly.</p> + +<p>"And you expect me to believe you?" he said.</p> + +<p>"I do."</p> + +<p>He gazed at her without pity. "You will secure my belief in you," he +said, "only by coming to me as my wife."</p> +<p><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296"></a></p> +<p>A great shiver went through her. She stood silent.</p> + +<p>"As my wife," he repeated looking straight into her face with eyes that +compelled. She was trembling from head to foot. He waited a moment, +then: "You would sooner run away with Hugh Chesyl?" he asked very +bitterly.</p> + +<p>Sheer pain drove her into speech. "Oh, Jeff," she cried passionately, +"don't make me hate you!"</p> + +<p>He started at that as an animal starts at the goad, and in an instant he +took her suddenly and fiercely by the shoulders. "Hate me, then! Hate +me!" he said, and kissed her again savagely on her white, panting lips +as he had kissed her the night before, showing no mercy.</p> + +<p>She did not resist him. Her strength was gone. She hung quivering in his +arms till the storm of his passion had passed also. Then: "Let us go!" +she whispered: "Let us go!"</p> + +<p>He released her slowly and turned to open the door. Then, seeing that +she moved unsteadily, he put his arm about her, supporting her. So, side +by side and linked together, they went out into the driving snow.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER XII</h3> + +<h4>CHRISTMAS NIGHT</h4> + + +<p>Doris was nearly fainting with cold and misery when they stopped at last<a name="Page_297" id="Page_297"></a> +before the Mill House door. All the previous night she had sat up +listening with nerves on edge, and had finally taken her departure in +the early morning without food.</p> + +<p>When Jeff turned to help her down she looked at him helplessly, seeing +him through a drifting mist that obscured all besides. He saw her +weakness at a single glance, and, mounting the step, took her in his +arms.</p> + +<p>She sank down against his shoulder. "Oh, Jeff, I can't help it," she +whispered, through lips that were stiff and blue with cold.</p> + +<p>"All right. I know," he said, and for the first time in many days she +heard a note of kindness in his voice.</p> + +<p>He bore her straight through to the kitchen, and laid her down upon the +old oak settle, just as he had done on that day in September when first +he had brought her to his home.</p> + +<p>Granny Grimshaw, full of tender solicitude, came hastening to her, but +Jeff intervened.</p> + +<p>"Hot milk and brandy—quick!" he ordered, and fell himself to chafing +the icy fingers.</p> + +<p>When Granny Grimshaw brought the cup, he took it from her, and held it +for Doris to drink; and then, when she had swallowed a little and the +blood was creeping back into her face, he took off her boots and chafed +her feet also.</p> + +<p>Granny Grimshaw put some bread into the milk while this was in progress +and coaxed Doris to finish it. She asked no questions, simply treating +her as she might have treated a lost child who had strayed away. There +was a vast fund of wisdom in the old grey head that was so often shaken +over the follies of youth.</p><p><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298"></a></p> + +<p>And, finally, when Doris had a little recovered, she went with her to +her room, and helped her to bed, where she tucked her up with her own +hot-water bottle and left her.</p> + +<p>From sheer exhaustion Doris slept, though her sleep was not a happy one. +Long, tangled dreams wound in a ceaseless procession through her brain, +and through them all she was persistently and fruitlessly striving to +persuade Jeff to let her go.</p> + +<p>In the late afternoon she awoke suddenly to the sound of men's voices in +the room below her, and started up in nameless fear.</p> + +<p>"Were you wanting anything, my dearie?" asked Granny Grimshaw, from a +chair by the fire.</p> + +<p>"Who is that talking?" she asked nervously.</p> + +<p>"It's Master Jeff and a visitor," said the old woman. "Now, don't you +bother your head about them! I'm going along to get you some tea."</p> + +<p>She bustled away with the words, and Doris lay back, listening with +every nerve stretched. Her husband's deep voice was unmistakable, but +the other she could not distinguish. Only after a while there came the +sounds of movement, the opening of a door.</p> + +<p>When that happened she sprang swiftly from the bed to her own door, and +softly opened it.</p> + +<p>Two men stood in the hall below. Slipping out on to the landing, she +leaned upon the banisters in the darkness and l<a name="Page_299" id="Page_299"></a>ooked down. Even as she +did so, a voice she knew well came up out of the gloom—a kindly, +well-bred voice that spoke with a slight drawl.</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't be downhearted, Ironside. Remember, no one is cornered so +long as he can turn round and go back. It's the only thing to do when +you know you've taken a wrong turning."</p> + +<p>Doris caught her breath. Her fingers gripped the black oak rail. She +listened in rigid expectancy for Jeff's answer. But no answer came.</p> + +<p>In a moment Hugh's voice came again, still calm and friendly. "I'm going +away directly. The Squire has been ordered to the South for the rest of +the winter, and I've promised to go with him. I suppose we shall start +some time next week. May I look in and say 'Good-bye'?"</p> + +<p>There was a pause. The girl on the landing above waited tensely for +Jeff's answer. It came at last slowly, in a tone that was not +unfriendly, but which did not sound spontaneous. "You can do as you +like, Chesyl. I have no objection."</p> + +<p>"All right, then. Good-bye for the present! I hope when I do come I +shall find that all's well. All will be well in the end, eh, Jeff?"</p> + +<p>There was a touch of feeling in the question that made Doris aware that +the speaker had gripped her husband's hand.</p> + +<p>But again there was a pause before the answer came, heavily, it seemed +reluctantly: "Yes, it'll be all right for her in the end. Good-bye!"</p><p><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300"></a></p> + +<p>The front-door opened; they went out into the porch together. And Doris +slipped back, to her room.</p> + +<p>Those last words of her husband's rang strangely in her heart. Why had +he put it like that?</p> + +<p>Her thoughts went to Hugh—dear and faithful friend who had taken this +step on her behalf. What had passed between him and her husband during +that interview in the parlour? She longed to know.</p> + +<p>But whatever it had been, Hugh had emerged victorious. He had destroyed +those foul suspicions of Jeff's. He had conquered the man's enmity, +overthrown his passionate jealousy, humbled him into admitting himself +to be in the wrong. Very curiously that silent admission of Jeff's hurt +her pride almost as if it had been made on her behalf. The thought of +Jeff worsted by Hugh Chesyl, however deeply in the wrong he might be, +was somehow very hard to bear. Her heart ached for the man. She did not +want him to be humbled.</p> + +<p>When Granny Grimshaw came up with her tea, she was half-dressed.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't sleep any longer," she said. "It's dear of you to take such +care of me. But I'm quite all right. Dear Granny, forgive me for giving +you such a horrible Christmas Day!" She bent suddenly forward and kissed +the wrinkled face.</p> + +<p>"My dearie! My dearie!" said Granny Grimshaw.</p> + +<p>And then, exactly how it happened neither of them ever knew, all in a +moment Doris found herself folded close in the old woman's arms, sobbing +her heart out on the motherly shoulder.</p><p><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301"></a></p> + +<p>"You shouldn't cry, darling; you shouldn't cry," murmured Granny +Grimshaw, softly patting the slim young form. "It would hurt Master Jeff +more than anything to have you cry."</p> + +<p>"No, no! He doesn't really care for me. I could bear it better if he +did," whispered Doris.</p> + +<p>"Not care for you, my dearie? Why, what ever can you be thinking of?" +protested Granny Grimshaw. "He's eating his very heart out for you, and +I verily believe he'd kill himself sooner than make you unhappy."</p> + +<p>"Ah! You don't understand," sighed Doris. "He only wants—material +things."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear, my dear!" said Granny Grimshaw. "Did you suppose that the +man ever lived who could love a woman without? We're human, dear, the +very best of us, and there's no getting out of it. Besides, love is +never satisfied with half measures."</p> + +<p>She drew the girl down into the chair before the fire and fussed over +her tenderly till she grew calmer. And then presently she slipped away.</p> + +<p>Doris finished her tea slowly with her eyes on the red coals, then rose +at length to continue her dressing. As she stood at the table twisting +up her hair, her glance fell on a small packet that lay there.</p> + +<p>With fingers that trembled a little she opened it. It contained a small<a name="Page_302" id="Page_302"></a> +object wrapped in a slip of paper. There was writing upon it, which she +deciphered as she unrolled it. "For my wife, with all my love. Jeff." +And in her hand there lay a slender gold ring, exquisitely dainty, set +with pearls. A quick tremor went through Doris. She guessed that it had +belonged to his mother.</p> + +<p>Again she read the few simple words; they seemed to her to hold an +appeal which the man himself could never have uttered, and her heart +quivered in response as a finely tempered instrument vibrates to a +sudden sound. Had she never understood him?</p> + +<p>She finished her dressing with impulsive haste, and with Jeff's gift in +her hand turned to leave the room.</p> + +<p>Her heart throbbed violently as she descended.</p> + +<p>What would his mood be when she found him? If he would only be kind to +her! Ah, if only he would be kind! Granny Grimshaw was lighting the +lamps in the hall and parlour.</p> + +<p>"Everyone's out but me," she said. "Master Jeff and I generally keep +house alone together on Christmas night. I don't know why he doesn't +come in. He went out to see to the horses half an hour ago. He hasn't +had his tea yet."</p> + +<p>"I will give him his tea," Doris said.</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Granny Grimshaw. "I'll leave the kettle on for you<a name="Page_303" id="Page_303"></a> +while I go up and dress."</p> + +<p>Doris went into the parlour to wait. The lamp on the table was alight, +the teacups ready, and a bright fire made the room cosy. She went to the +window and drew aside the curtain.</p> + +<p>The snow had ceased, and the sky was clear. Stars were beginning to +pierce the darkness.</p> + +<p>Slowly the minutes crawled by. She began to listen for his coming, to +chafe at his delay. At last, grown nervous with suspense, she turned +from the window and went into the hall. She opened the door and stepped +out into the porch.</p> + +<p>Still and starlit lay the path before her. The snow had been swept away. +Impulse seized her. She felt she could wait no longer. She slipped back +into the hall, took a coat of Jeff's from a peg, put it on, and so +passed out into the open.</p> + +<p>The way to the stable lay past the mill-stream. On noiseless feet she +followed it. The water was deep and dark and silent. She shivered as she +drew near. In the stable beyond, close to the mill, she saw a light. It +was moving towards her. In a moment she discovered Jeff's face above it, +and—was it something she actually saw in the face, or was it an +illusion created by the swinging lantern?—her heart gave a sudden jerk +of horror. For it was to her as if she looked upon the face of a dead +man.</p> + +<p>She stood still in the shadow of a weeping willow, arrested by that +look, and watched him come slowly forth.</p> +<p><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304"></a></p> +<p>He moved heavily as one driven by Fate, pulling the stable door to after +him. This he turned to lock, then stooped, still with that face as of a +death-mask, and deliberately extinguished his lantern.</p> + +<p>Doris's heart jerked again at the action, and every pulse began to +clamour. Why did he put out the lantern before reaching the house?</p> + +<p>The next moment she heard his footsteps, slow and heavy, coming towards +her. The path wound along a bank a couple of feet above the millstream. +He approached till in the darkness he had nearly reached her, then he +stopped.</p> + +<p>She thought he had discerned her, but the next moment she realized that +he had not. He was facing the water; he seemed to be staring across it. +And even as she watched he took another step straight towards it.</p> + +<p>It was then that like a flashlight leaping from his brain to hers she +realized what he was about to do. How the knowledge came to her she +knew not, but it was hers past all disputing in that single second of +blinding revelation. And just as that morning she had been inspired to +act on sheer wild impulse, so now without an instant's pause she acted +again. She sprang from her hiding-place with a strangled cry, and threw +her arms about him.</p> + +<p>"Jeff! Jeff! What are you doing here?"</p> + +<p>He gave a great start that made her think of a frightened animal, and +stood still. She felt his arms grow rigid at his sides, and knew that +his hands were clenched.</p><p><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305"></a></p> + +<p>"Jeff!" she cried again, clinging faster. "You—you're never thinking +of—of that?"</p> + +<p>Her utterance ended in a shudder as she sought with all her strength to +drag him away from the icy water.</p> + +<p>He resisted her doggedly, standing like a rock. "Whatever I'm thinking +of doing is my affair," he said, shortly and sternly. "Go away and leave +me alone!"</p> + +<p>"I won't!" she cried back to him half-hysterically. "I won't! If—if +you're going to do that, you'll take me with you!"</p> + +<p>He turned round then and moved back to the path. "Who said I was going +to do anything?" he demanded in a voice that sounded half-angry and +half-ashamed.</p> + +<p>She answered him with absolute candour. "I saw your face just now. I +couldn't help knowing. Oh, Jeff, Jeff! is it as bad as that? Do you hate me so badly as that?"</p> + +<p>He made a movement of the arms that was curiously passionate, but he did +not attempt to take her into them. "I don't hate you," he said, in a +voice that sounded half-choked. "I love you—so horribly"—there was a +note of ferocity in the low-spoken words—"that I can never know any +peace without you! And since with you it is otherwise, what remedy is +there? You love Hugh Chesyl. You only want to be free to marry him. +While I—"</p> + +<p>He broke off in fierce impotence, and began to thrust her from him. But +she held him fast.</p><p><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306"></a></p> + +<p>"Jeff—Jeff, this is madness! Listen to me! You must listen! Hugh and I +are friends, and we shall never be anything more. Jeff, let me be with +you! Teach me to love you! You can if you will. Don't—don't ruin both +our lives!"</p> + +<p>She was pleading with him passionately, still holding him back. And, as +she pleaded, she reached up her arms and slowly clasped his neck.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jeff, be good to me—be good to me just this once!" she prayed. +"I've made such a hideous mistake, but don't punish me like this! I +swear if you go, I shall go too! There'll be nothing left to live for. +Jeff—Jeff, if you really love me, spare me this!"</p> + +<p>The broken entreaty went into agonized sobbing, yet she kept her face +upraised to his. Instinctively she knew that in that eleventh hour she +must offer all she had.</p> + +<p>Several moments throbbed away. She began to think that she had failed. +And then very suddenly he moved, put his arm about her, led her away.</p> + +<p>Not a word did he utter, but there was comfort in the holding of his +arm. She went with him with the curious hushed sense of one who stands +on the threshold of that which is sacred.</p> + + +<p><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307"></a></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER XIII</h3> + +<h4>A FARMER'S WIFE</h4> + + +<p>Two eyes, old but yet keen, peered forth into the wintry night, and a +grey head nodded approvingly, as Jeff Ironside and his wife came in +silence to their home. And then the bedroom blind came down, and Granny +Grimshaw sat down cosily by her bit of wood fire to hold a strictly +private little service of thanksgiving.</p> + +<p>Downstairs into the raftered kitchen two people came, each holding each, +both speechless, with a restraint that bound them as by a spell.</p> + +<p>By nature the woman spoke first, her voice no more than a whisper. "Sit +on the settle, won't you? I'm going to get your tea."</p> + +<p>His arm fell from her. He sat down heavily, not looking at her. She +stepped to the fire and took the empty teapot from the hob, then +light-footed to the dresser for the tea.</p> + +<p>He did not watch her. For a while he sat staring blindly straight before +him. Then slowly he leaned forward, and dropped his head into his hands.</p> + +<p>Not till the tea was made did she so much as glance towards him, so +intent to all seeming was she upon her task. But when it was done, she +looked at him sitting there bowed upon the settle, and very suddenly, +very lightly, she came to his side.</p> + +<p>"Jeff!" she said.</p> + +<p>He neither moved nor spoke.</p><p><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308"></a></p> + +<p>She laid a shy hand on his shoulder. "Jeff!" Her voice was pleading and +rather breathless, as though she would ask him to bear with her. "I want +to thank you so much—so very much—for your Christmas gift. See! I'm +wearing it."</p> + +<p>She slipped her hand down into his, so that he held it pressed against +his cheek. He spoke no word, but against her fingers she felt a quiver.</p> + +<p>She bent over him, growing bolder. "Jeff, I—I want you to give me +back—my wedding-ring."</p> + +<p>He did not stir or answer.</p> + +<p>"Please!" she whispered. "Won't you?"</p> + +<p>And then dumbly, keeping his face hidden, he drew her hand down to his +breast-pocket.</p> + +<p>"Is it there?" she whispered. "May I take it?"</p> + +<p>Her fingers felt for and found what they sought. Her hand came up again, +wearing the ring. And then, with a swift, impulsive movement she knelt +before him, clasping his two wrists.</p> + +<p>"Jeff—Jeff! will you—will you try to forgive me?"</p> +<p><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309"></a></p> +<p>There followed silence, but very strangely no misgiving assailed her. +She strove with gentle insistence to draw the shielding hands away.</p> + +<p>At first he resisted her, and then very suddenly he yielded. His hands +went out to her, his head dropped forward upon her shoulder. A strangled +sob shook him.</p> + +<p>And Doris knelt up with all her woman's compassion leaping to his need, +and clasped her warm arms about him, holding him to her heart.</p> + +<p>That broke him, broke him utterly, so that for a while no words could +pass between them. For Doris was crying too, even while she sought to +comfort.</p><p><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310"></a></p> + +<p>But at last, with a valiant effort, she checked her tears. +"Jeff—darling, don't let us be so—so silly," she murmured, with one +quivering hand laid upon his head. "We've got all we want—both of us. +Let's forget it all! Let's begin again!"</p> + +<p>He put his arms around her, not lifting his head.</p> + +<p>"Can't we?" she said softly. "I'm ready."</p> + +<p>He spoke at last below his breath. "You couldn't! You'll never forget +what a brute I've been."</p> + +<p>She turned her head quickly and laid her cheek against his forehead. +"Shall I tell you just how much I am going to remember?"</p> + +<p>He was silent, breathing deeply.</p> + +<p>"Just this," she said. "That you love me—so much—that you can't do +without me, and that you were willing—to give your life—for my +happiness. That is what I am going to remember, Jeff, and it will be a +very precious memory. And I want to tell you just one little thing +before we go any farther. It's about Hugh. I don't love him in the way +that you and I count love. I did very nearly for a little while. But +that is over. I don't think—I never have quite thought—that he is<a name="Page_311" id="Page_311"></a> +altogether my sort, or I his. Jeff dear, you believe that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Jeff.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," she said simply. "I want you to try and believe me always, +because I do tell the truth. And now, Jeff, I've got to tell you that +I'm dreadfully sorry for the way I've treated you. Yes, let me say it," +as he made a quick movement of protest. "It's true. I've treated you +abominably, mainly because I didn't understand. I do understand now. +You—you've opened my eyes. Oh, Jeff, thank God they were opened even at +the eleventh hour! What should I have done if—if—" She broke off with +a shiver, and then nestled to him like a child, as though that were the +end of the argument. "And now I'm going to be such a good wife to you," +she whispered, "to make up for it all. I always wanted to be a farmer's +wife, you know. But you must help me. Jeff, will you?"</p> + +<p>"I would die for you," he said, his head still bent as though he could +not wholly trust himself to look her in the face.</p> + +<p>She gave a funny little tremulous laugh. "Yes, I know. But that wouldn't +be a bit of good. You would only break my heart. You don't want to do +that, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Doris!" he said.</p> + +<p>"Why won't you call me Dot?"</p> + +<p>"Dot!" said Jeff very softly.</p> + +<p>"That's better." Again her voice quivered upon a laugh. Her arms +slackened from his shoulders, and instantly his fell away, setting her +free. She rose to her feet, yet lingered a moment, bending slightly over +him, her eyes very bright.</p> + +<p>But Jeff did not move, and with a half-sigh she turned away. "Would you +like to carry the teapot?" she said.</p> +<p><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312"></a></p> +<p>He got up.</p> + +<p>"And you can hang up this coat of yours," she added. "I'll come in a +moment."</p> + +<p>She watched him go in his slow, strong fashion; then for a few still +seconds she stood quite tense with hands tightly gripped together. What +passed within her during those moments only her own heart ever knew, how +much of longing, how much of regret, how much of earnest, quivering +hope.</p> + +<p>She followed him almost at once as she had promised.</p> + +<p>The parlour door was open. She came to it in her light, impetuous way. +She halted on the threshold.</p> + +<p>"Jeff!" she said. "Come here!"</p> + +<p>She reached out her hands to him—little, nervous hands full of purpose. +She drew him close. She raised her lips to his. The mistletoe dangled +above their heads.</p> + +<p>"Will you kiss me, Jeff?" she whispered.</p> + +<p>He stooped, half-hesitating.</p> + +<p>Her arms stole about his neck. "You needn't—ever—be afraid to kiss +your own wife, dear," she said. "I want your love just in the ordinary +way—the ordinary way."</p> + +<p>He held her to him. "Dot—Dot—forgive me!"</p> +<p><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313"></a></p> +<p>She shook her head with frank, fearless eyes raised to his. "It was a +bad bargain, Jeff. Forget it!"</p> + +<p>"And make another?" he suggested.</p> + +<p>To which she answered with her quick smile. "Love makes no bargains, +Jeff. Love just gives—and gives—and gives."</p> + +<p>And as his lips met hers he knew the wondrous truth of what she said. +For in that one long kiss she gave him all she had. And love conquered, +just in the old, sweet, ordinary way.</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Copyright, 1915, by Ethel M. Dell.</p></div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="The_Place_of_Honour" id="The_Place_of_Honour"></a>The Place of Honour</h2> + +<p>Wherein a woman with a love of freedom, two soldiers in the Indian Army, +and a snake-bite are most intimately concerned.</p> + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<h3>CHAPTER I</h3> + +<h4>THE BRIDE<a name="Page_314" id="Page_314"></a></h4> + + +<p>"And that is the major's bride? Ah, what a pity!"</p> + +<p>The soft, Irish eyes of Mrs. Raleigh, the surgeon's wife, looked across +the ball-room with a very real compassion in their grey depths.</p> + +<p>"Pity?" said young Turner, the subaltern, who chanced to be at that +moment in attendance upon her. "It's worse than that; it's a monstrous +shame! She's only nineteen, you know; and he is twenty years older at +least."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Raleigh sighed.</p> + +<p>"You have met her, Phil," she said. "I am going to get you to introduce +me. Let us go across to her."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Raleigh was greatly beloved by all subalterns. Her husband's +bungalow was open to them day and night, and they took full advantage +of the fact.</p> + +<p>It was not that there was anything particularly brilliant about the +surgeon's wife, but her ready sympathy made her a general favourite, and +her kindness of heart was known to be equal to the severest strain.</p> + +<p>Therefore, among the boys of the regiment she ruled supreme, and the +expression of her lightest wish generally provoked a jealous scramble.</p> + +<p>On the present occasion, however, young Turner did not display any +special alacrity to serve her.</p> + +<p>"There's such a crowd round her it's difficult to squeeze in edgeways," +he said. "I shouldn't trouble to go across yet if I were you."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Raleigh laughed a little and laid her hand on his arm.</p> + +<p>"So you don't like hovering on the outskirts, Phil," she said.</p> +<p><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315"></a></p> +<p>He frowned, and then as suddenly smiled.</p> + +<p>"I'm not the sort that cares to fool with a married woman," he declared. +"There goes Devereux to swell the throng. I say, let's go and have a +drink."</p> + +<p>She laughed again as she rose to accompany him. Phil Turner was severely +honest in all his ways, and, being a good woman, she liked him for it.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, though she yielded, her eyes still dwelt upon the girl in +bridal white who sat like a queen among her courtiers. The dark head +that was held so regally erect caught and chained the elder woman's +fancy. And the vivid, careless beauty of the face was a thing to bear +away in the heart and dream of in solitude. For the girl was lovely with +that loveliness which even the most grudging must acknowledge. She shone +in the crowd that surrounded her like a rare and brilliant flower in a +garden of herbs.</p> + +<p>Phil Turner's arm stirred with slight impatience under Mrs. Raleigh's +hand, and she turned beside him.</p> + +<p>"There is nothing like a really beautiful English girl in all the +world," she said, with a smile and another glance in the bride'<a name="Page_316" id="Page_316"></a>s +direction.</p> + +<p>Young Turner grunted, and she gave his arm a slight shake.</p> + +<p>"You don't deceive me," she said. "You admire her as much as I do. Now, +be honest."</p> + +<p>He looked at her for a moment moodily. Then——</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said abruptly, "I do admire her. But, as for the major, I +think he's the biggest fool on this side of the Indian Ocean, and that's +saying a good deal."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Raleigh shook her head as if she desired to disagree.</p> + +<p>"Time alone will prove," she said.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER II</h3> + +<h4>EARLY BREEZES</h4> + + +<p>"It's been lovely," said the bride. She leant back in the open carriage, +gazing with wide, charmed eyes into the vivid Indian night. "And I'm not +a bit tired," she added. "Are you?"</p> +<p><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317"></a></p> +<p>The man beside her did not instantly reply. He was a man of medium +height, dark and lithe and amazingly strong. It was not his habit to +speak much, but what little he said was usually very much to the point. +It was his custom to mask his feelings so completely that very few had +the smallest inkling as to his state of mind.</p> + +<p>He was considered a hard man in his regiment, but he was known to be a +splendid soldier, and chiefly for that reason he was respected rather +than disliked. But the kindest critic could not have called him either +popular or attractive. And the news of his marriage in England had +fallen like a thunderbolt upon his Indian acquaintances, for he had long +ago come to be regarded among them as the last man in the world to +commit such a folly.</p> + +<p>The full extent thereof had not been apparent till his return to his +regiment, accompanied by his bride, and then as one man the whole mess +had risen and condemned him in no measured terms, for the bride, with +all her entrancing beauty, her vivacity, her charm, was certainly a +startling contrast to the man who had wedded her—a contrast so sharp as +to be almost painful to the onlookers.</p> + +<p>She herself, however, seemed to be wholly unaware of any incongruity. +Perhaps she had not seen enough of the world to feel it, or perhaps she +was wilfully blind to the things she did not desire to see.</p> + +<p>In any case her face, as she lay back in the carriage by her husband's +side, expressed only the most complete contentment.</p> + +<p>"Are you tired, Eustace?" she asked, as he did not hasten to reply to +her first question.</p><p><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318"></a></p> + +<p>"No," he answered, "not tired; but glad to be going back."</p> + +<p>"You've been bored," she said quickly. "What a frightful pity! Why did +you stay so long?"</p> + +<p>Again he paused before replying, and she drummed on his knee with her +fingers with slight impatience.</p> + +<p>"I had a notion," he said, in his quiet, unhurried tones, "that my wife +would have considered it rather hard lines to be dragged away while +there was a single man left to dance with."</p> + +<p>The bride snatched her hand from his knee with a swiftness of action +that could hardly be mistaken. He might have been speaking in fun, but, +even so, it was an ugly jest. More probably he had meant the sting that +his words conveyed, for, owing to a delicate knee-cap that had once been +splintered by a bullet and still at times gave him trouble, Major Tudor +was a non-dancer. Whatever his meaning, the remark came upon her flushed +triumph like the icy chill before the dawn, dispelling dreams.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry," she said, with all the haste of youth, "that you +sacrificed yourself to please me. I hope you will not do so again. Now +that I am married, I do not need a chaperon. I could quite well return +alone."</p> + +<p>It was childishly spoken, but then she was a child, and the admiration +she had enjoyed throughout the evening had slightly turned her head. He +did not reply to her speech. Indeed, it was as if he had not heard it. +And her indignation mounted. There was not another man of her +acquaintance who would have treated her with a like lack of courtesy. +Did he think, because he was her husband, that she belonged to him so +completely that he could behave to her exactl<a name="Page_319" id="Page_319"></a>y as he saw fit? Perhaps. +She did not know him very well; nor apparently did he know her. For +during the brief six weeks of their married life she had been a little +shy, a little constrained, in his presence. But her success had, as it +were, unshackled her. Without hesitation she gave her feelings the rein.</p> + +<p>"Do you consider that I am not to be trusted?" she asked him sharply.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon?"</p> + +<p>There was a note of surprised interrogation in his voice. She did not +look at him, but she knew that his eyebrows were raised, and a +faint—quite a faint—sense of misgiving stole over her.</p> + +<p>"I asked if you thought me untrustworthy," she asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh!"</p> + +<p>He relapsed into silence again, and she became exasperated.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you answer me?" she said, with quick impatience.</p> + +<p>He turned his head deliberately and looked at her; and again she tingled +with an apprehension which no previous word or action of his had ever<a name="Page_320" id="Page_320"></a> +justified.</p> + +<p>"Unprofitable questions," he said coolly, "like ill-timed jests, are +better left alone."</p> + +<p>It was the first intentional snub he had ever administered to her, and +she quivered under it, furious but impotent. All the evening's enjoyment +had gone out of her. She was conscious only of a desire to strike back +and wound him as he had wounded her.</p> + +<p>She did not utter another word during the drive, and when they reached +their bungalow—the daintiest and most luxurious in the station—she +alighted without touching the hand he offered her.</p> + +<p>Refreshments awaited them in the dining-room, and the bride swept in +and helped herself, suffering her cloak to fall from her shoulders. He +picked it up and threw it over a chair. His dark face was quite composed +and inscrutable. He was not a handsome man, but there was something +undeniably striking about him, a strength of personality that made him +somehow formidable. The red and gold uniform he wore served to emphasise +the breadth of shoulder, which his height did not justify. He was a +splendid wrestler. There was not a man in the mess whom he could not +throw.</p> + +<p>Yet to those who knew him best, his strength seemed to lie less in what +he did than in what he left undone. His restraint was the secret of his +power.</p> + +<p>Perhaps his young wife felt this, for notwithstanding her utmost effort +she knew herself to be at a disadvantage. She set down her glass of<a name="Page_321" id="Page_321"></a> +sherbet unfinished and turned to the door. It was an abrupt move, but he +was ready for it. Before she reached it, he was waiting with the handle +in his grasp.</p> + +<p>"Going to bed, Audrey?" he asked gravely, "Good-night!"</p> + +<p>His manner did not betray that he was aware of her displeasure, yet +somehow she was quite convinced that he knew. She paused for a second, +and then, with her head held high, she was about to pass him without an +answering word or glance. But to her amazement he stopped her, his hand +upon her arm.</p> + +<p>"Good-night!" he said again.</p> + +<p>She faced him then in a blaze of passion, with white cheeks and flaming +eyes. But as she met his look her heart gave a sudden thump of fright, +and in a second her resistance had crumbled away. He did not speak +another word, but his look compelled. Undeniably he was master.</p> + +<p>Mutely she raised her face for his kiss, and he kissed her.</p> + +<p>"Sleep well," he said.</p> + +<p>And she went from him, subdued and humbled, to her room.</p><p><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER III</h3> + +<h4>AMID THE RUINS</h4> + + +<p>"Do let us get away somewhere and enjoy ourselves!"</p> + +<p>Audrey spoke in a quick undertone to the man nearest to her. It was +three weeks since her arrival at the Frontier station, and she had +settled down to the life with the ease of a born Anglo-Indian. Her first +vivid enjoyment of its gaieties was a thing of the past, but no one +suspected the fact, her husband least of all. She had not, as a matter +of fact, been much with him during those three weeks, for she had struck +up a warm friendship with Mrs. Raleigh, and in common with all the +younger spirits of the regiment she availed herself fully of the +privileges of the latter's hospitality.</p> + +<p>On the present occasion, however—that of a picnic by moonlight at the +crumbling shrine of some long-forgotten holy man—Mrs. Raleigh was +absent, and Audrey was bored. She had arrived in her husband's +ralli-car, which he had driven himself, but she had speedily drifted +away from his side.</p> + +<p>There was an element of perversity in her which made her resent the +feeling that he only accompanied her into society to watch over her, +and, if necessary, to keep her in order. It was not a particularly +worthy feeling, but certainly there was something about his attitude +that fostered it.</p><p><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323"></a></p> + +<p>She guessed, and rightly, that, but for her, he would not have troubled +himself to attend these social gatherings, which he obviously enjoyed so +little. So when, having deliberately and with mischievous intent given +him the slip, she awoke suddenly to the fact that he had followed and +was standing near her, Audrey became childishly exasperated and seized +the first means of escape that offered.</p> + +<p>The man she addressed was one of the least enthusiastic of her admirers, +but this did not trouble her at all. She had been a spoilt child all her +life, and she was accustomed to make use of others without stopping to +ascertain their inclinations.</p> + +<p>Phil Turner, however, was by no means unwilling to be made use of in +this way. The boy was a gentleman, and was as chivalrous at heart as he +was honest.</p> + +<p>He turned at once in response to her quick whisper and offered her his +arm.</p> + +<p>"There's an old well at the back of the ruin," he said. "Come and see +it. Mind the stones."</p> + +<p>"That was splendid of you," she said approvingly, as they moved away +together. "Are you always so prompt? But I know you're not. I shouldn't +have asked you, only I took you for Mr. Devereux. You are very like him +at the back."</p> +<p><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324"></a></p> +<p>"Never heard that before!" he responded bluntly. "Don't believe it, +either, if you will forgive my saying so."</p> + +<p>She laughed, a merry, ringing laugh.</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't you like Mr. Devereux?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he's all right." Phil seldom spoke a disparaging word of any of +his comrades. "But I haven't the smallest wish to be like him," he +added.</p> + +<p>Audrey laughed at him again, freely, musically. She found this young +officer rather more entertaining than the rest.</p> + +<p>They reached the other side of the shrine. Here, in a <i>débris</i> of stones +and weeds, there appeared the circular mouth of<a name="Page_325" id="Page_325"></a> an old well, forgotten +like the shrine and long disused.</p> + +<p>Audrey examined the edge with a fastidious air, and finally sat down on +it. The place was flooded with moonlight.</p> + +<p>"I wish I were a man," she said suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Good Heavens! Why?"</p> + +<p>He asked the question in amazement.</p> + +<p>"I should like to be your equal," she told him gaily. "I should like to +do and say to you just exactly what I liked."</p> + +<p>Phil considered this seriously.</p> + +<p>"You can do both without being my equal," he remarked at length in his +bluntest tone, "that is, if you care to condescend."</p> + +<p>"Goodness!" laughed Audrey. "That's the only pretty thing I have ever +heard you say. I am sure it must be your first attempt. Now, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>He laughed.</p><p><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326"></a></p> + +<p>"And it wasn't strictly honest," proceeded Audrey daringly. "You know +you don't think that of any woman under the sun."</p> + +<p>He did not contradict her. He had a feeling that she was fooling him, +but somehow he rather liked it.</p> + +<p>"What about the women under the moon?" he said. "Perhaps they are +different?"</p> + +<p>She nodded merrily.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps they are," she conceded. "Certainly the men are. Now, you are +about the stodgiest person I know by daylight or lamplight +except—except—" She stopped. "No, I don't mean that!" she said, with +an impish smile. "There is no exception."</p> + +<p>Phil was frowning a little, but he looked relieved at her amendment.</p> + +<p>"Thank you!" he said brusquely. "I shall never dare to come near you +after that."</p> + +<p>"Except by moonlight?" she suggested, with the impudent audacity of a +child.</p> + +<p>What reply he would have made to that piece of nonsense he sometimes +wondered afterward, but circumstances prevented his making any. The +words had only just passed her lips when she sprang to her feet with a +wild shriek of horror, shaking her arm with frantic violence.</p><p><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327"></a></p> + +<p>"A snake!" she cried. "Take it away! Take it away! It's on my wrist!"</p> + +<p>Phil Turner, though young, was accustomed to keep his wits about him, +and, luckily for the girl, her agony did not scare them away. He had +seized her arm in a fierce grip almost before her frenzied appeal was +uttered. A small snake was coiled round her wrist, and he tore it away +with his free hand, not caring how he grasped it. He tried to fling the +thing from him, but somehow his hold upon it was not sufficient. Before +he knew it the creature had shot up his sleeve.</p> + +<p>The next instant he had shaken it down again with a muffled curse and +was trampling it savagely and vindictively into the stones at his feet.</p> + +<p>"Are you hurt?" he asked, wheeling sharply.</p> + +<p>"No," gasped Audrey, "no! But you—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, the little beast's bitten me," he returned. "You see—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, where, where?" she cried. "Let me see! Quick, quick! Something must +be done. Can't you suck it?"</p> + +<p>He pushed up his sleeve.</p> + +<p>"No; can't get at it," he said. "It's just below the elbow. Never mind; +it isn't serious!"</p> + +<p>He would have tweaked his sleeve down again, though he was pale under +his sunburn. But Audrey stopped him, holding his bare arm between her +hands.</p> + +<p>"Don't be a fool!" she gasped vehemently. "If you can't, I can—and I +will!"</p> + +<p>Before he could stop her she had stooped, still holding him fast, and<a name="Page_328" id="Page_328"></a> +put her lips to the tiny puncture in his flesh, on which scarcely more +than a speck of blood was visible.</p> + +<p>Phil stiffened and stood still, every nerve rigid, as if something had +transfixed him. At last, hurriedly, jerkily, he spoke:</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Tudor—for Heaven's sake! I can't let you do this. It wasn't +poisonous, ten to one. Don't! I say, Audrey—please don't!"</p> + +<p>His voice was imploring, but she paid no heed. Her lips continued to +draw at the wound, while he, half-distracted, bent over her, protesting, +scarcely conscious of what he said, yet submitting in spite of himself.</p> + +<p>There came the sound of running feet, and he guessed that her scream had +given the alarm. He stood up with mingled agitation and relief, and an +instant later was face to face with her husband.</p> + +<p>"I—couldn't help it!" he stammered. "It was a snake-bite."</p> + +<p>People were crowding round them with questions and exclamations. But +Tudor gave utterance to neither. He only put his hand on his wife's +shoulder and spoke to her.</p> + +<p>"That will do, Audrey," he said. "There's a doctor here. Leave it to +him."</p> + +<p>At his words Audrey straightened herself, quivering all over; and then, +unnerved by sheer horror, she put out her hands with an unconscious +groping gesture, and fainted.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329"></a></p> +<h3>CHAPTER IV</h3> + +<h4>AN UNCONVENTIONAL CALL</h4> + + +<p>Audrey had been an only girl at home, and had run wild all her life +amongst a host of brothers. She had seen next to nothing of the world +previous to her marriage, consequently her knowledge of its ways was +extremely slender.</p> + +<p>That she had grown up headstrong and extremely unconventional was +scarcely to be wondered at.</p> + +<p>It had been entirely by her own choice that she had married Eustace +Tudor. She had just awakened to the fact that the family nest, like the +family purse, was of exceedingly narrow dimensions; and a passion for +exploring both mentally and physically was hers.</p> + +<p>They had met only a couple of months before he was due to sail for +India, and his proposal to her had been necessarily somewhat +precipitate. She had admired him wholeheartedly for he was a soldier of +no mean repute, and the glamour of marriage had done the rest. She had +married him and had, for nearly six weeks, thereafter, been supremely +happy. True, he had not made much love to her; it was not apparently +his way, but he had been full of kindness and consideration. And Audrey +had been content.</p> + +<p>But, arrived in that Indian Frontier station where all the world was +gay, she had become at once the centre of attraction, of admiration; +and, responding to this with girlish zest, she had begun to find +something lacking in her husband's treatment.</p> +<p><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330"></a></p> +<p>It dawned upon her that, where others worshipped with open devotion, he +did not so much as bend the knee. And, over and above this serious +defect, he was critical of her actions and inclined to keep her in +order.</p> + +<p>This made her reckless at first, even defiant; but she found he could +master her defiance, and that frightened her. It made her uncertain as +to how far it was safe to resist him. And, being afraid of him, she +shrank a little from too close or intimate a companionship with him.</p> + +<p>She told herself that she valued her liberty too highly to part lightly +with it; but the reason in her heart was not this, and with all her +wilfulness, her childish self-sufficiency, she knew that it was not.</p> + +<p>On the morning that followed the moonlight picnic she deliberately +feigned sleep when he rose, lest he should think fit to prohibit her +early ride. She had not slept well after her fright; but she had a +project in her mind, and she fully meant to carry it out.</p> + +<p>She lay chafing till his horse's hoof-beats told her that he was +leaving the house behind him; then she, too, rose and ordered her own +horse.</p> + +<p>Phil Turner, haggard and depressed after a night of considerable pain, +was sitting up in bed with his arm in a sling, drinking tea, when a +fellow-subaltern, who with two others shared the bungalow with him, +entered, half-dressed and dishevelled, with the astounding news that +Mrs. Tudor was waiting in the compound to know how he was.</p> + +<p>Phil shot upright in amazement.</p> + +<p>"Good Heavens, man! She herself?" he ejaculated.</p> +<p><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331"></a></p> +<p>His brother officer nodded, grinning.</p> + +<p>"What's to be done? Send out word that you're still alive though not too +chirpy, and would she like anything to drink on the veranda? I can't go, +you know; I'm not dressed."</p> + +<p>"Don't be an ass! Clear out and send me my be<a name="Page_332" id="Page_332"></a>arer."</p> + +<p>Phil spoke with decision. Since Mrs. Tudor had elected to do this +extraordinary thing, it was not for him to refuse to follow her lead. He +was too far in her debt, even had he desired to do so.</p> + +<p>His bearer, therefore, was dispatched with a courteous message, and when +Phil entered the veranda a quarter of an hour later he found her +awaiting him there.</p> + +<p>"This is awfully kind of you," he said, as he grasped her outstretched +hand. "I was horribly put out about you! You are none the worse?"</p> + +<p>"Not a mite," she assured him. "And you? Your arm?"</p> + +<p>He made a face.</p> + +<p>"Raleigh was with me half the night, watching for dangerous symptoms; +but they didn't develop. He cauterized my arm as a precaution—a beastly +business. He hasn't been round again yet, but I believe it's better. +Yes, it was a poisonous bite. It would have been the death of me in all +probability, but for you. He told me so. I—I'm awfully obliged to you!"</p> + +<p>He coloured deeply as he made his clumsy acknowledgments. He did not<a name="Page_333" id="Page_333"></a> +find it an easy task. As for Audrey, she put out her hands swiftly to +stop him.</p> + +<p>"Ah, don't!" she said. "You did a far greater thing for me." She +shuddered and put the matter from her. "I'm sure you ought not to be +up," she went on. "I shouldn't have waited, only I thought you might +feel hurt if I went away after you had sent out word that you would see +me. I think I'll go now. Good-bye!"</p> + +<p>There came the jingle of spurs on the veranda, and both started. The +colour rose in a great wave to the girl's face as she saw who it was, +but she turned at once to meet the newcomer.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Eustace," she said, "so you are back already from the +parade-ground!"</p> + +<p>He did not show any surprise at finding her there.</p> + +<p>"Yes; just returned," he said, with no more than a quiet glance at her +flushed face.</p> + +<p>"How are you, Phil? Had any sleep?"</p> + +<p>"Not much," Phil owned, with unmistakable embarrassment. "But Raleigh +says I'm not going to die this time. It was good of you—and Mrs. +Tudor—to look in. Won't you have something? That lazy beast Travers +isn't dressed yet!"</p> +<p><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334"></a></p> +<p>"Oh, yes, he is!" said Travers, appearing at that moment. "I'll punch +your head for you, my boy, when we're alone! Hullo, Major! Come to see +the interesting invalid? You'll have some breakfast, won't you? Mrs. +Tudor will pour out tea for us."</p> + +<p>But Tudor declined their hospitality briefly but decidedly, and Audrey +was obliged to support him.</p> + +<p>Travers assisted her to mount, expressing his regret the while; and when +they were gone he turned round to his comrade with a grin.</p> + +<p>"The major seems to be in a genial mood this morning," he remarked. "Had +they arranged to meet here?"</p> + +<p>But Phil turned back into the bungalow with a heavy frown.</p> + +<p>"The major's a bungling fool!" he said bitterly.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER V</h3> + +<h4>THE BARRIER</h4> + + +<p>Tudor was very quiet and preoccupied during breakfast, but Audrey would +not notice it; and when at length she rose from the table she laid her +fingers for a second on his shoulder in a passing caress.</p> + +<p>He turned instantly and took her hand.</p> + +<p>"Just a moment, Audrey!" he said gravely.</p><p><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335"></a></p> + +<p>She stopped unwillingly, her hand fidgeting ineffectually to be free.</p> + +<p>He rose, still holding it in a quiet, strong grasp. He was frowning +slightly.</p> + +<p>"I only want to say," he said, "that what you did this morning was +somewhat unusual, though you may not have been aware of it. Please don't +do it again!"</p> + +<p>Her cheeks flamed, and she met his eyes defiantly. She left her hand in +his rather than prove her weakness, but quite suddenly she was trembling +all over. It was a moment for asserting her freedom of action, and she +fully meant to do so; but she was none the less afraid.</p> + +<p>"I was aware of it," she said, speaking very quickly before his look +could disconcert her. "But then what I did last night was unusual, too. +Also what Phil Turner did for me. You—you don't seem to realise that he +saved my life!"</p> + +<p>"I think you discharged your debt," Tudor returned, with a certain +dryness that struck her unpleasantly.</p> + +<p>"What else could I have done?" she demanded stormily. "If you had been +in my place—"</p> + +<p>He stopped her.</p> + +<p>"I was not discussing that," he said. "I have not blamed you for that.<a name="Page_336" id="Page_336"></a> +Under the circumstances, you did the best thing possible. But I can't +say the same of your conduct this morning; and since you knew that what +you did was highly unconventional, I blame you for it. I hope you will +be more careful in the future."</p> + +<p>Audrey was chafing openly before he ended.</p> + +<p>"You treat me like a child," she broke in, the instant he paused. "You +don't give me credit for any judgment or discretion of my own."</p> + +<p>He raised his eyebrows.</p> + +<p>"That is hardly remarkable," he said.</p> + +<p>She snatched her hand from him at last, too exasperated for the moment +to care what she did or how she did it.</p> + +<p>"It is remarkable," she declared, her voice quivering with wrath. +"It—it's intolerable. And there's something else that struck me as +remarkable, too, and that is that you didn't think it worth while even +to thank Phil for—for saving my life last night. I think you might +have expressed a little gratitude, even—even if you didn't feel it."</p> + +<p>The bitter words were uttered before she realised their full bitterness. +But the moment she had spoken them she knew, for his face told her.</p> + +<p>A dead silence followed her outburst, and while it lasted she was +casting about wildly for some means of escape other than headlong +flight. Then, as if he read her impulse in her eyes, he moved at last +and turned aside.</p> +<p><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337"></a></p> +<p>She did not hear his sigh as she made her escape, or even then she might +have scaled the barrier that divided them, and found beyond it a better +thing than the freedom she prized so highly.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER VI</h3> + +<h4>MRS. TUDOR'S CONFESSION</h4> + + +<p>"Come in and sit down, Mrs. Tudor. Mrs. Raleigh isn't at home. But she +can't be long now. I have been waiting nearly half an hour."</p> + +<p>Phil Turner hoisted himself out of the easiest chair in the Raleighs' +drawing-room as he uttered the words, and advanced with a friendly smile +to greet the newcomer.</p> + +<p>"Oh, isn't she in?" said Audrey. "I am afraid I took her for granted at +the door."</p> + +<p>"We all do," he assured her. "It is what she likes best. Do you know, I +haven't seen you for nearly a fortnight? I called, you know, twice; but +you were out."</p> + +<p>Audrey laughed inconsequently.</p><p><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338"></a></p> + +<p>"Why don't you treat me as you treat Mrs. Raleigh?" she said. "Come in +and wait, next time."</p> + +<p>Phil smiled as he handed her to the chair he had just vacated.</p> + +<p>"The major isn't so kind to subalterns," he said. "He would certainly +think, if he didn't say it, that it was like my cheek."</p> + +<p>Audrey frowned over this.</p> + +<p>"I don't see what he has to do with it," she declared finally. "But it +doesn't signify. How is your arm?"</p> + +<p>"Practically convalescent, thanks! There's nothing like first aid, you +know. I say, Mrs. Tudor, you weren't any the worse? It didn't hurt you?"</p> + +<p>He looked down at her with anxiety in his frank eyes, and Audrey was +conscious suddenly that he was no longer a mere casual acquaintance. +Perhaps she had been vaguely aware of it before, but the actual +realisation of it had not been in her mind till that moment.</p> + +<p>She laughed lightly.</p> + +<p>"Of course not," she said. "How could it? Don't be so ridiculous, Phil."</p> + +<p>His face cleared.</p> + +<p>"That's right," he said heartily. "Don't mind me. But I couldn't help +wondering. And I thought it was so decent of you to come round and look +me up on that first morning."</p> + +<p>Audrey's smile faded.</p> +<p><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339"></a></p> +<p>"I am glad you thought it was decent, anyhow," she said, with a touch of +bitterness. "No one else did."</p> + +<p>"Oh, rot, Mrs. Tudor!"</p> + +<p>Phil spoke hastily. He was frowning, as his custom was when embarrassed.</p> + +<p>She looked up at him and nodded emphatically.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it was—just that," she said, an odd little note of passion in +her voice. "I never thought of these things before, but it seems that +here no one thinks of anything else."</p> + +<p>"Don't take any notice of it," said Phil. "It isn't worth it."</p> + +<p>"I can't help myself," said Audrey. "You see—I'm married!"</p> + +<p>"So is Mrs. Raleigh." Phil spoke with sudden <a name="Page_340" id="Page_340"></a>heat. "But she doesn't +care."</p> + +<p>"No, I know. But her husband is such an old dear. Everything she does is +right in his eyes."</p> + +<p>It was skating on thin ice, and Phil at least realised it. He made an +abrupt effort to pull up.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm awfully fond of Major Raleigh," he said. "By the way, he's an +immense admirer of yours. Your promptitude the other night quite won his +heart. He complimented your husband upon it."</p> + +<p>"Did he? What did Eustace say?"</p> + +<p>There was more than curiosity in Audrey's voice.</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>Phil's eyes suddenly avoided hers. He spoke in a dogged, half-surly +tone.</p> + +<p>Audrey sat and looked at him for a moment. Then lightly she rose and +stood before him.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, please!" she said imperiously.</p> + +<p>He made a sharp gesture of remonstrance.</p> + +<p>"Sorry," he said, after a moment, as she waited inexorably. "I can't!"</p><p><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341"></a></p> + +<p>"Oh, but you can!" she returned. "You're not to say you won't to me."</p> + +<p>He looked down at her.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry!" he said less brusquely. "But it can't be done. It isn't +worth a tussle, I assure you, nor is it worth the possible annoyance it +might cause you if you had your way. Look here, can't we talk of +something else?"</p> + +<p>She laid her hand impulsively on his arm.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, Phil!" she said.</p> + +<p>He drew back abruptly.</p> + +<p>"You put me in a beastly position, Mrs. Tudor," he said. "I hate +repeating things. It isn't fair to corner me like this."</p> + +<p>"Don't be absurd!" said Audrey. Her face was flushed and determined. She +was bent upon having her own way in this, at least. "I shall begin to +hate you in a minute."</p> + +<p>But Phil could be determined, too.</p> + +<p>"Can't help it," he said; but there was genuine regret in his voice. +"You'll have to, I'm afraid."</p> + +<p>He was scarcely prepared for the effect of his words. She flung away +from him in tempestuous anger and turned as if to leave the room. But +before she reached the door some other impulse apparently overtook her. +She stopped abruptly with her back to Phil, and stood for what seemed to +him interminable seconds, fumbling with her handkerchief.</p> +<p><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342"></a></p> +<p>Then, before he had fully realised the approaching catastrophe, her +self-control suddenly deserted her. She sank into a chair with her hands +over her face and began to cry.</p> + +<p>Now, Phil was young, and no woman had ever thus abandoned herself to +tears in his presence before. The sight sent a sharp shock through him +that was almost like a dart of physical pain. It paralysed him for an +instant; but the next he strode forward, convention flung to the winds, +desirous only to comfort. He reached her and bent over her, one hand +upon her shaking shoulder.</p> + +<p>"I say, Mrs. Tudor, don't—don't!" he urged. "What is the matter? You're +not crying because I wouldn't do as you asked me? You couldn't care all +that for such a trifle?"</p> + +<p>His voice was husky with agitation. He felt guiltily that it was all his +fault, and he could have kicked himself for his clumsiness.</p> + +<p>She did not answer him, nor did her sobs grow less. It was the pent-up +misery of weeks to which she was giving vent, and, having yielded, it +was no easy matter to check herself again.</p> + +<p>Phil became desperate and knelt down by her side, almost as distressed +as she.</p> + +<p>"I say," he pleaded—"I say, Audrey, don't cry! Tell me what is wrong. +Let me help you. Give me a chance, anyhow. I—I'd do anything in the +world, you know. Only tell me."</p> + +<p>He drew one of her hands away from her face and held it between his own. +She did not resist him. Her need of a comforter just then was very +great. Her head was bowed almost against his shoulder and it did not +occur to either of them that they were transgressing the most +elementary laws of conventionality.</p> + +<p>"You can't help me," she sobbed at last. "No one can. I'm just lonely +and miserable and homesick. I hate this place and everyone in it +except—except you—and a few others. I wish I were back in England. I +wish I'd never left it. I wish—I wish—I'd never married."</p> + +<p>Her voice came muffled and piteous. It was the cry of a desolate child.<a name="Page_343" id="Page_343"></a> +And all the deep chivalry in Phil's soul quivered and thrilled in +response. Before he knew it, tender, consoling words had sprung to his +lips.</p> + +<p>"Don't cry, dear; don't cry!" he said. "You'll feel better about it +presently. We all go through it, and it's beastly, I know, I know. But +it won't last. Nothing does in this chancy world. So what's the good of +fretting?"</p> + +<p>She could not tell him. Her trouble was too immense at that moment to +bear discussion. But he comforted her. She liked the feel of his hand +upon her shoulder; the firm, friendly grasp of his fingers about her +own.</p> + +<p>"I sometimes think I can't go on," she whispered through her tears. +"It's like being in prison, and I want to run away. Only I can't—I +can't. I've got to bear it all my life."</p> + +<p>A slight sound from the open window followed this confidence, and Phil +looked up sharply. Audrey had not heard it, and she did not notice his +movement.</p> + +<p>Her head was still bent; and over it Phil, glaring like a tiger, met +the quiet, critical eyes of the girl's husband.</p> + +<p>He rose to his feet the next instant, but he did not utter a word.</p> + +<p>As for Tudor, he stood quite motionless, quite inscrutable, for the +space of seconds, looking gravely in upon them. Then, to Phil's +unspeakable amazement, he turned deliberately and walked away. There was +thick matting on Mrs. Raleigh's veranda, and his receding footsteps made +no sound.</p> + + +<p><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344"></a></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER VII</h3> + +<h4>AN UNPLEASANT INTERVIEW</h4> + + +<p>"There!" said Audrey, a few seconds later, "I've been a perfect idiot, I +know; but I'm better now. Tell me, do I look as if I had been crying?"</p> + +<p>She raised her pretty, woebegone face to his and smiled very faintly.</p> + +<p>There was something unmistakably grim about Phil at that moment, and she +wondered why.</p> + +<p>"Of course you do," he said bluntly.</p> + +<p>Audrey got up and peered at herself uneasily in a mirror.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't show much," she said, after a careful inspection. "And, +anyhow"—turning round to him—"I don't know what you have to be cross +about. It—it was all your fault!"</p> + +<p>Phil groaned and held his peace. She would know soon enough, he +reflected.</p> + +<p>Audrey drew nearer to him.</p> + +<p>"Tell me what he said to Major Raleigh, Phil," she said rather<a name="Page_345" id="Page_345"></a> +tremulously.</p> + +<p>He shrugged his shoulders and yielded.</p> + +<p>"He only said that he wished your discretion equalled your promptitude +in emergencies," he said.</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Audrey. "Was that all? Well, I think you might have told me +before."</p> + +<p>Phil laughed grudgingly. The situation was abominable, but her utter +childishness palliated it. How was Tudor going to treat the matter? he +wondered. What if he—</p> + +<p>A sudden thought flashed across Phil's brain, and his face grew set. Of +course it had been his fault, since she said so. It remained therefore +for him to extricate her, if he could. He turned to her.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Mrs. Tudor," he said, in a judicious, elder-brotherly tone, +"I think it's a mistake, don't you know, to let yourself get depressed +over—well, little things. I know what it is to feel down on your luck. +But luck turns, you know, and—and—he's a good sort—a bit stiff and +difficult to get on with, but still—a good sort. You won't think me +rude if I leave you now? I didn't expect Mrs. Raleigh to be so long, and +I'm afraid I can't wait any longer. I've got to dress for mess."</p> + +<p>"Goodness!" said Audrey, with a glance at the clock. "Does it take you +two hours? No, don't scowl! I'm only joking, so you needn't be cross. +Good-bye, then! Thank you for being kind to me."</p> + +<p>Her hand lay in his for a moment. She was smiling at him rather sadly,<a name="Page_346" id="Page_346"></a> +notwithstanding her half-bantering words.</p> + +<p>Phil paused a second.</p> + +<p>"I'm confoundedly sorry!" he said impulsively. "Don't cry any more."</p> + +<p>She shook her head and withdrew her hand.</p> + +<p>"Who says I've been crying?" she said lightly. "Go away, and don't be +silly!"</p> + +<p>He took her at her word and departed.</p> + +<p>At the gate of the compound he met Mrs. Raleigh<a name="Page_347" id="Page_347"></a>, but he refused to turn +back with her.</p> + +<p>"I really must go; I've got an engagement," he said. "But Mrs. Tudor is +waiting for you. Keep her as long as you can. I believe she's a bit +down—homesick, you know." And he hurried away, breaking into a run as +soon as he reached the road.</p> + +<p>He went straight to the Tudor's bungalow without giving himself time to +flinch from the interview that he had made up his mind he must have.</p> + +<p>The major <i>sahib</i> was in, the <i>khitmutgar</i> told him and Phil scribbled +an urgent message on his card and sent it to him. Two minutes later he +was shown into his superior officer's presence, and he realised that he +stood committed to the gravest task he had ever undertaken.</p> + +<p>Major Tudor was sitting unoccupied before the writing-table in his +smoking-room, but he rose as Phil entered. His face was composed as +usual.</p> + +<p>"Well, Mr. Turner?" he said, as Phil came heavily forward.</p> + +<p>Phil, more nervous than he had ever been before, halted in front of +him.</p> + +<p>"I came to speak to you, sir," he said with an effort, "to—to +explain—"</p> + +<p>Tudor was standing with his back to the light. He made no attempt to +help him out of his difficulties.</p> + +<p>Phil came to an abrupt pause; then, as if some inner force had suddenly<a name="Page_348" id="Page_348"></a> +come to his assistance, he straightened himself and tackled the matter +afresh.</p> + +<p>"I came to tell you, sir," he said, meeting Tudor's eyes squarely, "that +I have nothing to be ashamed of. In case"—he paused momentarily—"you +should misunderstand what you saw half an hour ago, I thought it better +to speak at once."</p> + +<p>"Very prudent," said Tudor. "But—it is quite unnecessary. I do not +misunderstand."</p> + +<p>He spoke deliberately and coldly. But Phil clenched his hands. The words +cut him like a whip.</p> + +<p>"You refuse to believe me?" he said.</p> + +<p>Tudor did not answer.</p> + +<p>"I must trouble you for an answer," Phil said, forcing himself to speak +quietly.</p> + +<p>"As you please," said Tudor, in the same cold tone. "I have a question +to put first. Had I not chanced to see what took place, would you have +sought this interview?"</p> + +<p>The blood rose in a hot wave to Phil's head, but he did not wince or +hesitate.</p> + +<p>"Of course I shouldn't," he said.</p><p><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349"></a></p> + +<p>Tudor made a curt gesture as of dismissal.</p> + +<p>"Out of your own mouth—" he said, and turned contemptuously away.</p> + +<p>Phil stood quite still for the space of ten seconds, then the young +blood in him suddenly mounted to fever pitch. He strode up to his major, +and seized him fiercely by the shoulder.</p> + +<p>"I won't bear this from any man," he said between his teeth. "I am as +honourable as you are! If you say—or insinuate—otherwise, I—by +Heaven—I'll kill you!"</p> + +<p>The passionate words ceased, and there followed a silence more terrible +than any speech. Tudor stood absolutely motionless, facing the young +subaltern who towered over him, without a sign of either anger or +dismay.</p> + +<p>Then at last, very slowly and quietly, he spoke:</p> + +<p>"You have made a mistake. Take your hand away."</p> + +<p>Phil's hand dropped to his side. He was white to the lips. Yet he would +not relinquish his purpose at a word.</p> + +<p>"It hasn't been for my own sake," he said, his voice still shaking with +the anger he could not subdue.</p> + +<p>Tudor made no response. He stood with his eyes fixed steadily upon +Phil's agitated face. And, as if compelled by that searching gaze, Phil +reiterated the assertion.</p> + +<p>"If I had only had myself to consider," he said, "I shouldn't<a name="Page_350" id="Page_350"></a> +have—stooped—to offer an explanation."</p> + +<p>"Let me remind you," Tudor said quietly, "that I have not asked for +one."</p> + +<p>"You prefer to misunderstand?" said Phil quickly.</p> + +<p>"I prefer to take my own view," amended Tudor. "If you are wise—you +will be satisfied to leave it so."</p> + +<p>It was final, and, though far from satisfied, Phil felt the futility of +further discussion. He turned to the door.</p> + +<p>"Very well, sir," he said briefly, and went out, holding his head high.</p> + +<p>As for Tudor, he sat down again before his writing-table with an unmoved +countenance, and after a short interval took up his correspondence. +There was no anger in his eyes.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER VIII</h3> + +<h4>AT THE DANCE</h4> + + +<p>Audrey saw no more of Phil Turner for some days. She did not enjoy much +of her husband's society, either. He appeared to be too busy to think of +her, and she in consequence spent most of her time with Mrs. Raleigh. +But Phil, who had been one of the latter's most constant visitors, did +not show himself there.</p> + +<p>It did not occur to Audrey that he absented himself on her account, and +she was disappointed not to meet him. Next perhaps to the surgeon's +wife, she had begun to regard him as her greatest friend. Certainly the +tie of obligation that bound them together was one that seemed to +warrant an intimate friendship. Moreover, Phil had been exceptionally +kind to her in distress, kinder far than Eustace had ever been.</p> +<p><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351"></a></p> +<p>She was growing away from her husband very rapidly, and she knew it, +mourned over it even in softer moments; but she felt powerless to remedy +the evil. It seemed so obvious to her that he did not care.</p> + +<p>So she spent more and more of her hours away from the bungalow that had +been made so dainty for her presence, and Eustace never seemed to notice +that she was absent from his side.</p> + +<p>He accompanied her always when she went out in the evening, but he no +longer intruded his guardianship upon her, and deep in her inmost heart +this thing hurt his young wife as nothing had ever hurt her before. She +had her own way in all matters, but it gave her no pleasure; and the +feeling that, though he might not approve of what she did, he would +never remonstrate, grew and festered within her till she sometimes +marvelled that he did not read her misery in her eyes.</p> + +<p>She met Phil Turner again at length at a regimental dance. As usual her +card was quickly filled, but she reserved a waltz for him, and after a +while he came across and asked her for one.</p> + +<p>"You were very nearly too late," she told him. "Why didn't you come +before?"</p> + +<p>He looked awkward for a moment. Then—</p> + +<p>"I was busy," he said rather shortly. "I'm one of the stewards."</p> + +<p>He scrawled his initials across her card and left her again. Audrey +concluded in her girlish way that something had made him cross, and +dismissed him from her mind.</p> +<p><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352"></a></p> +<p>When at length he came to claim her she was hot and tired and suggested +sitting out.</p> + +<p>He frowned at the idea, but, upon Audrey waxing imperious, he yielded. +They sat out together, but not in the cool dark of the veranda as she +had anticipated, but in the full glare of the ballroom amidst all the +hubbub of the dancers.</p> + +<p>Audrey was annoyed, and showed it.</p> + +<p>"I am sure we might find a seat on the veranda," she said.</p> + +<p>But Phil was obstinate.</p> + +<p>"I assure you, Mrs. Tudor," he said, "I looked in there just now, and +every seat was occupied."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe you are telling the truth," she returned.</p> + +<p>He raised his eyebrows.</p> + +<p>"Thank you!" he said briefly.</p> +<p><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353"></a></p> +<p>Something in the curt reply caught her attention, and she gave him a +quick glance. He was looking remarkably handsome in his red and gold +uniform with the scarlet cummerbund across his shirt. Vexed as she was +with him, Audrey could not help admitting it to herself. His brown, +resolute face attracted her irresistibly.</p> + +<p>She allowed a considerable pause to ensue before she went to the +inevitable attack. Somehow, notwithstanding his surliness, she had not +the faintest desire to quarrel with him.</p> + +<p>"You're very grumpy to-night," she remarked at length in her cheery +young voice. "What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>He started and looked intensely uncomfortable.</p> + +<p>"Nothing—of course!" he said.</p> + +<p>"Why of course? I wonder. With me it's the other way round. I am never +cross without a reason."</p> + +<p>Audrey was still cheery.</p> +<p><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354"></a></p> +<p>He smiled faintly.</p> + +<p>"I congratulate you," he said.</p> + +<p>Audrey smiled also. Fully exposed as was their position, there was no +one near enough to overhear.</p> + +<p>"Well, don't be cross any more, Phil," she said persuasively. "Cheer up, +and come to tiffin with me to-morrow. Will you? I shall be quite alone."</p> + +<p>Phil's smile departed instantly. He glanced at her for a second, and +then fixed his eyes steadily upon the ground between his feet.</p> + +<p>"You're awfully good!" he said at last. "But—thanks very much—I +can't."</p> + +<p>"Can't?" echoed Audrey, with genuine disappointment. "Oh, I'm sure +that's nonsense! Why can't you? You're not on duty?"</p> + +<p>"No," he said, speaking slowly, "I'm not on duty; but—fact is, I'm +going up to the Hills shooting for a few days and—I shall be busy, +packing guns and things. Besides—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, do stop!" she broke in, with sudden impatience. "I know you are +only making up as you go along. It's very horrid of you, besides being +contemptible. Why can't you say at once that you are not coming because +you don't want to come?"</p> + +<p>Her quick pride had taken fire at sound of his deliberate excuse; and, +as was its wont upon provocation, her anger flamed high at a moment's +notice.</p><p><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355"></a></p> + +<p>Phil did not look at her. His expression was decidedly uneasy, but +there was a certain grimness about him that did not seem to indicate the +probability of any excessive show of docility in face of a browbeating.</p> + +<p>"I don't say it," he said doggedly at length, "because, besides being +rude, it wouldn't be strictly true."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't have thought you would have had any scruples of that sort," +rejoined Audrey, hitting her hardest because he had managed to hurt her. +"They haven't been very apparent to-night."</p> + +<p>Phil made no protest, but he was frowning heavily.</p> + +<p>She leant slightly towards him, speaking behind her fan.</p> + +<p>"Be honest just for a second," she said, "if you can, and tell me; are +you tired of calling yourself a friend of mine? Are you trying to get +out of it? Because, if you are, it's quite the easiest thing in the +world to do so. But once done—"</p> + +<p>She paused. Phil was looking at her at last, and there was something in +his eyes that startled her. A sudden pity rushed over her heart. She +felt as she had felt once long ago in England when a dog—an old friend +of hers—had been injured. He had looked at her with just such eyes as +those that were fixed upon her now. Their dumb pleading had been almost +more than she could bear.</p> + +<p>Involuntarily she laid her hand on his arm, music and dancers all +forgotten in that moment of swift emotion.</p> + +<p>"Phil," she whispered tremulously, "what is it? What is it?"</p> + +<p>He did not answer her by a single word. He simply rose to his feet, as +if by her action she had suggested it, and whirled her in among the +dancers.</p> + +<p>He kept her going to the very last chord, she too full of wonder and +uncertainty to protest; and then he led her straight through the room to<a name="Page_356" id="Page_356"></a> +where Mrs. Raleigh stood, surrounded by the usual crowd of subalterns, +muttered an excuse, and left her there.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER IX</h3> + +<h4>DREADFUL NEWS</h4> + + +<p>It was nearly a week later that Audrey, riding home alone in a rickshaw +from a polo-match, was overtaken by young Gerald Devereux, a subaltern, +who was tearing along on foot as if on some urgent errand. Recognising +her, he reduced his speed and dropped into a jog-trot by her side.</p> + +<p>"You haven't heard, of course?" he jerked out breathlessly. "Beastly bad +news! Those hill tribes—always up to some devilry! Poor old +Phil—infernal luck!"</p> + +<p>"What?" exclaimed Audrey. "What has happened to him? Tell me, quick, +quick!"</p> + +<p>She turned as white as paper, and Devereux cursed himself for a clumsy +fool.</p> + +<p>"It may not be the worst," he gasped back. "Dash it! I'm so winded! We +hope, you know, we hope—but it's usually a knife and good-bye with +these ruffians. Still, there's a chance—just a chance."</p> + +<p>"But you haven't told me what has happened yet," cried Audrey, in a +fever of impatience.</p> + +<p>He answered her, still running by her side "The Waris have got him;<a name="Page_357" id="Page_357"></a> +rushed his camp at night and bagged everything. The coolies were in the +know, no doubt. Only his <i>shikari</i> got away. He has just come in wounded +with the news. I'm on my way to tell the Chief, though I don't see what +good he can do."</p> + +<p>"You mean you think he is murdered?" gasped Audrey, through white lips.</p> + +<p>He nodded.</p> + +<p>"Afraid so, poor beggar! Well, so long, Mrs. Tudor! We must hope for the +best as long as we can."</p> + +<p>He put his hand to his cap, and ran on, while Audrey, with a set, white +face, was borne to her bungalow.</p> + +<p>Her husband was sitting on the veranda. He rose as she alighted and gave +her his hand up the short flight of steps to his side.</p> + +<p>"You are rather late," he said in his grave way. "I am afraid you will +have to hurry."</p> + +<p>They were dining out that night, but Audrey had forgotten it. She stared +at him as if dazed.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" he asked. "Nothing wrong?"</p> + +<p>She gasped hysterically.</p><p><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358"></a></p> + +<p>"Oh, Eustace, an awful thing—an awful thing!" she cried. "Mr. Devereux +has just told me—"</p> + +<p>Her voice broke, and her lips formed soundless words. She groped vaguely +for support with one hand.</p> + +<p>Tudor put his arm round her and led her, tottering, indoors.</p> + +<p>"All right; tell me presently," he said quietly. "Sit down and keep +still for a little."</p> + +<p>He put her into an arm-chair and left her there. In a few seconds he +returned with some brandy and water, which he held to her lips in +silence. Then, setting down the glass, he began to rub her nerveless +hands.</p> +<p><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359"></a></p> +<p>Audrey submitted passively at first to his ministrations, but presently +as her strength returned she sat up.</p> + +<p>"You haven't heard?" she asked him shakily.</p> + +<p>"I have heard nothing," he answered. "Can you tell me now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—yes!" She paused a moment to steady her voice. Then—"It's Phil!" +she faltered. "He has been taken prisoner—murdered perhaps—by those +dreadful hill men! Oh Eustace"—lifting her face appealingly—"do you +think they would kill him? Do you? Do you?"</p> + +<p>But Tudor said nothing. He made no attempt to comfort her, and she +turned from him in bitter disappointment. His lack of sympathy at such a +moment was almost more than she could bear.</p> + +<p>"How did Devereux know?" he asked, after a pause.</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"He said something about a <i>shikari</i>. He was going to tell the colonel; +but he didn't think it would be any use. He said—he said—"</p> + +<p>She broke off, quivering with agitation. Her husband took the glass +from the table again and made her drink a little. She tried to refuse, +but he insisted.</p> +<p><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360"></a></p> +<p>"You have had a shock. It will do you good," he said, in his level, +unmoved voice.</p> + +<p>And Audrey yielded to the mastery she had scarcely felt of late.</p> + +<p>The spirit helped to steady her, and at length she rose.</p> + +<p>"I am going to my room, Eustace," she said, not looking at him. +"I—can't go out to-night. Perhaps you will make my excuses."</p> + +<p>He did not answer her, and she threw him a swift glance. He was standing +stiff and upright. His face was stern and composed; it might have been a +stone mask.</p> + +<p>"What excuse am I to make?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Her eyes widened. The question was utterly unexpected.</p> + +<p>"Why, the truth—of course," she said. "Say that I have been upset by +the news, that—that—I hadn't the heart—I couldn't—Eustace,"—appealing +suddenly, a tremor of indignation in her voice—"you don't seem to realise +that he is one of my greatest friends. Don't you understand?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said—"yes, I understand!"</p> + +<p>And she marvelled at the coldness—the deadly, concentrated coldness—of +his voice.</p> + +<p>"All the same," he went on, "I think you must make an effort to +accompany me to the Bentleys' to-night. It might be thought unusual if +I went alone."</p> + +<p>She stared at him in sudden, amazed anger.</p> + +<p>"Eustace!" she exclaimed. "How can you be so cruel, so cold-blooded, +so—so heartless? How can you expect such a thing of me—to sit at table +and hear them all talking about it, and his chances discussed? I<a name="Page_361" id="Page_361"></a> +couldn't—I couldn't!"</p> + +<p>He did not press the point. Perhaps he realised that her nerves in their +present condition would prove wholly unequal to such a strain.</p> + +<p>"Very well," he said quietly at length. "I will send a note to excuse us +both."</p> + +<p>"I don't see why you should stay at home," Audrey said, turning to the +door. "I would far rather be alone."</p> + +<p>He did not explain his motive, and she went out of his presence with a +sensation of relief. She had never fully realised before how wide the +gulf between them had become.</p> + +<p>She remained shut up in her room all the evening, eating nothing, face +to face with the horror of young Devereux's brief words. It was the +first time within her memory that death had approached her sheltered +life, and she was shocked and frightened, as a child is frightened by +the terrors of the dark.</p> + +<p>Very late that night she crept into bed, dismissing her <i>ayah</i>, and lay +there shivering and forlorn, thinking, thinking, of the cruel faces and +flashing knives that Phil had awaked to see. She dozed at last in her +misery, only to wake again with a shriek of nightmare terror, and start +up sobbing hysterically.</p> + +<p>"Why, Audrey!" a quiet voice said, and she woke fully, to find her +husband standing by her bed.</p> + +<p>She turned to him impulsively, hiding her face against him, clinging to<a name="Page_362" id="Page_362"></a> +him with straining arms. She could not utter a word, for an anguish of +weeping overtook her. And he was silent also, bending over her, his hand +upon her head.</p> + +<p>Gradually the paroxysm passed and she grew quieter; but she still clung +closely to him, and at length with difficulty she began to speak.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Eustace, it's all so horrible! I can't help seeing it. I'm sure +he's dead, or, if he isn't, it's almost worse. And I was so—unkind to +him the last time we were together. I thought he was cross, but I know +now he was only miserable; and I never dreamt I was never going to see +him again, or I wouldn't have been so—so horrid!"</p> + +<p>Haltingly, pathetically, the poor little confession was gasped out +through quivering sobs and the face of the man who listened was no +longer a stony mask; it was alight and tender with a compassion too +great for utterance.</p> + +<p>He bent a little lower over her, pressing her head closer to his heart; +and she heard its beating, slow and strong and regular, through all the +turmoil of her distress.</p> + +<p>"Poor child!" he said. "Poor child!"</p> + +<p>It was all the comfort he had to offer, but it was more to her than any +other words he had ever spoken. It voiced a sympathy which till that +moment had been wholly lacking—a sympathy that she desired more than +anything else on earth.</p> + +<p>"Don't go away, Eustace!" she begged presently. "It—it's so dreadful +all alone."</p> + +<p>"Try to sleep, dear," he said gently.</p><p><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363"></a></p> + +<p>"Yes, but I dream, I dream," she whispered piteously.</p> + +<p>He laid her very tenderly back on the pillow, and sat down beside her.</p> + +<p>"You won't dream while I am here," he said.</p> + +<p>She clasped his hand closely in both her own and begged him tremulously +to kiss her. By the dim light of her night-lamp she could scarcely see +his face; but as her lips met his a great peace stole over her. She felt +as if he had stretched out his hands to her across the great, dividing +gulf that had opened between them and drawn her to his side.</p> + +<p>About a quarter of an hour later Eustace Tudor rose noiselessly and +stood looking down at his young wife's sleeping face. It was placid as +an infant's, and her breathing was soft and regular. He knew that, +undisturbed, she would sleep so for hours.</p> + +<p>And so he did not dare to kiss her. He only bowed his head till his lips +touched the coverlet beneath which she lay; and then stealthily, +silently, he crept away.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER X</h3> + +<h4>A CHANGE OF PRISONERS</h4> + + +<p>Heavens, how the night crawled! Phil Turner, bound hand and foot, and<a name="Page_364" id="Page_364"></a> +cruelly cramped in every limb, hitched himself to a sitting posture and +began to calculate how long he probably had to live.</p> + +<p>There was no moon, but the starlight entered his prison—it was no more +than a mud hut, but had it been built of stone walls many feet thick his +chance would scarcely have been lessened. It was merely a question of +time, he knew, and he marvelled that his fate had been delayed so long.</p> + +<p>To use his comrade's descriptive language, he had expected "a knife and +good-bye" full twenty hours before. But neither had been his portion. He +had been made a prisoner before he was fully awake, and hustled away to +the native fort before sunrise. He had been given <i>chupatties</i> to eat +and spring water to drink, and, though painfully stiff from his bonds, +he was unwounded.</p> + +<p>It had been a daring capture, he reflected; but what were they keeping +him for? Not for the sake of hospitality—of that he was grimly +certain. There had been no pretence at any friendly feeling on the part +of his captors. They had glared hatred at him from the outset, and Phil +was firmly convinced, without any undue pessimism, that they had not the +smallest intention of sparing his life.</p> + +<p>But why they postponed the final deed was a problem, that he found +himself quite unable to solve. It had worried him perpetually for twenty +hours, and, combined with the misery of his bonds, made sleep an +impossibility.</p> + +<p>Sleep! The very thought of it was horrible to him. It had never struck +him before as a criminal waste of the precious hours of life, for Phil +was young, and he had not done with mortal existence. There were in it +deeps he had not sounded, heights he had never scaled. He was not +prepared to forego these at the will of a parcel of murderous ruffians<a name="Page_365" id="Page_365"></a> +who chanced to object to the white man's rule. He had friends, +too—friends he could not afford to lose—friends who could not afford +to lose him.</p> + +<p>Doubtless his murder would be avenged in due course; but—He grimaced +wrily to himself in the darkness, and tried once more to ease his +cramped limbs.</p> + +<p>From outside came the murmur of voices. He could just see the shoulder +of one of his guards at the entrance and the steel glint of a +rifle-barrel. He gazed at the latter hungrily. Oh, for just a sporting +chance—to be free even in the midst of his enemies with that in his +hand!</p> + +<p>A shadow fell across the entrance, and he saw the rifle no more. He saw +the two Wari sentinels salaaming profoundly, and he began to wonder who +the newcomer might be—a personage of some importance apparently.</p> + +<p>There followed an interval of some minutes, during which Phil began to +chafe with feverish impatience. Then at last the shadow became +substance, moving into his line of vision, and a man, wrapped in a long, +native garment and wearing a <i>chuddah</i> that concealed the greater part +of his face, glided into the hut on noiseless, sandalled feet.</p> + +<p>He held a naked knife in his hand, and Phil's heart began to thud +unpleasantly. It taxed all a man's self-control to face death in cold +blood, trussed hand and foot and helpless as an infant. But he gripped +himself hard, and faced the weapon without flinching. It would not do to +let these murderous ruffians see a white man afraid.</p> + +<p>"Hullo!" he said contemptuously. "Come to put the finishing touch, I +suppose? You'll hang for it, you infernal, treacherous brute; but that's +a detail you border thieves don't seem to mind."</p> +<p><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366"></a></p> +<p>It eased the tension to hurl verbal defiance at his murderer, and there +was just the chance that the fellow might understand a little English. +But when his visitor stooped over him and deliberately cut his bonds, he +was astounded into silence.</p> + +<p>He waited dumfounded, and a muscular hand gripped his shoulder, holding +him motionless.</p> + +<p>"You'll be all right," a quiet voice said, "if you don't make a +confounded fool of yourself."</p> + +<p>Phil gave a great start, and the hand that gripped him tightened. +Through the gloom he made out the outline of a grim, bearded face.</p> + +<p>"Control yourself!" the quiet voice ordered. "Do you think I've done +this for nothing? We are alone—it may be for five minutes, it may be +for less. Get out of your things—sharp, and let me have them."</p> + +<p>"Great Jupiter—Tudor!" gasped Phil.</p> + +<p>"Yes—Tudor!" came the curt response. "Don't stop to jaw. Do as I tell +you."</p><p><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367"></a></p> + +<p>He took his hand from Phil's shoulder and stood up, backing into the +shadows.</p> + +<p>Phil stood up, too, straightening himself with an effort. The suddenness +of this thing had thrown him momentarily off his balance.</p> + +<p>"Quick!" commanded Tudor in a fierce whisper. "Take off your clothes. +There isn't a second to lose."</p> + +<p>But Phil stood uncertain.</p> + +<p>"What's the game, Major?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Tudor's hand gripped him again and violently.</p> + +<p>"You fool!" he whispered savagely. "Don't stand gaping there! Can't you +see it's a matter of life and death? Do you want to be killed?"</p> + +<p>"No, but—"</p> + +<p>Phil broke off. Tudor in that frame of mind was a stranger to him, but +he was none the less one who must be obeyed. Mechanically almost he +yielded to the man's insistence and began to strip off his clothes.</p> + +<p>Tudor helped him with an energy that neither fumed nor faltered. Mute<a name="Page_368" id="Page_368"></a> +obedience was all he required. But when he dropped the garment he wore +from his own shoulders, Phil paused to protest.</p> + +<p>"I am not going to wear that!" he said. "What about you?"</p> + +<p>"I can look after myself," Tudor answered curtly. "Get into it—quick! +There is no time for arguing. You're going to wear these, too."</p> + +<p>He pulled the ragged, black beard from his face and the <i>chuddah</i> from +his head.</p> + +<p>But Phil's eyes were opened, and he resisted.</p> + +<p>"Heavens above, sir!" he said. "Do you think I'm going to do a thing +like that?"</p> + +<p>"You must!" Tudor answered.</p> + +<p>He spoke quietly, but there was deadly determination behind his +quietude. They faced one another in the gloom, and suddenly there ran +between them a passion of feeling that blazed unseen like the hidden +current in an electric wire.</p> + +<p>For a few seconds it burnt fiercely, silently; then Tudor laid a firm +hand on the younger man's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"You must," he said again. "The choice does not rest with you. It is +made already. It only remains for you to yield—whatever it may cost +you—as I am doing."</p><p><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369"></a></p> + +<p>Phil started as if he had struck him.</p> + +<p>"You are wrong, sir," he exclaimed. "On my oath, you are wrong. You +don't understand. You never have understood. I—I—"</p> + +<p>Tudor silenced him summarily with a hand upon his lips.</p> + +<p>"I know, I know!" he said. "There is no time for this. Leave it and go. +If it is any comfort to you to know it, I think no evil of you. I +realise that what has happened had to happen, was in a sense inevitable, +and I blame myself alone. Listen to me. This disguise will take you +through all right if you keep your mouth shut. You are a priest, +remember, preaching the Jehad, only I've done all the preaching +necessary. You have simply to walk straight through them, down the hill +till you come to the pass, and then along the river-bed till you strike +the road to the Frontier. It's six miles away, but you will do it before +sunrise. No, don't speak! I haven't finished yet. You are going to do +this not for your own sake or for mine. You think you are going to +refuse, but you are not. As for me, your going or staying could make no +difference. I have come with a certain object in view, but I shall +remain, whether I gain that object or not. That I swear to you most +solemnly."</p> + +<p>He turned away with the words and began to loosen his sandals. Phil +watched him dumbly. He was face to face with a difficulty of such +monstrous proportions that he was utterly nonplussed. From the distance +came the sound of voices.</p> + +<p>"You had better go," observed Tudor, in steady tones. "The guards are +coming back. It will hasten matters for both of us if we are discovered +like this."</p> + +<p>"Sir!" Phil burst out suddenly. "I—can't!"</p> + +<p>Tudor wheeled swiftly. It was almost as if he had been waiting for that +desperate appeal. He caught up the native garment and flung it over +Phil's shoulders. He dragged the beard down over his face and secured<a name="Page_370" id="Page_370"></a> +the <i>chuddah</i> about his head. He did it all with incredible rapidity and +a strength that would not be gainsaid.</p> + +<p>Then, holding Phil fast in a merciless, irresistible grasp, he spoke:</p> + +<p>"If you attempt to disobey me now, I'll kill myself with my own hands."</p> + +<p>There was no mistaking the resolution of his voice, and it wrought the +end of the battle—an end inevitable. Phil realised it and accepted it +with a groan. He did not utter another word of protest. He was +conquered, humiliated, powerless. Only when at last he was ready to +depart he stood up and faced Tudor, as he had faced him on the day that +the latter had refused to give him a hearing.</p> + +<p>"I've given in to you," he said; "but it's to save your life, if +possible, and for no other reason. You can think what you like of me, +but not—of her! Because, before Heaven, I believe this will break her +heart."</p> + +<p>He would have said more, but Tudor cut him short.</p> + +<p>"Go!" he said. "Go! I know what I am doing—better than you think!"</p> + +<p>And Phil turned in silence and went out into the world-wide starlight.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER XI</h3> + +<h4>THE AWAKENING</h4> +<p><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371"></a></p> + +<p>The sun was already high when Audrey awoke. She started up, refreshed in +body and mind. Her first thought was of her husband. No doubt he had +gone out long before. He always rose early, even when off duty.</p> + +<p>Then she remembered Phil, and her face contracted as all the trouble of +the night before rushed back upon her. Was he still living? she +wondered.</p> + +<p>She stretched out her hand to ring for her <i>ayah</i>. But as she did so her +eyes fell upon a table by her side and she caught sight of an envelope +lying there. She picked it up.</p> + +<p>It was addressed to herself in her husband's handwriting, and, with a +sharp sense of anxiety, she tore it open. The note it contained was +characteristically brief:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>I hope by the time you read this to have procured young Turner's +release, if he still lives—at no very great cost, I beg you to +believe. I desire the letter that you will find on my +writing-table to be sent at once to the colonel. There is also +a note for Mrs. Raleigh which I want you to deliver yourself. +God bless you, Audrey.</p> + +<p>E.T.</p></div> +<p><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372"></a></p> +<p>Audrey looked up from the letter with startled eyes and white cheeks. +What did it mean? What had he been doing in the night while she slept? +How was it possible for him to have saved Phil?</p> + +<p>Trembling, she sprang from her bed and began to dress. Possibly the note +to Mrs. Raleigh might explain the mystery. She would ride round with it +at once.</p> + +<p>She went into Tudor's room before starting and found the letter for the +colonel. It was addressed and sealed. She gave it to a <i>syce</i> with +orders to deliver it into the colonel's own hands without delay.</p> + +<p>Then, still quivering with an apprehension she would not own, she +mounted and rode away to the surgeon's bungalow.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Raleigh received her with some surprise.</p> + +<p>"Ah, come in!" she said kindly. "I'm delighted to see you, dear; but, +sure, you are riding very late. And is there anything the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," gasped Audrey breathlessly. "I mean no, I hope not. My husband +has—has gone to try to save Phil Turner; and—and he left a note for +you, which I was to deliver. He went away in the night, but he—of +course he'll—be back—soon!"</p> + +<p>Her voice faltered and died away. There was a look on Mrs. Raleigh's +face, hidden as it were behind her smile, that struck terror to Audrey's +heart. She thrust out the letter in an anguish of unconcealed suspense.</p> + +<p>"Read it! Read it!" she implored, "and tell me what has +happened—quickly, for I—I don't understand!"</p><p><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373"></a></p> + +<p>Mrs. Raleigh took the letter, passing a supporting arm around the girl's +quivering form.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, dear!" she said tenderly.</p> + +<p>Audrey obeyed, but her face was still raised in voiceless supplication +as Mrs. Raleigh opened the letter. The pause that followed was terrible +to her. She endured it in wrung silence, her <a name="Page_374" id="Page_374"></a>hands fast gripped +together.</p> + +<p>Then Mrs. Raleigh turned, and in her eyes was a deep compassion, a +motherly tenderness of pity, that was to Audrey the confirmation of her +worst fears.</p> + +<p>She did not speak again. Her heart felt constricted, paralysed. But Mrs. +Raleigh saw the entreaty which her whole body expressed, and, stooping, +she took the rigid hands into hers.</p> + +<p>"My dear," she said, "he has gone into the Hills in disguise, up to the +native fort beyond Wara, as that is where he expects to find Phil. +Heaven help him and bring them both back!"</p> + +<p>Audrey stared at her with a stunned expression. Her lips were quite +white, and Mrs. Raleigh thought she was going to faint.</p> + +<p>But Audrey did not lose consciousness. She sat there as if turned to +stone, trying to speak and failing to make any sound. At last, +convulsively, words came.</p> + +<p>"They will take him for a spy," she said, both hands pressed to her +throat as if something there hurt her intolerably. "The +Waris—torture—spies!"</p><p><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375"></a></p> + +<p>"My darling, my darling, we must hope—hope and pray!" said the +Irishwoman, holding her closely.</p> + +<p>Audrey turned suddenly, passionately, in the enfolding arms and clung to +her as if in physical agony.</p> + +<p>"You may, you may," she said in a dreadful whisper, "but I can't—for I +don't believe. Do you in your heart believe he will ever come back?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Raleigh did not answer.</p> + +<p>Audrey went on, still holding her tightly:</p> + +<p>"Do you think I don't know why he wrote to you? It was to put me in your +care, because—because he knew he was never coming back. And shall +I—shall I tell you why he went?"</p> + +<p>"Darling, hush—hush!" pleaded Mrs. Raleigh, her voice unsteady with +emotion. "There, don't say any more! Put your head on my shoulder, love. +Let me hold you so."</p> + +<p>But Audrey's convulsive hold did not relax. She had been a child all her +life up to that moment, but, like a worn-out garment, her childhood had +slipped from her, and she had emerged a woman. The old, happy ignorance +was gone for ever, and the revelation that had dispelled it was almost +more than she could bear. Her newly developed womanhood suffered as +womanhood alone can suffer.</p><p><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376"></a></p> + +<p>And yet, could she have drawn the veil once more before her eyes and so +have deadened that agonising pain, she would not have done so.</p> + +<p>She was awake now. The long, long sleep with its gay dreams, its +careless illusions, was over. But it was better to be awake, better to +see and know things as they were, even if the anguish thereof killed +her. And so she refused the hushing comfort that only a child—such a +child as she had been but yesterday—could have found satisfying.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I can tell you—now—why he went," she said, in that tense whisper +which so wrung Mrs. Raleigh's heart. "He went—for my sake! Think of it! +Think of it! He went because I was fretting about Phil. He went +because—because he thought—- that Phil's safety—meant—my happiness, +and that <i>his</i> safety—his—his precious life—didn't—count!"</p> + +<p>The awful words sank into breathless silence. Mrs. Raleigh was crying +silently. She was powerless to cope with this. But Audrey shed no tears. +It was beyond tears and beyond mourning—this terrible revelation that +had come to her. By-and-by, it might be, both would come to her, if she +lived.</p> + +<p>She rose suddenly at length with a sharp gasp, as of one seeking air.</p> + +<p>"I am going," she said, in a clear, strong voice, "to the colonel. He +will help me to save my husband."</p> + +<p>And with that she turned to the veranda, and met the commanding-officer +face to face. There was another man behind him, but she did not look at +him. She instantly, without a second's pause, addressed the colonel.</p> + +<p>"I was coming to you," she said through her white lips. "You will help<a name="Page_377" id="Page_377"></a> +me. You must help me. My husband is a prisoner, and I am going into the +Hills to find him. You must follow with men and guns. He must be +saved—whatever it costs."</p> + +<p>The colonel laid his hand on her shoulder, looking down at her very +earnestly, very kindly.</p> + +<p>"My dear Mrs. Tudor," he said, "all that can be done shall be done, all +that is humanly possible. I have already told Turner so. Did you know +that he was safe?"</p> + +<p>He drew her forward a step, and she saw that the man behind him was Phil +Turner himself—Phil Turner, grave, strong, resolute, with all his +manhood strung up to the moment's emergency, all his boyhood submerged +in a responsibility that overwhelmed the lesser part of him, leaving +only that which was great.</p> + +<p>He went straight up to Audrey and took the hands she stretched out to +him. Neither of them felt the presence of onlookers.</p> + +<p>"He saved my life, Mrs. Tudor!" he said simply. "He forced me to take it +at his hands. But I'm going back with some men to find him. You stay +here with Mrs. Raleigh till we come back. We shall be quicker alone."</p> + +<p>A great sob burst from Audrey. It was as if the few gallant words had +loosened the awful constriction at her heart.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Phil, Phil!" she cried brokenly. "You understand—what this is to +me—how I love him—how I love him! Bring him back to me! Promise, Phil, +promise!"</p> + +<p>And Phil bent till his lips touched the hands he held.</p> +<p><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378"></a></p> +<p>"I will do it," he said with reverence—"so help me, God!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER XII</h3> + +<h4>A WOMAN'S AGONY</h4> + + +<p>All through the day and the night that followed Audrey watched and +waited.</p> + +<p>She spent the terrible hours at the Raleighs' bungalow, scarcely +conscious of her surroundings in her anguish of suspense. It possessed +her like a raging fever, and she could not rest. At times it almost +seemed to suffocate her, and then she would pace to and fro, to and fro, +hardly knowing what she did.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Raleigh never left her, caring for her with a maternal tenderness +that never flagged. But for her Audrey would almost certainly have +collapsed under the strain.</p> + +<p>"If he had only known! If he had only known!" she kept repeating. "But<a name="Page_379" id="Page_379"></a> +how could he know? for I never showed him. How could he even guess? And +now he never can know. It's too late, too late!"</p> + +<p>Futile, bitter regret! All through the night it followed her, and when +morning came the haggard misery it had wrought upon her face had robbed +it of all its youth.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Raleigh tried to comfort her with hopeful words, but she did not +seem so much as to hear them. She was listening, listening intently, for +every sound.</p> + +<p>It was about noon that young Travers raced in, hot and breathless, but +he stopped short in evident dismay when he saw Audrey. He would have +withdrawn as precipitately as he had entered, but she sprang after him +and caught him by the arms.</p> + +<p>"You have news!" she cried wildly. "What is it? Oh, what is it? Tell me +quickly!"</p> + +<p>He hesitated and glanced nervously at Mrs. Raleigh.</p> + +<p>"Yes, tell her," the latter said. "It is better than suspense."</p> + +<p>And so briefly, jerkily, the boy blurted on his news:</p> + +<p>"Phil's back again; but they haven't got the major. The fort was +deserted, except for one old man, and they have brought him along. They +are over at the colonel's bungalow now."</p> + +<p>He paused, shocked by the awful look his tidings had brought into<a name="Page_380" id="Page_380"></a> +Audrey's eyes.</p> + +<p>The next instant she had sprung past him to the open door and was gone, +bareheaded and distraught, into the blazing sunshine.</p> + +<p>How she covered the distance of the long, white road to the colonel's +bungalow, Audrey never remembered afterwards. Her agony of mind was too +great for her brain to register any impression of physical stress. She +only knew that she ran and ran as one runs in a nightmare, till +suddenly she was on the veranda of the colonel's bungalow, stumbling, +breathless, crying hoarsely for "Phil! Phil!"</p> + +<p>He came to her instantly.</p> + +<p>"Where is he?" she cried, in high, strained tones. "Where is my husband? +You promised to bring him back to me! You promised—you promised—"</p> + +<p>Her voice failed. She felt choked, as if an iron hand were slowly, +remorselessly, crushing the life out of her panting heart. Thick +darkness hovered above her, but she fought it from her wildly, +frantically.</p><p><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381"></a></p> + +<p>"You promised—" She gasped again.</p> + +<p>He took her gently by the arm, supporting her.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Tudor," he said very earnestly, "I have done my best."</p> + +<p>He led her unresisting into a room close by. The colonel was there, and +with him a man in flowing, native garments.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Tudor," said Phil, his hand closing tightly upon her arm, "before +you blame me, I want you to speak to this man. He can tell you more +about your husband than I can."</p> + +<p>He spoke very quietly, very steadily, almost as if he were afraid she +might not understand him.</p> + +<p>Audrey made an effort to collect her reeling senses. The colonel bent +towards her.</p> + +<p>"Don't be afraid of him, Mrs. Tudor," he said kindly. "He is a friend, +and he speaks English."</p> + +<p>But Audrey did not so much as glance at the native, who stood, silent +and impassive, waiting to be questioned. The agony of the past thirty +hours had reached its limit. She sank into a chair by the colonel's<a name="Page_382" id="Page_382"></a> +table and hid her face in her shaking hands.</p> + +<p>"I've nothing to ask him," she said hopelessly. "Eustace is +dead—dead—dead, without ever knowing how I loved him. Nothing matters +now. There is nothing left that ever can matter."</p> + +<p>Dead silence succeeded her words, then a quiet movement, then silence +again.</p> + +<p>She did not look up or stir. Her passion of grief had burnt itself out. +She was exhausted mentally and physically.</p> + +<p>Minutes passed, but she did not move. What was there to rouse her? There +was nothing left. She had no tears to shed. Tears were for small things. +This grief of hers was too immense, too infinite for tears.</p> + +<p>Only at last something, some inner prompting, stirred her, and as if at +the touch of a hand that compelled, she raised her head.</p> + +<p>She saw neither the colonel nor Phil, and a sharp prick of wonder +pierced her lethargy of despair. She turned in her chair, obedient still +to that inner force that compelled. Yes, they had gone. Only the native +remained—an old, bent man, who humbly awaited her pleasure. His face +was almost hidden in his <i>chuddah</i>.</p> + +<p>Audrey looked at him.</p> + +<p>"There is nothing to wait for," she said at length. "You need not +stay."</p> + +<p>He did not move. It was as if he had not heard. Her wonder grew into a<a name="Page_383" id="Page_383"></a> +sort of detached curiosity. What did the man want? She remembered that +the colonel had told her that he understood English.</p> + +<p>"Is there—something—you wish to say to me?" she asked, and the bare +utterance of the words kindled a feeble spark of hope within her, almost +in spite of herself.</p> + +<p>He turned very slowly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, one thing," he said, paused an instant as she sprang to her feet +with a great cry, then straightened himself, pushed the <i>chuddah</i> back +from his face, and flung out his arms to her passionately.</p> + +<p>"Audrey!" he said—"Audrey!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER XIII</h3> + +<h4>HAPPINESS AGAIN</h4> + + +<p>By slow degrees Audrey learnt the story of her husband's escape.</p> + +<p>It was Phil's doing in the main, he told her simply, and she understood +that but for Phil he would not have taken the trouble. Something Phil +had said to him that night had stuck in his mind, and it had finally +decided him to make the attempt.</p> + +<p>Circumstances had favoured him. Moreover it was by no means the first +time that he had been among the Hill tribes in native guise. One +sentinel alone had returned to guard the hut after Phil's departure, and +this man he had succeeded in overpowering without raising an alarm.</p> + +<p>Then, disguising himself once more, he had managed to escape just before<a name="Page_384" id="Page_384"></a> +the dawn, and had lain hidden for hours among the boulders of the +river-bed, fearing to emerge by daylight. But in the evening he had left +his hiding-place, and found the fort to be occupied by British troops. +The Waris had gone to earth before their advance, and they had found the +place deserted.</p> + +<p>He had forthwith presented himself in his disguise and been taken +before Phil, the officer-in-command.</p> + +<p>"But surely he knew you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he knew me. But I swore him to secrecy."</p> + +<p>She drew a little closer to him.</p> + +<p>"Eustace, why?" she whispered.</p> + +<p>His arm tightened about her.</p> + +<p>"I had to know the truth first," he said.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she murmured. "And now—are you satisfied?"</p> + +<p>He bent and kissed her forehead gravely, tenderly.</p> + +<p>"I am satisfied," he said.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"Well, didn't I tell you so?" laughed Phil, when they shook hands later.</p><p><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385"></a></p> + +<p>Audrey did not ask him what he meant, for, with all his honesty, Phil +could be enigmatical when he chose. Moreover, it really didn't much +matter, for, as she tacitly admitted to herself, fond as she was of him, +he no longer occupied the place of honour in her thoughts, and she was +not vitally interested in him now that the trouble was over.</p> + +<p>So when, a few weeks later, Phil cheerily packed his belongings and +departed to Poonah, having effected an exchange into the other battalion +stationed there, only his major understood why, and was sorry.</p> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="ETHEL_M_DELLS_NOVELS" id="ETHEL_M_DELLS_NOVELS"></a>ETHEL M. DELL'S NOVELS</h3> + +<h4>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list</h4> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p> +<b>THE LAMP IN THE DESERT</b> + +<br/>The scene of this splendid story is laid in India<a name="Page_386" id="Page_386"></a> and tells of the lamp +of love that continues to shine through <br />all sorts of tribulations to +final happiness.</p> + + +<p> +<b>GREATHEART</b> + +<br />The story of a cripple whose deformed body conceals a noble soul.</p> + + +<p> +<b>THE HUNDREDTH CHANCE</b> + +<br />A hero who worked to win even when there was only "a hundredth chance."</p> + + +<p> +<b>THE SWINDLER</b> + +<br />The story of a "bad man's" soul revealed by a woman's faith.</p> + + +<p><b>THE TIDAL WAVE</b> + +<br />Tales of love and of women who learned to know the true from the false.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387"></a></p> +<p> +<b>THE SAFETY CURTAIN</b> + +<br />A very vivid love story of India. The volume also contains four other +long stories of equal interest.</p> +</div> + +<h5 class="smcap">Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York</h5> +<p><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388"></a></p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Safety Curtain, and Other Stories +by Ethel M. 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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 Safety Curtain, and Other Stories + +Author: Ethel M. Dell + +Release Date: September 4, 2005 [EBook #16651] +[Last updated: August 10, 2013] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SAFETY CURTAIN *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Paul Ereaut and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +THE +SAFETY CURTAIN +AND OTHER STORIES + +by + +ETHEL M. DELL + + +AUTHOR OF:- + +The Hundreth Chance +Greatheart +The Lamp in the Desert +The Tidal Wave +The Top of the World +The Obstacle Race +The Way of an Eagle +The Knave of Diamonds +The Rocks of Valpre +The Swindler +The Keeper of the Door +Bars of Iron +Rosa Mundi +Etc. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP +PUBLISHERS NEW YORK + +Made in the United States of America + +This edition is issued under arrangement with the publishers + +G.P. Putnam's Sons, New York and London + +Made in the United States of America + +The Knickerbocker Press, New York + + + + +CONTENTS + + +The Safety Curtain + +The Experiment + +Those Who Wait + +The Eleventh Hour + +The Place of Honour + + + + + + +The Safety Curtain + +CHAPTER I + +THE ESCAPE + + +A great shout of applause went through the crowded hall as the +Dragon-Fly Dance came to an end, and the Dragon-Fly, with quivering, +iridescent wings, flashed away. + +It was the third encore. The dance was a marvellous one, a piece of +dazzling intricacy, of swift and unexpected subtleties, of almost +superhuman grace. It must have proved utterly exhausting to any ordinary +being; but to that creature of fire and magic it was no more than a +glittering fantasy, a whirl too swift for the eye to follow or the brain +to grasp. + +"Is it a boy or a girl?" asked a man in the front row. + +"It's a boy, of course," said his neighbour, shortly. + +He was the only member of the audience who did not take part in that +third encore. He sat squarely in his seat throughout the uproar, +watching the stage with piercing grey eyes that never varied in their +stern directness. His brows were drawn above them--thick, straight brows +that bespoke a formidable strength of purpose. He was plainly a man who +was accustomed to hew his own way through life, despising the trodden +paths, overcoming all obstacles by grim persistence. + +Louder and louder swelled the tumult. It was evident that nothing but a +repetition of the wonder-dance would content the audience. They yelled +themselves hoarse for it; and when, light as air, incredibly swift, the +green Dragon-Fly darted back, they outdid themselves in the madness of +their welcome. The noise seemed to shake the building. + +Only the man in the front row with the iron-grey eyes and iron-hard +mouth made no movement or sound of any sort. He merely watched with +unchanging intentness the face that gleamed, ashen-white, above the +shimmering metallic green tights that clothed the dancer's slim body. + +The noise ceased as the wild tarantella proceeded. There fell a deep +hush, broken only by the silver notes of a flute played somewhere behind +the curtain. The dancer's movements were wholly without sound. The +quivering, whirling feet scarcely seemed to touch the floor, it was a +dance of inspiration, possessing a strange and irresistible fascination, +a weird and meteoric rush, that held the onlookers with bated breath. + +It lasted for perhaps two minutes, that intense and trancelike +stillness; then, like, a stone flung into glassy depths, a woman's +scream rudely shattered it, a piercing, terror-stricken scream that +brought the rapt audience back to earth with a shock as the liquid music +of the flute suddenly ceased. + +"Fire!" cried the voice. "Fire! Fire!" + +There was an instant of horrified inaction, and in that instant a tongue +of flame shot like a fiery serpent through the closed curtains behind +the dancer. In a moment the cry was caught up and repeated in a dozen +directions, and even as it went from mouth to mouth the safety-curtain +began to descend. + +The dancer was forgotten, swept as it were from the minds of the +audience as an insect whose life was of no account. From the back of the +stage came a roar like the roar of an open furnace. A great wave of heat +rushed into the hall, and people turned like terrified, stampeding +animals and made for the exits. + +The Dragon-Fly still stood behind the footlights poised as if for +flight, glancing this way and that, shimmering from head to foot in the +awful glare that spread behind the descending curtain. It was evident +that retreat behind the scenes was impossible, and in another moment or +two that falling curtain would cut off the only way left. + +But suddenly, before the dancer's hunted eyes, a man leapt forward. He +held up his arms, making himself heard in clear command above the +dreadful babel behind him. + +"Quick!" he cried. "Jump!" + +The wild eyes flashed down at him, wavered, and were caught in his +compelling gaze. For a single instant--the last--the trembling, +glittering figure seemed to hesitate, then like a streak of lightning +leapt straight over the footlights into the outstretched arms. + +They caught and held with unwavering iron strength. In the midst of a +turmoil indescribable the Dragon-Fly hung quivering on the man's breast, +the gauze wings shattered in that close, sustaining grip. The +safety-curtain came down with a thud, shutting off the horrors behind, +and a loud voice yelled through the building assuring the seething crowd +of safety. + +But panic had set in. The heat was terrific. People fought and struggled +to reach the exits. + +The dancer turned in the man's arms and raised a deathly face, gripping +his shoulders with clinging, convulsive fingers. Two wild dark eyes +looked up to his, desperately afraid, seeking reassurance. + +He answered that look briefly with stern composure. + +"Be still! I shall save you if I can." + +The dancer's heart was beating in mad terror against his own, but at his +words it seemed to grow a little calmer. Quiveringly the white lips +spoke. + +"There is a door--close to the stage--a little door--behind a green +curtain--if we could reach it." + +"Ah!" the man said. + +His eyes went to the stage, from the proximity of which the audience had +fled affrighted. He espied the curtain. + +Only a few people intervened between him and it, and they were +struggling to escape in the opposite direction. + +"Quick!" gasped the dancer. + +He turned, snatched up his great-coat, and wrapped it about the slight, +boyish figure. The great dark eyes that shone out of the small white +face thanked him for the action. The clinging hands slipped from his +shoulders and clasped his arm. Together they faced the fearful heat that +raged behind the safety-curtain. + +They reached the small door, gasping. It was almost hidden by green +drapery. But the dancer was evidently familiar with it. In a moment it +was open. A great burst of smoke met them. The man drew back. But a +quick hand closed upon his, drawing him on. He went blindly, feeling as +if he were stepping into the heart of a furnace, yet strangely +determined to go forward whatever came of it. + +The smoke and the heat were frightful, suffocating in their intensity. +The roar of the unseen flames seemed to fill the world. + +The door swung to behind them. They stood in seething darkness. + +But again the small clinging hand pulled upon the man. + +"Quick!" the dancer cried again. + +Choked and gasping, but resolute still, he followed. They ran through a +passage that must have been on the very edge of the vortex of flame, for +behind them ere they left it a red light glared. + +It showed another door in front of them with which the dancer struggled +a moment, then flung open. They burst through it together, and the cold +night wind met them like an angel of deliverance. + +The man gasped and gasped again, filling his parched lungs with its +healing freshness. His companion uttered a strange, high laugh, and +dragged him forth into the open. + +They emerged into a narrow alley, surrounded by tall houses. The night +was dark and wet. The rain pattered upon them as they staggered out into +a space that seemed deserted. The sudden quiet after the awful turmoil +they had just left was like the silence of death. + +The man stood still and wiped the sweat in a dazed fashion from his +face. The little dancer reeled back against the wall, panting +desperately. + +For a space neither moved. Then, terribly, the silence was rent by a +crash and the roar of flames. An awful redness leapt across the darkness +of the night, revealing each to each. + +The dancer stood up suddenly and made an odd little gesture of +farewell; then, swiftly, to the man's amazement, turned back towards the +door through which they had burst but a few seconds before. + +He stared for a moment--only a moment--not believing he saw aright, then +with a single stride he reached and roughly seized the small, +oddly-draped figure. + +He heard a faint cry, and there ensued a sharp struggle against his +hold; but he pinioned the thin young arms without ceremony, gripping +them fast. In the awful, flickering glare above them his eyes shone +downwards, dominant, relentless. + +"Are you mad?" he said. + +The small dark head was shaken vehemently, with gestures curiously +suggestive of an imprisoned insect. It was as if wild wings fluttered +against captivity. + +And then all in a moment the struggling ceased, and in a low, eager +voice the captive began to plead. + +"Please, please let me go! You don't know--you don't understand. I +came--because--because--you called. But I was wrong--I was wrong to +come. You couldn't keep me--you wouldn't keep me--against my will!" + +"Do you want to die, then?" the man demanded. "Are you tired of life?" + +His eyes still shone piercingly down, but they read but little, for the +dancer's were firmly closed against them, even while the dark cropped +head nodded a strangely vigorous affirmative. + +"Yes, that is it! I am so tired--so tired of life! Don't keep me! Let +me go--while I have the strength!" The little, white, sharp-featured +face, with its tight-shut eyes and childish, quivering mouth, was +painfully pathetic. "Death can't be more dreadful than life," the low +voice urged. "If I don't go back--I shall be so sorry afterwards. Why +should one live--to suffer?" + +It was piteously spoken, so piteously that for a moment the man seemed +moved to compassion. His hold relaxed; but when the little form between +his hands took swift advantage and strained afresh for freedom he +instantly tightened his grip. + +"No, No!" he said, harshly. "There are other things in life. You don't +know what you are doing. You are not responsible." + +The dark eyes opened upon him then--wide, reproachful, mysteriously +far-seeing. "I shall not be responsible--if you make me live," said the +Dragon-Fly, with the air of one risking a final desperate throw. + +It was almost an open challenge, and it was accepted instantly, with +grim decision. "Very well. The responsibility is mine," the man said +briefly. "Come with me!" + +His arm encircled the narrow shoulders. He drew his young companion +unresisting from the spot. They left the glare of the furnace behind +them, and threaded their way through dark and winding alleys back to the +throbbing life of the city thoroughfares, back into the whirl and +stress of that human existence which both had nearly quitted--and one +had strenuously striven to quit--so short a time before. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +NOBODY'S BUSINESS + + +"My name is Merryon," the man said, curtly. "I am a major in the Indian +Army--home on leave. Now tell me about yourself!" + +He delivered the information in the brief, aggressive fashion that +seemed to be characteristic of him, and he looked over the head of his +young visitor as he did so, almost as if he made the statement against +his will. + +The visitor, still clad in his great-coat, crouched like a dog on the +hearthrug before the fire in Merryon's sitting-room, and gazed with +wide, unblinking eyes into the flames. + +After a few moments Merryon's eyes descended to the dark head and +surveyed it critically. The collar of his coat was turned up all round +it. It was glistening with rain-drops and looked like the head of some +small, furry animal. + +As if aware of that straight regard, the dancer presently spoke, without +turning or moving an eyelid. + +"What you are doesn't matter to any one except yourself. And what I am +doesn't matter either. It's just--nobody's business." + +"I see," said Merryon. + +A faint smile crossed his grim, hard-featured face. He sat down in a low +chair near his guest and drew to his side a small table that bore a tray +of refreshments. He poured out a glass of wine and held it towards the +queer, elfin figure crouched upon his hearth. + +The dark eyes suddenly flashed from the fire to his face. "Why do you +offer me--that?" the dancer demanded, in a voice that was curiously +vibrant, as though it strove to conceal some overwhelming emotion. "Why +don't you give me--a man's drink?" + +"Because I think this will suit you better," Merryon said; and he spoke +with a gentleness that was oddly at variance with the frown that drew +his brows. + +The dark eyes stared up at him, scared and defiant, for the passage of +several seconds; then, very suddenly, the tension went out of the white, +pinched face. It screwed up like the face of a hurt child, and all in a +moment the little, huddled figure collapsed on the floor at his feet, +while sobs--a woman's quivering piteous sobs--filled the silence of the +room. + +Merryon's own face was a curious mixture of pity and constraint as he +set down the glass and stooped forward over the shaking, anguished form. + +"Look here, child!" he said, and whatever else was in his voice it +certainly held none of the hardness habitual to it. "You're +upset--unnerved. Don't cry so! Whatever you've been through, it's over. +No one can make you go back. Do you understand? You're free!" + +He laid his hand, with the clumsiness of one little accustomed to +console, upon the bowed black head. + +"Don't!" he said again. "Don't cry so! What the devil does it matter? +You're safe enough with me. I'm not the sort of bounder to give you +away." + +She drew a little nearer to him. "You--you're not a bounder--at all," +she assured him between her sobs. "You're just--a gentleman. That's what +you are!" + +"All right," said Merryon. "Leave off crying!" + +He spoke with the same species of awkward kindliness that characterized +his actions, and there must have been something strangely comforting in +his speech, for the little dancer's tears ceased as abruptly as they had +begun. She dashed a trembling hand across her eyes. + +"Who's crying?" she said. + +He uttered a brief, half-grudging laugh. "That's better. Now drink some +wine! Yes, I insist! You must eat something, too. You look +half-starved." + +She accepted the wine, sitting in an acrobatic attitude on the floor +facing him. She drank it, and an odd sparkle of mischief shot up in her +great eyes. She surveyed him with an impish expression--much as a +grasshopper might survey a toad. + +"Are you married?" she inquired, unexpectedly. + +"No," said Merryon, shortly. "Why?" + +She gave a little laugh that had a catch in it. "I was only thinking +that your wife wouldn't like me much. Women are so suspicious." + +Merryon turned aside, and began to pour out a drink for himself. There +was something strangely elusive about this little creature whom Fortune +had flung to him. He wondered what he should do with her. Was she too +old for a foundling hospital? + +"How old are you?" he asked, abruptly. + +She did not answer. + +He looked at her, frowning. + +"Don't!" she said. "It's ugly. I'm not quite forty. How old are you?" + +"What?" said Merryon. + +"Not--quite--forty," she said again, with extreme distinctness. "I'm +small for my age, I know. But I shall never grow any more now. How old +did you say you were?" + +Merryon's eyes regarded her piercingly. "I should like the truth," he +said, in his short, grim way. + +She made a grimace that turned into an impish smile. "Then you must +stick to the things that matter," she said. "That is--nobody's +business." + +He tried to look severe, but very curiously failed. He picked up a plate +of sandwiches to mask a momentary confusion, and offered it to her. + +Again, with simplicity, she accepted, and there fell a silence between +them while she ate, her eyes again upon the fire. Her face, in repose, +was the saddest thing he had ever seen. More than ever did she make him +think of a child that had been hurt. + +She finished her sandwich and sat for a while lost in thought. Merryon +leaned back in his chair, watching her. The little, pointed features +possessed no beauty, yet they had that which drew the attention +irresistibly. The delicate charm of her dancing was somehow expressed in +every line. There was fire, too,--a strange, bewitching fire,--behind +the thick black lashes. + +Very suddenly that fire was turned upon him again. With a swift, darting +movement she knelt up in front of him, her clasped hands on his knees. + +"Why did you save me just now?" she said. "Why wouldn't you let me die?" + +He looked full at her. She vibrated like a winged creature on the verge +of taking flight. But her eyes--her eyes sought his with a strange +assurance, as though they saw in him a comrade. + +"Why did you make me live when I wanted to die?" she insisted. "Is life +so desirable? Have you found it so?" + +His brows contracted at the last question, even while his mouth curved +cynically. "Some people find it so," he said. + +"But you?" she said, and there was almost accusation in her voice, "Have +the gods been kind to you? Or have they thrown you the dregs--just the +dregs?" + +The passionate note in the words, subdued though it was, was not to be +mistaken. It stirred him oddly, making him see her for the first time as +a woman rather than as the fantastic being, half-elf, half-child, whom +he had wrested from the very jaws of Death against her will. He leaned +slowly forward, marking the deep, deep shadows about her eyes, the vivid +red of her lips. + +"What do you know about the dregs?" he said. + +She beat her hands with a small, fierce movement on his knees, mutely +refusing to answer. + +"Ah, well," he said, "I don't know why I should answer either. But I +will. Yes, I've had dregs--dregs--and nothing but dregs for the last +fifteen years." + +He spoke with a bitterness that he scarcely attempted to restrain, and +the girl at his feet nodded--a wise little feminine nod. + +"I knew you had. It comes harder to a man, doesn't it?" + +"I don't know why it should," said Merryon, moodily. + +"I do," said the Dragon-Fly. "It's because men were made to boss +creation. See? You're one of the bosses, you are. You've been led to +expect a lot, and because you haven't had it you feel you've been +cheated. Life is like that. It's just a thing that mocks at you. I +know." + +She nodded again, and an odd, will-o'-the-wisp smile flitted over her +face. + +"You seem to know--something of life," the man said. + +She uttered a queer choking laugh. "Life is a big, big swindle," she +said. "The only happy people in the world are those who haven't found it +out. But you--you say there are other things in life besides suffering. +How did you know that if--if you've never had anything but dregs?" + +"Ah!" Merryon said. "You have me there." + +He was still looking full into those shadowy eyes with a curious, +dawning fellowship in his own. + +"You have me there," he repeated. "But I do know. I was happy enough +once, till--" He stopped. + +"Things went wrong?" insinuated the Dragon-Fly, sitting down on her +heels in a childish attitude of attention. + +"Yes," Merryon admitted, in his sullen fashion. "Things went wrong. I +found I was the son of a thief. He's dead now, thank Heaven. But he +dragged me under first. I've been at odds with life ever since." + +"But a man can start again," said the Dragon-Fly, with her air of +worldly wisdom. + +"Oh, yes, I did that." Merryon's smile was one of exceeding bitterness. +"I enlisted and went to South Africa. I hoped for death, and I won a +commission instead." + +The girl's eyes shone with interest. "But that was luck!" she said. + +"Oh, yes; it was luck of a sort--the damnable, unsatisfactory sort. I +entered the Indian Army, and I've got on. But socially I'm practically +an outcast. They're polite to me, but they leave me outside. The man who +rose from the ranks--the fellow with a shady past--fought shy of by the +women, just tolerated by the men, covertly despised by the +youngsters--that's the sort of person I am. It galled me once. I'm used +to it now." + +Merryon's grim voice went into grimmer silence. He was staring sombrely +into the fire, almost as if he had forgotten his companion. + +There fell a pause; then, "You poor dear!" said the Dragon-Fly, +sympathetically. "But I expect you are like that, you know. I expect +it's a bit your own fault." + +He looked at her in surprise. + +"No, I'm not meaning anything nasty," she assured him, with that quick +smile of hers whose sweetness he was just beginning to realize. "But +after a bad knockout like yours a man naturally looks for trouble. He +gets suspicious, and a snub or two does the rest. He isn't taking any +more. It's a pity you're not married. A woman would have known how to +hold her own, and a bit over--for you." + +"I wouldn't ask any woman to share the life I lead," said Merryon, with +bitter emphasis. "Not that any woman would if I did. I'm not a ladies' +man." + +She laughed for the first time, and he started at the sound, for it was +one of pure, girlish merriment. + +"My! You are modest!" she said. "And yet you don't look it, somehow." +She turned her right-hand palm upwards on his knee, tacitly inviting +his. "You're a good one to talk of life being worth while, aren't you?" +she said. + +He accepted the frank invitation, faintly smiling. "Well, I know the +good things are there," he said, "though I've missed them." + +"You'll marry and be happy yet," she said, with confidence. "But I +shouldn't put it off too long if I were you." + +He shook his head. His hand still half-consciously grasped hers. "Ask a +woman to marry the son of one of the most famous swindlers ever known? I +think not," he said. "Why, even you--" His eyes regarded her, +comprehended her. He stopped abruptly. + +"What about me?" she said. + +He hesitated, possessed by an odd embarrassment. The dark eyes were +lifted quite openly to his. It came to him that they were accustomed to +the stare of multitudes--they met his look so serenely, so impenetrably. + +"I don't know how we got on to the subject of my affairs," he said, +after a moment. "It seems to me that yours are the most important just +now. Aren't you going to tell me anything about them?" + +She gave a small, emphatic shake of the head. "I should have been dead +by this time if you hadn't interfered," she said. "I haven't got any +affairs." + +"Then it's up to me to look after you," Merryon said, quietly. + +But she shook her head at that more vigorously still. "You look after +me!" Her voice trembled on a note of derision. "Sure, you're joking!" +she protested. "I've looked after myself ever since I was eight." + +"And made a success of it?" Merryon asked. + +Her eyes shot swift defiance. "That's nobody's business but my own," she +said. "You know what I think of life." + +Merryon's hand closed slowly upon hers. "There seems to be a pair of +us," he said. "You can't refuse to let me help you--for fellowship's +sake." + +The red lips trembled suddenly. The dark eyes fell before his for the +first time. She spoke almost under her breath. "I'm too old--to take +help from a man--like that." + +He bent slightly towards her. "What has age to do with it?" + +"Everything." Her eyes remained downcast; the hand he held was trying +to wriggle free, but he would not suffer it. + +"Circumstances alter cases," he said. "I accepted the responsibility +when I saved you." + +"But you haven't the least idea what to do with me," said the +Dragon-Fly, with a forlorn smile. "You ought to have thought of that. +You'll be going back to India soon. And I--and I--" She stopped, still +stubbornly refusing to meet the man's eyes. + +"I am going back next week," Merryon said. + +"How fine to be you!" said the Dragon-Fly. "You wouldn't like to take me +with you now as--as _valet de chambre_?" + +He raised his brows momentarily. Then: "Would you come?" he asked, with +a certain roughness, as though he suspected her of trifling. + +She raised her eyes suddenly, kindled and eager. "Would I come!" she +said, in a tone that said more than words. + +"You would?" he said, and laid an abrupt hand on her shoulder. "You +would, eh?" + +She knelt up swiftly, the coat that enveloped her falling back, +displaying the slim, boyish figure, the active, supple limbs. Her +breathing came through parted lips. + +"As your--your servant--your valet?" she panted. + +His rough brows drew together. "My what? Good heavens, no! I could only +take you in one capacity." + +She started back from his hand. For a moment sheer horror looked out +from her eyes. Then, almost in the same instant, they were veiled. She +caught her breath, saying no word, only dumbly waiting. + +"I could only take you as my wife," he said, still in that +half-bantering, half-embarrassed fashion of his. "Will you come?" + +She threw back her head and stared at him. "Marry you! What, really? +Really?" she questioned, breathlessly. + +"Merely for appearances' sake," said Merryon, with grim irony. "The +regimental morals are somewhat easily offended, and an outsider like +myself can't be too careful." + +The girl was still staring at him, as though at some novel specimen of +humanity that had never before crossed her path. Suddenly she leaned +towards him, looking him full and straight in the eyes. + +"What would you do if I said 'Yes'?" she questioned, in a small, tense +whisper. + +He looked back at her, half-interested, half amused. "Do, urchin? Why, +marry you!" he said. + +"Really marry me?" she urged. "Not make-believe?" + +He stiffened at that. "Do you know what you're saying?" he demanded, +sternly. + +She sprang to her feet with a wild, startled movement; then, as he +remained seated, paused, looking down at him sideways, half-doubtful, +half-confiding. "But you can't be in earnest!" she said. + +"I am in earnest." He raised his face to her with a certain doggedness, +as though challenging her to detect in it aught but honesty. "I may be +several kinds of a fool," he said, "but I am in earnest. I'm no great +catch, but I'll marry you if you'll have me. I'll protect you, and I'll +be good to you. I can't promise to make you happy, of course, +but--anyway, I shan't make you miserable." + +"But--but--" She still stood before him as though hovering on the edge +of flight. Her lips were trembling, her whole form quivering and +scintillating in the lamplight. She halted on the words as if uncertain +how to proceed. + +"What is it?" said Merryon. + +And then, quite suddenly, his mood softened. He leaned slowly forward. + +"You needn't be afraid of me," he said. "I'm not a heady youngster. I +shan't gobble you up." + +She laughed at that--a quick, nervous laugh. "And you won't beat me +either? Promise!" + +He frowned at her. "Beat you! I?" + +She nodded several times, faintly smiling. "Yes, you, Mr. Monster! I'm +sure you could." + +He smiled also, somewhat grimly. "You're wrong, madam. I couldn't beat a +child." + +"Oh, my!" she said, and threw up her arms with a quivering laugh, +dropping his coat in a heap on the floor. "How old do you think this +child is?" she questioned, glancing down at him in her sidelong, +speculative fashion. + +He looked at her hard and straight, looked at the slim young body in its +sheath of iridescent green that shimmered with every breath she drew, +and very suddenly he rose. + +She made a spring backwards, but she was too late. He caught and held +her. + +"Let me go!" she cried, her face crimson. + +"But why?" Merryon's voice fell curt and direct. He held her firmly by +the shoulders. + +She struggled against him fiercely for a moment, then became suddenly +still. "You're not a brute, are you?" she questioned, breathlessly. +"You--you'll be good to me? You said so!" + +He surveyed her grimly. "Yes, I will be good to you," he said. "But I'm +not going to be fooled. Understand? If you marry me, you must play the +part. I don't know how old you are. I don't greatly care. All I do care +about is that you behave yourself as the wife of a man in my position +should. You're old enough to know what that means, I suppose?" + +He spoke impressively, but the effect of his words was not quite what he +expected. The point of a very red tongue came suddenly from between the +red lips, and instantly disappeared. + +"That all?" she said. "Oh yes; I think I can do that. I'll try, anyway. +And if you're not satisfied--well, you'll have to let me know. See? +Now let me go, there's a good man! I don't like the feel of your +hands." + +He let her go in answer to the pleading of her eyes, and she slipped +from his grasp like an eel, caught up the coat at her feet, and wriggled +into it. + +Then, impishly, she faced him, buttoning it with nimble fingers the +while. "This is the garment of respectability," she declared. "It isn't +much of a fit, is it? But I shall grow to it in time. Do you know, I +believe I'm going to like being your wife?" + +"Why?" said Merryon. + +She laughed--that laugh of irrepressible gaiety that had surprised him +before. + +"Oh, just because I shall so love fighting your battles for you," she +said. "It'll be grand sport." + +"Think so?" said Merryon. + +"Oh, you bet!" said the Dragon-Fly, with gay confidence. "Men never know +how to fight. They're poor things--men!" + +He himself laughed at that--his grim, grudging laugh. "It's a world of +fools, Puck," he said. + +"Or knaves," said the Dragon-Fly, wisely. And with that she stretched up +her arms above her head and laughed again. "Now I know what it feels +like," she said, "to have risen from the dead." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +COMRADES + + +There came the flash of green wings in the cypresses and a raucous +scream of jubilation as the boldest parakeet in the compound flew off +with the choicest sweetmeat on the tiffin-table in the veranda. There +were always sweets at tiffin in the major's bungalow. Mrs. Merryon loved +sweets. She was wont to say that they were the best remedy for +homesickness she knew. + +Not that she ever was homesick. At least, no one ever suspected such a +possibility, for she had a smile and a quip for all, and her laughter +was the gayest in the station. She ran out now, half-dressed, from her +bedroom, waving a towel at the marauder. + +"That comes of being kind-hearted," she declared, in the deep voice that +accorded so curiously with the frothy lightness of her personality. +"Everyone takes advantage of it, sure." + +Her eyes were grey and Irish, and they flashed over the scene +dramatically, albeit there was no one to see and admire. For she was +strangely captivating, and perhaps it was hardly to be expected that +she should be quite unconscious of the fact. + +"Much too taking to be good, dear," had been the verdict of the +Commissioner's wife when she had first seen little Puck Merryon, the +major's bride. + +But then the Commissioner's wife, Mrs. Paget, was so severely plain in +every way that perhaps she could scarcely be regarded as an impartial +judge. She had never flirted with any one, and could not know the joys +thereof. + +Young Mrs. Merryon, on the other hand, flirted quite openly and very +sweetly with every man she met. It was obviously her nature so to do. +She had doubtless done it from her cradle, and would probably continue +the practice to her grave. + +"A born wheedler," the colonel called her; but his wife thought "saucy +minx" a more appropriate term, and wondered how Major Merryon could put +up with her shameless trifling. + +As a matter of fact, Merryon wondered himself sometimes; for she flirted +with him more than all in that charming, provocative way of hers, coaxed +him, laughed at him, brilliantly eluded him. She would perch daintily on +the arm of his chair when he was busy, but if he so much as laid a hand +upon her she was gone in a flash like a whirling insect, not to return +till he was too absorbed to pay any attention to her. And often as those +daring red lips mocked him, they were never offered to his even in +jest. Yet was she so finished a coquette that the omission was never +obvious. It seemed the most natural thing in the world that she should +evade all approach to intimacy. They were comrades--just comrades. + +Everyone in the station wanted to know Merryon's bride. People had begun +by being distant, but that phase was long past. Puck Merryon had stormed +the citadel within a fortnight of her arrival, no one quite knew how. +Everyone knew her now. She went everywhere, though never without her +husband, who found himself dragged into gaieties for which he had scant +liking, and sought after by people who had never seemed aware of him +before. She had, in short, become the rage, and so gaily did she revel +in her triumph that he could not bring himself to deny her the fruits +thereof. + +On that particular morning in March he had gone to an early parade +without seeing her, for there had been a regimental ball the night +before, and she had danced every dance. Dancing seemed her one passion, +and to Merryon, who did not dance, the ball had been an unmitigated +weariness. He had at last, in sheer boredom, joined a party of +bridge-players, with the result that he had not seen much of his young +wife throughout the evening. + +Returning from the parade-ground, he wondered if he would find her up, +and then caught sight of her waving away the marauders in scanty attire +on the veranda. + +He called a greeting to her, and she instantly vanished into her room. +He made his way to the table set in the shade of the cluster-roses, and +sat down to await her. + +She remained invisible, but her voice at once accosted him. +"Good-morning, Billikins! Tell the _khit_ you're ready! I shall be out +in two shakes." + +None but she would have dreamed of bestowing so frivolous an appellation +upon the sober Merryon. But from her it came so naturally that Merryon +scarcely noticed it. He had been "Billikins" to her throughout the brief +three months that had elapsed since their marriage. Of course, Mrs. +Paget disapproved, but then Mrs. Paget was Mrs. Paget. She disapproved +of everything young and gay. + +Merryon gave the required order, and then sat in stolid patience to +await his wife's coming. She did not keep him long. Very soon she came +lightly out and joined him, an impudent smile on her sallow little face, +dancing merriment in her eyes. + +"Oh, poor old Billikins!" she said, commiseratingly. "You were bored +last night, weren't you? I wonder if I could teach you to dance." + +"I wonder," said Merryon. + +His eyes dwelt upon her in her fresh white muslin. What a child she +looked! Not pretty--no, not pretty; but what a magic smile she had! + +She sat down at the table facing him, and leaned her elbows upon it. "I +wonder if I could!" she said again, and then broke into her sudden +laugh. + +"What's the joke?" asked Merryon. + +"Oh, nothing!" she said, recovering herself. "It suddenly came over me, +that's all--poor old Mother Paget's face, supposing she had seen me last +night." + +"Didn't she see you last night? I thought you were more or less in the +public eye," said Merryon. + +"Oh, I meant after the dance," she explained. "I felt sort of wound up +and excited after I got back. And I wanted to see if I could still do +it. I'm glad to say I can," she ended, with another little laugh. + +Her dark eyes shot him a tentative glance. "Can what?" asked Merryon. + +"You'll be shocked if I tell you." + +"What was it?" he said. + +There was insistence in his tone--the insistence by which he had once +compelled her to live against her will. Her eyelids fluttered a little +as it reached her, but she cocked her small, pointed chin +notwithstanding. + +"Why should I tell you if I don't want to?" she demanded. + +"Why shouldn't you want to?" he said. + +The tip of her tongue shot out and in again. "Well, you never took me +for a lady, did you?" she said, half-defiantly. + +"What was it?" repeated Merryon, sticking to the point. + +Again she grimaced at him, but she answered, "Oh, I only--after I'd had +my bath--lay on the floor and ran round my head for a bit. It's not a +bit difficult, once you've got the knack. But I got thinking of Mrs. +Paget--she does amuse me, that woman. Only yesterday she asked me what +Puck was short for, and I told her Elizabeth--and then I got laughing so +that I had to stop." + +Her face was flushed, and she was slightly breathless as she ended, but +she stared across the table with brazen determination, like a naughty +child expecting a slap. + +Merryon's face, however, betrayed neither astonishment nor disapproval. +He even smiled a little as he said, "Perhaps you would like to give me +lessons in that also? I've often wondered how it was done." + +She smiled back at him with instant and obvious relief. + +"No, I shan't do it again. It's not proper. But I will teach you to +dance. I'd sooner dance with you than any of 'em." + +It was naively spoken, so naively that Merryon's faint smile turned into +something that was almost genial. What a youngster she was! Her +freshness was a perpetual source of wonder to him when he remembered +whence she had come to him. + +"I am quite willing to be taught," he said. "But it must be in strict +privacy." + +She nodded gaily. + +"Of course. You shall have a lesson to-night--when we get back from the +Burtons' dinner. I'm real sorry you were bored, Billikins. You shan't be +again." + +That was her attitude always, half-maternal, half-quizzing, as if +something about him amused her; yet always anxious to please him, always +ready to set his wishes before her own, so long as he did not attempt to +treat her seriously. She had left all that was serious in that other +life that had ended with the fall of the safety-curtain on a certain +night in England many aeons ago. Her personality now was light as +gossamer, irresponsible as thistledown. The deeper things of life passed +her by. She seemed wholly unaware of them. + +"You'll be quite an accomplished dancer by the time everyone comes back +from the Hills," she remarked, balancing a fork on one slender brown +finger. "We'll have a ball for two--every night." + +"We!" said Merryon. + +She glanced at him. + +"I said 'we.'" + +"I know you did." The man's voice had suddenly a dogged ring; he looked +across at the vivid, piquant face with the suggestion of a frown between +his eyes. + +"Don't do that!" she said, lightly. "Never do that, Billikins! It's +most unbecoming behaviour. What's the matter?" + +"The matter?" he said, slowly. "The matter is that you are going to the +Hills for the hot weather with the rest of the women, Puck. I can't keep +you here." + +She made a rude face at him. + +"Preserve me from any cattery in the Hills!" she said. "I'm going to +stay with you." + +"You can't," said Merryon. + +"I can," she said. + +He frowned still more. + +"Not if I say otherwise, Puck." + +She snapped her fingers at him and laughed. + +"I am in earnest," Merryon said. "I can't keep you here for the hot +weather. It would probably kill you." + +"What of that?" she said. + +He ignored her frivolity. + +"It can't be done," he said. "So you must make the best of it." + +"Meaning you don't want me?" she demanded, unexpectedly. + +"Not for the hot weather," said Merryon. + +She sprang suddenly to her feet. + +"I won't go, Billikins!" she declared, fiercely, "I just won't!" + +He looked at her, sternly resolute. + +"You must go," he said, with unwavering decision. + +"You're tired of me! Is that it?" she demanded. + +He raised his brows. "You haven't given me much opportunity to be that, +have you?" he said. + +A great wave of colour went over her face. She put up her hand as though +instinctively to shield it. + +"I've done my best to--to--to--" She stopped, became piteously silent, +and suddenly he saw that she was crying behind the sheltering hand. + +He softened almost in spite of himself. + +"Come here, Puck!" he said. + +She shook her head dumbly. + +"Come here!" he repeated. + +She came towards him slowly, as if against her will. He reached forward, +still seated, and drew her to him. + +She trembled at his touch, trembled and started away, yet in the end she +yielded. + +"Please," she whispered; "please!" + +He put his arm round her very gently, yet with determination, making her +stand beside him. + +"Why don't you want to go to the Hills?" he said. + +"I'd be frightened," she murmured. + +"Frightened? Why?" + +"I don't know," she said, vaguely. + +"Yes, but you do know. You must know. Tell me." He spoke gently, +but the stubborn note was in his voice and his hold was +insistent. "Leave off crying and tell me!" + +"I'm not crying," said Puck. + +She uncovered her face and looked down at him through tears with a +faintly mischievous smile. + +"Tell me!" he reiterated. "Is it because you don't like the idea of +leaving me?" + +Her smile flashed full out upon him on the instant. + +"Goodness, no! Whatever made you think that?" she demanded, briskly. + +He was momentarily disconcerted, but he recovered himself at once. + +"Then what is your objection to going?" he asked. + +She turned and sat down conversationally on the corner of the table. + +"Well, you know, Billikins, it's like this. When I married you--I did it +out of pity. See? I was sorry for you. You seemed such a poor, helpless +sort of creature. And I thought being married to me might help to +improve your position a bit. You see my point, Billikins?" + +"Oh, quite," he said. "Please go on!" + +She went on, with butterfly gaiety. + +"I worked hard--really hard--to get you out of your bog. It was a horrid +deep one, wasn't it, Billikins? My! You were floundering! But I've +pulled you out of it and dragged you up the bank a bit. You don't get +sniffed at anything like you used, do you, Billikins? But I daren't +leave you yet--I honestly daren't. You'd slip right back again directly +my back was turned. And I should have the pleasure of starting the +business all over again. I couldn't face it, my dear. It would be too +disheartening." + +"I see," said Merryon. There was just the suspicion of a smile among the +rugged lines of his face. "Yes, I see your point. But I can show you +another if you'll listen." + +He was holding her two hands as she sat, as though he feared an attempt +to escape. For though Puck sat quite still, it was with the stillness of +a trapped creature that waits upon opportunity. + +"Will you listen?" he said. + +She nodded. + +It was not an encouraging nod, but he proceeded. + +"All the women go to the Hills for the hot weather. It's unspeakable +here. No white woman could stand it. And we men get leave by turns to +join them. There is nothing doing down here, no social round whatever. +It's just stark duty. I can't lose much social status that way. It will +serve my turn much better if you go up with the other women and continue +to hold your own there. Not that I care a rap," he added, with masculine +tactlessness. "I am no longer susceptible to snubs." + +"Then I shan't go," she said at once, beginning to swing a restless +foot. + +"Yes, but you will go," he said. "I wish it." + +"You want to get rid of me," said Puck, looking over his head with the +eyes of a troubled child. + +Merryon was silent. He was watching her with a kind of speculative +curiosity. His hands were still locked upon hers. + +Slowly her eyes came down to his. + +"Billikins," she said, "let me stay down for a little!" Her lips were +quivering. She kicked his chair agitatedly. "I don't want to go," she +said, dismally. "Let me stay--anyhow--till I get ill!" + +"No," Merryon said. "It can't be done, child. I can't risk that. +Besides, there'd be no one to look after you." + +She slipped to her feet in a flare of indignation. "You're a pig, +Billikins! You're a pig!" she cried, and tore her hands free. "I've a +good mind to run away from you and never come back. It's what you +deserve, and what you'll get, if you aren't careful!" + +She was gone with the words--gone like a flashing insect disturbing the +silence for a moment, and leaving a deeper silence behind. + +Merryon looked after her for a second or two, and then philosophically +continued his meal. But the slight frown remained between his brows. The +veranda seemed empty and colourless now that she was gone. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +FRIENDS + + +The Burtons' dinner-party was a very cheerful affair. The Burtons were +young and newly married, and they liked to gather round them all the +youth and gaiety of the station. It was for that reason that Puck's +presence had been secured, for she was the life of every gathering; and +her husband had been included in the invitation simply and solely +because from the very outset she had refused to go anywhere without him. +It was the only item of her behaviour of which worthy Mrs. Paget could +conscientiously approve. + +As a matter of fact Merryon had not the smallest desire to go, but he +would not say so; and all through the evening he sat and watched his +young wife with a curious hunger at his heart. He hated to think that he +had hurt her. + +There was no sign of depression about Puck, however, and he alone +noticed that she never once glanced in his direction. She kept everyone +up to a pitch of frivolity that certainly none would have attained +without her, and an odd feeling began to stir in Merryon, a sensation of +jealousy such as he had never before experienced. They seemed to +forget, all of them, that this flashing, brilliant creature was his. + +She seemed to have forgotten it also. Or was it only that deep-seated, +inimitable coquetry of hers that prompted her thus to ignore him? + +He could not decide; but throughout the evening the determination grew +in him to make this one point clear to her. Trifle as she might, she +must be made to understand that she belonged to him, and him alone. +Comrades they might be, but he held a vested right in her, whether he +chose to assert it or not. + +They returned at length to their little gimcrack bungalow--the +Match-box, as Puck called it--on foot under a blaze of stars. The +distance was not great, and Puck despised rickshaws. + +She flitted by his side in her airy way, chatting inconsequently, not +troubling about response, as elusive as a fairy and--the man felt it in +the rising fever of his veins--as maddeningly attractive. + +They reached the bungalow. She went up the steps to the rose-twined +veranda as though she floated on wings of gossamer. "The roses are all +asleep, Billikins," she said. "They look like alabaster, don't they?" + +She caught a cluster to her and held it against her cheek for a moment. + +Merryon was close behind her. She seemed to realize his nearness quite +suddenly, for she let the flowers go abruptly and flitted on. + +He followed her till, at the farther end of the veranda, she turned and +faced him. "Good-night, Billikins," she said, lightly. + +"What about that dancing-lesson?" he said. + +She threw up her arms above her head with a curious gesture. They +gleamed transparently white in the starlight. Her eyes shone like +fire-flies. + +"I thought you preferred dancing by yourself," she retorted. + +"Why?" he said. + +She laughed a soft, provocative laugh, and suddenly, without any +warning, the cloak had fallen from her shoulders and she was dancing. +There in the starlight, white-robed and wonderful, she danced as, it +seemed to the man's fascinated senses, no human had ever danced before. +She was like a white flame--a darting, fiery essence, soundless, +all-absorbing, all-entrancing. + +He watched her with pent breath, bound by the magic of her, caught, as +it were, into the innermost circle of her being, burning in answer to +her fire, yet so curiously enthralled as to be scarcely aware of the +ever-mounting, ever-spreading heat. She was like a mocking spirit, a +will-o'-the-wisp, luring him, luring him--whither? + +The dance quickened, became a passionate whirl, so that suddenly he +seemed to see a bright-winged insect caught in an endless web and +battling for freedom. He almost saw the silvery strands of that web +floating like gossamer in the starlight. + +And then, with well-nigh miraculous suddenness, the struggle was over +and the insect had darted free. He saw her flash away, and found the +veranda empty. + +Her cloak lay at his feet. He stooped with an odd sense of giddiness and +picked it up. A fragrance of roses came to him with the touch of it, and +for an instant he caught it up to his face. The sweetness seemed to +intoxicate him. + +There came a light, inconsequent laugh; sharply he turned. She had +opened the window of his smoking-den and was standing in the entrance +with impudent merriment in her eyes. There was triumph also in her +pose--a triumph that sent a swirl of hot passion through him. He flung +aside the cloak and strode towards her. + +But she was gone on the instant, gone with a tinkle of maddening +laughter. He blundered into the darkness of an empty room. But he was +not the man to suffer defeat tamely. Momentarily baffled, he paused to +light a lamp; then went from room to room of the little bungalow, +locking each door that she might not elude him a second time. His blood +was on fire, and he meant to find her. + +In the end he came upon her wholly unexpectedly, standing on the veranda +amongst the twining roses. She seemed to be awaiting him, though she +made no movement towards him as he approached. + +"Good-night, Billikins," she said, her voice very small and humble. + +He came to her without haste, realizing that she had given the game +into his hands. She did not shrink from him, but she raised an appealing +face. And oddly the man's heart smote him. She looked so pathetically +small and childish standing there. + +But the blood was still running fiercely in his veins, and that +momentary twinge did not cool him. Child she might be, but she had +played with fire, and she alone was responsible for the conflagration +that she had started. + +He drew near to her; he took her, unresisting, into his arms. + +She cowered down, hiding her face away from him. "Don't, Billikins! +Please--please, Billikins!" she begged, incoherently. "You promised--you +promised--" + +"What did I promise?" he said. + +"That you wouldn't--wouldn't"--she spoke breathlessly, for his hold was +tightening upon her--"gobble me up," she ended, with a painful little +laugh. + +"I see." Merryon's voice was deep and low. "And you meantime are at +liberty to play any fool game you like with me. Is that it?" + +She was quivering from head to foot. She did not lift her face. "It +wasn't--a fool game," she protested. "I did it because--because--you +were so horrid this morning, so--so cold-blooded. And I--and I--wanted +to see if--I could make you care." + +"Make me care!" Merryon said the words over oddly to himself; and then, +still fast holding her, he began to feel for the face that was so +strenuously hidden from him. + +She resisted him desperately. "Let me go!" she begged, piteously. "I'll +be so good, Billikins. I'll go to the Hills. I'll do anything you like. +Only let me go now! Billikins!" + +She cried out sharply, for he had overcome her resistance by quiet +force, had turned her white face up to his own. + +"I am not cold-blooded to-night, Puck," he said. "Whatever you +are--child or woman--gutter-snipe or angel--you are mine, all mine. +And--I want you!" + +The deep note vibrated in his voice; he stooped over her. + +But she flung herself back over his arm, striving desperately to avoid +him. "No--no--no!" she cried, wildly. "You mustn't, Billikins! Don't +kiss me! Don't kiss me!" + +She threw up a desperate hand, covering his mouth. "Don't--oh, don't!" +she entreated, brokenly. + +But the fire she had kindled she was powerless to quench. He would not +be frustrated. He caught her hand away. He held her to his heart. He +kissed the red lips hotly, with the savage freedom of a nature long +restrained. + +"Who has a greater right?" he said, with fiery exultation. + +She did not answer him. But at the first touch of his lips upon her own +she resisted no longer, only broke into agonized tears. + +And suddenly Merryon came to himself--was furiously, overwhelmingly +ashamed. + +"God forgive me!" he said, and let her go. + +She tottered a little, covering her face with her hands, sobbing like a +hurt child. But she did not try to run away. + +He flung round upon his heel and paced the veranda in fierce discomfort. +Beast that he was--brute beast to have hurt her so! That piteous sobbing +was more than he could bear. + +Suddenly he turned back to her, came and stood beside her. "Puck--Puck, +child!" he said. + +His voice was soft and very urgent. He touched the bent, dark head with +a hesitating caress. + +She started away from him with a gasp of dismay; but he checked her. + +"No, don't!" he said. "It's all right, dear. I'm not such a brute as I +seem. Don't be afraid of me!" + +There was more of pleading in his voice than he knew. She raised her +head suddenly, and looked at him as if puzzled. + +He pulled out his handkerchief and dabbed her wet cheeks with clumsy +tenderness. "It's all right," he said again. "Don't cry! I hate to see +you cry." + +She gazed at him, still doubtful, still sobbing a little. "Oh, +Billikins!" she said, tremulously, "why did you?" + +"I don't know," he said. "I was mad. It was your own fault, in a way. +You don't seem to realize that I'm as human as the rest of the world. +But I don't defend myself. I was an infernal brute to let myself go like +that." + +"Oh, no, you weren't, Billikins!" Quite unexpectedly she answered him. +"You couldn't help it. Men are like that. And I'm glad you're human. +But--but"--she faltered a little--"I want to feel that you're safe, too. +I've always felt--ever since I jumped into your arms that night--that +you--that you were on the right side of the safety-curtain. You are, +aren't you? Oh, please say you are! But I know you are." She held out +her hands to him with a quivering gesture of confidence. "If you'll +forgive me for--for fooling you," she said, "I'll forgive you--for being +fooled. That's a fair offer, isn't it? Don't let's think any more about +it!" Her rainbow smile transformed her face, but her eyes sought his +anxiously. + +He took the hands, but he did not attempt to draw her nearer. "Puck!" he +said. + +"What is it?" she whispered, trembling. + +"Don't!" he said. "I won't hurt you. I wouldn't hurt a hair of your +head. But, child, wouldn't it be safer--easier for both of us--if--if we +lived together, instead of apart?" + +He spoke almost under his breath. There was no hint of mastery about +him at that moment, only a gentleness that pleaded with her as with a +frightened child. + +And Puck went nearer to him on the instant, as it were instinctively, +almost involuntarily. "P'r'aps some day, Billikins!" she said, with a +little, quivering laugh. "But not yet--not if I've got to go to the +Hills away from you." + +"When I follow you to the Hills, then," he said. + +She freed one hand and, reaching up, lightly stroked his cheek. +"P'r'aps, Billikins!" she said again. "But--you'll have to be awfully +patient with me, because--because--" She paused, agitatedly; then went +yet a little nearer to him. "You will be kind to me, won't you?" she +pleaded. + +He put his arm about her. "Always, dear," he said. + +She raised her face. She was still trembling, but her action was one of +resolute confidence. "Then let's be friends, Billikins!" she said. + +It was a tacit invitation. He bent and gravely kissed her. + +Her lips returned his kiss shyly, quiveringly. "You're the nicest man I +ever met, Billikins," she said. "Good-night!" + +She slipped from his encircling arm and was gone. + +The man stood motionless where she had left him, wondering at himself, +at her, at the whole rocking universe. She had kindled the Magic Fire +in him indeed! His whole being was aglow. And yet--and yet--she had had +her way with him. He had let her go. + +Wherefore? Wherefore? The hot blood dinned in his ears. His hands +clenched. And from very deep within him the answer came. Because he +loved her. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE WOMAN + + +Summer in the Plains! Pitiless, burning summer! + +All day a blinding blaze of sun beat upon the wooden roof, forced a way +through the shaded windows, lay like a blasting spell upon the parched +compound. The cluster-roses had shrivelled and died long since. Their +brown leaves still clung to the veranda and rattled desolately with a +dry, scaly sound in the burning wind of dawn. + +The green parakeets had ceased to look for sweets on the veranda. +Nothing dainty ever made its appearance there. The Englishman who came +and went with such grim endurance offered them no temptations. + +Sometimes he spent the night on a _charpoy_ on the veranda, lying +motionless, though often sleepless, through the breathless, dragging +hours. There had been sickness among the officers and Merryon, who was +never sick, was doing the work of three men. He did it doggedly, with +the stubborn determination characteristic of him; not cheerfully--no one +ever accused Merryon of being cheerful--but efficiently and +uncomplainingly. Other men cursed the heat, but he never took the +trouble. He needed all his energies for what he had to do. + +His own chance of leave had become very remote. There was so much sick +leave that he could not be spared. Over that, also, he made no +complaint. It was useless to grumble at the inevitable. There was not a +man in the mess who could not be spared more easily than he. + +For he was indomitable, unfailing, always fulfilling his duties with +machine-like regularity, stern, impenetrable, hard as granite. + +As to what lay behind that hardness, no one ever troubled to inquire. +They took him for granted, much as if he had been a well-oiled engine +guaranteed to surmount all obstacles. How he did it was nobody's +business but his own. If he suffered in that appalling heat as other men +suffered, no one knew of it. If he grew a little grimmer and a little +gaunter, no one noticed. Everyone knew that whatever happened to others, +he at least would hold on. Everyone described him as "hard as nails." + +Each day seemed more intolerable than the last, each night a perceptible +narrowing of the fiery circle in which they lived. They seemed to be +drawing towards a culminating horror that grew hourly more palpable, +more monstrously menacing--a horror that drained their strength even +from afar. + +"It's going to kill us this time," declared little Robey, the youngest +subaltern, to whom the nights were a torment unspeakable. He had been +within an ace of heat apoplexy more than once, and his nerves were +stretched almost to breaking-point. + +But Merryon went doggedly on, hewing his unswerving way through all. The +monsoon was drawing near, and the whole tortured earth seemed to be +waiting in dumb expectation. + +Night after night a glassy moon came up, shining, immense and awful, +through a thick haze of heat. Night after night Merryon lay on his +veranda, smoking his pipe in stark endurance while the dreadful hours +crept by. Sometimes he held a letter from his wife hard clenched in one +powerful hand. She wrote to him frequently--short, airy epistles, wholly +inconsequent, often provocatively meagre. + +"There is a Captain Silvester here," she wrote once; "such a bounder. +But he is literally the only man who can dance in the station. So what +would you? Poor Mrs. Paget is so shocked!" + +Feathery hints of this description were by no means unusual, but though +Merryon sometimes frowned over them, they did not make him uneasy. His +will-o'-the-wisp might beckon, but she would never allow herself to be +caught. She never spoke of love in her letters, always ending demurely, +"Yours sincerely, Puck." But now and then there was a small cross +scratched impulsively underneath the name, and the letters that bore +this token accompanied Merryon through his inferno whithersoever he +went. + +There came at last a night of terrible heat, when it seemed as if the +world itself must burst into flames. A heavy storm rolled up, roared +overhead for a space like a caged monster, and sullenly rolled away, +without a single drop of rain to ease the awful tension of waiting that +possessed all things. + +Merryon left the mess early, tramping back over the dusty road, +convinced that the downpour for which they all yearned was at hand. +There was no moonlight that night, only a hot blackness, illumined now +and then by a brilliant dart of lightning that shocked the senses and +left behind a void indescribable, a darkness that could be felt. There +was something savage in the atmosphere, something primitive and +passionate that seemed to force itself upon him even against his will. +His pulses were strung to a tropical intensity that made him aware of +the man's blood in him, racing at fever heat through veins that felt +swollen to bursting. + +He entered his bungalow and flung off his clothes, took a plunge in a +bath of tepid water, from which he emerged with a pricking sensation all +over him that made the lightest touch a torture, and finally, keyed up +to a pitch of sensitiveness that excited his own contempt, he pulled on +some pyjamas and went out to his _charpoy_ on the veranda. + +He dismissed the _punkah_ coolie, feeling his presence to be +intolerable, and threw himself down with his coat flung open. The +oppression of the atmosphere was as though a red-hot lid were being +forced down upon the tortured earth. The blackness beyond the veranda +was like a solid wall. Sleep was out of the question. He could not +smoke. It was an effort even to breathe. He could only lie in torment +and wait--and wait. + +The flashes of lightning had become less frequent. A kind of waking +dream began to move in his brain. A figure gradually grew upon that +screen of darkness--an elf-like thing, intangible, transparent, a +quivering, shadowy image, remote as the dawn. + +Wide-eyed, he watched the vision, his pulses beating with a mad longing +so fierce as to be utterly beyond his own control. It was as though he +had drunk strong wine and had somehow slipped the leash of ordinary +convention. The savagery of the night, the tropical intensity of it, had +got into him. Half-naked, wholly primitive, he lay and waited--and +waited. + +For a while the vision hung before him, tantalizing him, maddening him, +eluding him. Then came a flash of lightning, and it was gone. + +He started up on the _charpoy_, every nerve tense as stretched wire. + +"Come back!" he cried, hoarsely. "Come back!" + +Again the lightning streaked the darkness. + +There came a burst of thunder, and suddenly, through it and above it, +he heard the far-distant roar of rain. He sprang to his feet. It was +coming. + +The seconds throbbed away. Something was moving in the compound, a +subtle, awful Something. The trees and bushes quivered before it, the +cluster-roses rattled their dead leaves wildly. But the man stood +motionless in the light that fell across the veranda from the open +window of his room, watching with eyes that shone with a fierce and +glaring intensity for the return of his vision. + +The fevered blood was hammering at his temples. For the moment he was +scarcely sane. The fearful strain of the past few weeks that had +overwhelmed less hardy men had wrought upon him in a fashion more subtle +but none the less compelling. They had been stricken down, whereas he +had been strung to a pitch where bodily suffering had almost ceased to +count. He had grown used to the torment, and now in this supreme moment +it tore from him his civilization, but his physical strength remained +untouched. He stood alert and ready, like a beast in a cage, waiting for +whatever the gods might deign to throw him. + +The tumult beyond that wall of blackness grew. It became a swirling +uproar. The rose-vines were whipped from the veranda and flung writhing +in all directions. The trees in the compound strove like terrified +creatures in the grip of a giant. The heat of the blast was like tongues +of flame blown from an immense furnace. Merryon's whole body seemed to +be wrapped in fire. With a fierce movement, he stripped the coat from +him and flung it into the room behind him. He was alone save for the +devils that raged in that pandemonium. What did it matter how he met +them? + +And then, with the suddenness of a stupendous weight dropped from +heaven, came rain, rain in torrents and billows, rain solid as the +volume of Niagara, a crushing mighty force. + +The tempest shrieked through the compound. The lightning glimmered, +leapt, became continuous. The night was an inferno of thunder and +violence. + +And suddenly out of the inferno, out of the awful strife of elements, +out of that frightful rainfall, there came--a woman! + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +LOVERS + + +She came haltingly, clinging with both hands to the rail of the veranda, +her white face staring upwards in terror and instinctive appeal. She was +like an insect dragging itself away from destruction, with drenched and +battered wings. + +He saw her coming and stiffened. It was his vision returned to him, but +till she came within reach of him he was afraid to move. He stood +upright against the wall, every mad instinct of his blood fiercely awake +and clamouring. + +The noise and wind increased. It swirled along the veranda. She seemed +afraid to quit her hold of the balustrade lest she should be swept away. +But still she drew nearer to the lighted window, and at last, with +desperate resolution, she tore herself free and sprang for shelter. + +In that instant the man also sprang. He caught her in arms that almost +expected to clasp emptiness, arms that crushed in a savage ecstasy of +possession at the actual contact with a creature of flesh and blood. In +the same moment the lamp in the room behind him flared up and went out. + +There arose a frightened crying from his breast. For a few moments she +fought like a mad thing for freedom. He felt her teeth set in his arm, +and laughed aloud. Then very suddenly her struggles ceased. He became +aware of a change in her. She gave her whole weight into his arms, and +lay palpitating against his heart. + +By the awful glare of the lightning he found her face uplifted to his. +She was laughing, too, but in her eyes was such a passion of love as he +had never looked upon before. In that moment he knew that she was +his--wholly, completely, irrevocably his. And, stooping, he kissed the +upturned lips with the fierce exultation of the conqueror. + +Her arms slipped round his neck. She abandoned herself wholly to him. +She gave him worship for worship, passion for passion. + +Later, he awoke to the fact that she was drenched from head to foot. He +drew her into his room and shut the window against the driving blast. +She clung to him still. + +"Isn't it dreadful?" she said, shuddering. "It's just as if Something +Big is trying to get between us." + +He closed the shutter also, and groped for matches. She accompanied him +on his search, for she would not lose touch with him for a moment. + +The lamp flared on her white, childish face, showing him wild joy and +horror strangely mingled. Her great eyes laughed up at him. + +"Billikins, darling! You aren't very decent, are you? I'm not decent +either, Billikins. I'd like to take off all my clothes and dance on my +head." + +He laughed grimly. "You will certainly have to undress--the sooner the +better." + +She spread out her hands. "But I've nothing to wear, Billikins, nothing +but what I've got on. I didn't know it was going to rain so. You'll have +to lend me a suit of pyjamas, dear, while I get my things dried. You +see"--she halted a little--"I came away in rather a hurry. I--was +bored." + +Merryon, oddly sobered by her utter dependence upon him, turned aside +and foraged for brandy. She came close to him while he poured it out. + +"It isn't for me, is it? I couldn't drink it, darling. I shouldn't know +what was happening for the next twenty-four hours if I did." + +"It doesn't matter whether you do or not," he said. "I shall be here to +look after you." + +She laughed at that, a little quivering laugh of sheer content. Her +cheek was against his shoulder. "Live for ever, O king!" she said, and +softly kissed it. + +Then she caught sight of something on the arm below. "Oh, darling, did I +do that?" she cried, in distress. + +He put the arm about her. "It doesn't matter. I don't feel it," he +said. "I've got you." + +She lifted her lips to his again. "Billikins, darling, I didn't know it +was you--at first, not till I heard you laugh. I'd rather die than hurt +you. You know it, don't you?" + +"Of course I know it," he said. + +He caught her to him passionately for a moment, then slowly relaxed his +hold. "Drink this, like a good child," he said, "and then you must get +to bed. You are wet to the skin." + +"I know I am," she said, "but I don't mind." + +"I mind for you," he said. + +She laughed up at him, her eyes like stars. "I was lucky to get in when +I did," she said. "Wasn't the heat dreadful--and the lightning? I ran +all the way from the station. I was just terrified at it all. But I kept +thinking of you, dear--of you, and how--and how you'd kissed me that +night when I was such a little idiot as to cry. Must I really drink it, +Billikins? Ah, well, just to please you--anything to please you. But you +must have one little sip first. Yes, darling, just one. That's to please +your silly little wife, who wants to share everything with you now. +There's my own boy! Now I'll drink every drop--every drop." + +She began to drink, standing in the circle of his arm; then looked up at +him with a quick grimace. "It's powerful strong, dear. You'll have to +put me to bed double quick after this, or I shall be standing on my head +in earnest." + +He laughed a little. She leaned back against him. + +"Yes, I know, darling. You're a man that likes to manage, aren't you? +Well, you can manage me and all that is mine for the rest of my natural +life. I'm never going to leave you again, Billikins. That's understood, +is it?" + +His face sobered. "What possessed you to come back to this damnable +place?" he said. + +She laughed against his shoulder. "Now, Billikins, don't you start +asking silly questions. I'll tell you as much as it's good for you to +know all in good time. I came mainly because I wanted to. And that's the +reason why I'm going to stay. See?" + +She reached up an audacious finger and smoothed the faint frown from his +forehead with her sunny, provocative smile. + +"It'll have to be a joint management," she said. "There are so many +things you mustn't do. Now, darling, I've finished the brandy to please +you. So suppose you look out your prettiest suit of pyjamas, and I'll +try and get into them." She broke into a giddy little laugh. "What would +Mrs. Paget say? Can't you see her face? I can!" + +She stopped suddenly, struck dumb by a terrible blast of wind that shook +the bungalow to its foundations. + +"Just hark to the wind and the rain, Billikins!" she whispered, as it +swirled on. "Did you ever hear anything so awful? It's as if--as if God +were very furious--about something. Do you think He is, dear? Do you?" +She pressed close to him with white, pleading face upraised. "Do you +believe in God, Billikins? Honestly now!" + +The man hesitated, holding her fast in his arms, seeing only the +quivering, childish mouth and beseeching eyes. + +"You don't, do you?" she said. "I don't myself, Billikins. I think He's +just a myth. Or anyhow--if He's there at all--He doesn't bother about +the people who were born on the wrong side of the safety-curtain. There, +darling! Kiss me once more--I love your kisses--I love them! And now go! +Yes--yes, you must go--just while I make myself respectable. Yes, but +you can leave the door ajar, dear heart! I want to feel you close at +hand. I am yours--till I die--king and master!" + +Her eyes were brimming with tears; he thought her overwrought and weary, +and passed them by in silence. + +And so through that night of wonder, of violence, and of storm, she lay +against his heart, her arms wound about his neck with a closeness which +even sleep could not relax. + +Out of the storm she had come to him, like a driven bird seeking refuge; +and through the fury of the storm he held her, compassing her with the +fire of his passion. + +"I am safe now," she murmured once, when he thought her sleeping. "I am +quite--quite safe." + +And he, fancying the raging of the storm had disturbed her, made hushing +answer, "Quite safe, wife of my heart." + +She trembled a little, and nestled closer to his breast. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE HONEYMOON + + +"You can't mean to let your wife stay here!" ejaculated the colonel, +sharply. "You wouldn't do anything so mad!" + +Merryon's hard mouth took a sterner downward curve. "My wife refuses to +leave me, sir," he said. + +"Good heavens above, Merryon!" The colonel's voice held a species of +irritated derision. "Do you tell me you can't manage--a--a piece of +thistledown like that?" + +Merryon was silent, grimly, implacably silent. Plainly he had no +intention of making such an admission. + +"It's madness--criminal madness!" Colonel Davenant looked at him +aggressively, obviously longing to pierce that stubborn calm with which +Merryon had so long withstood the world. + +But Merryon remained unmoved, though deep in his private soul he knew +that the colonel was right, knew that he had decided upon a course of +action that involved a risk which he dreaded to contemplate. + +"Oh, look here, Merryon!" The colonel lost his temper after his own +precipitate fashion. "Don't be such a confounded fool! Take a +fortnight's leave--I can't spare you longer--and go back to the Hills +with her! Make her settle down with my wife at Shamkura! Tell her you'll +beat her if she doesn't!" + +Merryon's grim face softened a little. "Thank you very much, sir! But +you can't spare me even for so long. Moreover, that form of punishment +wouldn't scare her. So, you see, it would come to the same thing in the +end. She is determined to face what I face for the present." + +"And you're determined to let her!" growled the colonel. + +Merryon shrugged his shoulders. + +"You'll probably lose her," the colonel persisted, gnawing fiercely at +his moustache. "Have you considered that?" + +"I've considered everything," Merryon said, rather heavily. "But she +came to me--through that inferno. I can't send her away again. She +wouldn't go." + +Colonel Davenant swore under his breath. "Let me talk to her!" he said, +after a moment. + +The ghost of a smile touched Merryon's face. "It's no good, sir. You can +talk. You won't make any impression." + +"But it's practically a matter of life and death, man!" insisted the +colonel. "You can't afford any silly sentiment in an affair like this." + +"I am not sentimental," Merryon said, and his lips twitched a little +with the words. "But all the same, since she has set her heart on +staying, she shall stay. I have promised that she shall." + +"You are mad," the colonel declared. "Just think a minute! Think what +your feelings will be if she dies!" + +"I have thought, sir." The dogged note was in Merryon's voice again. His +face was a mask of impenetrability. "If she dies, I shall at least have +the satisfaction of knowing that I made her happy first." + +It was his last word on the subject. He departed, leaving the colonel +fuming. + +That evening the latter called upon Mrs. Merryon. He found her sitting +on her husband's knee smoking a Turkish cigarette, and though she +abandoned this unconventional attitude to receive her visitor, he had a +distinct impression that the two were in subtle communion throughout his +stay. + +"It's so very nice of you to take the trouble," she said, in her +charming way, when he had made his most urgent representations. "But +really it's much better for me to be with my husband here. I stayed at +Shamkura just as long as I could possibly bear it, and then I just had +to come back here. I don't think I shall get ill--really. And if I +do"--she made a little foreign gesture of the hands--"I'll nurse +myself." + +As Merryon had foretold, it was useless to argue with her. She +dismissed all argument with airy unreason. But yet the colonel could not +find it in his heart to be angry with her. He was very angry with +Merryon, so angry that for a whole fortnight he scarcely spoke to him. + +But when the end of the fortnight came, and with it the first break in +the rains, little Mrs. Merryon went smiling forth and returned his call. + +"Are you still being cross with Billikins?" she asked him, while her +hand lay engagingly in his. "Because it's really not his fault, you +know. If he sent me to Kamchatka, I should still come back." + +"You wouldn't if you belonged to me," said Colonel Davenant, with a +grudging smile. + +She laughed and shook her head. "Perhaps I shouldn't--not unless I loved +you as dearly as I love Billikins. But I think you needn't be cross +about it. I'm quite well. If you don't believe me, you can look at my +tongue." + +She shot it out impudently, still laughing. And the colonel suddenly and +paternally patted her cheek. + +"You're a very naughty girl," he said. "But I suppose we shall have to +make the best of you. Only, for Heaven's sake, don't go and get ill on +the quiet! If you begin to feel queer, send for the doctor at the +outset!" + +He abandoned his attitude of disapproval towards Merryon after that +interview, realizing possibly its injustice. He even declared in a +letter to his wife that Mrs. Merryon was an engaging chit, with a will +of her own that threatened to rule them all! Mrs. Davenant pursed her +lips somewhat over the assertion, and remarked that Major Merryon's wife +was plainly more at home with men than women. Captain Silvester was so +openly out of temper over her absence that it was evident she had been +"leading him on with utter heartlessness," and now, it seemed, she meant +to have the whole mess at her beck and call. + +As a matter of fact, Puck saw much more of the mess than she desired. It +became the fashion among the younger officers to drop into the Merryons' +bungalow at the end of the evening. Amusements were scarce, and Puck was +a vigorous antidote to boredom. She always sparkled in society, and she +was too sweet-natured to snub "the boys," as she called them. The smile +of welcome was ever ready on her little, thin white face, the quick jest +on her nimble tongue. + +"We mustn't be piggy just because we are happy," she said to her husband +once. "How are they to know we are having our honeymoon?" And then she +nestled close to him, whispering, "It's quite the best honeymoon any +woman ever had." + +To which he could make but the one reply, pressing her to his heart and +kissing the red lips that mocked so merrily when the world was looking +on. + +She had become the hub of his existence, and day by day he watched her +anxiously, grasping his happiness with a feeling that it was too great +to last. + +The rains set in in earnest, and the reek of the Plains rose like an +evil miasma to the turbid heavens. The atmosphere was as the interior of +a steaming cauldron. Great toadstools spread like a loathsome disease +over the compound. Fever was rife in the camp. Mosquitoes buzzed +incessantly everywhere, and rats began to take refuge in the bungalow. +Puck was privately terrified at rats, but she smothered her terror in +her husband's presence and maintained a smiling front. They laid down +poison for the rats, who died horribly in inaccessible places, making +her wonder if they were not almost preferable alive. And then one night +she discovered a small snake coiled in a corner of her bedroom. + +She fled to Merryon in horror, and he and the _khitmutgar_ slew the +creature. But Puck's nerves were on edge from that day forward. She went +through agonies of cold fear whenever she was left alone, and she +feverishly encouraged the subalterns to visit her during her husband's +absence on duty. + +He raised no objection till he one day returned unexpectedly to find her +dancing a hornpipe for the benefit of a small, admiring crowd to whom +she had been administering tea. + +She sprang like a child to meet him at his entrance, declaring the +entertainment at an end; and the crowd soon melted away. + +Then, somewhat grimly, Merryon took his wife to task. + +She sat on the arm of his chair with her arms round his neck, swinging +one leg while she listened. She was very docile, punctuating his remarks +with soft kisses dropped inconsequently on the top of his head. When he +ended, she slipped cosily down upon his knee and promised to be good. + +It was not a very serious promise, and it was plainly proffered in a +spirit of propitiation. Merryon pursued the matter no further, but he +was vaguely dissatisfied. He had a feeling that she regarded his +objections as the outcome of eccentric prudishness, or at the best an +unreasonable fit of jealousy. She smoothed him down as though he had +been a spoilt child, her own attitude supremely unabashed; and though he +could not be angry with her, an uneasy sense of doubt pressed upon him. +Utterly his own as he knew her to be, yet dimly, intangibly, he began to +wonder what her outlook on life could be, how she regarded the tie that +bound them. It was impossible to reason seriously with her. She floated +out of his reach at the first touch. + +So that curious honeymoon of theirs continued, love and passion crudely +mingled, union without knowledge, flaming worship and blind possession. + +"You are happy?" Merryon asked her once. + +To which she made ardent answer, "Always happy in your arms, O king." + +And Merryon was happy also, though, looking back later, it seemed to him +that he snatched his happiness on the very edge of the pit, and that +even at the time he must have been half-aware of it. + +When, a month after her coming, the scourge of the Plains caught her, as +was inevitable, he felt as if his new-found kingdom had begun already to +depart from him. + +For a few days Puck was seriously ill with malaria. She came through it +with marvellous resolution, nursed by Merryon and his bearer, the +general factotum of the establishment. + +But it left her painfully weak and thin, and the colonel became again +furiously insistent that she should leave the Plains till the rains were +over. + +Merryon, curiously enough, did not insist. Only one evening he took the +little wasted body into his arms and begged her--actually begged her--to +consent to go. + +"I shall be with you for the first fortnight," he said. "It won't be +more than a six-weeks' separation." + +"Six weeks!" she protested, piteously. + +"Perhaps less," he said. "I may be able to come to you for a day or two +in the middle. Say you will go--and stay, sweetheart! Set my mind at +rest!" + +"But, darling, you may be ill. A thousand things may happen. And I +couldn't go back to Shamkura. I couldn't!" said Puck, almost crying, +clinging fast around his neck. + +"But why not?" he questioned, gently. "Weren't they kind to you there? +Weren't you happy?" + +She clung faster. "Happy, Billikins! With that hateful Captain Silvester +lying in wait to--to make love to me! I didn't tell you before. But +that--that was why I left." + +He frowned above her head. "You ought to have told me before, Puck." + +She trembled in his arms. "It didn't seem to matter when once I'd got +away; and I knew it would only make you cross." + +"How did he make love to you?" demanded Merryon. + +He tried to see her face, but she hid it resolutely against him. "Don't, +Billikins! It doesn't matter now." + +"It does matter," he said, sternly. + +Puck was silent. + +Merryon continued inexorably. "I suppose it was your own fault. You led +him on." + +She gave a little nervous laugh against his breast. "I never meant to, +Billikins. I--I don't much like men--as a rule." + +"You manage to conceal that fact very successfully," he said. + +She laughed again rather piteously. "You don't know me," she whispered. +"I'm not--like that--all through." + +"I hope not," said Merryon, severely. + +She turned her face slightly upwards and snuggled it into his neck. "You +used not to mind," she said. + +He held her close in his arms the while he steeled himself against her. +"Well, I mind now," he said. "And I will have no more of it. Is that +clearly understood?" + +She assented dubiously, her lips softly kissing his neck. "It isn't--all +my fault, Billikins," she whispered, wistfully, "that men treat +me--lightly." + +He set his teeth. "It must be your fault," he declared, firmly. "You can +help it if you try." + +She turned her face more fully to his. "How grim you look, darling! You +haven't kissed me for quite five minutes." + +"I feel more like whipping you," he said, grimly. + +She leapt in his arms as if he had been about to put his words into +action. "Oh, no!" she cried. "No, you wouldn't beat me, Billikins. +You--you wouldn't, dear, would you?" Her great eyes, dilated and +imploring, gazed into his for a long desperate second ere she gave +herself back to him with a sobbing laugh. "You're not in earnest, of +course. I'm silly to listen to you. Do kiss me, darling, and not +frighten me anymore!" + +He held her close, but still he did not comply with her request. "Did +this Silvester ever kiss you?" he asked. + +She shook her head vehemently, hiding her face. + +"Look at me!" he said. + +"No, Billikins!" she protested. + +"Then tell me the truth!" he said. + +"He kissed me--once, Billikins," came in distressed accents from his +shoulder. + +"And you?" Merryon's words sounded clipped and cold. + +She shivered. "I ran right away to you. I--I didn't feel safe any more." + +Merryon sat silent. Somehow he could not stir up his anger against her, +albeit his inner consciousness told him that she had been to blame; but +for the first time his passion was cooled. He held her without ardour, +the while he wondered. + +That night he awoke to the sound of her low sobbing at his side. His +heart smote him. He put forth a comforting hand. + +She crept into his arms. "Oh, Billikins," she whispered, "keep me with +you! I'm not safe--by myself." + +The man's soul stirred within him. Dimly he began to understand what his +protection meant to her. It was her anchor, all she had to keep her from +the whirlpools. Without it she was at the mercy of every wind that blew. +Again cold doubt assailed him, but he put it forcibly away. He gathered +her close, and kissed the tears from her face and the trouble from her +heart. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE MOUTH OF THE PIT + + +So Puck had her way and stayed. + +She was evidently sublimely happy--at least in Merryon's society, but +she did not pick up her strength very quickly, and but for her unfailing +high spirits Merryon would have felt anxious about her. There seemed to +be nothing of her. She was not like a creature of flesh and blood. Yet +how utterly, how abundantly, she satisfied him! She poured out her love +to him in a perpetual offering that never varied or grew less. She gave +him freely, eagerly, glowingly, all she had to give. With passionate +triumph she answered to his need. And that need was growing. He could +not blind himself to the fact. His profession no longer filled his life. +There were times when he even resented its demands upon him. The sick +list was rapidly growing, and from morning till night his days were +full. + +Puck made no complaint. She was always waiting for him, however late the +hour of his return. She was always in his arms the moment the dripping +overcoat was removed. Sometimes he brought work back with him, and +wrestled with regimental accounts and other details far into the night. +It was not his work, but someone had to do it, and it had devolved upon +him. + +Puck never would go to bed without him. It was too lonely, she said; she +was afraid of snakes, or rats, or bogies. She used to curl up on the +_charpoy_ in his room, clad in the airiest of wrappers, and doze the +time away till he was ready. + +One night she actually fell into a sound sleep thus, and he, finishing +his work, sat on and on, watching her, loath to disturb her. There was +deep pathos in her sleeping face. Lines that in her waking moments were +never apparent were painfully noticeable in repose. She had the puzzled, +wistful look of a child who has gone through trouble without +understanding it--a hurt and piteous look. + +He watched her thus till a sense of trespass came upon him, and then he +rose, bent over her, and very tenderly lifted her. + +She was alert on the instant, with a sharp movement of resistance. Then +at once her arms went round his neck. "Oh, darling, is it you? Don't +bother to carry me! You're so tired!" + +He smiled at the idea, and she nestled against his heart, lifting soft +lips to his. + +He carried her to bed, and laid her down, but she would not let him go +immediately. She yet clung about his neck, hiding her face against it. + +He held her closely. "Good-night, little pal--little sweetheart," he +said. + +Her arms tightened. "Billikins!" she said. + +He waited. "What is it, dear?" + +She became a little agitated. He could feel her lips moving, but they +said no audible word. + +He waited in silence. And suddenly she raised her face and looked at him +fully. There was a glory in her eyes such as he had never seen before. + +"I dreamt last night that the wonderfullest thing happened," she said, +her red lips quivering close to his own. "Billikins, what if--the dream +came true?" + +A hot wave of feeling went through him at her words. He crushed her to +him, feeling the quick beat of her heart against his own, the throbbing +surrender of her whole being to his. He kissed her burningly, with such +a passion of devotion as had never before moved him. + +She laughed rapturously. "Isn't it great, Billikins?" she said. "And I'd +have missed it all if it hadn't been for you. Just think--if I hadn't +jumped--before the safety-curtain--came--down!" + +She was speaking between his kisses, and eventually they stopped her. + +"Don't think," he said; "don't think!" + +It was the beginning of a new era, the entrance of a new element into +their lives. Perhaps till that night he had never looked upon her wholly +in the light of wife. His blind passion for her had intoxicated him. +She had been to him an elf from fairyland, a being elusive who offered +him all the magic of her love, but upon whom he had no claims. But from +that night his attitude towards her underwent a change. Very tenderly he +took her into his own close keeping. She had become human in his eyes, +no longer a wayward sprite, but a woman, eager-hearted, and his own. He +gave her reverence because of that womanhood which he had only just +begun to visualize in her. Out of his passion there had kindled a +greater fire. All that she had in life she gave him, glorying in the +gift, and in return he gave her love. + +All through the days that followed he watched over her with unfailing +devotion--a devotion that drew her nearer to him than she had ever been +before. She was ever responsive to his mood, keenly susceptible to his +every phase of feeling. But, curiously, she took no open notice of the +change in him. She was sublimely happy, and like a child she lived upon +happiness, asking no questions. He never saw her other than content. + +Slowly that month of deadly rain wore on. The Plains had become a vast +and fetid swamp, the atmosphere a weltering, steamy heat, charged with +fever, leaden with despair. + +But Puck was like a singing bird in the heart of the wilderness. She +lived apart in a paradise of her own, and even the colonel had to +relent again and bestow his grim smile upon her. + +"Merryon's a lucky devil," he said, and everyone in the mess agreed with +him. + +But, "You wait!" said Macfarlane, the doctor, with gloomy emphasis. +"There's more to come." + +It was on a night of awful darkness that he uttered this prophecy, and +his hearers were in too overwhelming a state of depression to debate the +matter. + +Merryon's bungalow was actually the only one in the station in which +happiness reigned. They were sitting together in his den smoking a great +many cigarettes, listening to the perpetual patter of the rain on the +roof and the drip, drip, drip of it from gutter to veranda, superbly +content and "completely weather-proof," as Puck expressed it. + +"I hope none of the boys will turn up to-night," she said. "We haven't +room for more than two, have we?" + +"Oh, someone is sure to come," responded Merryon. "They'll be getting +bored directly, and come along here for coffee." + +"There's someone there now," said Puck, cocking her head. "I think I +shall run along to bed and leave you to do the entertaining. Shall I?" + +She looked at him with a mischievous smile, very bright-eyed and alert. + +"It would be a quick method of getting rid of them," remarked Merryon. + +She jumped up. "Very well, then. I'll go, shall I? Shall I, darling?" + +He reached out a hand and grasped her wrist. "No," he said, +deliberately, smiling up at her. "You'll stay and do your duty--unless +you're tired," he added. "Are you?" + +She stooped to bestow a swift caress upon his forehead. "My own +Billikins!" she murmured. "You're the kindest husband that ever was. Of +course, I'm going to stay." + +She could scarcely have effected her escape had she so desired, for +already a hand was on the door. She turned towards it with the roguish +smile still upon her lips. + +Merryon was looking at her at the moment. She interested him far more +than the visitor, whom he guessed to be one of the subalterns. And so +looking, he saw the smile freeze upon her face to a mask-like +immobility. And very suddenly he remembered a man whom he had once seen +killed on a battlefield--killed instantaneously--while laughing at some +joke. The frozen mirth, the starting eyes, the awful vacancy where the +soul had been--he saw them all again in the face of his wife. + +"Great heavens, Puck! What is it?" he said, and sprang to his feet. + +In the same instant she turned with the movement of one tearing herself +free from an evil spell, and flung herself violently upon his breast. +"Oh, Billikins, save me--save me!" she cried, and broke into hysterical +sobbing. + +His arms were about her in a second, sheltering her, sustaining her. His +eyes went beyond her to the open door. + +A man was standing there--a bulky, broad-featured, coarse-lipped man +with keen black eyes that twinkled maliciously between thick lids, and a +black beard that only served to emphasize an immensely heavy under-jaw. +Merryon summed him up swiftly as a Portuguese American with more than a +dash of darker blood in his composition. + +He entered the room in a fashion that was almost insulting. It was +evident that he was summing up Merryon also. + +The latter waited for him, stiff with hostility, his arms still tightly +clasping Puck's slight, cowering form. He spoke as the stranger +advanced, in his voice a deep menace like the growl of an angry beast +protecting its own. + +"Who are you? And what do you want?" + +The stranger's lips parted, showing a gleam of strong white teeth. "My +name," he said, speaking in a peculiarly soft voice that somehow +reminded Merryon of the hiss of a reptile, "is Leo Vulcan. You have +heard of me? Perhaps not. I am better known in the Western Hemisphere. +You ask me what I want?" He raised a brown, hairy hand and pointed +straight at the girl in Merryon's arms. "I want--my wife!" + +Puck's cry of anguish followed the announcement, and after it came +silence--a tense, hard-breathing silence, broken only by her long-drawn, +agonized sobbing. + +Merryon's hold had tightened all unconsciously to a grip; and she was +clinging to him wildly, convulsively, as she had never clung before. He +could feel the horror that pulsed through her veins; it set his own +blood racing at fever-speed. + +Over her head he faced the stranger with eyes of steely hardness. "You +have made a mistake," he said, briefly and sternly. + +The other man's teeth gleamed again. He had a way of lifting his lip +when talking which gave him an oddly bestial look. "I think not," he +said. "Let the lady speak for herself! She will not--I think--deny me." + +There was an intolerable sneer in the last sentence. A sudden awful +doubt smote through Merryon. He turned to the girl sobbing at his +breast. + +"Puck," he said, "for Heaven's sake--what is this man to you?" + +She did not answer him; perhaps she could not. Her distress was terrible +to witness, utterly beyond all control. + +But the newcomer was by no means disconcerted by it. He drew near with +the utmost assurance. + +"Allow me to deal with her!" he said, and reached out a hand to touch +her. + +But at that action Merryon's wrath burst into sudden flame. "Curse you, +keep away!" he thundered. "Lay a finger on her at your peril!" + +The other stood still, but his eyes gleamed evilly. "My good sir," he +said, "you have not yet grasped the situation. It is not a pleasant one +for you--for either of us; but it has got to be grasped. I do not happen +to know under what circumstances you met this woman; but I do know that +she was my lawful wife before the meeting took place. In whatever light +you may be pleased to regard that fact, you must admit that legally she +is my property, not yours!" + +"Oh, no--no--no!" moaned Puck. + +Merryon said nothing. He felt strangled, as if a ligature about his +throat had forced all the blood to his brain and confined it there. + +After a moment the bearded man continued: "You may not know it, but she +is a dancer of some repute, a circumstance which she owes entirely to +me. I picked her up, a mere child in the streets of London, turning +cart-wheels for a living. I took her and trained her as an acrobat. She +was known on the stage as Toby the Tumbler. Everyone took her for a boy. +Later, she developed a talent for dancing. It was then that I decided to +marry her. She desired the marriage even more than I did." Again he +smiled his brutal smile. + +"Oh, no!" sobbed Puck. "Oh, no!" + +He passed on with a derisive sneer. "We were married about two years +ago. She became popular in the halls very soon after, and it turned her +head. You may have discovered yourself by this time that she is not +always as tractable as she might be. I had to teach her obedience and +respect, and eventually I succeeded. I conquered her--as I +hoped--completely. However, six months ago she took advantage of a stage +fire to give me the slip, and till recently I believed that she was +dead. Then a friend of mine--Captain Silvester--met her out here in +India a few weeks back at a place called Shamkura, and recognized her. +Her dancing qualities are superb. I think she displayed them a little +rashly if she really wished to remain hidden. He sent me the news, and I +have come myself to claim her--and take her back." + +"You can't take me back!" It was Puck's voice, but not as Merryon had +ever heard it before. She flashed round like a hunted creature at bay, +her eyes blazing a wild defiance into the mocking eyes opposite. "You +can't take me back!" she repeated, with quivering insistence. "Our +marriage was--no marriage! It was a sham--a sham! But even if--even +if--it had been--a true marriage--you would have to--set me--free--now." + +"And why?" said Vulcan, with his evil smile. + +She was white to the lips, but she faced him unflinching. "There is--a +reason," she said. + +"In--deed!" He uttered a scoffing laugh of deadly insult. "The same +reason, I presume, as that for which you married me?" + +She flinched at that--flinched as if he had struck her across the face. +"Oh, you brute!" she said, and shuddered back against Merryon's +supporting arm. "You wicked brute!" + +It was then that Merryon wrenched himself free from that paralysing +constriction that bound him, and abruptly intervened. + +"Puck," he said, "go! Leave us! I will deal with this matter in my own +way." + +She made no move to obey. Her face was hidden in her hands. But she was +sobbing no longer, only sickly shuddering from head to foot. + +He took her by the shoulder. "Go, child, go!" he urged. + +But she shook her head. "It's no good," she said. "He has got--the +whip-hand." + +The utter despair of her tone pierced straight to his soul. She stood as +one bent beneath a crushing burden, and he knew that her face was +burning behind the sheltering hands. + +He still held her with a certain stubbornness of possession, though she +made no further attempt to cling to him. + +"What do you mean by that?" he said, bending to her. "Tell me what you +mean! Don't be afraid to tell me!" + +She shook her head again. "I am bound," she said, dully, "bound hand and +foot." + +"You mean that you really are--married to him?" Merryon spoke the words +as it were through closed lips. He had a feeling as of being caught in +some crushing machinery, of being slowly and inevitably ground to +shapeless atoms. + +Puck lifted her head at length and spoke, not looking at him. "I went +through a form of marriage with him," she said, "for the sake +of--of--of--decency. I always loathed him. I always shall. He only wants +me now because I am--I have been--valuable to him. When he first took me +he seemed kind. I was nearly starved, quite desperate, and alone. He +offered to teach me to be an acrobat, to make a living. I'd better have +drowned myself." A little tremor of passion went through her voice; she +paused to steady it, then went on. "He taught by fear--and cruelty. He +opened my eyes to evil. He used to beat me, too--tie me up in the +gymnasium--and beat me with a whip till--till I was nearly beside myself +and ready to promise anything--anything, only to stop the torture. And +so he got everything he wanted from me, and when I began to be +successful as a dancer he--married me. I thought it would make things +better. I didn't think, if I were his wife, he could go on ill-treating +me quite so much. But I soon found my mistake. I soon found I was even +more his slave than before. And then--just a week before the +fire--another woman came, and told me that it was not a real marriage; +that--that he had been through exactly the same form with her--and there +was nothing in it." + +She stopped again at sound of a low laugh from Vulcan. "Not quite the +same form, my dear," he said. "Yours was as legal and binding as the +English law could make it. I have the certificate with me to prove this. +As you say, you were valuable to me then--as you will be again, and so I +was careful that the contract should be complete in every particular. +Now--if you have quite finished your--shall we call it confession?--I +suggest that you should return to your lawful husband and leave this +gentleman to console himself as soon as may be. It is growing late, and +it is not my intention that you should spend another night under his +protection." + +He spoke slowly, with a curious, compelling emphasis, and as if in +answer to that compulsion Puck's eyes came back to his. + +"Oh, no!" she said, in a quick, frightened whisper. "No! I can't! I +can't!" + +Yet she made a movement towards him as if drawn irresistibly. + +And at that movement, wholly involuntary as it was, something in +Merryon's brain seemed to burst. He saw all things a burning, +intolerable red. With a strangled oath he caught her back, held her +violently--a prisoner in his arms. + +"By God, no!" he said. "I'll kill you first!" + +She turned in his embrace. She lifted her lips and passionately kissed +him. "Yes, kill me! Kill me!" she cried to him. "I'd rather die!" + +Again the stranger laughed, though his eyes were devilish. "You had +better come without further trouble," he remarked. "You will only add to +your punishment--which will be no light one as it is--by these +hysterics. Do you wish to see my proofs?" He addressed Merryon with +sudden open malignancy. "Or am I to take them to the colonel of your +regiment?" + +"You may take them to the devil!" Merryon said. He was holding her +crushed to his heart. He flung his furious challenge over her head. "If +the marriage was genuine you shall set her free. If it was not"--he +paused, and ended in a voice half-choked with passion--"you can go to +blazes!" + +The other man showed his teeth in a wolfish snarl. "She is my wife," he +said, in his slow, sibilant way. "I shall not set her free. +And--wherever I go, she will go also." + +"If you can take her, you infernal blackguard!" Merryon threw at him. +"Now get out. Do you hear? Get out--if you don't want to be shot! +Whatever happens to-morrow, I swear by God in heaven she shall not go +with you to-night!" + +The uncontrolled violence of his speech was terrible. His hold upon Puck +was violent also, more violent than he knew. Her whole body lay a +throbbing weight upon him, and he was not even aware of it. + +"Go!" he reiterated, with eyes of leaping flame. "Go! or--" He left the +sentence uncompleted. It was even more terrible than his flow of words +had been. The whole man vibrated with a wrath that possessed him in a +fashion so colossal as to render him actually sublime. He mastered the +situation by the sheer, indomitable might of his fury. There was no +standing against him. It would have been as easy to stem a racing +torrent. + +Vulcan, for all his insolence, realized the fact. The man's strength in +that moment was gigantic, practically limitless. There was no coping +with it. Still with the snarl upon his lips he turned away. + +"You will pay for this, my wife," he said. "You will pay in full. When I +punish, I punish well." + +He reached the door and opened it, still leering back at the limp, +girlish form in Merryon's arms. + +"It will not be soon over," he said. "It will take many days, many +nights, that punishment--till you have left off crying for mercy, or +expecting it." + +He was on the threshold. His eyes suddenly shot up with a gloating +hatred to Merryon's. + +"And you," he said, "will have the pleasure of knowing every night when +you lie down alone that she is either writhing under the lash--a +frequent exercise for a while, my good sir--or finding subtle comfort in +my arms; both pleasant subjects for your dreams." + +He was gone. The door closed slowly, noiselessly, upon his exit. There +was no sound of departing feet. + +But Merryon neither listened nor cared. He had turned Puck's deathly +face upwards, and was covering it with burning, passionate kisses, +drawing her back to life, as it were, by the fiery intensity of his +worship. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +GREATER THAN DEATH + + +She came to life, weakly gasping. She opened her eyes upon him with the +old, unwavering adoration in their depths. And then before his burning +look hers sank. She hid her face against him with an inarticulate sound +more anguished than any weeping. + +The savagery went out of his hold. He drew her to the _charpoy_ on which +she had spent so many evenings waiting for him, and made her sit down. + +She did not cling to him any longer; she only covered her face so that +he should not see it, huddling herself together in a piteous heap, her +black, curly head bowed over her knees in an overwhelming agony of +humiliation. + +Yet there was in the situation something that was curiously reminiscent +of that night when she had leapt from the burning stage into the safety +of his arms. Now, as then, she was utterly dependent upon the charity of +his soul. + +He turned from her and poured brandy and water into a glass. He came +back and knelt beside her. + +"Drink it, my darling!" he said. + +She made a quick gesture as of surprised protest. She did not raise her +head. It was as if an invisible hand were crushing her to the earth. + +"Why don't you--kill me?" she said. + +He laid his hand upon her bent head. "Because you are the salt of the +earth to me," he said; "because I worship you." + +She caught the hand with a little sound of passionate endearment, and +laid her face down in it, her hot, quivering lips against his palm. "I +love you so!" she said. "I love you so!" + +He pressed her face slowly upwards. But she resisted. "No, no! I +can't--meet--your--eyes." + +"You need not be afraid," he said. "Once and for all, Puck, believe me +when I tell you that this thing shall never--can never--come between +us." + +She caught her breath sharply; but still she refused to look up. "Then +you don't understand," she said. "You--you--can't understand +that--that--I was--his--his--" Her voice failed. She caught his hand in +both her own, pressing it hard over her face, writhing in mute shame +before him. + +"Yes, I do understand," Merryon said, and his voice was very quiet, full +of a latent force that thrilled her magnetically. "I understand that +when you were still a child this brute took possession of you, broke you +to his will, did as he pleased with you. I understand that you were as +helpless as a rabbit in the grip of a weasel. I understand that he was +always an abomination and a curse to you, that when deliverance offered +you seized it; and I do not forget that you would have preferred death +if I would have let you die. Do you know, Puck"--his voice had softened +by imperceptible degrees; he was bending towards her so that she could +feel his breath on her neck while he spoke--"when I took it upon me to +save you from yourself that night I knew--I guessed--what had happened +to you? No, don't start like that! If there was anything to forgive I +forgave you long ago. I understood. Believe me, though I am a man, I can +understand." + +He stopped. His hand was all wet with her tears. "Oh, darling!" she +whispered. "Oh, darling!" + +"Don't cry, sweetheart!" he said. "And don't be afraid any longer! I +took you from your inferno. I learnt to love you--just as you were, +dear, just as you were. You tried to keep me at a distance; do you +remember? And then--you found life was too strong for you. You came back +and gave yourself to me. Have you ever regretted it, my darling? Tell me +that!" + +"Never!" she sobbed. "Never! Your love--your love--has been--the +safety-curtain--always--between me and--harm." + +And then very suddenly she lifted her face, her streaming eyes, and met +his look. + +"But there's one thing, darling," she said, "which you must know. I +loved you always--always--even before that monsoon night. But I came to +you then because--because--I knew that I had been recognized, and--I was +afraid--I was terrified--till--till I was safe in your arms." + +"Ah! But you came to me," he said. + +A sudden gleam of mirth shot through her woe. "My! That was a night, +Billikins!" she said. And then the clouds came back upon her, +overwhelming her. "Oh, what is there to laugh at? How could I laugh?" + +He lifted the glass he held and drank from it, then offered it to her. +"Drink with me!" he said. + +She took, not the glass, but his wrist, and drank with her eyes upon his +face. + +When she had finished she drew his arms about her, and lay against his +shoulder with closed eyes for a space, saying no word. + +At last, with a little murmuring sigh, she spoke. "What is going to +happen, Billikins?" + +"God knows," he said. + +But there was no note of dismay in his voice. His hold was strong and +steadfast. + +She stirred a little. "Do you believe in God?" she asked him, for the +second time. + +He had not answered her before; he answered her now without hesitation. +"Yes, I do." + +She lifted her head to look at him. "I wonder why?" she said. + +He was silent for a moment; then, "Just because I can hold you in my +arms," he said, "and feel that nothing else matters--or can matter +again." + +"You really feel that?" she said, quickly. "You really love me, dear?" + +"That is love," he said, simply. + +"Oh, darling!" Her breath came fast. "Then, if they try to take me from +you--you will really do it--you won't be afraid?" + +"Do what?" he questioned, sombrely. + +"Kill me, Billikins," she answered, swiftly. "Kill me--sooner than let +me go." + +He bent his head. "Yes," he said. "My love is strong enough for that." + +"But what would you do--afterwards?" she breathed, her lips raised to +his. + +A momentary surprise showed in his eyes. "Afterwards?" he questioned. + +"After I was gone, darling?" she said, anxiously. + +A very strange smile came over Merryon's face. He pressed her to him, +his eyes gazing deep into hers. He kissed her, but not passionately, +rather with reverence. + +"Your afterwards will be mine, dear, wherever it is," he said. "If it +comes to that--if there is any going--in that way--we go together." + +The anxiety went out of her face in a second. She smiled back at him +with utter confidence. "Oh, Billikins!" she said. "Oh, Billikins, that +will be great!" + +She went back into his arms, and lay there for a further space, saying +no word. There was something sacred in the silence between them, +something mysterious and wonderful. The drip, drip, drip of the +ceaseless rain was the only sound in the stillness. They seemed to be +alone together in a sanctuary that none other might enter, husband and +wife, made one by the Bond Imperishable, waiting together for +deliverance. They were the most precious moments that either had ever +known, for in them they were more truly wedded in spirit than they had +ever been before. + +How long the great silence lasted neither could have said. It lay like a +spell for awhile, and like a spell it passed. + +Merryon moved at last, moved and looked down into his wife's eyes. + +They met his instantly without a hint of shrinking; they even smiled. +"It must be nearly bedtime," she said. "You are not going to be busy +to-night?" + +"Not to-night," he said. + +"Then don't let's sit up any longer, darling," she said. "We can't +either of us afford to lose our beauty sleep." + +She rose with him, still with her shining eyes lifted to his, still with +that brave gaiety sparkling in their depths. She gave his arm a tight +little squeeze. "My, Billikins, how you've grown!" she said, admiringly. +"You always were--pretty big. But to-night you're just--titanic!" + +He smiled and touched her cheek, not speaking. + +"You fill the world," she said. + +He bent once more to kiss her. "You fill my heart," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE SACRIFICE + + +They went round the bungalow together to see to the fastenings of doors +and windows. The _khitmutgar_ had gone to his own quarters for the +night, and they were quite alone. The drip, drip, drip of the rain was +still the only sound, save when the far cry of a prowling jackal came +weirdly through the night. + +"It's more gruesome than usual somehow," said Puck, still fast clinging +to her husband's arm. "I'm not a bit frightened, darling, only sort of +creepy at the back. But there's nobody here but you and me, is there?" + +"Nobody," said Merryon. + +"And will you please come and see if there are any snakes or scorpions +before I begin to undress?" she said. "The very fact of looking under my +bed makes my hair stand on end." + +He went with her and made a thorough investigation, finding nothing. + +"That's all right," she said, with a sigh of relief. "And yet, somehow, +I feel as if something is waiting round the corner to pounce out on us. +Is it Fate, do you think? Or just my silly fancy?" + +"I think it is probably your startled nerves, dear," he said, smiling a +little. + +She assented with a half-suppressed shudder. "But I'm sure something +will happen directly," she said. "I'm sure. I'm sure." + +"Well, I shall only be in the next room if it does," he said. + +He was about to leave her, but she sprang after him, clinging to his +arm. "And you won't be late, will you?" she pleaded. "I can't sleep +without you. Ah, what is that? What is it? What is it?" + +Her voice rose almost to a shriek. A sudden loud knocking had broken +through the endless patter of the rain. + +Merryon's face changed a very little. The iron-grey eyes became stony, +quite expressionless. He stood a moment listening. Then, "Stay here!" he +said, his voice very level and composed. "Yes, Puck, I wish it. Stay +here!" + +It was a distinct command, the most distinct he had ever given her. Her +clinging hands slipped from his arm. She stood rigid, unprotesting, +white as death. + +The knocking was renewed with fevered energy as Merryon turned quietly +to obey the summons. He closed the door upon his wife and went down the +passage. + +There was no haste in his movements as he slipped back the bolts, rather +the studied deliberation of purpose of a man armed against all +emergency. But the door burst inwards against him the moment he opened +it, and one of his subalterns, young Harley, almost fell into his arms. + +Merryon steadied him with the utmost composure. "Halloa, Harley! You, is +it? What's all this noise about?" + +The boy pulled himself together with an effort. He was white to the +lips. + +"There's cholera broken out," he said. "Forbes and Robey--both down--at +their own bungalow. And they've got it at the barracks, too. +Macfarlane's there. Can you come?" + +"Of course--at once." Merryon pulled him forward. "Go in there and get a +drink while I speak to my wife!" + +He turned back to her door, but she met him on the threshold. Her eyes +burned like stars in her little pale face. + +"It's all right, Billikins," she said, and swallowed hard. "I heard. +You've got to go to the barracks, haven't you, darling? I knew there was +going to be--something. Well, you must take something to eat in your +pocket. You'll want it before morning. And some brandy too. Give me your +flask, darling, and I'll fill it!" + +Her composure amazed him. He had expected anguished distress at the bare +idea of his leaving her, but those brave, bright eyes of hers were +actually smiling. + +"Puck!" he said. "You--wonder!" + +She made a small face at him. "Oh, you're not the only wonder in the +world," she told him. "Run along and get yourself ready! My! You are +going to be busy, aren't you?" + +She nodded to him and ran into the drawing-room to young Harley. He +heard her chatting there while he made swift preparations for departure, +and he thanked Heaven that she realized so little the ghastly nature of +the horror that had swept down upon them. He hoped the boy would have +the sense to let her remain unenlightened. It was bad enough to have to +leave her after the ordeal they had just faced together. He did not want +her terrified on his account as well. + +But when he joined them she was still smiling, eager only to provide for +any possible want of his, not thinking of herself at all. + +"I hope you will enjoy your picnic, Billikins," she said. "I'll shut the +door after you, and I shall know it's properly fastened. Oh, yes, the +_khit_ will take care of me, Mr. Harley. He's such a brave man. He kills +snakes without the smallest change of countenance. Good-night, +Billikins! Take care of yourself. I suppose you'll come back sometime?" + +She gave him the lightest caress imaginable, shook hands affectionately +with young Harley, who was looking decidedly less pinched than he had +upon arrival, and stood waving an energetic hand as they went away into +the dripping dark. + +"You didn't tell her--anything?" Merryon asked, as they plunged down the +road. + +"Not more than I could help, Major. But she seemed to know without." +The lad spoke uncomfortably, as if against his will. + +"She asked questions, then?" Merryon's voice was sharp. + +"Yes, a few. She wanted to know about Forbes and Robey. Robey is awfully +bad. I didn't tell her that." + +"Who is looking after them?" Merryon asked. + +"Only a native orderly now. The colonel and Macfarlane both had to go to +the barracks. It's frightful there. About twenty cases already. Oh, hang +this rain!" said Harley, bitterly. + +"But couldn't they take them--Forbes, I mean, and Robey--to the +hospital?" questioned Merryon. + +"No. To tell you the truth, Robey is pegging out, poor fellow. It's +always the best chaps that go first, though. Heaven knows, we may be all +gone before this time to-morrow." + +"Don't talk like a fool!" said Merryon, curtly. + +And Harley said no more. + +They pressed on through mud that was ankle-deep to the barracks. + +There during all the nightmare hours that followed Merryon worked with +the strength of ten. He gave no voluntary thought to his wife waiting +for him in loneliness, but ever and anon those blazing eyes of hers rose +before his mental vision, and he saw again that brave, sweet smile with +which she had watched him go. + +The morning found him haggard but indomitable, wrestling with the +difficulties of establishing a camp a mile or more from the barracks out +in the rain-drenched open. There had been fourteen deaths in the night, +and seven men were still fighting a losing battle for their lives in the +hospital. He had a native officer to help him in his task; young Harley +was superintending the digging of graves, and the colonel had gone to +the bungalow where the two stricken officers lay. + +Dank and gruesome dawned the day, with the smell of rot in the air and +the sense of death hovering over all. And there came to Merryon a +sudden, overwhelming desire to go back to his bungalow beyond the fetid +town and see how his wife was faring. She was the only white woman in +the place, and the thought of her isolation came upon him now like a +fiery torture. + +It was the fiercest temptation he had ever known. Till that day his +regimental duties had always been placed first with rigorous +determination. Now for the first time he found himself torn by +conflicting ties. The craving for news of her possessed him like a +burning thirst. Yet he knew that some hours must elapse before he could +honestly consider himself free to go. + +He called an orderly at last, finding the suspense unendurable, and gave +him a scribbled line to carry to his wife. + +"Is all well, sweetheart? Send back word by bearer," he wrote, and told +the man not to return without an answer. + +The orderly departed, and for a while Merryon devoted himself to the +matter in hand, and crushed his anxiety into the background. But at the +end of an hour he was chafing in a fever of impatience. What delayed the +fellow? In Heaven's name, why was he so long? + +Ghastly possibilities arose in his mind, fears unspeakable that he dared +not face. He forced himself to attend to business, but the suspense was +becoming intolerable. He began to realize that he could not stand it +much longer. + +He was nearing desperation when the colonel came unexpectedly upon the +scene, unshaven and haggard as he was himself, but firm as a rock in the +face of adversity. + +He joined Merryon, and received the latter's report, grimly taciturn. +They talked together for a space of needs and expediencies. The fell +disease had got to be checked somehow. He spoke of recalling the +officers on leave. There had been such a huge sick list that summer that +they were reduced to less than half their normal strength. + +"You're worth a good many," he said to Merryon, half-grudgingly, "but +you can't work miracles. Besides, you've got--" He broke off abruptly. +"How's your wife?" + +"That's what I don't know, sir." Feverishly Merryon made answer. "I left +her last night. She was well then. But since--I sent down an orderly +over an hour ago. He's not come back." + +"Confound it!" said the colonel, testily. "You'd better go yourself." + +Merryon glanced swiftly round. + +"Yes, go, go!" the colonel reiterated, irritably. "I'll relieve you for +a spell. Go and satisfy yourself--and me! None but an infernal fool +would have kept her here," he added, in a growling undertone, as Merryon +lifted a hand in brief salute and started away through the sodden mists. + +He went as he had never gone in his life before, and as he went the +mists parted before him and a blinding ray of sunshine came smiting +through the gap like the sword of the destroyer. The simile rushed +through his mind and out again, even as the grey mist-curtain closed +once more. + +He reached the bungalow. It stood like a shrouded ghost, and the drip, +drip, drip of the rain on the veranda came to him like a death-knell. + +A gaunt figure met him almost on the threshold, and he recognized his +messenger with a sharp sense of coming disaster. The man stood mutely at +the salute. + +"Well? Well? Speak!" he ordered, nearly beside himself with anxiety. +"Why didn't you come back with an answer?" + +The man spoke with deep submission. "_Sahib_, there was no answer." + +"What do you mean by that? What the--Here, let me pass!" cried Merryon, +in a ferment. "There must have been--some sort of answer." + +"No, _sahib_. No answer." The man spoke with inscrutable composure. "The +_mem-sahib_ has not come back," he said. "Let the _sahib_ see for +himself." + +But Merryon had already burst into the bungalow; so he resumed his +patient watch on the veranda, wholly undisturbed, supremely patient. + +The _khitmutgar_ came forward at his master's noisy entrance. There was +a trace--just the shadow of a suggestion--of anxiety on his dignified +face under the snow-white turban. He presented him with a note on a +salver with a few murmured words and a deep salaam. + +"For the _sahib's_ hands alone," he said. + +Merryon snatched up the note and opened it with shaking hands. + +It was very brief, pathetically so, and as he read a great emptiness +seemed to spread and spread around him in an ever-widening desolation. + +"Good-bye, my Billikins!" Ah, the pitiful, childish scrawl she had made +of it! "I've come to my senses, and I've gone back to him. I'm not +worthy of any sacrifice of yours, dear. And it would have been a big +sacrifice. You wouldn't like being dragged through the mud, but I'm used +to it. It came to me just that moment that you said, 'Yes, of course,' +when Mr. Harley came to call you back to duty. Duty is better than a +worthless woman, my Billikins, and I was never fit to be anything more +than a toy to you--a toy to play with and toss aside. And so good-bye, +good-bye!" + +The scrawl ended with a little cross at the bottom of the page. He +looked up from it with eyes gone blind with pain and a stunned and awful +sense of loss. + +"When did the _mem-sahib_ go?" he questioned, dully. + +The _khitmutgar_ bent his stately person. "The _mem-sahib_ went in +haste," he said, "an hour before midnight. Your servant followed her to +the _dak-bungalow_ to protect her from _budmashes_, but she dismissed me +ere she entered in. _Sahib_, I could do no more." + +The man's eyes appealed for one instant, but fell the next before the +dumb despair that looked out of his master's. + +There fell a terrible silence--a pause, as it were, of suspended +vitality, while the iron bit deeper and deeper into tissues too numbed +to feel. + +Then, "Fetch me a drink!" said Merryon, curtly. "I must be getting back +to duty." + +And with soundless promptitude the man withdrew, thankful to make his +escape. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE SACRED FIRE + + +"Well? Is she all right?" Almost angrily the colonel flung the question +as his second-in-command came back heavy-footed through the rain. He had +been through a nasty period of suspense himself during Merryon's +absence. + +Merryon nodded. His face was very pale and his lips seemed stiff. + +"She has--gone, sir," he managed to say, after a moment. + +"Gone, has she?" The colonel raised his brows in astonished +interrogation. "What! Taken fright at last? Well, best thing she could +do, all things considered. You ought to be very thankful." + +He dismissed the subject for more pressing matters, and he never noticed +the awful whiteness of Merryon's face or the deadly fixity of his look. + +Macfarlane noticed both, coming up two hours later to report the death +of one of the officers at the bungalow. + +"For Heaven's sake, man, have some brandy!" he said, proffering a flask +of his own. "You're looking pretty unhealthy. What is it? Feeling a bit +off, eh?" + +He held Merryon's wrist while he drank the brandy, regarding him with a +troubled frown the while. + +"What is the matter with you, man?" he said. "You're not frightening +yourself? You wouldn't be such a fool!" + +Merryon did not answer. He was never voluble. To-day he seemed +tongue-tied. + +Macfarlane continued with an uneasy effort to hide a certain doubt +stirring in his mind. "I hear there was a European died at the +_dak-bungalow_ early this morning. I wanted to go round and see, but I +haven't been able. It's fairly widespread, but there's no sense in +getting scared. Halloa, Merryon!" + +He broke off, staring. Merryon had given a great start. He looked like a +man stabbed suddenly from a dream to full consciousness. + +"A European--at the _dak-bungalow_--dead, did you say?" + +His words tumbled over each other; he gripped Macfarlane's shoulder and +shook it with fierce impatience. + +"So I heard. I don't know any details. How should I? Merryon, are you +mad?" Macfarlane put up a quick hand to free himself, for the grip was +painful. "He wasn't a friend of yours, I suppose? He wouldn't have been +putting up there if he had been." + +"No, no; not--a friend." The words came jerkily. Merryon was breathing +in great spasms that shook him from head to foot. "Not--a friend!" he +said again, and stopped, gazing before him with eyes curiously +contracted as the eyes of one striving to discern something a long way +off. + +Macfarlane slipped a hand under his elbow. "Look here," he said, "you +must have a rest. You can be spared for a bit now. Walk back with me to +the hospital, and we will see how things are going there." + +His hand closed urgently. He began to draw him away. + +Merryon's eyes came back as it were out of space, and gave him a quick +side-glance that was like the turn of a rapier. "I must go down to the +_dak-bungalow_," he said, with decision. + +Swift protest rose to the doctor's lips, but it died there. He tightened +his hold instead, and went with him. + +The colonel looked round sharply at their approach, looked--and swore +under his breath. "Yes, all right, major, you'd better go," he said. +"Good-bye." + +Merryon essayed a grim smile, but his ashen face only twisted +convulsively, showing his set teeth. He hung on Macfarlane's shoulder +while the first black cloud of agony possessed him and slowly passed. + +Then, white and shaking, he stood up. "I'll get round to the _dak_ now, +before I'm any worse. Don't come with me, Macfarlane! I'll take an +orderly." + +"I'm coming," said Macfarlane, stoutly. + +But they did not get to the _dak-bungalow_, or anywhere near it. Before +they had covered twenty yards another frightful spasm of pain came upon +Merryon, racking his whole being, depriving him of all his powers, +wresting from him every faculty save that of suffering. He went down +into a darkness that swallowed him, soul and body, blotting out all +finite things, loosening his frantic clutch on life, sucking him down as +it were into a frightful emptiness, where his only certainty of +existence lay in the excruciating agonies that tore and convulsed him +like devils in some inferno under the earth. + +Of time and place and circumstance thereafter he became as completely +unconscious as though they had ceased to be, though once or twice he was +aware of a merciful hand that gave him opium to deaden--or was it only +to prolong?--his suffering. And aeons and eternities passed over him +while he lay in the rigour of perpetual torments, not trying to escape, +only writhing in futile anguish in the bitter dark of the prison-house. + +Later, very much later, there came a time when the torture gradually +ceased or became merged in a deathly coldness. During that stage his +understanding began to come back to him like the light of a dying day. A +vague and dreadful sense of loss began to oppress him, a feeling of +nakedness as though the soul of him were already slipping free, passing +into an appalling void, leaving an appalling void behind. He lay quite +helpless and sinking, sinking--slowly, terribly sinking into an +overwhelming sea of annihilation. + +With all that was left of his failing strength he strove to cling to +that dim light which he knew for his own individuality. The silence and +the darkness broke over him in long, soundless waves; but each time he +emerged again, cold, cold as death, but still aware of self, aware of +existence, albeit the world he knew had dwindled to an infinitesimal +smallness, as an object very far away, and floating ever farther and +farther from his ken. + +Vague paroxysms of pain still seized him from time to time, but they no +longer affected him in the same way. The body alone agonized. The soul +stood apart on the edge of that dreadful sea, shrinking afraid from the +black, black depths and the cruel cold of the eternal night. He was +terribly, crushingly alone. + +Someone had once, twice, asked him a vital question about his belief in +God. Then he had been warmly alive. He had held his wife close in his +arms, and nothing else had mattered. But now--but now--he was very far +from warmth and life. He was dying in loneliness. He was perishing in +the outer dark, where no hand might reach and no voice console. He had +believed--or thought he believed--in God. But now his faith was wearing +very thin. Very soon it would crumble quite away, just as he himself was +crumbling into the dreadful silence of the ages. His life--the brief +passion called life--was over. Out of the dark it had come; into the +dark it went. And no one to care--no one to cry farewell to him across +that desolation of emptiness that was death! No one to kneel beside him +and pray for light in that awful, all-encompassing dark! + +Stay! Something had touched him even then. Or was it but his dying +fancy? Red lips he had kissed and that had kissed him in return, eager +arms that had clung and clung, eyes of burning adoration! Did they truly +belong all to the past? Or were they here beside him even now--even now? +Had he wandered backwards perchance into that strange, sweet heaven of +love from which he had been so suddenly and terribly cast out? Ah, how +he had loved her! How he had loved her! Very faintly there began to stir +within him the old fiery longing that she, and she alone, had ever waked +within him. He would worship her to the last flicker of his dying soul. +But the darkness was spreading, spreading, like a yawning of a great +gulf at his feet. Already he was slipping over the edge. The light was +fading out of his sky. + +It was the last dim instinct of nature that made him reach out a +groping hand, and with lips that would scarcely move to whisper, "Puck!" + +He did not expect an answer. The things of earth were done with. His +life was passing swiftly, swiftly, like the sands running out of a +glass. He had lost her already, and the world had sunk away, away, with +all warmth and light and love. + +Yet out of the darkness all suddenly there came a voice, eager, +passionate, persistent. "I am here, Billikins! I am here! Come back to +me, darling! Come back!" + +He started at that voice, started and paused, holding back as it were on +the very verge of the precipice. So she was there indeed! He could hear +her sobbing breath. There came to him the consciousness of her hands +clasping his, and the faintest, vaguest glow went through his ice-cold +body. He tried, piteously weak as he was, to bend his fingers about +hers. + +And then there came the warmth of her lips upon them, kissing them with +a fierce passion of tenderness, drawing them close as if to breathe her +own vitality into his failing pulses. + +"Open your eyes to me, darling!" she besought him. "See how I love you! +And see how I want your love! I can't do without it, Billikins. It's my +only safeguard. What! He is dead? I say he is not--he is not! Or if he +is, he shall rise again. He shall come back. See! He is looking at me! +How dare you say he is dead?" + +The wild anguish of her voice reached him, pierced him, rousing him as +no other power on earth could have roused him. Out of that deathly +inertia he drew himself, inch by inch, as out of some clinging swamp. +His hand found strength to tighten upon hers. He opened his eyes, +leaden-lidded as they were, and saw her face all white and drawn, gazing +into his own with such an agony of love, such a consuming fire of +worship, that it seemed as if his whole being were drawn by it, warmed, +comforted, revived. + +She hung above him, fierce in her devotion, driving back the destroyer +by the sheer burning intensity of her love. "You shan't die, Billikins!" +she told him, passionately. "You can't die--now I am here!" + +She stooped her face to his. He turned his lips instinctively to meet +it, and suddenly it was as though a flame had kindled between them--hot, +ardent, compelling. His dying pulses thrilled to it, his blood ran +warmer. + +"You--have--come--back!" he said, with slow articulation. + +"My darling--my darling!" she made quivering answer. "Say I've come--in +time!" + +He tried to speak again, but could not. Yet the deathly cold was giving +way like ice before the sun. He could feel his heart beating where +before he had felt nothing. A hand that was not Puck's came out of the +void beyond her and held a spoonful of spirit to his mouth. He swallowed +it with difficulty, and was conscious of a greater warmth. + +"There, my own boy, my own boy!" she murmured over him. "You're coming +back to me. Say you're coming back!" + +His lips quivered like a child's. He forced them to answer her. "If +you--will--stay," he said. + +"I will never leave you again, darling," she made swift answer. "Never, +never again! You shall have all that you want--all--all!" + +Her arms closed about him. He felt the warmth of her body, the +passionate nearness of her soul; and therewith the flame that had +kindled between them leaped to a great and burning glow, encompassing +them both--the Sacred Fire. + +A wonderful sense of comfort came upon him. He turned to her as a man +turns to only one woman in all the world, and laid his head upon her +breast. + +"I only want--my wife," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +FREEDOM + + +It took him many days to climb back up that slope down which he had +slipped so swiftly in those few awful hours. Very slowly, with painful +effort, but with unfailing purpose, he made his arduous way. And through +it all Puck never left his side. + +Alert and vigilant, very full of courage, very quick of understanding, +she drew him, leaning on her, back to a life that had become strangely +new to them both. They talked very little, for Merryon's strength was +terribly low, and Macfarlane, still scarcely believing in the miracle +that had been wrought under his eyes, forbade all but the simplest and +briefest speech--a prohibition which Puck strenuously observed; for +Puck, though she knew the miracle for an accomplished fact, was not +taking any chances. + +"Presently, darling; when you're stronger," was her invariable answer to +any attempt on his part to elicit information as to the events that had +immediately preceded his seizure. "There's nothing left to fret about. +You're here--and I'm here. And that's all that matters." + +If her lips quivered a little over the last assertion, she turned her +head away that he might not see. For she was persistently cheery in his +presence, full of tender humour, always undismayed. + +He leaned upon her instinctively. She propped him so sturdily, with a +strength so amazing and so steadfast. Sometimes she laughed softly at +his weakness, as a mother might laugh at the first puny efforts of her +baby to stand alone. And he knew that she loved his dependence upon her, +even in a sense dreaded the time when his own strength should reassert +itself, making hers weak by comparison. + +But that time was coming, slowly yet very surely. The rains were +lessening at last, and the cholera-fiend had been driven forth. Merryon +was to go to the Hills on sick leave for several weeks. Colonel Davenant +had awaked to the fact that his life was a valuable one, and his +admiration for Mrs. Merryon was undisguised. He did not altogether +understand her behaviour, but he was discreet enough not to seek that +enlightenment which only one man in the world was ever to receive. + +To that man on the night before their departure came Puck, very pale and +resolute, with shining, unwavering eyes. She knelt down before him with +small hands tightly clasped. + +"I'm going to say something dreadful, Billikins," she said. + +He looked at her for a moment or two in silence. + +Then, "I know what you are going to say," he said. + +She shook her head. "Oh, no, you don't, darling. It's something that'll +make you frightfully angry." + +The faintest gleam of a smile crossed Merryon's face. "With you?" he +said. + +She nodded, and suddenly her eyes were brimming with tears. "Yes, with +me." + +He put his hand on her shoulder. "I tell you, I know what it is," he +said, with a certain stubbornness. + +She turned her cheek for a moment to caress the hand; then suddenly all +her strength went from her. She sank down on the floor at his feet, +huddled together in a woeful heap, just as she had been on that first +night when the safety-curtain had dropped behind her. + +"You'll never forgive me!" she sobbed. "But I knew--I knew--I always +knew!" + +"Knew what, child?" He was stooping over her. His hand, trembling still +with weakness, was on her head. "But, no, don't tell me!" he said, and +his voice was deeply tender. "The fellow is dead, isn't he?" + +"Oh, yes, he's dead." Quiveringly, between piteous sobs, she answered +him. "He--was dying before I reached him--that dreadful night. He +just--had strength left--to curse me! And I am cursed! I am cursed!" + +She flung out her arms wildly, clasping his feet. + +He stooped lower over her. "Hush--hush!" he said. + +She did not seem to hear. "I let you take me--I stained your honour--I +wasn't a free woman. I tried to think I was; but in my heart--I always +knew--I always knew! I wouldn't have your love at first--because I knew. +And I came to you--that monsoon night--chiefly because--I wanted--when +he came after me--as I knew he would come--to force him--to set +me--free." + +Through bitter sobbing the confession came; in bitter sobbing it ended. + +But still Merryon's hand was on her head, still his face was bent above +her, grave and sad and pitiful, the face of a strong man enduring grief. + +After a little, haltingly, she spoke again. "And I wasn't coming back to +you--ever. Only--someone--a _syce_--told me you had been stricken down. +And then I had to come. I couldn't leave you to die. That's all--that's +all! I'm going now. And I shan't come back. I'm not--your wife. You're +quite, quite free. And I'll never--bring shame on you--again." + +Her straining hands tightened. She kissed, the feet she clasped. "I'm a +wicked, wicked woman," she said. "I was born--on the wrong side--of the +safety-curtain. That's no--excuse; only--to make you understand." + +She would have withdrawn herself then, but his hands held her. She +covered her face, kneeling between them. + +"Why do you want me to understand?" he said, his voice very low. + +She quivered at the question, making no attempt to answer, just weeping +silently there in his hold. + +He leaned towards her, albeit he was trembling with weakness. "Puck, +listen!" he said. "I do understand." + +She caught her breath and became quite still. + +"Listen again!" he said. "What is done--is done; and nothing can alter +it. But--your future is mine. You have forfeited the right to leave me." + +She uncovered her face in a flash to gaze at him as one confounded. + +He met the look with eyes that held her own. "I say it," he said. "You +have forfeited the right. You say I am free. Am I free?" + +She nodded, still with her eyes on his. "I have--no claim on you," she +whispered, brokenly. + +His hands tightened; he brought her nearer to him. "And when that dream +of yours comes true," he said, "what then? What then?" + +Her face quivered painfully at the question. She swallowed once or twice +spasmodically, like a hurt child trying not to cry. + +"That's--nobody's business but mine," she said. + +A very curious smile drew Merryon's mouth. "I thought I had had +something to do with it," he said. "I think I am entitled to +part-ownership, anyway." + +She shook her head, albeit she was very close to his breast. "You're +not, Billikins!" she declared, with vehemence. "You only say that--out +of pity. And I don't want pity. I--I'd rather you hated me than that! +Miles rather!" + +His arms went round her. He uttered a queer, passionate laugh and drew +her to his heart. "And what if I offer you--love?" he said. "Have you no +use for that either, my wife--my wife?" + +She turned and clung to him, clung fast and desperately, as a drowning +person clings to a spar. "But I'm not, Billikins! I'm not!" she +whispered, with her face hidden. + +"You shall be," he made steadfast answer. "Before God you shall be." + +"Ah, do you believe in God?" she murmured. + +"I do," he said, firmly. + +She gave a little sob. "Oh, Billikins, so do I. At least, I think I do; +but I'm half afraid, even now, though I did try to do--the right thing. +I shall only know for certain--when the dream comes true." Her face came +upwards, her lips moved softly against his neck. "Darling," she +whispered, "don't you hope--it'll be--a boy?" + +He bent his head mutely. Somehow speech was difficult. + +But Puck was not wanting speech of him just then. She turned her red +lips to his. "But even if it's a girl, darling, it won't matter, for +she'll be born on the right side of the safety-curtain now, thanks to +your goodness, your generosity." + +He stopped her sharply. "Puck! Puck!" + +Their lips met. Puck was sobbing a little and smiling at the same time. + +"Your love is the safety-curtain, Billikins darling," she whispered, +softly. "And I'm going to thank God for it--every day of my life." + +"My darling!" he said. "My wife!" + +Her eyes shone up to his through tears. "Oh, do you realize," she said, +"that we have risen from the dead?" + + + + +The Experiment + +CHAPTER I + +ON TRIAL + + +"I really don't know why I accepted him. But somehow it was done before +I knew. He waltzes so divinely that it intoxicates me, and then I +naturally cease to be responsible for my actions." + +Doris Fielding leant back luxuriously, her hands clasped behind her +head. + +"I can't think what he wants to marry me for," she said reflectively. "I +am quite sure I don't want to marry him." + +"Then, my dear child, what possessed you to accept him?" remonstrated +her friend, Vera Abingdon, from behind the tea-table. + +"That's just what I don't know," said Doris, a little smile twitching +the corner of her mouth. "However, it doesn't signify greatly. I don't +mind being engaged for a little while if he is good, but I certainly +shan't go on if I don't like it. It's in the nature of an experiment, +you see; and it really is necessary, for there is absolutely no other +way of testing the situation." + +She glanced at her friend and burst into a gay peal of laughter. No one +knew how utterly charming this girl could be till she laughed. + +"Oh, don't look so shocked, please!" she begged. "I know I'm flippant, +flighty, and foolish, but really I'm not a bit wicked. Ask Phil if I am. +He has known me all my life." + +"I do not need to ask him, Dot." Vera spoke with some gravity +notwithstanding. "I have never for a moment thought you wicked. But I do +sometimes think you are rather heartless." + +Doris opened her blue eyes wide. + +"Oh, why? I am sure I am not. It really isn't my fault that I have been +engaged two or three times before. Directly I begin to get pleasantly +intimate with any one he proposes, and how can I possibly know, unless I +am on terms of intimacy, whether I should like to marry him or not? I am +sure I don't want to be engaged to any one for any length of time. It's +as bad as being cast up on a desert island with only one wretched man to +speak to. As a matter of fact, what you call heartlessness is sheer +broad-mindedness on my part. I admit that I do occasionally sail near +the wind. It's fun, and I like it. But I never do any harm--any real +harm I mean. I always put my helm over in time. And I must protect +myself somehow against fortune-hunters." + +Vera was silent. This high-spirited young cousin of her husband's was +often a sore anxiety to her. She had had sole charge of the girl for the +past three years and had found it no light responsibility. + +"Cheer up, darling!" besought Doris. "There is not the smallest cause +for a wrinkled brow. Perhaps the experiment will turn out a success this +time. Who knows? And even if it doesn't, no one will be any the worse. I +am sure Vivian Caryl will never break his heart for me." + +But Vera Abingdon shook her head. + +"I don't like you to be so wild, Dot. It makes people think lightly of +you. And you know how angry Phil was last time." + +Dot snapped her fingers airily and rose. + +"Who cares for Phil? Besides, it really was not my fault last time, +whatever any one may say. Are you going to ask my _fiance_ down to +Rivermead for Easter? Because if so, I do beg you won't tell everybody +we are engaged. It is quite an informal arrangement, and perhaps, +considering all the circumstances, the less said about it the better." + +She stopped and kissed Vera's grave face, laughed again as though she +could not help it, and flitted like a butterfly from the room. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +HIS INTENTIONS + + +"Where is Doris?" asked Phil Abingdon, looking round upon the guests +assembled in his drawing-room at Rivermead. "We are all waiting for +her." + +"I think we had better go in without her," said his wife, with her +nervous smile. "She arranged to motor down with Mrs. Lockyard and her +party this afternoon. Possibly they have persuaded her to dine with +them." + +"She would never do that surely," said Phil, with an involuntary glance +at Vivian Caryl who had just entered. + +"If you are talking about my _fiance_, I think it more than probable +that she would," the latter remarked. "Mrs. Lockyard's place is just +across the river, I understand? Shall I punt over and fetch Doris?" + +"No, no!" broke in his hostess anxiously. "I am sure she wouldn't come +if you did. Besides--" + +"Oh, as to that," said Vivian Caryl, with a grim smile, "I think, with +all deference to your opinion, that the odds would be in my favour. +However, let us dine first, if you prefer it." + +Mrs. Abingdon did prefer it, and said so hastily. She seemed to have a +morbid dread of a rupture between Doris Fielding and her _fiance_, a +feeling with which Caryl quite obviously had no sympathy. There was +nothing very remarkable about the man save this somewhat supercilious +demeanour which had caused Vera to marvel many times at Doris's choice. + +They went in to dinner without further discussion. Caryl sat on Vera's +left, and amazed her by his utter unconcern regarding the absentee. He +seemed to be in excellent spirits, and his dry humour provoked a good +deal of merriment. + +She led the way back to the drawing-room as soon as possible. There was +a billiard-room beyond to which the members of her party speedily betook +themselves, and here most of the men joined them soon after. Neither +Caryl nor Abingdon was with them, and Vera counted the minutes of their +absence with a sinking heart while her guests buzzed all unheeding +around her. + +It was close upon ten o'clock when she saw her husband's face for a +moment in the doorway. He made a rapid sign to her, and with a murmured +excuse she went to him, closing the door behind her. + +Caryl was standing with him, calm as ever, though she fancied that his +eyes were a little wider than usual and his bearing less supercilious. + +Her husband, she saw at a glance, was both angry and agitated. + +"She has gone off somewhere with that bounder Brandon," he said. "They +got down to tea, and went off again in the motor afterwards, Mrs. +Lockyard doesn't seem to know for certain where." + +"Phil!" she exclaimed in consternation, and added with her eyes on +Caryl, "What is to be done? What can be done?" + +Caryl made quiet reply: + +"There was some talk of Wynhampton. I am going there now on your +husband's motor-bicycle. If I do not find her there----" + +He paused, and on the instant a girl's high peal of laughter rang +through the house. The drawing-room door was flung back, and Doris +herself stood on the threshold. + +"Goodness!" she cried. "What a solemn conclave! You can't think how +funny you all look! Do tell me what it is all about!" + +She stood before them, the motor-veil thrown back from her dainty face, +her slight figure quivering with merriment. + +Vera hastened to meet her with outstretched hands. + +"Oh, my dear, you can't think how anxious we have been about you." + +Doris took her by the shoulders and lightly kissed her. + +"Silly! Why? You know I always come up smiling. Why, Phil, you are +looking positively green! Have you been anxious, too? I am indeed +honoured." + +She swept him a curtsey, her face all dimples and laughter. + +"We've had the jolliest time," she declared. "We motored to Wynhampton +and saw the last of the races. After that, we dined at a dear little +place with a duckpond at the bottom of the garden. And finally we +returned--it ought to have been by moonlight, only there was no moon. +Where is everyone? In the billiard-room? I want some milk and soda +frightfully. Vivian, you might, like the good sort you are, go and get +me some." + +She bestowed a dazzling smile upon her _fiance_ and offered him one +finger by way of salutation. + +Abingdon, who had been waiting to get in a word, here exploded with some +violence and told his young cousin in no measured terms what he thought +of her conduct. + +She listened with her head on one side, her eyes brimful of mischief, +and finally with an airy gesture turned to Caryl. + +"Don't you want to scold me, too? I am sure you do. You had better be +quick or there will be nothing left to say." + +Abingdon turned on his heel and walked away. He was thoroughly angry and +made no attempt to hide it. His wife lingered a moment irresolute, then +softly followed him. And as the door closed, Caryl looked very steadily +into the girl's flushed face and spoke: + +"All I have to say is this. Maurice Brandon is no fit escort for any +woman who values her reputation. And I here and now forbid you most +strictly, most emphatically, ever to go out with him alone again." + +He paused. She was looking straight back at him with her chin in the +air. + +"Dear me!" she said. "Do you really? And who gave you the right to +dictate to me?" + +"You yourself," he answered quietly. + +"Indeed! May I ask when?" + +He stiffened a little, but his face did not alter. + +"When you promised to be my wife," he said. + +Her eyes blazed instant defiance. + +"An engagement can be broken off!" she declared recklessly. + +"By mutual consent," said Caryl drily. + +"That is absurd," she rejoined. "You couldn't possibly hold me to it +against my will." + +"I am quite capable of doing so," he told her coolly, "if I think it +worth my while." + +"Worth your while!" she exclaimed, staring at him as if she doubted his +sanity. + +"Even so," he said. "When I have fully satisfied myself that a heartless +little flirt like you can be transformed into a virtuous and amiable +wife. It may prove a difficult process, I admit, and perhaps not +altogether a pleasant one. But I shall not shirk it on that account." + +He leant back against the mantelpiece with a gesture that plainly said +that so far as he was concerned the matter was ended. + +But it was not so with Doris. She stood before him for several seconds +absolutely motionless, all the vivid colour gone from her face, her blue +eyes blazing with speechless fury. At length, with a sudden, fierce +movement, she tore the ring he had given her from her finger and held it +out to him. + +"Take it!" she said, her voice high-pitched and tremulous. "This is the +end!" + +He did not stir a muscle. + +"Not yet, I think," he said. + +She flashed a single glance at him in which pride and uncertainty were +strangely mingled, then made a sudden swoop towards the fire. He read +her intention in a second, and stooping swiftly caught her hand. The +ring shot from her hold, gleamed in a shining curve in the firelight, +and fell with a tinkle among the ashes of the fender. + +Caryl did not utter a word, but his face was fixed and grim as, still +tightly gripping the hand he had caught, he knelt and groped among the +half-dead embers for the ring it had wantonly flung there. When he found +it he rose. + +"Before you do anything of that sort again," he said, "let me advise you +to stop and think. It will do you no harm, and may save trouble." + +He took her left hand, paused a moment, and then deliberately fitted the +ring back upon her finger. She made no resistance, for she was +instinctively aware that he would brook no morefrom her just then. She +was in fact horribly scared, though his voice was still perfectly quiet +and even. Something in his touch had set her heart beating, something +electric, something terrifying. She dared not meet his eyes. + +He dropped her hand almost contemptuously. There was nothing lover-like +about him at that moment. + +"And remember," he said, "that no experiment can ever prove a success +unless it is given a fair trial. You will continue to be engaged to me +until I set you free. Is that understood?" + +She did not answer him. She was pulling at the loose ends of her veil +with restless fingers, her face downcast and very pale. + +"Doris!" he said. + +She glanced up at him sharply. + +"I am rather tired," she said, and her voice quivered a little. "Do you +mind if I say good-night?" + +"Answer me first," he said. + +She shook her head. + +"I forget what you asked me. It doesn't matter, does it? There's someone +coming, and I don't want to be caught. Good-night!" + +She whisked round with the words before he could realize her intention, +and in a moment was at the door. She waved a hand to him airily as she +disappeared. And Caryl was left to wonder if her somewhat precipitate +departure could be regarded as a sign of defeat or merely a postponement +of the struggle. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE KNIGHT ERRANT + + +It was the afternoon of Easter Day, and a marvellous peace lay upon all +things. + +Maurice Brandon, a look of supreme boredom on his handsome face, had +just sauntered down to the river bank. A belt of daffodils nodded to him +from the shrubbery on the farther shore. He stood and stared at them +absently while he idly smoked a cigarette. + +Finally, after a long and quite unprofitable inspection, he turned aside +to investigate a boathouse under the willows on Mrs. Lockyard's side of +the stream. He found the door unlocked, and discovered within a somewhat +dilapidated punt. This, after considerable exertion, he managed to drag +forth and finally to run into the water. The craft seemed seaworthy, and +he proceeded to forage for a punt-pole. + +Fully equipped at length, he stepped on board and poled himself out from +the shore. Arrived at the farther bank, he calmly disembarked and tied +up under the willows. He paused a few seconds to light another +cigarette, then turned from the river and sauntered up the path between +the high box hedges. + +The garden was deserted, and he pursued his way unmolested till he came +within sight of the house. Here for the first time he stopped to take +deliberate stock of his surroundings. Standing in the shelter of a giant +rhododendron, he saw two figures emerge and walk along the narrow +gravelled terrace before the house. As he watched, they reached the +farther end and turned. He recognized them both. They were Caryl and his +host Abingdon. + +For a few moments they stood talking, then went away together round an +angle of the house. + +Scarcely had they disappeared before a girl's light figure appeared at +an upstairs window. Doris's mischievous face peeped forth, wearing her +gayest, most impudent grimace. + +There was no one else in sight, and with instant decision Brandon +stepped into full view, and without the faintest suggestion of +concealment began to stroll up the winding path. + +She heard his footsteps on the gravel, and turned her eyes upon him with +a swift start of recognition. + +He raised his hand in airy salute, and he heard her low murmur of +laughter as she waved him a hasty sign to await her in the shrubbery +from which he had just emerged. + + * * * * * + +"Did you actually come across the river?" said Doris. "Whatever made +you do that?" + +"I said I should come and fetch you, you know, if you didn't turn up," +he said. + +She laughed. + +"Do you always keep your word?" + +"To you--always," he assured her. + +Her merry face coloured a little, but she met his eyes with absolute +candour. + +"And now that you have come what can we do? Are you going to take me on +the river? It looks rather dangerous." + +"It is dangerous," Brandon said coolly, "but I think I can get you over +in safety if you will allow me to try. In any case, I won't let you +drown." + +"I shall be furious if anything happens," she told him--"if you splash +me even. So beware!" + +He pushed out from the bank with a laugh. It was evident that her threat +did not greatly impress him. + +As for Doris, she was evidently enjoying the adventure, and the risks +that attended it only added to its charm. There was something about this +man that fascinated her, a freedom and a daring to which her own +reckless spirit could not fail to respond. He was the most interesting +plaything she had had for a long time. She had no fear that he would +ever make the mistake of taking her seriously. + +They reached the opposite bank in safety, and he handed her ashore with +considerable _empressement_. + +"I have a confession to make," he said, as they walked up to the house. + +"Oh, I know what it is," she returned carelessly. "Mrs. Lockyard did not +expect me and has gone out." + +He nodded. + +"You are taking it awfully well. One would almost think you didn't +mind." + +She laughed. + +"I never mind anything so long as I am not bored." + +"Nor do I," said Brandon. "We seem to have a good deal in common. But +what puzzles me--" + +He broke off. They had reached the open French window that led into Mrs. +Lockyard's drawing-room. He stood aside for her to enter. + +"Well?" she said, as she passed him. "What is this weighty problem?" + +He followed her in. + +"What puzzles me," he said, "is how a girl with your natural +independence and love of freedom can endure to remain unmarried." + +She opened her eyes wide in astonishment. + +"My good sir, you have expressed the exact reason in words which could +not have been better chosen. Independence, love of freedom, and a very +strong preference for going my own way." + +He laughed a little. + +"Yes, but you would have all these things a thousand times multiplied if +you were married. Look at all the restraints and restrictions to which +girls are subjected where married women simply please themselves. Why, +you are absolutely hedged round with conventions. You can scarcely go +for a ride with a man of your acquaintance in broad daylight without +endangering your reputation. What would they say--your cousin and Mrs. +Abingdon--if they knew that you were here with me now? They would hold +up their hands in horror." + +The girl's thoughts flashed suddenly to Caryl. How much freedom might +she expect from him? + +"It's all very well," she said, with a touch of petulance, "but +easy-going husbands don't grow on every gooseberry-bush. I have never +yet met the man who wouldn't want to arrange my life in every detail if +I married him." + +"Yes, you have," said Brandon. + +He spoke with deliberate emphasis, and she knew that as he spoke he +looked at her in a manner that there could be no mistaking. Her heart +quickened a little, and she felt the colour rise in her face. + +"Do you know that I am engaged to Vivian Caryl?" she said. + +"Perfectly," he answered. "I also know that you have not the smallest +intention of marrying him." + +She frowned, but did not contradict him. + +He continued with considerable assurance: + +"He is not the man to make you happy, and I think you know it. My only +wonder is that you didn't realize it earlier--before you became engaged +to him." + +"My engagement was only an experiment," she said quickly. + +"And therefore easily broken," he rejoined. "Why don't you put a stop to +it?" + +She hesitated. + +He bent towards her. + +"Do you mean to say that he is cad enough to hold you against your +will?" + +Still she hesitated, half-afraid to speak openly. + +He leant nearer; he took her hand. + +"My dear child," he said, "don't for Heaven's sake give in to such +tyranny as that, and be made miserable for the rest of your life. Oh, I +grant you he is the sort of fellow who would make what is called a good +husband, but not the sort of husband you want. He would keep you in +order, shackle you at every turn. Marry him, and it will be good-bye to +liberty--even such liberty as you have now--forever." + +Her face had changed. She was very pale. + +"I know all that," she said, speaking rapidly, with headlong impulse. +"But, don't you see how difficult it is for me? They are all on his +side, and he is so horribly strong. Oh, I was a fool I know to accept +him. But we were waltzing and it came so suddenly. I never stopped to +think. I wish I could get away now, but I can't." + +"I can tell you of a way," said Brandon. + +She glanced at him. + +"Oh, yes, I know. But I can't be engaged to two people at once. I +couldn't face it. I detest scenes." + +"There need be no scene," he said. "You have only to come to me and give +me the right to defend you. I ask for nothing better. Even Caryl would +scarcely have the impertinence to dispute it. As my wife you will be +absolutely secure from any interference." + +She was gazing at him wide-eyed. + +"Do you mean a runaway marriage?" she questioned slowly. + +He drew nearer still, and possessed himself of her hands. + +"Yes, just that," he said. "It would take a little courage, but you have +plenty of that. And the rest I would see to. It wouldn't be so very +difficult, you know. Mrs. Lockyard would help us, and you would be +absolutely safe with me. I haven't much to offer you, I admit. I'm as +poor as a church mouse. But at least you would find me"--he smiled into +her startled eyes--"a very easy-going husband, I assure you." + +"Oh, I don't know!" Doris said. "I don't know!" + +Yet still she left her hands in his and still she listened to him. That +airy reference of his to his poverty affected her favourably. He would +scarcely have made it, she told herself, with an unconscious effort to +silence unacknowledged misgivings, if her fortune had been the sole +attraction. + +"Look here," he said, breaking in upon these hasty meditations, "I don't +want you to do anything in a hurry. Take a little while to think it +over. Let me know to-morrow. I am not leaving till the evening. You +shall do nothing, so far as I am concerned, against your will. I want +you, now and always, to do exactly as you like. You believe that?" + +"I quite believe you mean it at the present moment," she said with a +decidedly doubtful smile. + +"It will be so always," said Brandon, "whether you believe it or not." + +And with considerable ceremony he raised her hands to his lips and +deliberately kissed them. It seemed to Doris at that moment that even so +headlong a scheme as this was not without its very material advantages. +There were so many drawbacks to being betrothed. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +AT CLOSE QUARTERS + + +When Doris descended to breakfast on the following morning she found an +animated party in the dining-room discussing the best means of spending +the day. Abingdon himself and most of his guests were in favour of +attending an aviation meeting at Wynhampton a few miles away. + +Caryl was not present, but as she passed through the hall a little +later, he came in at the front door. + +"I was just coming to you," he remarked, pausing to flick the ash from +his cigarette before closing the door. "I have been making arrangements +for you to drive to Wynhampton with me." + +Doris made a stiff movement that seemed almost mechanical. But the next +moment she recovered her self-control. Why was she afraid of this man, +she asked herself desperately? No man had ever managed to frighten her +before. + +"I think I should prefer to go in the motor," she said, and smiled with +quivering lips. "Get Phil to drive with you. He likes the dog-cart +better than I do." + +"I have talked it over with him," Caryl responded gravely. "He agrees +with me that this is the best arrangement." + +There was to be no escape then. Once more the stronger will prevailed. +Without another word she turned from him and went upstairs. She might +have defied him, but she knew in her heart that he could compass his +ends in spite of her. And she was afraid. + +She had a moment of absolute panic as she mounted into the high cart. He +handed her up, and his grasp, close and firm, seemed to her eloquent of +that deadly resolution with which he mastered her. + +For the first half-mile he said nothing whatever, being fully occupied +with the animal he was driving--a skittish young mare impatient of +restraint. + +Doris on her side sat in unbroken silence, enduring the strain with a +set face, dreading the moment when he should have leisure to speak. + +He was evidently in no hurry to do so. Or was it possible that he found +some difficulty in choosing his words? + +At length he turned his head and spoke. + +"I secured this interview," he said, "because there is an important +point which I want to discuss with you." + +"What is it?" + +She nerved herself to meet his look, but her eyes fell before its steady +mastery almost instantly. + +"About our wedding," he said in his calm, deliberate voice. "I should +like to have the day fixed." + +Her heart gave a great thump of dismay. + +"Do you really mean to hunt me down then and--and marry me against my +will?" she said, almost panting out the words. + +Caryl turned his eyes back to the mare. + +"I mean to marry you--yes," he said. "I think you forget that you +accepted me of your own accord." + +"I was mad!" she broke in passionately. + +"People in love are never wholly sane," he remarked cynically. + +"I was never in love with you!" she cried. "Never, never!" + +He raised his eyebrows. + +"Nevertheless you will marry me," he said. + +"Why?" she gasped back furiously. "Why should I marry you? You know I +hate you, and you--you--surely you must hate me?" + +"No," he said with extreme deliberation, "strange as it may seem, I +don't." + +Something in the words quelled her anger. Abruptly she abandoned the +struggle and fell silent, her face averted. + +"And so," he proceeded, "we may as well decide upon the wedding-day +without further argument." + +"And, if--if I refuse?" she murmured rather incoherently. + +"You will not refuse," he said with a finality so absolute that her +last hope went out like an extinguished candle. + +She seized her courage with both hands and turned to him. + +"You will give me a little while to think it over?" + +"Why?" said Caryl. + +"Because I--I can't possibly decide upon the spur of the moment," she +said confusedly. + +Was he going to refuse her even this small request? It almost seemed +that he was. + +"How long will it take you?" he asked. "Will you give me an answer +to-night?" + +Her heart leapt to a sudden hope called to life by his words. + +"To-morrow!" she said quickly. + +"I said to-night." + +"Very well," she rejoined, yielding. "To-night, if you prefer it." + +"Thanks. I do." + +They were his last words on the subject. He seemed to think it ended +there, and there was nothing more to be said. + +As for Doris, she sat by his side, outwardly calm but inwardly shaken to +the depths. To be thus firmly caught in the meshes of her own net was an +experience so new and so terrifying that she was utterly at a loss as to +how to cope with it. Yet there was a chance, one ray of hope to help +her. There was Major Brandon, the man who had offered her freedom. He +was to have his answer to-day. For the first time she began seriously to +ponder what that answer should be. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE WAY TO FREEDOM + + +So far as Doris was concerned the aviation meeting was not a success. +There were some wonderful exhibitions of flying, but she was too +preoccupied to pay more than a very superficial attention to what she +saw. + +They lunched at a great hotel overlooking the aviation ground. The place +was crowded, and they experienced some difficulty in finding places. +Eventually Doris found herself seated at a square table with Caryl and +two others in the middle of the great room. + +She was studying a menu as a pretext for avoiding conversation with her +_fiance_, when a man's voice murmured hurriedly in her ear: + +"Will you allow me for a moment please? The lady who has just left this +table thinks she must have dropped one of her gloves under it." + +Doris pushed back her chair and would have risen, but the speaker was +already on his knees and laid a hasty, restraining hand upon her. It +found hers and, under cover of the table-cloth, pressed a screw of paper +into her fingers. + +The next instant he emerged, very red in the face, but triumphant, a +lady's gauntlet glove in his hand. + +"Awfully obliged!" he declared. "Sorry to have disturbed you. Thought I +should find it here." + +He smiled, bowed, and departed, leaving Doris amazed at his audacity. +She had met this young man often at Mrs. Lockyard's house, where he was +invariably referred to as "the little Fricker boy." + +She threw a furtive glance at Caryl, but he had plainly noticed nothing. +With an uneasy sense of shame she slipped the note into her glove. + +She perused it on the earliest opportunity. It contained but one +sentence: + +"If you still wish for freedom, you can find it down by the river at any +hour to-night." + +There was no signature of any sort; none was needed, she hid the message +away again, and for the rest of the afternoon she was almost feverishly +gay to hide the turmoil of indecision at her heart. + +She saw little of Caryl after luncheon, but he re-appeared again in time +to drive her back in the dog-cart as they had come. She found him very +quiet and preoccupied, on the return journey, but his presence no longer +dismayed her. It was the consciousness that a way of escape was open to +her that emboldened her. + +They were nearing the end of the drive, when he at length laid aside his +preoccupation and spoke: + +"Have you made up your mind yet?" + +That query of his was the turning point with her. Had he shown the +smallest sign of relenting from his grim purpose, had he so much as +couched his question in terms of kindness, he might have melted her even +then; for she was impulsive ever and quick to respond to any warmth. But +the coldness of his question, the unyielding mastery of his manner, +impelled her to final rebellion. In the moment that intervened between +his question and her reply her decision was made. + +"You shall have my answer to-night," she said. + +He turned from her without a word, and a little wonder quivered through +her as to the meaning of his silence. She was glad when they reached +Rivermead and she could take refuge in her own room. + +Here once more she read Brandon's message; read it with a thumping +heart, but no thought of drawing back. It was the only way out for her. + +She dressed for dinner, and then made a few hasty preparations for her +flight. She laid no elaborate plans for effecting it, for she +anticipated no difficulty. The night would be dark, and she could rely +upon her ingenuity for the rest. Failure was unthinkable. + +When they rose from the table she waited for Vera and slipped a hand +into her arm. + +"Do make an excuse for me," she whispered. "I have had a dreadful day, +and I can't stand any more. I am going upstairs." + +"My dear!" murmured back Vera, by way of protest. + +Nevertheless she made the excuse almost as soon as they entered the +drawing-room, and Doris fled upstairs on winged feet. At the head she +met Caryl about to descend; almost collided with him. He had evidently +been up to his room to fetch something. + +He stood aside for her at once. + +"You are not retiring yet?" he asked. + +She scarcely glanced at him. She would not give herself time to be +disconcerted. + +"I am coming down again," she said, and ran on. + +Barely a quarter of an hour after the encounter with Caryl, dressed in a +long dark motoring coat and closely veiled, she slipped down the back +stairs that led to the servants' quarters, stood listening against a +baize door that led into the front hall, then whisked it open and fled +across to open the conservatory door, noiseless as a shadow. + +The conservatory was in semi-darkness. She expected to see no one; +looked for no one. A moment she paused by the door that led into the +garden, and in that pause she heard a slight sound. It might have been +anything. It probably was a creak from one of the wicker chairs that +stood in a corner. Whatever its origin, it startled her to greater +haste. She fumbled at the door and pulled it open. + +A gust of wind and rain blew in upon her, but she was scarcely aware of +it. In another moment she had softly closed the door again and was +scudding across the terrace to the steps that led towards the river +path. + +As she reached it a light shone out in front of her, wavered, and was +gone. + +"This way to freedom, lady mine," said Brandon's voice close to her, and +she heard in it the laugh he did not utter. "Mind you don't tumble in." + +His hand touched her arm, closed upon it, drew her to his side. In +another instant it encircled her, but she pushed him vehemently away. + +"Let us go!" she said feverishly. "Let us go!" + +"Come along then," he said gaily. "The boat is just here. You'll have to +hold the lantern. Mind how you get on board." + +As he pushed out from the bank, he told her something of his +arrangements. + +"There's a motor waiting--not the one Polly usually hires, but it's +quite a decent little car. By the way, she has gone straight up to Town +from Wynhampton; said we should do our eloping best alone. We shan't be +quite alone, though, for Fricker is going to drive us. But he's a +negligible quantity, eh? His only virtue is that he isn't afraid of +driving in the dark." + +"You will take me to Mrs. Lockyard?" said Doris quickly. + +"Of course. She is at her flat, she and Mrs. Fricker. We shall be there +soon after midnight, all being well. Confound this stream! It swirls +like a mill-race." + +He fell silent, and devoted all his attention to reaching the farther +bank. + +Doris sat with the lantern in her hands, striving desperately to control +her nervous excitement. Her absence could not have been discovered yet, +she was sure, but she was in a fever of anxiety notwithstanding. She +would not feel safe until she was actually on the road. + +The boat bumped at last against the bank, and she drew a breath of +relief. The journey had seemed interminable. + +Suddenly through the windy darkness there came to them the hoot of a +motor-horn. + +"That's all right," said Brandon cheerily. "That's Fricker, wanting to +know if all's well." + +He hurried her over the wet grass, skirted the house by a side-path that +ran between dripping laurels, and brought her out finally into the +little front garden. + +A glare of acetylene lamps met them abruptly as they emerged, dazzling +them for the moment. The buzz of a motor engine also greeted them, and a +smell of petrol hung in the wet air. + +As her eyes accustomed themselves to the brightness, Doris made out a +small closed motor-car, with a masked chauffeur seated at the wheel. + +"Good little Fricker!" said Brandon, slapping the chauffeur's shoulder +as he passed. "So you've got your steam up! Straight ahead then, and as +fast as you like. Don't get run in, that's all." + +He handed Doris into the car, followed her, and slammed the door. + +The next moment they passed swiftly out on to the road, and Doris knew +that the die was cast. She stood finally committed to this, the wildest, +most desperate venture of her life. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +A MASTER STROKE + + +"Here beginneth," laughed Brandon, sliding his arm around her as she sat +tense in every nerve gazing at the rain-blurred window. + +She did not heed him; it was almost as if she had not heard. Her hands +were tightly clasped upon one another, and her face was turned from him. +There was no lamp inside the car, the only illumination proceeding from +those without, showing them the driver huddled over the wheel, but +shedding little light into the interior. + +He tightened his arm about her, laying his other hand upon her clasped +ones. + +"By Jove, little girl, you're cold!" he said. + +She was--cold as ice. She parted her fingers stiffly to free them from +his grasp. + +"I--I'm quite comfortable," she assured him, without turning her head. +"Please don't trouble about me." + +But he was not to be thus discouraged. + +"You can't be comfortable," he argued. "Why, you're shivering. Let me +see what I can do to make things better." + +He tried to draw her to him, but she resisted almost angrily. + +"Oh, do leave me alone! I'm not uncomfortable. I'm only thinking." + +"Well, don't be silly!" he urged. "It's no use thinking at this stage. +The thing is done now, and well done. We shall be man and wife by this +time to-morrow. We'll go to Paris, eh, and have no end of a spree." + +"Perhaps," she said, not looking at him or yielding an inch to his +persuasion. + +It was plain that for some reason she desired to be left in peace, and +after a brief struggle with himself, Brandon decided that he would be +wise to let her have her way. He leant back and crossed his arms in +silence. + +The car sped along at a pace which he found highly satisfactory. He had +absolute faith in Fricker's driving and knowledge of the roads. + +They had been travelling for the greater part of an hour, when Doris at +length relaxed from her tense attitude and lay back in her corner, +nestling into it with a long shiver. + +Brandon was instantly on the alert. + +"I'm sure you are cold. Here's a rug here. Let me--" + +"Oh, do please leave me alone!" she said, with a sob. "I'm so horribly +tired." + +Beseechingly almost she laid her hand upon his arm with the words. + +The touch fired him. He considered that he had been patient long +enough. Abruptly he caught her to him. + +"Come, I say," he said, half-laughing, half in savage earnest, "I can't +have you crying on what's almost our wedding trip!" + +He certainly did not expect the absolutely furious resistance with which +she met his action. She thrust him from her with the strength of frenzy. + +"How dare you?" she cried passionately. "How dare you touch me, you--you +hateful cad?" + +For the moment, such was his astonishment, he suffered her to escape +from his hold. Then, called into activity by her unreasoning fury, the +devil in him leapt suddenly up and took possession. With a snarling +laugh he gripped her by the arms, holding her by brutal force. + +"You little wild cat!" he said in a voice that shook between anger and +amusement. "So this is your gratitude, is it? I am to give all and +receive nothing for my pains. Then let me make it quite clear to you +here and now that that is not my intention. I will be kind to you, but +you must be kind to me, too. The benefit is to be mutual." + +It was premature. In his heart he knew it, but she had provoked him to +it and there was no turning back now. He resented the provocation, that +was all, and it made him the more brutally inclined towards her. + +As for Doris, she fought and tore at his grasp like a mad creature; and +when he mastered her, when, still laughing between his teeth, he forced +her face upwards and kissed it fiercely and violently, she shrieked +between his kisses, shrieked and shrieked again. + +The sudden grinding of the brake recalled Brandon to his senses. The +fool was actually stopping the car. He relinquished his hold upon the +girl to dash his hand against the window in front. + +"Drive on, curse you, drive on!" he shouted through the glass. "I'll let +you know if we want to stop." + +But the car stopped in spite of him. The chauffeur, shining from head to +foot in his oil-skins, sprang to the ground. A moment and he was at the +door, had wrenched it open, and was peering within. + +"What are you gaping there for, you fool?" raved Brandon, his hand upon +Doris, who was suddenly straining forward. "It's all right, I tell you. +Go on." + +"I am going on," the chauffeur responded calmly through his mask. "But I +am not taking you any farther, Major Brandon. So tumble out at once, you +dirty, thieving hound!" + +The words, the tone, the attitude, flashed such a revelation upon Doris +that she cried out in amazement, and then with a revulsion of feeling so +great that it deprived her of all speech she threw herself forward and +clung to the masked chauffeur in an agony of tears. + +Brandon was staring at him with dropped jaw. + +"Who the blazes are you?" he said. + +"You know me, I think," the chauffeur responded quietly. He was pressing +Doris back into her seat with absolute steadiness. "We have met before. +I was present at your first wedding ten years ago, and--as a junior +counsel--I helped to divorce you a few months after. My name is Vivian +Caryl." + +He freed a hand to push up his mask. His pale face with its heavy-lidded +eyes stared, supremely contemptuous, into Brandon's suffused +countenance. His composure was somehow disconcerting. + +"Suppose you get out," he suggested. "I can talk to you then in a +language you will understand." + +"Curse you!" bawled Brandon. "Where's Fricker?" + +Caryl shrugged his shoulders. + +"You have seen him since I have. Are you going to get out? Ah, I thought +you would." + +He stood aside to allow him to do so, and then stepped back to shut the +door. He did not utter a word to the girl cowering within, but that +action of his was a mute command. She crouched in the dark and listened, +but she did not dare to follow or to flee. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE MAN AT THE WHEEL + + +When Caryl came back to the motor his handkerchief was bound about the +knuckles of his right hand, and his face wore a faint smile that had in +it more of grimness than humour. + +He paused at the open window and looked in on Doris without opening the +door. The sound of the rain pattering heavily upon his shoulders filled +in a silence that she found terrible. He spoke at length: + +"You had better shut the window, the rain is coming in." + +That was all, spoken in his customary drawl without a hint of anger or +reproach. They cut her hard, those few words of his. It was as if he +deemed her unworthy even of his contempt. + +She raised her white face. + +"What--are you going to do?" she managed to ask through her quivering +lips. + +"I am going to take you to the nearest town--to Bramfield to spend the +rest of the night. It is getting late, you know--past midnight already." + +"Bramfield!" she echoed with a start. "Then--then we have been going +north all this time?" + +"We have been going north," he said. + +She glanced around. Her eyes were hunted. + +"No," said Caryl. "I haven't killed him. He is sitting under the hedge +about fifty yards up the road, thinking things over." + +He opened the door then abruptly, and she held her breath and became +still and tense with apprehension. But he only pulled up the window, +closed the door again with a sharp click, and left her. When she dared +to breathe again the car was in motion. + +She took no interest in her surroundings. Her destination had become a +matter of such secondary importance that she gave it no consideration +whatever. What mattered, all that mattered, was that she was now in the +hands and absolutely at the mercy of the man whom she feared as she +feared no one else on earth, the man with whom in her mad coquetry she +had dared to trifle. + +The car was stopping. It came to a standstill almost imperceptibly, and +Caryl stepped into the road. Tensely she watched him; but he did not so +much as glance her way. He turned aside to a little gate in a high hedge +of laurel, and passed within, leaving her alone in the night. + +Soon she heard his deliberate footfalls returning. In a moment he had +reached the door, his hand was upon it. She turned stiffly towards him +as it opened. + +He spoke at once in his calm, unmoved voice: + +"A very old friend of mine lives here. She will put you up for the +night and see to your comfort. Will you get out?" + +Mutely she did so, feeling curiously weak and unstrung. He put his arm +around her, and led her into the dim cottage garden. + +They went up a tiled path to an open door from which the light of a +single candle gleamed fitfully in the draught. She stumbled at the +doorstep, but he held her up. He was almost carrying her. + +As they entered, an old woman, bent and indescribably wrinkled, rose +from her knees before a deep old-fashioned fireplace on the other side +of the little kitchen, and came to meet them. She had evidently just +coaxed a dying fire back to life. + +"Ah, poor dear," she said at sight of the girl's exhausted face. "She +looks more dead than alive. Bring her to the fire, Master Vivian. I'll +soon have some hot milk for the poor lamb." + +Caryl led her to an arm-chair that stood on one side of the blaze, and +made her sit down. Then, stooping, he took one of her nerveless hands +and held it closely in his own. + +He did not speak to her, and she was relieved by his forbearance. As the +warmth of his grasp gradually communicated itself to her numbed fingers, +she felt her racing pulses grow steadier; but she was glad when he laid +her hand down quietly in her lap and turned away. + +He bent over her again in a few minutes with a cup of steaming milk. +She took it from him, tasted it, and shuddered. + +"There is brandy in it." + +"Yes," said Caryl. + +She turned her head away. + +"I don't want it. I hate brandy." + +He put his hand on her shoulder. + +"You had better drink it all the same," he said. + +She glanced at him, caught her breath sharply, then dumbly gave way. He +kept his hand upon her while she drank, and only removed it to take the +empty cup. + +After that, standing gravely before her, he spoke again. + +"I am going on into the town now with the motor, and I shall put up +there. My old nurse will take care of you. I shall come back in the +morning." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE SURRENDER OF THE CITADEL + + +Old Mrs. Maynard, sweeping her brick floor with wide-open door through +which the April sunlight streamed gloriously, nodded to herself a good +many times over the doings of the night. A very discreet creature was +Mrs. Maynard, faithful to the very heart of her, but she would not have +been mortal had she not been intensely curious to know what were the +circumstances that had led Vivian Caryl to bring to her door that +shrinking, exhausted girl who still lay sleeping in the room above. + +When Doris awoke in response to her deferential knock, only the +reticence of the trained servant greeted her. The motherliness of the +night before had completely vanished. + +Doris was glad of it. She had to steel herself for the coming interview +with Caryl; she had to face the result of her headlong actions with as +firm a front as she could assume. She needed all her strength, and she +could not have borne sympathy just then. + +She thanked Mrs. Maynard for her attentions and saw her withdraw with +relief. Then, having nibbled very half-heartedly at the breakfast +provided, she arose with a great sigh, and began to prepare for whatever +might lie before her. + +Dressed at length, she sat down by the open window to wait--and wonder. + +The click of the garden gate fell suddenly across her meditations, and +she drew back sharply out of sight. He was entering. + +She heard his leisurely footfall on the tiles and then his quiet voice +below. Her heart began to thump with thick, uncertain beats. She was +horribly afraid. + +Yet when she heard the old woman ascending the stairs, she had the +courage to go to the door and open it. + +Mr. Caryl was in the parlour, she was told. He would be glad to see her +at her convenience. + +"I will go to him," she said, and forthwith descended to meet her fate. + +He stood by the window when she entered, but wheeled round at once with +his back to the light. She felt that this did not make much difference. +She knew exactly how he was looking--cold, self-contained, implacable as +granite. She had seldom seen him look otherwise. His face was a +perpetual mask to her. It was this very inscrutability of his that had +first waked in her the desire to see him among her retinue of slaves. + +She went forward slowly, striving to attain at least a semblance of +composure. At first it seemed that he would wait for her where he was; +then unexpectedly he moved to meet her. He took her hand into his own, +and she shrank a little involuntarily. His touch unnerved her. + +"You have slept?" he asked. "You are better?" + +Something in his tone made her glance upwards, catching her breath. But +she decided instantly that she had been mistaken. He would not, he could +not, mean to be kind at such a moment. + +She made answer with an assumption of pride. She dared not let herself +be natural just then. + +"I am quite well. There was nothing wrong with me last night. I was only +tired." + +He suffered her hand to slip from his. + +"I wonder what you think of doing," he said quietly. "Have you made any +plans?" + +The hot blood rushed to her face before she was aware of it. She turned +it sharply aside. + +"Am I to have a voice in the matter?" she said, her voice very low. "You +did not think it worth while to consult me last night." + +"You were scarcely in a fit state to be consulted," he answered gravely. +"That is why I postponed the discussion. But I was then--as I am +now--entirely at your disposal. I will take you back to your people at +once if you wish it." + +She made a quick, passionate gesture of protest, and moved away from +him. + +"Have you any alternative in your mind?" he asked. + +She remained with her back to him. + +"I shall go away," she said, a sudden note of recklessness in her +voice. "I shall travel." + +"Alone?" he questioned. + +"Yes, alone." This time her voice rang defiance. She wheeled round +quivering from head to foot. "But for you," she said, "but for your +unwarrantable interference I should never have been placed in this +hateful, this impossible, position. I should have been with my friends +in London. It would have been my wedding-day." + +The attack was plainly unexpected. Even Caryl was taken by surprise. But +the next moment he was ready for her. + +"Then by all means," he said, "let me take you to your friends in +London. Doubtless your chivalrous lover has found his way thither long +ere this." + +She stamped like a little fury. + +"Do you think I would marry him--now? Do you think I would marry any one +after--after what happened last night? Oh, I hate you--I hate you all!" + +Her voice broke. She covered her face, with tempestuous sobbing, and +sank into a chair. + +Caryl stood silent, biting his lip as if in irresolution. He did not try +to comfort her. + +After a while, her weeping still continuing, he leant across the table. + +"Doris," he said, "leave off crying and listen to me. I know it is out +of the question for you to marry that scoundrel whom I had the pleasure +of thrashing last night. It always has been out of the question. That +is one reason why I have been keeping such a hold upon you. Now that you +admit the impossibility of it, I set you free. But you will be wise to +think well before you accept your freedom from me. You are in an +intolerable position, and I am quite powerless to help you unless you +place yourself unreservedly in my hands and give me the right to protect +you. It means a good deal, I know. It means, Doris, the sacrifice of +your independence. But it also means a safe haven, peace, comfort, if +not happiness. You may not love me. I never seriously thought that you +did. But if you will give me your trust--I shall try to be satisfied +with that." + +Love! She had never heard the word on his lips before. It sent a curious +thrill through her to hear it then. She had listened to him with her +face hidden, though her tears had ceased. But as he ended, she slowly +raised her head and looked at him. + +"Are you asking me to marry you?" she said. + +"I am," said Caryl. + +She lowered her eyes from his, and began to trace a design on the +table-cloth with one finger. + +"I don't want to marry you," she said at length. + +"I know," said Caryl. + +She did not look up. + +"No, you don't know. That's just it. You think you know everything. But +you don't. For instance, you think you know why I ran away with Major +Brandon. But you don't. You never will know--unless I tell you, probably +not even then." + +She broke off with an abrupt sigh, and leant back in her chair. + +"One thing I do thank you for," she said irrelevantly. "And that is that +you didn't take me back to Rivermead last night. Have they, I wonder, +any idea where I am?" + +"I left a message for your cousin before I left," Caryl said. + +"Oh, then he knew--?" + +"He knew that I had you under my protection," Caryl told her grimly. "I +did not go into details. It was unnecessary. Only Flicker knew the +details. I marked him down in the afternoon, after the incident at +luncheon." + +She opened her eyes. + +"Then you guessed--?" + +"I knew he did not find the missing glove under the table," said Caryl +quietly. "I did not need any further evidence than that. I knew, +moreover, that you had not devoted the whole of the previous afternoon +to your correspondence. I was waiting for your cousin in the +conservatory when you joined Brandon in the garden." + +"And you--you were in the conservatory last night when I went through. +I--I felt there was someone there." + +"Yes," he answered. "I waited to see you go." + +"Why didn't you stop me?" + +For an instant her eyes challenged his. + +He stood up, straightening himself slowly. + +"It would not have answered my purpose," he told her steadily. + +She stood up also, her face gone suddenly white. + +"You chose this means of--of forcing me to marry you?" + +"I chose this means--the only means to my hand--of opening your eyes," +he said. "It has not perhaps been over successful. You are still blind +to much that you ought to see. But you will understand these things +better presently." + +"Presently?" she faltered. + +"When you are my wife," he said. + +She flashed him a swift glance. + +"I am to marry you then?" + +He held out his hand to her across the table. + +"Will you marry me, Doris?" + +She hesitated for a single instant, her eyes downcast. Then suddenly, +without speaking, she put her hand into his, glad that, notwithstanding +the overwhelming strength of his position, he had allowed her the +honours of war. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE WILLING CAPTIVE + + +"And so you were obliged to marry your _bete noire_ after all! My dear, +it has been the talk of the town. Come, sit down, and tell me all about +it. I am burning to hear how it came about." + +Doris's old friend, Mrs. Lockyard, paused to flick the ash from her +cigarette, and to laugh slyly at the girl's face of discomfiture. + +Doris also held a cigarette between her fingers, but she was only toying +with it restlessly. + +"There isn't much to tell," she said. "We were married by special +licence. I was not obliged to marry him. I chose to do so." + +Mrs. Lockyard laughed again, not very pleasantly. + +"And left poor Maurice in the lurch. That was rather cruel of you after +all his chivalrous efforts to deliver you from bondage. And he so hard +up, too." + +A flush of anger rose in the girl's face. She tilted her chin with the +old proud gesture. + +"I should not have married him in any case," she said. "He made that +quite impossible by his own act. He--was not so chivalrous as I +thought." + +A gleam of malice shone for a moment in Mrs. Lockyard's eyes, and just a +hint of it was perceptible in her voice as she made response. + +"One has to make allowances sometimes. All men are not made after the +pattern of your chosen lord and master. He, I grant you, is hard as +granite and about as impassive. Still I mustn't depreciate your prize +since it was of your own choosing. Let me wish you instead every +happiness." + +"He was not impassive that night," said Doris quickly, with a sharp +inward sense of injustice. + +"No?" questioned Mrs. Lockyard. + +"No. At least--Major Brandon did not find him so." Doris's blue eyes +took fire at the recollection. "He gave him his deserts," she said, with +a certain exultation. "He thrashed him." + +"Oh, my dear, he would have done that in any case. That was an old, old +score paid off at last. Forgive me for depriving you of this small +gratification. But that debt was contracted many years ago when you were +scarcely out of your cradle. Your presence was a mere incident. You were +the opportunity, not the cause." + +"I don't know what you mean," said Doris, looking her straight in the +face. + +"No? Well, my dear, it isn't my business to enlighten you. If you really +want to know, I must refer you to your husband. Surely that is Mrs. +Fricker over there. You will not mind if she joins us?" + +"I am going!" Doris announced abruptly--"I really only looked in to see +if there were any letters." + +She dropped her cigarette with determination and turned to the nearest +door. + +It was true that she had run into the club for her correspondence, but +having met Mrs. Lockyard she had been almost compelled to linger, albeit +unwillingly. Now from the depths of her soul she regretted the impulse +that had borne her thither. She vowed to herself that she would not +enter the club again so long as Mrs. Lockyard remained in town. + +Three weeks had elapsed since her marriage; three weeks of shopping in +Paris with Caryl somewhere in the background, looking on but never +advising. + +He had been very kind on the whole, she was fain to admit, but she was +further from understanding him now than she had ever been. He had +retired into his shell so completely that it seemed unlikely that he +would ever again emerge, and she did not dare to make the first advance. + +Her return to London had been one of the greatest ordeals she had ever +faced, but she had endured it unflinchingly, and had found that London +had already almost forgotten the eccentricity of her marriage. In the +height of the season memories are short. + +Caryl had taken a flat overlooking the river, and here they had settled +down. He spent the greater part of his day at the Law Courts, and Doris +found herself thrown a good deal upon her own resources. In happier days +this had been her ideal, but for some reason it did not now content her. + +Returning from her encounter with Mrs. Lockyard at the club, she told +herself with sudden petulance that life in town had lost all charm for +her. + +Entering the dainty sitting-room that looked on to the river, she +dropped into a chair by the window and stared out with her chin in her +hands. The river was a blaze of gold. A line of long black barges was +drifting down-stream in the wake of a noisy steam-tug. She watched them +absently, sick at heart. + +Gradually the shining water grew blurred and dim. Its beauty wholly +passed her by, or if she saw it, it was only in vivid contrast to the +darkness in her soul. For a little, wide-eyed, she resisted the impulse +that tugged at her heart-strings; but at last in sheer weariness she +gave in. What did it matter, a tear more or less? There was no one to +know or care. And tears were sometimes a relief. She bowed her head upon +the sill and wept. + +"Why, Doris!" a quiet voice said. + +She started, started violently, and sprang upright. + +Caryl was standing slightly behind her, his hand on the back of her +chair, but as she rose he came forward and stood beside her. + +"What is it?" he said. "Why are you crying?" + +"I'm not!" she declared vehemently. "I wasn't! You--you startled +me--that's all." + +She turned her back on him and hastily dabbed her eyes. She was furious +with him for coming upon her thus. + +He stood at the window, looking out upon the long, black barges in +silence. + +After a few seconds of desperate effort she controlled herself and +turned round. + +"I never heard you come in. I--must have been asleep." + +He did not look at her, or attempt to refute the statement. + +"I thought you were going to be out this afternoon," he said. + +"So I was. So I have been. I went to the club to get my letters." + +"Didn't you find any one there to talk to?" he asked. + +"No one," she answered somewhat hastily; then, moved by some impulse she +could not have explained, "That is, no one that counts. I saw Mrs. +Lockyard." + +"Doesn't she count?" asked Caryl, still with his eyes on the river. + +"I hate the woman!" Doris declared passionately. + +He turned slowly round. + +"What has she been saying to you?" + +"Nothing." + +Again he made no comment on the obvious lie. + +"Look here," he said. "Can't we go out somewhere to-night? There is a +new play at the Regency. They say it's good. Shall we go?" + +The suggestion was quite unexpected; she looked at him in surprise. + +"I have promised Vera to dine there," she said. + +"Ring her up and say you can't," said Caryl. + +She hesitated. + +"I must make some excuse if I do. What shall I say?" + +"Say I want you," he said, and suddenly that rare smile of his for which +she had wholly ceased to look flashed across his face, "and tell the +truth for once." + +She did not see him again till she entered the dining-room an hour +later. He was waiting for her there, and as she came in he presented her +with a spray of lilies. + +Again in astonishment she looked up at him. + +"Don't you like them?" he said. + +"Of course I do. But--but--" + +Her answer tailed off in confusion. Her lip quivered uncontrollably, and +she turned quickly away. + +Caryl was plainly unaware of anything unusual in her demeanour. He +talked throughout dinner in his calm, effortless drawl, and gradually +under its soothing influence she recovered herself. + +She enjoyed the play that followed. It was a simple romance, well +staged, and superbly acted. She breathed a sigh of regret when it was +over. + +Driving home again with Caryl, she thanked him impulsively for taking +her. + +"You weren't bored?" he asked. + +"Of course not," she said. + +She would have said more, but something restrained her. A sudden shyness +descended upon her that lasted till they reached the flat. + +She left Caryl at the outer door and turned into the room overlooking +the river. The window was open as she had left it, and the air blew in +sweetly upon her over the water. She had dropped her wrap from her +shoulders, and she shivered a little as she stood, but a feeling of +suspense kept her motionless. + +Caryl had entered the room behind her. She wondered if he would pause at +the table where a tray of refreshments was standing. He did not, and her +nerves tingled and quivered as he passed it by. + +He joined her at the window, and they stood together for several seconds +looking out upon the great river with its myriad lights. + +She had not the faintest idea as to what was passing in his mind, but +her heart-beats quickened in his silence to such a tumult that at last +she could bear it no longer. She turned back into the room. + +He followed her instantly, and she fancied that he sighed. + +"Won't you have anything before you go?" he said. + +She shook her head. + +"Good-night!" she said almost inaudibly. + +For a moment--no longer--her hand lay in his. She did not look at him. +There was something in his touch that thrilled through her like an +electric current. + +But his grave "Good-night!" had in it nothing startling, and by the time +she reached her own room she had begun to ask herself what cause there +had been for her agitation. She was sure he must have thought her very +strange, very abrupt, even ungracious. + +And at that her heart smote her, for he had been kinder that evening +than ever before. The fragrance of the lilies at her breast reminded her +how kind. + +She bent her head to them, and suddenly, as though the flowers exhaled +some potent charm, impulse--blind, domineering impulse--took possession +of her. + +She turned swiftly to the door, and in a moment her feet were bearing +her, almost without her voluntary effort, back to the room she had left. + +The door was unlatched. She pushed it open, entering impetuously. And +she came upon Caryl suddenly--as he had come upon her that +afternoon--sunk in a chair by the window, with his head in his hands. + +He rose instantly at her entrance, rose and closed the window; then +lowered the blind very quietly, very slowly, and finally turned round to +her. + +"What is it? You have forgotten something?" + +Except that he was paler than usual, his face bore no trace of emotion. +He looked at her with his heavy eyes gravely, with unfailing patience. + +For an instant she stood irresolute, afraid; then again that urging +impulse drove her forward. She moved close to him. + +"I only came back to say--I only wanted to tell you--Vivian, I--I was +horrid to you this afternoon. Forgive me!" + +She stretched out her trembling hands to him, and he took them, held +them fast, then sharply let them go. + +"My dear," he said, "you were in trouble, and I intruded upon you. It +was no case for forgiveness." + +But she would not accept his indulgence. + +"I was horrid," she protested, with a catch in her voice. "Why are you +so patient with me? You never used to be." + +He did not answer her. He seemed to regard the question as superfluous. + +She drew a little nearer. Her fingers fastened quivering upon his coat. + +"Don't be too kind to me, Vivian," she said, her voice trembling. +"It--it isn't good for me." + +He took her by the wrists and drew her hands away. + +"You want to tell me something," he said. "What is it?" + +She glanced upwards, meeting his look with sudden resolution. + +"You asked me this afternoon why I was crying," she said. "And I--I lied +to you. You asked me, too, what Mrs. Lockyard said to me. And I lied +again. I will tell you now, if--if you will listen to me." + +Caryl was still holding her wrists. There was a hint of sternness in his +attitude. + +"Well?" he said quietly. "What did she say?" + +"She said"--Doris spoke with an effort--"she said, or rather she hinted, +that there was an old grudge between you and Major Brandon, a matter +with which I was in no way concerned, an affair of many years' standing. +She said that was why you followed him up and--thrashed him that night. +She implied that I didn't count at all. She made me wonder +if--if--"--she was speaking almost inarticulately, with bent head--"if +perhaps it was only to satisfy this ancient grudge that you married me." + +Her words went into silence. She could not look him in the face. If he +had not held her wrists so firmly she would have been tempted to turn +and flee. As it was, she could only stand before him in quivering +suspense. + +He moved at length, moved suddenly and disconcertingly, freeing one +hand to turn her face quietly upwards. She did not resist him, but she +shrank as she met his eyes. She fancied she had never seen him look so +grim. + +"And that was why you were crying?" he asked, deliberately searching her +reluctant eyes. + +"That was--one reason," she acknowledged faintly. + +"Then there was something more than that?" + +"Yes." She laid her hand pleadingly on his arm, and he released her. "I +will tell you," she said tremulously, keeping her face upturned to his. +"At least, I will try. But it's very difficult because--" + +She began to falter under his look. + +"Because," he said slowly, "you have no confidence in me. That I can +well understand. You married me more or less under compulsion, and when +a wife is no more than a guest in her husband's house, confidence +between them, of any description, is almost an impossibility." + +He spoke without anger, but with a sadness that pierced her to the +heart; and having so spoken he leant his arm upon the mantelpiece, +turning slightly from her. + +"I will tell you," he said, his voice very quiet and even, "exactly what +Mrs. Lockyard was hinting at. Ten years ago I was engaged to a +girl--like you in many ways--gay, impulsive, bewitching. I was young in +those days, romantic, too. I worshipped her as a goddess. I was utterly +blind to her failings. They simply didn't exist for me. She rewarded me +by running away with Maurice Brandon. I knew he was a blackguard, but +how much of a blackguard I did not realize till later. However, I didn't +trust him even then, and I followed them and insisted that they should +be married in my presence. Six months later I heard from her. He had +treated her abominably, had finally deserted her, and she was trying to +get a divorce. I did my best to help her, and eventually she obtained +it." He paused a moment, then went on with bent head, "I never saw her +after she gained her freedom. She went to her people, and very soon +after--she died." + +Again he paused, then slowly straightened himself. + +"I never cared for any woman after that," he said, "until I met you. As +for Brandon, he kept out of my way, and I had no object in seeking him. +In fact, I took no interest in his doings till I found that you were in +Mrs. Lockyard's set. That, I admit, was something of a shock. And then +when I found that you liked the man--" + +"Oh, don't!" she broke in. "Don't! I was mad ever to tolerate him. Let +me forget it! Please let me forget it!" + +She spoke passionately, and as if her emotion drew him he turned fully +round to her. + +"If you could have forgotten him sooner," he said, with a touch of +sternness, "you would not find yourself tied now to a man you never +loved." + +The effect of his words was utterly unexpected. She started as one +stricken, wounded in a vital place, and clasped her hands tightly +against her breast, crushing the flowers that drooped there. + +"It is a lie!" she cried wildly. "It is a lie!" + +"What is a lie?" + +He took a step towards her, for she was swaying as she stood; but she +flung out her hands, keeping him from her. + +Her face was working convulsively. She turned and moved unsteadily away +from him, groping out before her as she went. So groping, she reached +the door, and blindly sought the handle. But before she found it he +spoke in a tone that had subtly altered: + +"Doris!" + +Her hands fell. She stood suddenly still, listening. + +"Come here!" he said. + +He crossed the room and reached her. + +"Look at me!" he said. + +She refused for a little, trembling all over. Then suddenly as he waited +she threw back her head and met his eyes. She was sobbing like a child +that has been hurt. + +He bent towards her, looking closely, closely into her quivering face. + +"So," he said, "it was a lie, was it? But, my own girl, how was I to +know? Why on earth didn't you say so before?" + +She broke into a laugh that had in it the sound of tears. + +"How could I? You never asked. How could I?" + +"Shall I ask you now?" he said. + +She stretched up her arms and clasped his neck. + +"No," she whispered back. "Take me--take everything--for granted. It's +the only way, if you want to turn a heartless little flirt like me +into--into a virtuous and amiable wife!" + +And so, clinging to him, her lips met his in the first kiss that had +ever passed between them. + + + + +Those Who Wait[1] + + +A faint draught from the hills found its way through the wide-flung door +as the sun went down. It fluttered the papers on the table, and stirred +a cartoon upon the wall with a dry rustling as of wind in corn. + +The man who sat at the table turned his face as it were mechanically +towards that blessed breath from the snows. His chin was propped on his +hand. He seemed to be waiting. + +The light failed very quickly, and he presently reached out and drew a +reading-lamp towards him. The flame he kindled flickered upward, +throwing weird shadows upon his lean, brown face, making the sunken +hollows of his eyes look cavernous. + +He turned the light away so that it streamed upon the open doorway. Then +he resumed his former position of sphinx-like waiting, his chin upon his +hand. + +Half an hour passed. The day was dead. Beyond the radius of the lamp +there hung a pall of thick darkness--a fearful, clinging darkness that +seemed to wrap the whole earth. The heat was intense, unstirred by any +breeze. Only now and then the cartoon on the wall moved as if at the +touch of ghostly fingers, and each time there came that mocking whisper +that was like wind in corn. + +At length there sounded through the night the dull throbbing of a +horse's feet, and the man who sat waiting raised his head. A gleam of +expectancy shone in his sombre eyes. Some of the rigidity went out of +his attitude. + +Nearer came the hoofs and nearer yet, and with them, mingling +rhythmically, a tenor voice that sang. + +As it reached him the man at the table pulled out a drawer with a sharp +jerk. His hand sought something within it, but his eyes never left the +curtain of darkness that the open doorway framed. + +Slowly, very slowly at last, he withdrew his hand empty; but he only +partially closed the drawer. + +The voice without was nearer now, was close at hand. The horse's hoofs +had ceased to sound. There came the ring of spurred heels without, a +man's hand tapped upon the doorpost, a man's figure showed suddenly +against the darkness. + +"Hallo, Conyers! Still in the land of the living? Ye gods, what a +fiendish night! Many thanks for the beacon! It's kept me straight for +more than half the way." + +He entered carelessly, the lamplight full upon him--a handsome, +straight-limbed young Hercules--tossed down his riding-whip, and looked +round for a drink. + +"Here you are!" said Conyers, turning the rays of the lamp full upon +some glasses on the table. + +"Ah, good! I'm as dry as a smoked herring. You must drink too, though. +Yes, I insist. I have a toast to propose, so be sociable for once. What +have you got in that drawer?" + +Conyers locked the drawer abruptly, and jerked out the key. + +"What do you want to know for?" + +His visitor grinned boyishly. + +"Don't be bashful, old chap! I always guessed you kept her there. We'll +drink her health, too, in a minute. But first of all"--he was splashing +soda-water impetuously out of a syphon as he spoke--"first of all--quite +ready, I say? It's a grand occasion--here's to the best of good fellows, +that genius, that inventor of guns, John Conyers! Old chap, your +fortune's made. Here's to it! Hip--hip--hooray!" + +His shout was like the blare of a bull. Conyers rose, crossed to the +door, and closed it. + +Returning, he halted by his visitor's side, and shook him by the +shoulder. + +"Stop rotting, Palliser!" he said rather shortly. + +Young Palliser wheeled with a gigantic laugh, and seized him by the +arms. + +"You old fool, Jack! Can't you see I'm in earnest? Drink, man, drink, +and I'll tell you all about it. That gun of yours is going to be an +enormous success--stupendous--greater even than I hoped. It's true, by +the powers! Don't look so dazed. All comes to those who wait, don't you +know. I always told you so." + +"To be sure, so you did." The man's words came jerkily. They had an odd, +detached sound, almost as though he were speaking in his sleep. He +turned away from Palliser, and took up his untouched glass. + +But the next instant it slipped through his fingers, and crashed upon +the table edge. The spilt liquid streamed across the floor. + +Palliser stared for an instant, then thrust forward his own glass. + +"Steady does it, old boy! Try both hands for a change. It's this +infernal heat." + +He turned with the words, and picked up a paper from the table, frowning +over it absently, and whistling below his breath. + +When he finally looked round again his face cleared. + +"Ah, that's better! Sit down, and we'll talk. By Jove, isn't it +colossal? They told me over at the fort that I was a fool to come across +to-night. But I simply couldn't keep you waiting another night. Besides, +I knew you would expect me." + +Conyers' grim face softened a little. He could scarcely have said how he +had ever come to be the chosen friend of young Hugh Palliser. The +intimacy had been none of his seeking. + +They had met at the club on the occasion of one of his rare appearances +there, and the younger man, whose sociable habit it was to know +everyone, had scraped acquaintance with him. + +No one knew much about Conyers. He was not fond of society, and, as a +natural consequence, society was not fond of him. He occupied the humble +position of a subordinate clerk in an engineer's office. The work was +hard, but it did not bring him prosperity. He was one of those men who +go silently on week after week, year after year, till their very +existence comes almost to be overlooked by those about them. He never +seemed to suffer as other men suffered from the scorching heat of that +tropical corner of the Indian Empire. He was always there, whatever +happened to the rest of the world; but he never pushed himself forward. +He seemed to lack ambition. There were even some who said he lacked +brains as well. + +But Palliser was not of these. His quick eyes had detected at a glance +something that others had never taken the trouble to discover. From the +very beginning he had been aware of a force that contained itself in +this silent man. He had become interested, scarcely knowing why; and, +having at length overcome the prickly hedge of reserve which was at +first opposed to his advances, he had entered the private place which it +defended, and found within--what he certainly had not expected to +find--a genius. + +It was nearly three months now since Conyers, in a moment of unusual +expansion, had laid before him the invention at which he had been +working for so many silent years. The thing even then, though complete +in all essentials, had lacked finish, and this final touch young +Palliser, himself a gunner with a positive passion for guns, had been +able to supply. He had seen the value of the invention and had given it +his ardent support. He had, moreover, friends in high places, and could +obtain a fair and thorough investigation of the idea. + +This he had accomplished, with a result that had transcended his high +hopes, on his friend's behalf; and he now proceeded to pour out his +information with an accompanying stream of congratulation, to which +Conyers sat and listened with scarcely the movement of an eyelid. + +Hugh Palliser found his impassivity by no means disappointing. He was +used to it. He had even expected it. That momentary unsteadiness on +Conyers' part had astonished him far more. + +Concluding his narration he laid the official correspondence before him, +and got up to open the door. The night was black and terrible, the heat +came in overwhelming puffs, as though blown from a blast furnace. He +leaned against the doorpost and wiped his forehead. The oppression of +the atmosphere was like a tangible, crushing weight. Behind him the +paper on the wall rustled vaguely, but there was no other sound. After +several minutes he turned briskly back again into the room, whistling a +sentimental ditty below his breath. + +"Well, old chap, it was worth waiting for, eh? And now, I suppose, +you'll be making a bee-line for home, you lucky beggar. I shan't be long +after you, that's one comfort. Pity we can't go together. I suppose you +can't wait till the winter." + +"No, my boy. I'm afraid I can't." Conyers spoke with a faint smile, his +eyes still fixed upon the blue official paper that held his destiny. +"I'm going home forthwith, and be damned to everything and +everybody--except you. It's an understood thing, you know, Palliser, +that we are partners in this deal." + +"Oh, rot!" exclaimed Palliser impetuously. "I don't agree to that. I did +nothing but polish the thing up. You'd have done it yourself if I +hadn't." + +"In the course of a few more years," put in Conyers drily. + +"Rot!" said Palliser again. "Besides, I don't want any pelf. I've quite +as much as is good for me, more than I want. That's why I'm going to get +married. You'll be going the same way yourself now, I suppose?" + +"You have no reason whatever for thinking so," responded Conyers. + +Palliser laughed lightheartedly and sat down on the table. "Oh, haven't +I? What about that mysterious locked drawer of yours? Don't be shy, I +say! You had it open when I came in. Show her to me like a good chap! I +won't tell a soul." + +"That's not where I keep my love-tokens," said Conyers, with a grim +twist of the mouth that was not a smile. + +"What then?" asked Palliser eagerly. "Not another invention?" + +"No." Conyers inserted the key in the lock again, turned it, and pulled +open the drawer. "See for yourself as you are so anxious." + +Palliser leaned across the table and looked. The next instant his glance +flashed upwards, and their eyes met. + +There was a sharply-defined pause. Then, "You'd never be fool enough for +that, Jack!" ejaculated Palliser, with vehemence. + +"I'm fool enough for anything," said Conyers, with his cynical smile. + +"But you wouldn't," the other protested almost incoherently. "A fellow +like you--I don't believe it!" + +"It's loaded," observed Conyers quietly. "No, leave it alone, Hugh! It +can remain so for the present. There is not the smallest danger of its +going off--or I shouldn't have shown it to you." + +He closed the drawer again, looking steadily into Hugh Palliser's face. + +"I've had it by me for years," he said, "just in case the Fates should +have one more trick in store for me. But apparently they haven't, though +it's never safe to assume anything." + +"Oh, don't talk like an idiot!" broke in Palliser heatedly. "I've no +patience with that sort of thing. Do you expect me to believe that a +fellow like you--a fellow who knows how to wait for his luck--would give +way to a cowardly impulse and destroy himself all in a moment because +things didn't go quite straight? Man alive! I know you better than that; +or if I don't, I've never known you at all." + +"Ah! Perhaps not!" said Conyers. + +Once more he turned the key and withdrew it. He pushed back his chair so +that his face was in shadow. + +"You don't know everything, you know, Hugh," he said. + +"Have a smoke," said Palliser, "and tell me what you are driving at." + +He threw himself into a bamboo chair by the open door, the light +streaming full upon him, revealing in every line of him the arrogant +splendour of his youth. He looked like a young Greek god with the world +at his feet. + +Conyers surveyed him with his faint, cynical smile. "No," he said, "you +certainly don't know everything, my son. You never have come a cropper +in your life." + +"Haven't I, though?" Hugh sat up, eager to refute this criticism. +"That's all you know about it. I suppose you think you have had the +monopoly of hard knocks. Most people do." + +"I am not like most people," Conyers asserted deliberately. "But you +needn't tell me that you have ever been right under, my boy. For you +never have." + +"Depends what you call going under," protested Palliser. "I've been down +a good many times, Heaven knows. And I've had to wait--as you have--all +the best years of my life." + +"Your best years are to come," rejoined Conyers. "Mine are over." + +"Oh, rot, man! Rot--rot--rot! Why, you are just coming into your own! +Have another drink and give me the toast of your heart!" Hugh Palliser +sprang impulsively to his feet. "Let me mix it! You can't--you shan't be +melancholy to-night of all nights." + +But Conyers stayed his hand. + +"Only one more drink to-night, boy!" he said. "And that not yet. Sit +down and smoke. I'm not melancholy, but I can't rejoice prematurely. +It's not my way." + +"Prematurely!" echoed Hugh, pointing to the official envelope. + +"Yes, prematurely," Conyers repeated. "I may be as rich as Croesus, and +yet not win my heart's desire." + +"Oh, I know that," said Hugh quickly. "I've been through it myself. It's +infernal to have everything else under the sun and yet to lack the one +thing--the one essential--the one woman." + +He sat down again, abruptly thoughtful. Conyers smoked silently, with +his face in the shadow. + +Suddenly Hugh looked across at him. + +"You think I'm too much of an infant to understand," he said. "I'm +nearly thirty, but that's a detail." + +"I'm forty-five," said Conyers. + +"Well, well!" Hugh frowned impatiently. "It's a detail, as I said +before. Who cares for a year more or less?" + +"Which means," observed Conyers, with his dry smile, "that the one woman +is older than you are." + +"She is," Palliser admitted recklessly. "She is five years older. But +what of it? Who cares? We were made for each other. What earthly +difference does it make?" + +"It's no one's business but your own," remarked Conyers through a haze +of smoke. + +"Of course it isn't. It never has been." Hugh yet sounded in some +fashion indignant. "There never was any other possibility for me after I +met her. I waited for her six mortal years. I'd have waited all my life. +But she gave in at last. I think she realized that it was sheer waste of +time to go on." + +"What was she waiting for?" The question came with a certain weariness +of intonation, as though the speaker were somewhat bored; but Hugh +Palliser was too engrossed to notice. + +He stretched his arms wide with a swift and passionate gesture. + +"She was waiting for a scamp," he declared. + +"It is maddening to think of--the sweetest woman on earth, Conyers, +wasting her spring and her summer over a myth, an illusion. It was an +affair of fifteen years ago. The fellow came to grief and disappointed +her. She told me all about it on the day she promised to marry me. I +believe her heart was nearly broken at the time, but she has got over +it--thank Heaven!--at last. Poor Damaris! My Damaris!" + +He ceased to speak, and a dull roar of thunder came out of the night +like the voice of a giant in anguish. + +Hugh began to smoke, still busy with his thoughts. + +"Yes," he said presently, "I believe she would actually have waited all +her life for the fellow if he had asked it of her. Luckily he didn't go +so far as that. He was utterly unworthy of her. I think she sees it now. +His father was imprisoned for forgery, and no doubt he was in the know, +though it couldn't be brought home to him. He was ruined, of course, and +he disappeared, just dropped out, when the crash came. He had been on +the verge of proposing to her immediately before. And she would have had +him too. She cared." + +He sent a cloud of smoke upwards with savage vigour. + +"It's damnable to think of her suffering for a worthless brute like +that!" he exclaimed. "She had such faith in him too. Year after year she +was expecting him to go back to her, and she kept me at arm's length, +till at last she came to see that both our lives were being sacrificed +to a miserable dream. Well, it's my innings now, anyway. And we are +going to be superbly happy to make up for it." + +Again he flung out his arms with a wide gesture, and again out of the +night there came a long roll of thunder that was like the menace of a +tortured thing. A flicker of lightning gleamed through the open door for +a moment, and Conyers' dark face was made visible. He had ceased to +smoke, and was staring with fixed, inscrutable eyes into the darkness. +He did not flinch from the lightning; it was as if he did not see it. + +"What would she do, I wonder, if the prodigal returned," he said +quietly. "Would she be glad--or sorry?" + +"He never will," returned Hugh quickly. "He never can--after fifteen +years. Think of it! Besides--she wouldn't have him if he did." + +"Women are proverbially faithful," remarked Conyers cynically. + +"She will stick to me now," Hugh returned with confidence. "The other +fellow is probably dead. In any case, he has no shadow of a right over +her. He never even asked her to wait for him." + +"Possibly he thought that she would wait without being asked," said +Conyers, still cynical. + +"Well, she has ceased to care for him now," asserted Hugh. "She told me +so herself." + +The man opposite shifted his position ever so slightly. "And you are +satisfied with that?" he said. + +"Of course I am. Why not?" There was almost a challenge in Hugh's voice. + +"And if he came back?" persisted the other. "You would still be +satisfied?" + +Hugh sprang to his feet with a movement of fierce impatience. "I believe +I should shoot him!" he said vindictively. He looked like a splendid +wild animal suddenly awakened. "I tell you, Conyers," he declared +passionately, "I could kill him with my hands if he came between us +now." + +Conyers, his chin on his hand, looked him up and down as though +appraising his strength. + +Suddenly he sat bolt upright and spoke--spoke briefly, sternly, harshly, +as a man speaks in the presence of his enemy. At the same instant a +frightful crash of thunder swept the words away as though they had never +been uttered. + +In the absolute pandemonium of sound that followed, Hugh Palliser, with +a face gone suddenly white, went over to his friend and stood behind +him, his hands upon his shoulders. + +But Conyers sat quite motionless, staring forth at the leaping +lightning, rigid, sphinx-like. He did not seem aware of the man behind +him, till, as the uproar began to subside, Hugh bent and spoke. + +"Do you know, old chap, I'm scared!" he said, with a faint, shamed +laugh. "I feel as if there were devils abroad. Speak to me, will you, +and tell me I'm a fool!" + +"You are," said Conyers, without turning. + +"That lightning is too much for my nerves," said Hugh uneasily. "It's +almost red. What was it you said just now? I couldn't hear a word." + +"It doesn't matter," said Conyers. + +"But what was it? I want to know." + +The gleam in the fixed eyes leaped to sudden terrible flame, shone hotly +for a few seconds, then died utterly away. "I don't remember," said +Conyers quietly. "It couldn't have been anything of importance. Have a +drink! You will have to be getting back as soon as this is over." + +Hugh helped himself with a hand that was not altogether steady. There +had come a lull in the tempest. The cartoon on the wall was fluttering +like a caged thing. He glanced at it, then looked at it closely. It was +a reproduction of Dore's picture of Satan falling from heaven. + +"It isn't meant for you surely!" he said. + +Conyers laughed and got to his feet. "It isn't much like me, is it?" + +Hugh looked at him uncertainly. "I never noticed it before. It might +have been you years ago." + +"Ah, perhaps," said Conyers. "Why don't you drink? I thought you were +going to give me a toast." + +Hugh's mood changed magically. He raised his glass high. "Here's to your +eternal welfare, dear fellow! I drink to your heart's desire." + +Conyers waited till Hugh had drained his glass before he lifted his own. + +Then, "I drink to the one woman," he said, and emptied it at a draught. + + * * * * * + +The storm was over, and a horse's feet clattered away into the darkness, +mingling rhythmically with a cheery tenor voice. + +In the room with the open door a man's figure stood for a long while +motionless. + +When he moved at length it was to open the locked drawer of the +writing-table. His right hand felt within it, closed upon something that +lay there; and then he paused. + +Several minutes crawled away. + +From afar there came the long rumble of thunder. But it was not this +that he heard as he stood wrestling with the fiercest temptation he had +ever known. + +Stiffly at last he stooped, peered into the drawer, finally closed it +with an unfaltering hand. The struggle was over. + +"For your sake, Damaris!" he said aloud, and he spoke without cynicism. +"I should know how to wait by now--even for death--which is all I have +to wait for." + +And with that he pulled the fluttering paper from the wall, crushed it +in his hand, and went out heavily into the night. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 1: This story was originally issued in the _Red Magazine_.] + + + + +The Eleventh Hour[2] + + +CHAPTER I + +HIS OWN GROUND + + +"Oh, to be a farmer's wife!" + +Doris Elliot paused, punt-pole in hand, to look across a field of +corn-sheaves with eyes of shining appreciation. + +Her companion, stretched luxuriously on his back on a pile of cushions, +smiled a contemplative smile and made no comment. + +The girl's look came down to him after a moment. She regarded him with +friendly contempt. + +"You're very lazy, Hugh," she said. + +"I know it," said Hugh Chesyl comfortably. + +She dropped the pole into the water and drove the punt towards the bank. +"It's a pity you're such a slacker," she said. + +He removed his cigarette momentarily. "You wouldn't like me any better +if I weren't," he said. + +"Indeed I should--miles!" + +"No, you wouldn't." His smile became more pronounced. "If I were more +energetic, I should be for ever pestering you to marry me. And, you +know, you wouldn't like that. As it is, I take 'No,' for an answer and +rest content." + +Doris was silent. Her slim, white-clad figure was bent to the task of +bringing the punt to a pleasant anchorage in an inviting hollow in the +grassy shore. Hugh Chesyl clasped his hands behind his head and watched +her with placid admiration. + +The small brown hands were very capable. They knew exactly what to do, +and did it with precision. When they had finally secured the punt, with +him in it, to the bank he sat up. + +"Are we going to have tea here? What a charming spot! Sweetly romantic, +isn't it? I wonder why you particularly want to be a farmer's wife?" + +Doris's pointed chin still looked slightly scornful. "You wouldn't +wonder if you took the trouble to reflect, Mr. Chesyl," she said. + +He laughed easily. "Oh, don't ask me to do that! You know what a +sluggish brain mine is. I can quite understand your not wanting to marry +me, but why you should want to marry a farmer--like Jeff Ironside--I +cannot see." + +"Who is Jeff Ironside?" she demanded. + +"He's the chap who owns this property. Didn't you know? A frightfully +energetic person; prosperous, too, for a wonder. But an absolute tinker, +my dear. I shouldn't marry him--all his fair acres notwithstanding--if +I were you. I don't think the county would approve." + +Doris snapped her fingers with supreme contempt. "That for the county! +What a snob you are!" + +"Am I?" said Hugh. "I didn't know." + +She nodded severely. "Do you mind moving your legs? I want to get at the +tea-basket." + +"Don't mention it!" he said accommodatingly. "Are you going to give me +tea now? How nice! You are looking awfully pretty to-day, do you know? I +can't think how you do it. There isn't a feature in your face worth +mentioning, but, notwithstanding, you make an entrancing whole." + +Doris sternly repressed a smile. "Please don't take the trouble to be +complimentary." + +Hugh groaned. "There's no pleasing you. And still you haven't let me +into the secret as to why you want to be a farmer's wife." + +Doris was unpacking the tea-things energetically. "You never understand +anything without being told," she said. "Don't you know that I +positively hate the life I live now?" + +"I can quite believe it," said Hugh Chesyl. "But, if you will allow me +to say so, I think your remedy would be worse than the disease. Your +utmost ingenuity will fail to persuade me that the life of a farmer's +wife would suit you." + +"I should like the simplicity of it," she maintained. + +"And getting up at five in the morning to make the butter? And having a +hulking brute of a husband--like Jeff Ironside--tramping into your +kitchen with his muddy boots and beastly clothes (which you would have +to mend) just when you had got things into good order? I can see you +doing it!" Hugh Chesyl's speech went into his easy, high-bred laugh. +"You of all people--the dainty and disdainful Miss Elliot, for whom no +man is good enough!" + +"I don't know why you say that." There was quick protest in the girl's +voice. She clattered the cups and saucers as if something in the lazy +argument had exasperated her. "I like a man who is a man--the hard, +outdoor, wholesome kind--who isn't afraid of taking a little +trouble--who knows what he wants and how to get it. I shouldn't quarrel +with him on the score of muddy boots. I should be only glad that he had +enough of the real thing in him to go out in all weathers and not to +care." + +"All of which is aimed at me," said Hugh to the trees above him. "I'm +afraid I'm boring you more than usual this afternoon." + +"You can't help it," said Doris. + +Hugh Chesyl's good-looking face crumpled a little, then smoothed itself +again to its usual placid expression. "Ah, well!" he said equably, "we +won't quarrel about it. Let's have some tea!" + +He sat up in the punt and looked across at her; but she would not meet +his eyes, and there ensued a considerable pause before he said gently, +"I'm sorry you are not happy, you know." + +"Are you?" she said. + +"Yes. That's why I want you to marry me." + +"Should I be any happier if I did?" said Doris, with a smile that was +somehow slightly piteous. + +"I don't know." Hugh Chesyl's voice was as pleasantly vague as his +personality. "I shouldn't get in your way at all, and, at least, you +would have a home of your own." + +"To be miserable in," said Doris, with suppressed vehemence. + +"I don't know why you should be miserable," he said. "You wouldn't have +anything to do that you didn't like." + +She uttered a laugh that caught her breath as if it had been a sob. "Oh, +don't talk about it, Hugh! I should be bored--bored to death. I want the +real thing--the real thing--not a polite substitute." + +"Sorry," said Hugh imperturbably. "I have offered the utmost of which I +am capable. May I have my tea here, please? It's less trouble than +scrambling ashore." + +She acceded to his request without protest; but she stepped on to the +bank herself, and sat down with her back to a corn-sheaf. Very young and +slender she looked sitting there with the sunshine on her brown, +elf-like face, but she was by no means without dignity. There was a +fairy queenliness about her that imparted an indescribable charm to her +every movement. Her eyes were grey and fearless. + +"How lovely to own a field like this!" she said. "And plough it and sow +it and watch it grow up, and then cut it and turn it into sheaves! How +proud the man who owns it must be!" + +Something stirred on the other side of the sheaf, and she started a +little and glanced backwards. "What's that?" + +"A rat probably," said Hugh Chesyl serenely from his couch in the punt. +"I expect the place is full of 'em. Won't you continue your rhapsody? +The man who owns this particular field is a miller as well as a farmer. +He grinds his own grain." + +"Oh, is he that man?" Eagerly she broke in. "Does he live in that +perfectly exquisite old red-brick house on the water with the wheel +turning all day long? Oh, isn't he lucky?" + +"I doubt if he thinks so," said Hugh Chesyl. "I've never met a contented +farmer yet." + +"I don't like people to be too contented," said Doris perversely. "It's +a sign of laziness and--yes--weakness of purpose." + +"Oh, is it?" Again he uttered his good-tempered laugh; then, as he began +to drink his tea, he gradually sobered. "Has anything happened lately to +make you specially discontented with your lot?" he asked presently. + +Doris's brows contracted. "Things are always happening. My stepmother +gets more unbearable every day. I sometimes think I will go and work +for my living, but my father won't hear of it. And what can I do? I +haven't qualified for anything. The only thing open to me is to fill a +post of unpaid companion to a rich and elderly cousin who would put up +with me but doesn't much want me. She lives at Kensington, too, and I +can breathe only in the country." + +"Poor little girl!" said Hugh kindly. + +"Oh, don't pity me!" she said quickly. "You can't do anything to help. +And I shouldn't grumble to you if there were anyone else to grumble to." +She leaned back against her sheaf with her eyes on the sunlit water +below. "I suppose I shall just go on in the same old way till something +happens. Anyhow, I can't see my way out at present. It's such a shame to +be unhappy, too, when life might be so ecstatic." + +"How could life be ecstatic?" asked Hugh, passing up his cup to be +refilled. + +She threw him a quick glance. "You wouldn't understand if I were to tell +you," she said. "It never could be--for you." + +He sighed. "I know I'm very limited. But it's a mistake to expect too +much from life, believe me. Ask but little, and perhaps--if you're +lucky--you won't be disappointed." + +"I would rather have nothing than that," she said quickly. + +Hugh Chesyl turned and regarded her curiously. "Would you really?" he +said. + +She nodded several times emphatically. "Yes; just live my own life +out-of-doors and do without everything else." She pulled a long stalk of +corn from the sheaf against which she rested and looked at it +thoughtfully. Her eyes were downcast, and the man in the punt could not +see the deep shadow of pain they held. "If I can't have corn," she said +slowly, with the air of one pronouncing sentence, "I won't have husks. I +will die of starvation sooner." + +And with that very suddenly she rose and walked round the sheaf. + +The movement was abrupt, so abrupt that Hugh Chesyl lifted his brows in +astonishment. He was still more surprised a moment later when he heard +her clear, girlish voice raised in admonition. + +"I don't think it's very nice of you to lie there listening and not to +let us know." + +Hugh sat upright in the punt. Who on earth was it that she was reproving +thus? + +The next moment he saw. A huge man with the frame of a bull rose from +behind the sheaf and confronted his young companion. He had his hat in +his hand, and the afternoon sun fell full upon his uncovered head, +revealing a rugged, clean-shaven face that had in it a good deal of +British strength and a suspicion of gipsy alertness. To Chesyl's further +amazement he did not appear in the least abashed by the encounter. + +"I'm sorry I overheard you," he said, with blunt deference. "I was +half-asleep at first. Afterwards, I didn't like to intrude." + +Doris's grey eyes looked him up and down for a moment or two in +silence, and a flush rose in her tanned face. It seemed to Hugh that she +was likely to become the more embarrassed of the two, and he wondered if +he ought to go to the rescue. + +Then swiftly Doris collected her forces. "I suppose you know you are +trespassing?" she said. + +At that Hugh laid himself very suddenly down again in the bottom of the +boat, and left her to fight her own battles. + +The man on the bank looked down at his small assailant with a face of +grim decorum. "No, I didn't know," he said. + +"Well, you are," said Doris. "All this ground is private property. You +can see for yourself. It's a cornfield." + +The intruder's eyes travelled over the upstanding sheaves, passed +gravely over the man in the punt, and came back to the girl. "Yes; I +see," he said stolidly. + +"Then don't you think you'd better go?" she said. + +He put his hat on somewhat abruptly. "Yes. I think I had better," he +said, and with that he turned on his heel and walked away through the +stubble. + +"Such impertinence!" said Doris, as she stepped down the bank to her +companion. + +"It was rather," said Hugh. + +She looked at him somewhat sharply. "I don't see that there is anything +to laugh at," she said. + +"Don't you?" said Hugh. + +"No. Why are you laughing?" + +Hugh explained. "It only struck me as being a little funny that you +should order the man off his own ground in that cavalier fashion." + +"Hugh!" Genuine dismay shone in the girl's eyes. "That wasn't--wasn't--" + +"Jeff Ironside? Yes, it was," said Hugh. "I wonder you have never come +across him before. He works like a nigger." + +"Hugh!" Doris collapsed upon the bank in sheer horror. "I have seen him +before--seen him several times. I thought he was just--a labourer--till +to-day." + +"Oh, no," said Hugh. "He's just your hard, outdoor, wholesome farmer. +Fine animal, isn't he? Always reminds me of a prize bull." + +"How frightful!" said Doris with a gasp. "It's the worst _faux pas_ I +have ever made." + +"Cheer up!" said Hugh consolingly. "No doubt he was flattered by the +little attention. He took it very well." + +"That doesn't make matters any better," said Doris. "I almost wish he +hadn't." + +Whereupon Hugh laughed again. "Oh, don't wish that! I should think he +would be quite a nasty animal when roused. I shouldn't have cared to +fight him on your behalf. He could wipe the earth with me were he so +minded." + +Doris's eyes, critical though not unkindly, rested upon him as he lay. +"Yes," she said thoughtfully, "I should almost think he could." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE PLOUGHMAN + + +It was on a day six weeks later that Doris Elliot next found herself +upon the scene of her discomfiture. She had ridden from her home three +miles distant very early on a morning of September to join a meeting of +the foxhounds and go cub-hunting. There had been a heavy fall of rain, +and the ground was wet and slippery. + +The field that had been all yellow with the shocks of corn was now in +process of being ploughed, and her horse Hector sank up to the fetlocks +at every stride, a fact which he resented with obvious impatience. She +guided him down to the edge of the river where the ground looked a +little harder. + +The run was over and she had enjoyed it; but she wanted now to take as +short a cut home as possible, and it was through this particular field +that the most direct route undoubtedly lay. She was alone, but she knew +every inch of the countryside, and but for this mischance of the plough +she would have been well on her way. Being a sportswoman, she made the +best of things, and did her utmost to soothe her mount's somewhat fiery +temper. + +"You shall have a clean jump at the end, Hector, old boy," she promised +him. "We shall soon be out of it." + +But in this matter also she was to receive a check; for when they came +to the clean jump, it was to find a formidable fence of wooden paling +confronting them, intervening directly in their line of march. It seemed +that the energetic owner had been attending to his boundaries with a +zeal that no huntsman would appreciate. + +Doris bit her lip with a murmured "Too bad!" + +There was nothing for it but to skirt the hedge in search of a gate. +Hector was naturally even more indignant than she, and stamped and +squealed as she turned him from the obstacle. He also wanted to get +home, and he was tired of fighting his way through ploughed land that +held him like a bog. To add to their discomfort it had begun to rain +again, and there seemed every prospect of being speedily soaked to the +skin. + +Altogether the outlook was depressing; but someone was whistling +cheerily on the farther side of the field, and Doris took heart. It was +a long way to the gate, however, and when she reached it at length it +was to find another disappointment in store. The gate was padlocked. + +She looked round in desperation. Her only chance of escape was +apparently to return by the way she had come by means of a gap which had +not yet been repaired, and which would lead her in directly the +opposite direction to that which she desired to take. + +The rain was coming down in a sharp shower, and Hector was becoming more +and more restive. She halted him by the gate and looked over. Beyond lay +a field from which she knew the road to be easily accessible. She hated +to turn her back upon it. + +Behind her over a rise came the plough, drawn by two stout horses, +driven by a sturdy figure that loomed gigantic against the sky. Glancing +back, Doris saw this figure, and an odd little spirit of dare-devilry +entered into her. She did not want to come face to face with the +ploughman, neither did she want to beat a retreat before the five-barred +gate that opposed her progress. + +She spoke to Hector reassuringly and backed him several paces. He was +quick to grasp her desire and eager to fall in with it. She felt him +bracing himself under her, and she laughed in sheer delight as she set +him at the gate. + +He went at it with a will over the broken ground, rose as she lifted +him, and made a gallant effort to clear the obstacle. But he was too +heavily handicapped. He slipped as he rose to the leap. He blundered +badly against the top bar of the gate, finally stumbled over and fell on +the other side, pitching his rider headlong into a slough of trampled +mud. + +He was up in a moment and careering across the field, but Doris was not +so nimble. It was by no means her first tumble, nor had it been wholly +unexpected; but she had fallen with considerable violence, and it took +her a second or two to collect her wits. Then, like Hector, she sprang +up--only to reel back through the slippery mud and catch at the +splintered gate for support, there to cling sick and dizzy, with eyes +fast shut, while the whole world rocked around her in chaos +indescribable. + +A full minute must have passed thus, then very suddenly out of the +confusion came a voice. Vaguely she recognized it, but she was too +occupied in the struggle to keep her senses to pay much attention to +what it said. + +"I mustn't faint!" she gasped desperately through her set teeth. "I +mustn't faint!" + +A steady arm encircled her, holding her up. + +"You'll be all right in half a minute," said the voice, close to her +now. "You came down rather hard." + +She fought with herself and opened her eyes. Her head was swimming +still, but she compelled herself to look. + +Jeff Ironside was beside her, one foot lodged upon the lowest bar of the +gate while he propped her against his bent knee. + +He looked down at her with a certain sternness of demeanour that was +characteristic of him. "Take your time," he said. "It was a nasty +knock-out." + +"I--I'm all right," she told him breathlessly. "Where--where is Hector?" + +"If you mean your animal," he said in the slow, grim way which she +began to remember as his, "he is probably well on his way home by now. +He'll be all right," he added. "The gate from this field into the road +is open." + +"Oh!" The faintness was overcoming her again as she tried to stand. She +clutched and held his arm. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I--never felt so +stupid before." + +"Don't be in a hurry!" he said. "You can't help it." + +She sank back against his support again and so remained for a few +seconds. He stood like a rock till she opened her eyes once more. + +She found his own upon her, but he dropped them instantly. "You are not +hurt anywhere, are you?" he said. + +She shook her head. "No, it's nothing. I've wrenched my shoulder a +little, but it isn't much." + +"Which shoulder?" + +"The right. No, really it isn't serious." She winced as he touched it +with his hand nevertheless. + +"Sure?" he said. + +He began to feel it very carefully, and she winced again with indrawn +breath. + +"It's only bruised," she said. + +"It's painful, anyhow," he remarked bluntly. "Well, you must be wet to +the skin. You had better come with me to the mill and get dry." + +Doris flushed a little. "Oh, thank you, but really--I don't want to--to +trespass on your kindness. I can quite well walk home--from here." + +"You can't," he said flatly. "Anyhow, you are not going to try. You had +better let me carry you." + +But Doris drew back at that with swift decision. "Oh no! I am quite well +now--I can walk." + +She stood up and he took his foot from the gate. She glanced at the top +bar thereof that hung in splinters. + +"I'm so sorry," she murmured apologetically. + +He also looked at his damaged property. "Yes, it was a pity you +attempted it," he said. + +"I shall know better next time," she said with a wry smile. "Will it +cost much?" + +"Well, it can't be mended for nothing," said Jeff Ironside. "Things +never are." + +Doris considered him for a moment. He was certainly a fine animal, as +Hugh Chesyl had said, well made and well put together. She liked the +freedom of his pose, the strength of the great bull neck. At close +quarters he certainly did not look like an ordinary labourer. He had an +air of command that his rough clothes could not hide. There was nothing +of the clod-hopper about him albeit he followed the plough. He was +obviously a son of the soil, and he would wrest his living therefrom, +but he would do it with brain as well as hands. He had a wide forehead +above his somewhat sombre eyes. + +"I am very sorry," she said again. + +"I am sorry for you," he said. "Wouldn't it be as well to get out of +this rain? It's only a step to the mill." + +She turned with docility and looked towards the two horses standing +patiently where he had left them on the brown slope of the hill. + +"Not that way," he said. "Come across this field to the road. It is no +distance from there." + +Doris began to gather up her skirt. It was wet through and caked with +mud. She caught her breath again as she did it. The pain in her shoulder +was becoming intense. + +And then, to her amazement, Jeff Ironside suddenly stooped and put his +arms about her. Almost before she realized his intention, and while she +was still gasping her astonishment, he had lifted her and begun to move +with long, easy strides over the sodden turf. + +"Oh," she said, "you--you--really you shouldn't!" + +"It's the only thing to do," he returned. + +And somehow--perhaps because he spoke with such finality--she did not +feel inclined to dispute the point. She submitted with a confused murmur +of thanks. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE APOLOGY + + +On an old oaken settle, cushioned like a church-pew, before a generous, +open fire, Doris began to forget her woes. She looked about her with +interest the while she endeavoured to sip a cup of steaming milk treated +with brandy that Jeff Ironside had brought her. + +An old, old woman hobbled about the oak-raftered kitchen behind her +while Jeff himself knelt before her and unlaced her mud-caked boots. She +would have protested against his doing this had protest been of the +smallest avail, but when she attempted it he only smiled a faint, grim +smile and continued his task. + +As he finally drew them off she thanked him in a small, shy voice. "You +are very kind--much kinder than I deserve," she said. "Do you know I've +often thought that I ought to have come to apologize for--for ordering +you off your own ground that day in the summer?" + +He looked up at her as he knelt, and for the first time she heard him +laugh. There was something almost boyish in his laugh. It transformed +him utterly, and it had a marvellous effect upon her. + +She laughed also and was instantly at her ease. She suddenly discovered +that he was young in spite of his ruggedness, and she warmed to him in +consequence. + +"But I really was sorry," she protested. "And I knew I ought to have +told you so before. But, somehow"--she flushed under his eyes--"I hadn't +the courage. Besides, I didn't know you." + +"It wasn't a very serious offence, was it?" he asked. + +"I should have been furious in your place," she said. + +"It takes more than that to make me angry," said Jeff Ironside. + +She put out her hand to him impulsively, the flush still in her cheeks. + +"I am still perfectly furious with myself," she told him, "whenever I +think about it." + +His hand enclosed hers in an all-enveloping grasp. "Then I shouldn't +think about it any more if I were you," he said. + +"Very well, I won't," said Doris; adding with her own quaint air of +graciousness, "and thank you for being so friendly about it." + +He released her hand somewhat abruptly and got to his feet. "How is your +shoulder now? Any better?" + +"Oh, yes, it's better," she assured him. "Only rather stiff. Now, won't +you sit down and have your breakfast? Please don't bother about me any +more; I've wasted quite enough of your time." + +He turned towards the table. "You must have some too. And then, when +you're ready, I will drive you home." + +"Oh, but that will waste your time still more," she protested. "I'm sure +I can walk." + +"I'm sure you won't try," he rejoined with blunt deliberation. "I hope +you don't mind eating in the kitchen, Miss Elliot. I would have had a +fire in the parlour if I had expected you." + +"But, of course, I don't mind," she said. "And it's quite the finest old +kitchen I've ever seen." + +He turned to the old woman who still hovered in the background. "All +right, Granny. Sit down and have your own." + +"I'll wait on the lady first, Master Jeff," she returned, smiling upon +him. + +"No. I'm going to wait on the lady," said Jeff. "You sit down." + +He had his way. It occurred to Doris that he usually did so. And +presently he was waiting upon her as she lay against the cushions, as +though she had been a princess in distress. + +Their intimacy progressed steadily during the meal, and very soon +Doris's shyness had wholly worn away. She could not quite decide if Jeff +were shy or not. He was obviously quiet by nature. But his grimness +certainly disappeared, and more than once she found herself wondering at +his consideration and thought for her. + +He went out after breakfast to put in the horse, and at once his old +housekeeper expanded into ardent praise of him. + +"He works as hard as ten men," she said. "That's how it is he gets on. I +often think to myself that he works harder than he ought. It's all work +and no play with him. But there, it's no good my talking. He only laughs +at me, though I brought him up from his cradle. And a fine baby he was +to be sure. His poor mother--she came of gentlefolk, ran away from home +she did to marry Farmer Ironside--she died three days after he was born, +which was a pity, for the old master was just wrapped up in her, and was +never the same again. Well, as I was saying, his poor mother, she'd set +her heart on his being given the education of a gentleman; which he was, +but he always clung to the land did Master Jeff. He was sent to +Fordstead Grammar School along with the gentry, and a fine figure he cut +there. But then his father died, and he had to settle down to farming at +seventeen, and he's been farming ever since. He's very well-to-do is +Master Jeff, thanks to his own energy and perseverance; for farming +isn't what it was. But it's time he took a rest and looked about him. +He's thirty come Michaelmas, and he ought to be settling down. As I say +to him: 'Granny Grimshaw won't be here for always, and you won't like +any other kind of housekeeper save and unless she's a wife as well.' He +always laughs at me," said Granny Grimshaw, shaking her head. "But it's +true as the sun's above us. Master Jeff ought to be stirring himself to +find a wife. But he'll go to the gentry for one, same as his father did +before him. He won't be satisfied with any of them saucy country lasses. +He don't ever mix with them. He'll look high will Master Jeff if the +time ever comes that he looks at all. He's a gentleman himself right +through to the backbone, and he'll marry a lady." + +By the time Jeff returned to announce that the rain had ceased and the +cart was waiting, there were not many of his private affairs of the +knowledge of which Doris had not been placed in possession. + +She was smiling a little to herself over the old woman's garrulous +confidences when he entered, and it was evident that he caught the +smile, for he looked from her to his housekeeper with a touch of +sharpness. + +Granny Grimshaw hastened to efface herself with apologetic promptitude, +and retired to the scullery to wash up. + +Doris turned at once to her host. "Will you take me over the mill some +day?" she asked. + +He looked momentarily surprised at the suggestion, and then in a second +he smiled. "Of course. When will you come?" + +"On Sunday?" she ventured. + +"It won't be working then." + +"No. But other days you are busy." + +Jeff dropped upon his knees again in front of her, and turned his +attention to brushing the worst of the mud from her skirt. He attacked +it with extreme vigour, his smooth lips firmly shut. + +At the end of nearly a minute he paused. "I shan't be too busy for that +any day," he said. + +"Not really?" Doris sounded a little doubtful. + +He looked at her, and somehow his brown eyes made her lower her own. +They held a mastery, a confidence, that embarrassed her subtly and quite +inexplicably. + +"Come any time," he said, "except market-day. Mrs. Grimshaw will always +know where I am to be found, and will send me word." + +She nodded. "I shall come one morning then. I will ride round, shall I?" + +He returned to his task, faintly smiling. "Don't take any five-barred +gates on your way!" he said. + +"No, I shan't do that again," she promised. "Five-barred gates have +their drawbacks." + +"As well as their advantages," said Jeff Ironside enigmatically. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +CORN + + +"Master Jeff!" The kitchen door opened with a nervous creak and a +wrinkled brown face, encircled by the frills of a muslin nightcap, +peered cautiously in. "Are you asleep, my dear?" asked Granny Grimshaw +with tender solicitude. + +He was sitting at the table with his elbows upon it and his head in his +hands. She saw the smoke curling upwards from his pipe, and rightly +deduced from this that he was not asleep. + +She came forward, candle in hand. "Master Jeff, you'll pardon me, I'm +sure. But it's getting so late--nigh upon twelve o'clock. You won't be +getting anything of a night's rest if you don't go to bed." + +Jeff raised his head. His eyes, sombre with thought, met hers. "Is it +late?" he said abstractedly. + +"And you such an early riser," said Granny Grimshaw. + +She went across to the fire and began to rake it out, he watching her in +silence, still with that sombre look in his dark eyes. + +Very suddenly Granny Grimshaw turned and, poker in hand, confronted +him. She was wearing a large Paisley shawl over her pink flannel +nightdress, but the figure she presented, though quaint, was not +unimposing. + +"Master Jeff," she said, "don't you be too modest and retiring, my dear. +You're just as good as the best of 'em." + +A slow, rather hard smile drew the corners of the man's mouth. "They +don't think so," he observed. + +"They mayn't," said Granny Grimshaw severely. "But that don't alter what +is. You're a good man, and, what's more, a man of substance, which is +better than can be said for old Colonel Elliot, with one foot in the +grave, so to speak, and up to his eyes in debt. He owes money all over +the place, I'm told, and the place is mortgaged for three times its +proper value. His wife has a little of her own, so they say; but this +poor young lady as was here this morning, she'll be thrown on the world +without a penny to her name. A winsome young lady, too, Master Jeff. And +she don't look as if she were made to stand many hard knocks. She may +belong to the county, as they say, but her heart's in the right place. +She'd make a bonny mistress in this old place, and it wants a mistress +badly enough. Old Granny Grimshaw has done her best, my dear, and always +will. But she isn't the woman she was." An odd, wheedling note crept +into the old woman's voice. "She'll be wanting to sit in the +chimney-corner soon, Master Jeff, and just mind the little ones. You +wouldn't refuse her that?" + +Jeff rose abruptly and went across to the fire to knock the ashes from +his pipe. Having done so, he remained bent for several seconds, as +though he were trying to read his fortune in the dying embers. Then very +slowly he straightened himself and spoke. + +"I think you forget," he said, "that Colonel Elliot was the son of an +earl." + +But Granny Grimshaw remained unabashed and wholly unimpressed. She laid +down the poker with decision. "I was never one to sneer at good birth," +she said. "But I hold that you come of a breed as old and as good as any +in the land. Your father was a yeoman of the good old-fashioned sort; +and your mother--well, everyone hereabouts knows that she was a lady +born and bred. I don't see what titles have to do with breeding," said +Granny Grimshaw stoutly. "Not that I despise the aristocracy. Dear me, +no! But when all is said and done, no man can be better than a +gentleman, and no woman can look higher. And there are gentlemen in +every walk of life just the same as there are the other sort. And you, +Master Jeff, you're one of the gentlemen." + +Jeff laughed a somewhat grim laugh, and turned to put out the lamp. + +"You're a very nice old woman, Granny," he said. "But you are not an +impartial judge." + +"Ah, my dearie," said Granny Grimshaw, "but I know what women's hearts +are made of." + +A somewhat irrelevant retort, which nevertheless closed the discussion. + +They went upstairs together, and parted on the landing. + +"And you'll go to bed now, won't you?" urged Granny Grimshaw. + +"All right," said Jeff. + +But once in his own room he went to the low lattice-window that +overlooked the mill-stream, and stood before it looking gravely forth +over the still water. It was a night of many stars. Beyond the stream +there stretched a dream-valley across which the river mists were +trailing. The tall trees in the meadows stood up with a ghostly +magnificence against them. The whole scene was one of wondrous peace, +and all, as far as he could see, was his. But the man's eyes brooded +over his acres with a dumb dissatisfaction, and when he turned from the +window at last it was with a gesture of hopelessness. + +"God help me for a fool!" he muttered between his teeth. "If I went near +her, they would kick me out by the back door." + +He began to undress with savage energy, and finally flung himself down +on the old four-poster in which his father had lain before him, lying +there motionless, with fixed and sleepless eyes, while the hours went by +over his head. + +Once--it was just before daybreak--he rose and went again to the open +window that overlooked his prosperous valley. A change had come over the +face of it. The mists were lifting, lifting. He saw the dark forms of +cattle standing here and there. The river wound, silent and mysterious, +away into the dim, quiet distance. A church clock struck, its tone vague +and remote as a voice from another world. And as if in answer to its +solemn call a lark soared upwards from the meadow by the mill-stream +with a burst of song. + +The east was surely lightening. The night was gone. Jeff leaned his +burning temple against the window-frame with a feeling akin to physical +sickness. He was tired--dead tired; but he knew that he could not sleep +now. The world was waking. From the farmyard round the corner of the +house there came the flap of wings and the old rooster's blatant +greeting to the dawn. + +In another half-hour the whole place would be stirring. He had wasted a +whole night's rest. + +Fiercely he straightened himself. Surely his brain must be going! Why, +he had only spoken to her twice. And then, like a spirit that mocked, +the words ran through his brain: "Who ever loved that loved not at first +sight?" + +So this was love, was it? This--was love! + +With clenched hands he stood looking out to the dawning, while the wild +fever leaped and seethed in his veins. He called up before his inner +vision the light, dainty figure, the level, grey eyes, fearless, yet in +a fashion shy, the glow of the sun-tanned skin, the soft, thick hair, +brown in the shadow, gold in the sun. + +Straight before him, low in the sky, hung the morning star. It almost +looked as if it were drifting earthwards with all its purity, all its +glistening sweetness, drifting straight to the heart of the world. He +fixed his eyes upon it, drawn by its beauty almost in spite of himself. +It was the only star in the sky, and it almost seemed as if it had a +message for him. + +But the day was dawning, the star fading, and the message hard to read. +Why had she refused to marry Chesyl? he asked himself. The man was +lukewarm in speech and action; but that surely was but the way of the +world to which he belonged. No excess of emotion was ever encouraged +there. Doubtless behind that amiable mask there beat the same devouring +longing that throbbed in his own racing pulses. Surely Doris knew this! +Surely she understood her own kind! + +He recalled those words of hers that he had overheard, the slow +utterance of them as of some pronouncement of doom. "If I can't have +corn, I won't have husks. I will die of starvation sooner." + +He had caught the pain in those words. Had Hugh Chesyl failed to do so? +If so, Hugh Chesyl was a fool. He had never thought very highly of him, +though he supposed him to be clever after his own indolent fashion. + +Chesyl was the old squire's nephew and heir--a highly suitable _parti_ +for any girl. Yet Doris had refused him, not wholly without ignominy. A +gentleman, too! Jeff's mouth twisted. The thought came to him, and +ripened to steady conviction, that had Chesyl taken the trouble to woo, +he must in time have won. The girl was miserable enough to admit the +fact of her misery, and he offered her marriage with him as a friendly +means of escape. On other ground he could have won her. On this ground +he was probably the least likely man to win. She asked for corn, and he +offered husks. What wonder that she preferred starvation! + +His hands were still clenched as he turned from the window. Oh, to have +been in Hugh Chesyl's place! She would have had no complaint then to +make as to the quality of his offering. He would never have suffered her +to go hungry. And yet the feeling that Hugh Chesyl loved her lingered +still in his soul. Ah, what a fool! What a fool! + + * * * * * + +It was nearly three hours later that Jim Dawlish the miller answered +Jeff Ironside's gruff morning greeting with an eager, "Have you heard +the news, sir?" + +Dawlish was of a cheery, expansive disposition, and not much of the +village gossip ever escaped him or remained with him. + +"What news?" demanded Jeff. + +"Why, about the old Colonel up at the Place, to be sure," said Dawlish, +advancing his floury person towards the doorway in which stood the +master's square, strong figure. + +"Colonel Elliot?" queried Jeff sharply. "What about him?" + +Dawlish wagged a knowing head. "Ah, you may well ask that, sir. He +died--early this morning--quite unexpected. Had a fit or some'at. They +say it's an open question whether there'll be enough money to bury him. +He has creditors all over the county." + +"Good heavens!" said Jeff. He drew back swiftly into the open air as if +he found the atmosphere of the mill oppressive. "Are you quite sure it's +true?" he questioned. "How did you hear?" + +"It's true enough," said the miller, with keen enjoyment. "I heard it +from the police-sergeant. He says it was so sudden that there'll have to +be an inquest. I'm sorry for the widow and orphans though. It'll fall a +bit hard on them." + +"Good heavens!" said Jeff again. "Good heavens!" + +And then very abruptly he turned and left the mill. + +"What's the matter with the boss?" asked the miller's underling. "Did +the Colonel owe him money too?" + +"That's about the ticket," said Jim Dawlish cheerily. "That comes of +lending, that does. It just shows the truth of the old saying, 'Stick to +your money and your money'll stick to you.' There never was a truer +word." + +"Wonder if he's lost much?" said the underling speculatively. + +Whereupon Jim Dawlish waxed suddenly severe. He never tolerated idle +gossip among his inferiors. "And that's no concern of yours, Charlie +Bates," he said. "You get on with your work and don't bother your pudden +head about what ain't in no way your business. Mr. Ironside is about the +soundest man within fifty miles, and don't you forget it!" + +"He wasn't best pleased to hear about the poor old Colonel though for +all that," said Charlie Bates tenaciously. "And I'd give something to +know what'll come of it." + +If he had known, neither he nor Jim Dawlish would have got through much +work that morning. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +A BARGAIN + + +It was nearly a fortnight after Colonel Elliot's death that Jeff +Ironside went to the stable somewhat suddenly one morning, saddled his +mare, and, without a word to anyone, rode away. + +Granny Grimshaw was the only witness of his departure, and she turned +from the kitchen window with a secret smile and nod. + +It was an autumn morning of mist and sunshine. The beech trees shone +golden overhead, and the robins trilled loudly from the clematis-draped +hedges. Jeff rode briskly, with too set a purpose to bestow any +attention upon these things. He took a short cut across his own land and +entered the grounds belonging to the Place by a side drive seldom used. + +Thence he rode direct to the front door of the great Georgian house and +boldly demanded admittance. + +The footman who opened to him looked him up and down interrogatively. +"Miss Elliot is at home, but I don't know if she will see anyone," he +said uncompromisingly. + +"Ask her!" said Jeff tersely. "My name is Ironside." + +While the man was gone he took the mare to a yew tree that shadowed the +drive at a few yards' distance and tied her to it. There was an air of +grim resolution about all his actions. This accomplished, he returned to +the great front door. + +As he reached it there came the sound of light, hastening feet within, +and in a moment the half-open door was thrown back. Doris herself, very +slim and pale, but withal very queenly in her deep mourning, came forth +with outstretched hand to greet him. + +"But why did they leave you here?" she said. "Please come in!" + +He followed her in with scarcely a word. + +She led him down a long oak passage to a room that was plainly the +library, and there in her quick, gracious way she turned and faced him. + +"I am very pleased to see you, Mr. Ironside. I was going to write to you +to thank you again for all your kindness, but lately--there has been so +much to think about--so much to do. I know you will understand. Do sit +down!" + +But Jeff remained squarely on his feet. "I hope you have quite recovered +from your fall?" he said. + +"Quite, thank you." She smiled faintly. "It seems such an age ago. +Hector came home quite safely too." She broke off short, paused as if +seeking for words, then said rather abruptly, "I shall never go hunting +again." + +"You mean not this year?" suggested Jeff. + +She looked at him, and he saw that her smile Was piteous. "No, I mean +never. Everything is to be sold. Haven't you heard?" + +He nodded. "Yes, I had heard. I hoped it wasn't true." + +"Yes, it is true." Her two hands fastened very tightly upon the back of +a chair. There was something indescribably pathetic in the action. She +seemed on the verge of saying more, but in the end she did not say it. +She just stood looking at him with the wide grey eyes that tried so hard +not to be tragic. + +Jeff stood looking back with great sturdiness and not much apparent +feeling. He offered no word of condolence or sympathy. Only after a very +decided pause he said, "I wonder what you will do?" + +"I am going to London," she said. + +"Soon?" Jeff's voice was curt, almost gruff. + +"Yes, very soon." She hesitated momentarily, then went on rapidly, as if +it were a relief to tell someone. "My father's life was insured. It has +left my stepmother enough to live on; but, of course, not here. The +place is mortgaged up to the hilt. I have nothing at all. I have got to +make my own living." + +"You?" said Jeff. + +She smiled again faintly, "Yes, I. What is there in that? Lots of women +work for their living." + +"You are not going to work for yours," he said. + +She thrust the chair from her with a quick little movement of the hands. +"I would begin to-morrow--if I only knew how. But I don't--yet. I've got +to look about me for a little. I am going first to a cousin at +Kensington." + +"Who doesn't want you," said Jeff. + +She looked at him in sharp surprise. "Who--who told you that?" + +"You did," he said doggedly. "At least, you told Mr. Chesyl--in my +presence." + +"Ah, I remember!" She uttered a tremulous little laugh. "That was the +day I caught you eavesdropping and ordered you off your own ground." + +"It was," said Jeff. "I heard several things that day, and I +guessed--other things." He paused, still looking straight at her. "Miss +Elliot," he said, "wouldn't it be easier for you to marry than to work +for your living?" + +The pretty brows went up in astonishment. "Oh!" she said, in quick +confusion. "You heard that too?" + +"Wouldn't it be easier?" persisted Jeff in his slow, stubborn way. + +She shook her head swiftly and vehemently. "I shall never marry Mr. +Chesyl," she said with determination. + +"Where is he?" asked Jeff. + +The soft colour rose in her face at the question. She looked away from +him for the first time. "I don't quite know where he is. I believe he is +up north somewhere--in Scotland." + +"He knows what has been happening here?" questioned Jeff. + +She made a slight movement as of protest. "No doubt," she said in a low +voice. + +Jeff's square jaw hardened. Abruptly he thrust Chesyl out of the +conversation. "It doesn't matter," he said. "That isn't what I came to +talk about. May I tell you just what I have come for? Will you give me a +patient hearing?" + +She turned to him again in renewed surprise. "Of course," she said. + +His dark eyes were upon her. "It may not please you," he said slowly, +"though I ask you to believe that it is not my intention to give you +offence." + +"But, of course, I know you would not," she said. + +Jeff's fingers clenched upon his riding-switch. He spoke with +difficulty, but not without a certain native dignity that made him +impressive. "I have come," he said, "just to say to you that if it is +possible that no one in your own world is wanting you, I am wanting you. +All that I have is absolutely at your disposal. I heard you say--that +day--that you would like to be a farmer's wife. Well--if you really +meant it--you have your opportunity." + +"Mr. Ironside!" She was gazing at him in wide-eyed amazement. + +A dark flush rose in his swarthy face under her eyes, "I had to say it," +he said with heavy deliberation, "though I know I'm only hammering nails +into my own coffin. I had to take my only chance of telling you. Of +course, I know you won't listen. I'm not of your sort--respectable +enough, but not quite--not quite--" He broke off grimly, and for an +instant his teeth showed clenched upon his lower lip. "But if by any +chance, when everything else has failed," resolutely he went on, "you +could bring yourself to think of me--in that way, I shall always be +ready, quite ready, for you. That's what I came to say." + +He straightened himself upon the words, and made as if he would turn and +leave her. But Doris was too quick for him. She moved like a flash. She +came between him and the door. "Please--please," she said, "you mustn't +go yet!" + +He stopped instantly and she stood before him breathing quickly, her +hand upon the door. + +She did not speak again very quickly; she was plainly trying to master +considerable agitation. + +Jeff waited immovably with eyes unvaryingly upon her. "I don't want to +hurry you," he said at last. "I know, of course, what your answer will +be. But I can wait for it." + +That faint, fugitive smile of hers went over her face. She took her hand +from the door. + +"You--you haven't been very--explicit, have you?" she said. "Are +you--are you being just kind to me, Mr. Ironside, like--like Hugh +Chesyl?" + +Her voice quivered as she asked the question, but her eyes met his with +direct steadfastness. + +He lowered his own very suddenly. "No," he said. "I wouldn't insult you +by being kind. I shouldn't ask you to marry me if I didn't love you with +all my heart and soul." + +The words came quickly, with something of a burning quality. She made a +slight movement as if she were taken by surprise. + +After a moment she spoke. "There are two kinds of love," she said. +"There's the big, unselfish kind--the real thing; and there's the +other--the kind that demands everything, and even then, perhaps, is +never satisfied. You hardly know me well enough to--to care for me in +the first big way, do you? You don't even know if I'm worth it." + +"I beg your pardon," said Jeff Ironside. "I think I do know you well +enough for that. Anyhow, if you could bring yourself to marry me, I +should be satisfied. The right to take care of you--make you +comfortable--wait on you--that's all I'm asking. That would be enough +for me--more than I've dared to hope for." + +"That would make you happy?" she asked. + +He kept his eyes lowered. "It would be--enough," he repeated. + +She uttered a sudden quick sigh. "But wouldn't you rather marry a woman +who was in love with you in just the ordinary way?" she said. + +"No," said Jeff curtly. + +"It would be much better for you," she protested. + +He smiled a grim smile. "I am the best judge of that," he said. + +She held out her hand to him. "Mr. Ironside, tell me honestly, wouldn't +you despise me if I married you in that way--taking all and giving +nothing?" + +He crushed her hand in his. The red blood rose to his forehead. He +looked at her for a moment--only a moment--and instantly looked away +again. + +"No," he said, "I shouldn't." + +"I should despise myself," said Doris. + +"I don't know why you should," he said. + +She smiled again with lips that quivered. "No, you don't understand. +You're too big for me altogether. I can't say 'Yes,' but I feel very +highly honoured all the same. You'll believe that, won't you?" + +"Why can't you say 'Yes'?" asked Jeff. + +She hesitated momentarily. "You see, I'm afraid I don't care for +you--like that," she said. + +"Does that matter?" said Jeff. + +She looked at him, her hand still in his. "Don't you think so?" + +"No, I don't," he said, "unless you think you couldn't be happy." + +"I was thinking of you," she said gently. + +"Of me?" He looked surprised for an instant, and again his eyes met hers +in a quick glance. "If you're going to think of me," he said, "you'll do +it. I have told you, you needn't be afraid of my expecting too much." + +But she shook her head. "I should be much more afraid of taking too much +from you," she said. "The little I could offer would never satisfy you." + +"Yes it would," he insisted. "I'm only asking to stand between you and +trouble. It's all I want in life." + +Again his eyes were upon her, dark and resolute. His hand held hers in a +steady grip. For the first time her own resolution began to falter. + +"Let me write to you, Mr. Ironside," she said at last, with a vague idea +of softening a refusal that had become inexplicably hard. + +"Write and say 'No'?" said Jeff. + +She smiled a little, but her eyes filled with sudden tears. "You make it +very hard for me to say 'No,'" she said. + +"I would like to make it impossible," he said. + +"Even when I have told you that I can't--that I don't--love you in the +ordinary way?" she said almost pleadingly. + +"I don't want to be loved in the ordinary way," he answered doggedly. + +"I should be a perpetual disappointment to you," she said. + +"I would rather have even that than--nothing," said Jeff. + +One of the tears ran over and fell upon their clasped hands. "In fact, +you want me at any price," she said. + +"At any price," said Jeff. + +She bent her head and choked back a sob. "And no one else wants me at +all," she whispered. + +He stooped towards her. Perhaps for her peace of mind it was as well +that she did not see the sudden fire that blazed in his deep-set eyes as +he did so. + +"So you'll change your mind," he said, after a moment, to the bowed +head. "You'll have me--you will?" + +She caught back another sob and said nothing. + +He straightened himself sharply. "Miss Elliot, if it's going to make you +miserable, you had better send me away. I'll go--if it's for that." + +He would have released her hand, but it tightened very suddenly upon +his. "No, don't go--don't go!" she said. + +"But you're crying," muttered Jeff uneasily. + +She gave a big gulp and raised her head. The tears were running down her +cheeks, but she smiled at him bravely notwithstanding. "I believe I +should cry--much more--if you were to go now," she told him, with a +quaint effort at humour. + +Jeff Ironside put a strong grip upon himself. His heart was thumping +like the strokes of a heavy hammer. "Then you'll have me?" he said. + +She put her other hand, with a very winning gesture of confidence, into +his. "I don't see how I can help it," she said. "You've knocked down all +my obstacles. But you do understand, don't you? You won't--won't--" + +"Abuse your trust? No, never!" said Jeff Ironside. "I will die by my own +hand sooner." + +"Ah, I can't help liking you," Doris said impulsively, as if in +explanation or excuse. "You're so big." + +"Thank you," Jeff said very earnestly. "And you won't cry any more?" + +She uttered a whimsical little laugh. "But I wasn't crying for myself," +she said, as she dried her eyes. "I was crying for you." + +"Well, you mustn't," said Jeff. "You have given me all I want--much more +than I dared to hope for." He paused a moment, then abruptly, "You won't +think better of it when I'm gone, will you?" he said. "You won't write +and say you have changed your mind?" + +She gave him her hand again with an air of comradeship. "It's a bargain, +Mr. Ironside," she said, with gentle dignity. "A very one-sided one, I +fear, but still--a bargain." + +"I beg your pardon," murmured Jeff. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE WEDDING PRESENT + + +The marriage of Jeff Ironside to Colonel Elliot's daughter created a +sensation in the neighbourhood even greater than that which followed the +Colonel's death. But the ceremony itself was strictly private. It took +place so quietly and so suddenly very early on a misty October morning +that it was over before most people knew anything about it. Jim Dawlish +knew, and was present with old Granny Grimshaw; but, save for the family +lawyer who gave away the bride and the aged rector who married them, no +one else was in the secret. + +Mrs. Elliot knew, but she and her stepdaughter had never been in +sympathy, and she had already left the place and gone to town. + +Very small and pathetic looked the bride in her deep mourning on that +dim autumn morning, but she played her part with queenly dignity, +unfaltering, undismayed. If she had acted upon impulse she was fully +prepared to face the consequences. + +As for Jeff, he was gruff almost to rudeness, so desperate was the +turmoil of his soul. Not one word did he address to his bride from the +moment of entering the church to that of leaving it save such as were +contained in the marriage service. And even when they passed out +together into the grey churchyard he remained grimly silent till she +turned with a little smile and addressed him. + +"Good-morning, Jeff!" she said, and her slender, ungloved hand, very +cold but superbly confident, found its way into his. + +He looked down at her then and found his voice, the while his fingers +closed protectingly upon hers. "You're cold," he said. "They ought to +have warmed the church." + +She turned her face up to the sky. "The sun will be through soon. Will +you take me home across the fields?" + +"Too wet," said Jeff. + +"Not if we keep to the path," she said. "I must just say good-bye to Mr. +Webster first." + +Mr. Webster was the family lawyer. He came up with stilted phrases of +felicitation which sent Jeff instantly back into his impenetrable shell +of silence. Doris made reply on his behalf and her own with a dainty +graciousness that covered all difficulties, and finally extricated +herself and Jeff from the situation with a dexterity that left him +spellbound. + +She had her way. They went by way of the fields, he and she alone +through the lifting mist, while Granny Grimshaw and Jim Dawlish marched +solemnly back to the mill by the road. + +"It's a very good morning's work," asserted Granny Grimshaw with much +satisfaction. "I always felt that Master Jeff would never marry any but +a lady." + +"I'd rather him than me," returned Jim Dawlish obscurely. + +Which remark Granny Grimshaw treated as unworthy of notice. + +As Jeff Ironside and his bride neared the last stile the sun came +through and shone upon all things. + +"I'm glad we came this way," she said. + +Jeff said nothing. He never spoke unless he had something to say. + +They reached the stile. He strode over and reached back a hand to her. +She took it, mounted and stepped over, then sat down unexpectedly on the +top bar with the hand in hers. + +"Jeff!" she said. + +He looked up at her. Her voice was small and shy, her cheeks very +delicately flushed. + +"What is it?" said Jeff. + +She looked down at the brown hand she held, all roughened and hardened +by toil, and hesitated. + +"Well?" said Jeff. + +She turned her eyes upon his face. "Are you going back to work to-day, +just as if--as if nothing had happened?" she asked. + +He looked straight back at her. "You don't want me, do you?" he said. + +She nodded. "Shall we go for a picnic?" she said. + +"A picnic!" He seemed surprised at the suggestion. + +She laughed a little. "Do you never go for picnics? I do--all by myself +sometimes. It's rather fun, you know." + +"By yourself?" said Jeff. + +She rose from her perch. "It's more fun with someone certainly," she +said. + +Jeff's face reflected her smile for an instant. "All right," he said. +"I'll take a holiday for once. But come home now and have some +breakfast." + +She stepped down beside him. "It's nice of you to give me the very first +thing I ask for," she said. "Will you do something else for me?" + +"Yes," said Jeff. + +"Then will you call me Dot?" she said. "It was the pet name my mother +gave me. No one has used it since she died." + +"Dot," repeated Jeff. "You really want me to call you that?" + +"But, of course," she said, smiling, "you haven't called me anything +yet. Please begin at once! It really isn't difficult." + +"Very well, Dot," he said. "And where are we going for our picnic?" + +"Oh, not very far," she said. "Somewhere within a quite easy walk." + +"Can't we ride?" suggested Jeff. + +"Ride?" She looked at him in surprise. + +"I have a horse who would carry you," he said. + +"Have you--have you, really?" Quick pleasure came into her eyes. "Oh, +Jeff, how kind of you!" + +"No, it isn't," said Jeff bluntly. "I want you to be happy." + +She laughed her quick, light laugh. "So you're going to spoil me?" she +said. + +They reached the pretty Mill House above the stream and found breakfast +awaiting them in the oak-panelled parlour that overlooked a sunny +orchard. + +"How absolutely sweet!" said Doris. + +He came and stood beside her at the window, looking silently forth. + +She glanced at him half-shyly. "Aren't you very fond of it all?" + +"Yes," he said. + +"And I think I am going to be," said Doris. + +"I hope you will," said Jeff. + +She turned from him to Granny Grimshaw who entered at the moment with a +hot dish. + +"I don't think we ought to have been married so early," she said. "You +must be quite tired out. Now, please, Mrs. Grimshaw, do sit down and let +me wait on you for a change!" + +Granny Grimshaw smiled at the bare suggestion. + +"No, no, Mrs. Ironside, my dear. This is for you and Master Jeff. I've +got mine in the kitchen." + +"I never heard such a thing!" declared Doris. "Jeff, surely you are not +going to allow that!" + +Jeff came from the window. "Of course you must join us, Granny," he +said. + +But Granny Grimshaw was obdurate on that point. "My place is in the +kitchen," she said firmly. "And there I must bide. But I am ready to +show you the way to your room, my dear, whenever you want to go." + +Doris bent forward impulsively and kissed her. "You are much, much too +kind to me, you and Jeff," she said. + +But as soon as she was alone with Jeff her shyness returned. She could +not feel as much at ease with him in the house as in the open air. She +did not admit it even to herself, but deep in her heart she had begun to +be a little afraid. + +Till then she had gone blindly forward, taking in desperation the only +course that seemed to offer her escape from a position that had become +wholly intolerable. But now for the first time misgivings arose within +her. She remembered how slight was her knowledge of the man to whom she +had thus impetuously entrusted her future; and, remembering, something +of her ready confidence went from her. She fell silent also. + +"You are not eating anything," said Jeff. She started at his voice and +looked up. + +"No, I'm not hungry," she said. "I shall eat all the more presently when +we get out into the open." + +He said no more, but finished his own breakfast with businesslike +promptitude. + +"Mrs. Grimshaw will take you upstairs," he said then, and went to the +door to call her. + +"Where will you be?" Doris asked him shyly, as he stood back for her to +pass. + +"I am going round to the stable," he said. + +"May I come to you there?" she suggested. + +He assented gravely: "Do!" + +Granny Grimshaw was in her most garrulous mood. She took Doris up the +old steep stairs and into the low-ceiled room with the lattice window +that looked over the river meadows. + +"It's the best room in the house," she told her. "Master Jeff was born +in it, and he's slept here for the past ten years. You won't be lonely, +my dear. My room is just across the passage, and he has gone to the room +at the end which he always had as a boy." + +"This is a lovely room," said Doris. + +She stood where Jeff had stood before the open window and looked across +the valley. + +"I hope you will be very happy here, my dear," said Granny Grimshaw +behind her. + +Doris turned round to her impetuously. "Dear Mrs. Grimshaw, I don't like +Jeff to give up the best room to me," she said. "Isn't there another one +that I could have?" + +She glanced towards a door that led out of the room in which they were. + +"Yes, go in, my dear!" said Granny Grimshaw with a chuckle. "It's all +for you." + +Doris opened the door with a quick flush on her cheeks. + +"Master Jeff thought you would like a little sitting-room of your own," +said the old woman behind her. + +"Oh, he shouldn't. He shouldn't!" Doris said. + +She stood on the threshold of a sunny room that overlooked the garden +with its hedge of lavender and beyond it the orchard with its wealth of +ripe apples shining in the sun. The room had been evidently furnished +for her especial use. There was a couch in one corner, a cottage piano +in another, and a writing-table near the window. + +"The old master bought those things for his bride," said Granny +Grimshaw. "They are just as good as new yet, and Master Jeff has had the +piano put in order for you. I expect you know how to play the piano, my +dear?" + +Doris went forward into the room. The tears were not far from her eyes. +"He is too good to me. He is much too good," she said. + +"Ah, my dear, and you'll be good to him too, won't you?" said Granny +Grimshaw coaxingly. + +"I'll do my best," said Doris quietly. + +She went down to Jeff in the stable-yard a little later with a heart +brimming with gratitude, but that strange, new shyness was with her +also. She did not know how to give him her thanks. + +He was waiting for her, and escorted her across to the stable. "You will +like to see your mount," he said, cutting her short almost before she +had begun. + +She followed him into the stable. Jeff's own mare poked an inquiring +nose over the door of her loose-box. Doris stopped to fondle her. Jeff +plunged a hand into his pocket and brought out some sugar. + +From the stall next to them came a low whinny. Doris, in the act of +feeding the mare, looked up sharply. The next moment with a little cry +she had sprung forward and was in the stall with her arms around the +neck of its occupant--a big bay, who nozzled against her shoulder with +evident pleasure. + +"Oh, Hector! Hector!" she cried. "However did you come here?" + +"I bought him," said Jeff, "as a wedding present." + +"For me? Oh, Jeff!" She left Hector and came to him with both hands +outstretched. "Oh, Jeff, I don't know how to thank you. You are so much +too good. What can I say?" + +He took the hands and gripped them. His dark eyes looked straight and +hard into hers, and a little tremor went through her. She lowered her +own instinctively, and in the same instant he let her go. He did not +utter a word, and she turned from him in silence with a face on fire. + +She made no further effort to express her gratitude. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE END OF THE PICNIC + + +Those odd silences of Jeff's fell very often throughout the day, and +they lay upon Doris's spirit like a physical weight. They rode through +autumn woodlands, and picnicked on the side of a hill. The day was warm +and sunny, and the whole world shone as through a pearly veil. There +were blackberries in abundance, large and ripe, and Doris wandered about +picking them during the afternoon while Jeff lounged against a tree and +smoked. + +He did not offer to join her, but she had a feeling that his eyes +followed her wherever she went, and a great restlessness kept her +moving. She could not feel at her ease in his vicinity. She wanted very +urgently to secure his friendship. She had counted upon that day in his +society to do so. But it seemed to be his resolve to hold aloof. He +seemed disinclined to commit himself to anything approaching intimacy, +and that attitude of his filled her with misgiving. Had he begun to +repent of the one-sided bargain, she asked herself? Or could it be that +he also was oppressed by shyness? She longed intensely to know. + +The sun was sinking low in the sky when at length reluctantly she went +back to him. "It's getting late," she said. "Don't you think we ought to +go home?" + +He was standing in the level sun-rays gazing sombrely down into the +valley from which already the mists were beginning to rise. + +He turned at her voice, and she knew he looked at her, though she did +not meet his eyes. For a moment or two he stood, not speaking, but as +though on the verge of speech; and her heart quickened to a nervous +throbbing. + +Then unexpectedly he turned upon his heel. "Yes. Wait here, won't you, +while I go and fetch the animals?" + +He went, and a sharp sense of relief shot through her. She was sure that +he had something on his mind; but inexplicably she was thankful that he +had not uttered it. + +The sun was dropping out of sight behind the opposite hill, and she was +conscious of a growing chill in the atmosphere. A cockchafer whirred +past her and buried itself in a tuft of grass hard by. In the wood +behind her a robin trilled a high sweet song. From the farther side of +the valley came a trail of smoke from a cottage bonfire, and the scent +of it hung heavy in the evening air. + +All these things she knew and loved, and they were to be hers for the +rest of her life; yet her heart was heavy within her. She turned and +looked after Jeff with a wistful drooping of the lips. + +He had passed out of sight behind some trees, but as she turned she +heard a footfall in the wood close at hand, and almost simultaneously a +man emerged carrying a gun. + +He stopped at sight of her, and on the instant Doris made a swift +movement of recognition. + +"Why Hugh!" she said. + +He came straight to her, with hand outstretched. "My dear, dear girl!" +he said. + +Her hand lay in his, held in a clasp such as Hugh Chesyl had never +before given her, and then all in a moment she withdrew it. + +"Why, where have you come from?" she said, with a little nervous laugh. + +His eyes looked straight down to hers. "I've been yachting," he said, +"along Argyll and Skye. I didn't know till the day before yesterday +about the poor old Colonel. I came straight back directly I knew, got +here this morning, but heard that you had gone to town. I was going to +follow you straightway, but the squire wouldn't hear of it. You know +what he is. So I had to compromise and spend one night with him. By +Jove! it's a bit of luck finding you here. I'm pleased, Doris, jolly +pleased. I've been worried to death about you--never moved so fast in my +life." + +"Haven't you?" said Doris; she was still smiling a small, tired smile. +"But why? I don't see." + +"Don't you?" said Hugh. "How shall I explain? You have got such a rooted +impression of me as a slacker that I am half afraid of taking your +breath away." + +She laughed again, not very steadily. "Oh, are you turning over a new +leaf? I am delighted to hear it." + +He smiled also, his eyes upon hers. "Well, I am, in a way. It's come to +me lately that I've been an utter ass all this time. I expect you've +been thinking the same, haven't you?" + +"No, I don't think so," said Doris. + +"No? That's nice of you," said Hugh. "But it's the truth nevertheless. I +haven't studied the art of expressing myself properly. I can't do it +even yet. But it occurred to me--it just occurred to me--that perhaps +I'd never succeeded in making you understand how awfully badly I want to +marry you. I think I never told you so. I always somehow took it for +granted that you knew. But now--especially now, Doris, when you're in +trouble--I want you more than ever. Even if you can't love me as I love +you--" + +He stopped, for she had flung out her hands with an almost agonized +gesture, and her eyes implored him though she spoke no word. + +"Won't you listen to me just this once--just this once?" he pleaded. "My +dear, I love you so. I love you enough for both if you'll only marry +me, and give me the chance of making you happy." + +An unwonted note of feeling sounded in his voice. He stretched out his +hand to her. + +"Doris, darling, won't you change your mind? I'm miserable without you." + +And then very suddenly Doris found her voice. She spoke with breathless +entreaty. "Hugh, don't--don't! I can't listen to you. I married Jeff +Ironside this morning." + +His hand fell. He stared at her as if he thought her mad. +"You--married--Jeff Ironside! I don't believe it!" + +She clenched her hands tightly to still her agitation. "But it's true," +she said. + +"Doris!" he said. + +She nodded vehemently, keeping her eyes on his. "It's true," she said +again. + +He straightened himself up with the instinctive movement of a man +bracing himself to meet a sudden strain. "But why? How? I didn't even +know you knew the man." + +She nodded again. "He helped me once when I was out cubbing, and I went +to his house. After that--when he heard that I had nothing to live +on--he came and asked me if I would marry him. And I was very miserable +because nobody wanted me. So I said 'Yes.'" + +Her voice sank. Her lips were quivering. + +"I wanted you," Hugh said. + +She was silent. + +He bent slowly towards her, looking into her eyes. "My dear, didn't you +really know--didn't you understand?" + +She shook her head; her eyes were suddenly full of tears. "No, Hugh." + +He held out his hand again and took hers. "Don't cry, Doris! You haven't +lost much. I shall get over it somehow. I know you never cared for me." + +She bent her head with some murmured words he could not catch. + +He leaned nearer. "What, dear, what? You never did, did you?" + +He waited for her answer, and at last through tears it came. "I've been +struggling so hard, so hard, to keep myself from caring." + +He was silent a moment, and again it was as if he were collecting his +strength for that which had to be endured. Then slowly: "You thought I +wasn't in earnest?" he said. "You thought I didn't care enough?" + +She did not answer him in words; her silence was enough. + +"God forgive me!" whispered Hugh.... + +There came the thud of horses' hoofs upon the grass, and his hand +relinquished hers. He turned to see Jeff Ironside barely ten paces away, +leading the two animals. Very pale but wholly collected, Hugh moved to +meet him. + +"I have just been hearing about your marriage, Ironside," he said. "May +I congratulate you?" + +Jeff's eyes, with the red sunlight turning them to a ruddy brown, met +his with absolute directness as he made brief response. "You are very +kind." + +"Doris and I are old friends," said Hugh. + +"Yes, I know," said Jeff. + +Spasmodically Doris turned and joined the two men. "We hope Mr. Chesyl +will come and see us sometimes, don't we, Jeff?" she said. + +"Certainly," said Jeff, "when he has nothing better to do." + +She turned to Hugh with a bright little smile. Her tears were wholly +gone, and he marvelled. "I hope that will be often, Hugh," she said. + +"Thank you," Hugh said gravely. "Thank you very much." He added, after a +moment, to Jeff: "I shall probably be down here a good deal now. The +squire is beginning to feel his age. In fact, he wants me to make my +home with him. I don't propose to do that entirely, but I can't leave +him alone for long at a time." + +"I see," said Jeff. He glanced towards Doris. "Shall we start back?" he +said. + +Hugh propped his gun against a tree, and stepped forward to mount her. +"So you still have Hector," he said. + +"Jeff's wedding present," she answered, still smiling. + +Lightly she mounted, and for a single moment he felt her passing touch +upon his shoulder. Then Hector moved away, stepping proudly. Jeff was +already in the saddle. + +"Good-bye!" said Doris, looking back to him. "Don't forget to come and +see us!" + +She was gone. + +Hugh Chesyl turned with the sun-rays dazzling him, and groped for his +gun. + +He found it, shouldered it, and strode away down the woodland path. His +face as he went was the face of a man suddenly awakened to the stress +and the turmoil of life. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE NEW LIFE + + +There was no doubt about it. Granny Grimshaw was not satisfied. Deeper +furrows were beginning to appear in her already deeply furrowed face. +She shook her head very often with pursed lips when she was alone. And +this despite the fact that she and the young mistress of the Mill House +were always upon excellent terms. No difficulties ever arose between +them. Doris showed not the smallest disposition to usurp the old +housekeeper's authority. Possibly Granny Grimshaw would have been better +pleased if she had. She spent much of her time out-of-doors, and when in +the house she was generally to be found in the little sitting-room that +Jeff had fitted up for her. + +She had her meals in the parlour with Jeff, and these were the sole +occasions on which they were alone together. If Doris could have had her +way, Granny Grimshaw would have been present at these also, but on this +point the old woman showed herself determined, not to say obstinate. She +maintained that her place was the kitchen, and that her presence was +absolutely necessary there, a point of view which no argument of +Doris's could persuade her to relinquish. + +So she and Jeff breakfasted, dined, and supped in solitude, and though +Doris became gradually accustomed to these somewhat silent meals, she +never enjoyed them. Of difficult moments there were actually very few. +They mutually avoided any but the most general subjects for +conversation. But of intimacy between them there was none. Jeff had +apparently drawn a very distinct boundary-line which he never permitted +himself to cross. He never intruded upon her. He never encroached upon +the friendship she shyly proffered. Once when she somewhat hesitatingly +suggested that he should come to her sitting-room for a little after +supper he refused, not churlishly, but very decidedly. + +"I like to have my pipe and go to bed," he said. + +"But you can bring your pipe, too," she said. + +"No, thanks," said Jeff. "I always smoke in the kitchen or on the step." + +She said no more, but went up to her room, and presently Jeff, moodily +puffing at his briar in the porch, heard the notes of her piano +overhead. She played softly for some little time, and Jeff's pipe went +out before it was finished--a most rare occurrence with him. + +Only when the piano ceased did he awake to the fact, and then +half-savagely he knocked out its half-consumed contents and turned +inwards. + +He found Granny Grimshaw standing in the passage in a listening +attitude, and paused to bid her good-night. + +"Be you going to bed, Master Jeff?" she said. "My dear, did you ever +hear the like? She plays like an angel." + +He smiled somewhat grimly, without replying. + +The old woman came very close to him. "Master Jeff, why don't you go and +make love to her? Don't you know she's waiting for you?" + +"Is she?" said Jeff, but he said it in the tone of one who does not +require an answer, and with the words very abruptly he passed her by. + +Granny Grimshaw shook her head and sighed, "Ah, dear!" after his +retreating form. + +It was a few days after this that a letter came for Doris, one morning, +bearing the Squire's crest. Her husband handed it to her at the +breakfast-table, and she received it with a flush. After a moment, +seeing him occupied with a newspaper, she opened it. + + "Dear Doris," it said. "You asked me to come and see you, but I + have not done so as I was not sure if, after all, you meant me + to take the invitation literally. We have been friends for so + long that I feel constrained to speak openly. For myself, I only + ask to go on being your friend, and to serve you in any way + possible. But perhaps I can serve you best by keeping away from + you. If so, then I will do even that.--Yours ever, + + "Hugh." + +Something within moved Doris to raise her eyes suddenly, and instantly +she encountered Jeff's fixed upon her. The flush in her cheeks deepened +burningly. With an effort she spoke: + +"Hugh Chesyl wants to know if he may come to see us." + +"I thought you asked him," said Jeff. + +A little quiver of resentment went through her; she could not have said +wherefore. "He was not sure if I meant it," she said. + +There was an instant's silence; then Jeff did an extraordinary thing. He +stretched out his hand across the table, keeping his eyes on hers. + +"Let me have his letter to answer!" he said. + +She made a sharp instinctive movement of withdrawal. "Oh, no!" she said. +"No!" + +Jeff said nothing; but his face hardened somewhat, and his hand remained +outstretched. + +Doris's grey eyes gleamed. "No, Jeff!" she repeated, more calmly, and +with the words she slipped Hugh's envelope into the bosom of her dress. +"I can't give you my letters to answer indeed." + +Jeff withdrew his hand, and began to eat his breakfast in utter silence. + +Doris played with hers until the silence became intolerable, and then, +very suddenly and very winningly, she leaned towards him. + +"Dear Jeff, surely you are not vexed!" she said. + +He looked at her again, and in spite of herself she felt her heart +quicken. + +"Are you, Jeff?" she said, and held out her hand to him. + +For a moment he sat motionless, then abruptly he grasped the hand. + +"May I say what I think?" he asked her bluntly. + +"Of course," she said. + +"Then I think from all points of view that you had better leave Chesyl +alone," he said. + +"What do you mean?" Quickly she asked the question; the colour flamed in +her face once more. "Tell my why you think that!" she said. + +"I would rather not," said Jeff. + +"But that is not fair of you, Jeff," she protested. + +He released her hand slowly. "I am sorry," he said. "If I were more to +you, I would say more. As it is--well, I would rather not." + +She rose impetuously. "You are very--difficult," she said. + +To which he made answer with that silence which was to her more +difficult than speech. + +Yet later, when she was alone, her sense of justice made her admit that +he had not been altogether unreasonable. She recalled the fact that he +had overheard that leisurely proposal of marriage that Hugh had made her +in the cornfield on the occasion of their first meeting, and her face +burned afresh as she remembered certain other items of that same +conversation that he must also have overheard. No, on the whole it was +not surprising that he did not greatly care for Hugh--poor Hugh, who +loved her and had so narrowly missed winning her for himself. She +wondered if Hugh were really very miserable. She herself had passed +through so many stages of misery since her wedding-day. But she had +sufficient knowledge of herself to realize that it was the loneliness +and lack of sympathy that weighed upon her most. + +Her feeling for Hugh was still an undeveloped quantity, though the +certainty of his love for her had quickened it to keener life. She was +not even yet absolutely certain that he could have satisfied her. It was +true that he had been deeply stirred for the moment, but how deeply and +how lastingly she had no means of gauging. Knowing the indolence of his +nature, she was inclined to mistrust the permanence of his feeling. And +so resolutely had she restrained her own feeling for him during the +whole length of their acquaintance that she was able still to keep it +within bounds. She knew that the sympathy between them was fundamental +in character, but she had often suspected--in her calmer moments she +suspected still--that it was of the kind that engenders friendship +rather than passion. + +But even so, his friendship was essentially precious to her, all the +more so for the daily loneliness of spirit that she found herself +compelled to endure. For--with this one exception--she was practically +friendless. She had known that in marrying Jeff Ironside she was +relinquishing her own circle entirely. But she had imagined that there +would be compensations. Moreover, so far as society was concerned, she +had not had any choice. It had been this or exile. And she had chosen +this. + +Wherefore? Simply and solely because Jeff, of all she knew, had wanted +her. + +Again that curious little tremor went through her. Had he wanted her so +very badly after all? Not once since their wedding-day had he made any +friendly overture or responded to any overture of hers. They were as +completely strangers now as they had been on the day he had proposed to +her. + +A sharp little sigh came from her. She had not thought somehow that Jeff +would be so difficult. He had told her that he loved her. She had +counted on that for the foundation of their friendship, but no structure +had she succeeded in raising thereon. He asked nothing of her, and, save +for material comforts, he bestowed nothing in return. True, it was what +she had bargained for. But yet it did not satisfy her. She was not at +her ease with him, and she began to think she never would be. + +As to Hugh, she hardly knew how to proceed; but she finally wrote him a +friendly note, concurring with his suggestion that they should not meet +again for a little while--"only for a little while, Hugh," she added, +almost in spite of herself, "for I can't afford to lose a friend like +you." + +And she did not guess how the heart-cry of her loneliness echoed through +the words. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE WAY TO BE HAPPY + + +It was not until the week before Christmas that Doris saw Hugh again. +They met in the hunting-field. It was the first hunt she had attended +since her marriage, and she went to it alone. + +The meet was some distance away, and she arrived after the start, +joining the ranks of the riders as they waited outside a copse which the +hounds were drawing. + +The day was chill and grey. She did not altogether know why she went, +save that the loneliness at the Mill House seemed to become daily harder +to bear, and the longing to escape it, if only for a few hours, was not +to be denied. + +She was scarcely in a sporting mood, and the sight of old acquaintances, +though they greeted her kindly enough, did not tend to raise her +spirits. + +The terrible conviction had begun to grow upon her of late that she had +committed a great mistake that no effort of hers could ever remedy, and +the thought of it weighed her down perpetually night and day. + +But the sight of Hugh as he came to her along the edge of the wood was +a welcome one. She greeted him almost with eagerness, and the friendly +grasp of his hand sent warmth to her lonely young heart. + +"I am very glad to see you following the hounds," Hugh said. "Are you +alone?" + +"Quite alone," she said, feeling a lump rise in her throat. + +"Then you'll let me take care of you," he said, with a friendly smile. + +And she could but smile and thank him. + +It was not a particularly satisfactory day from a fox-hunting point of +view. The weather did not improve, and the scent was misleading. They +found and lost, found and lost again, and a cold drizzle setting in with +the afternoon effectually cooled the ardour of even the most +enthusiastic. + +Yet Doris enjoyed herself. She and Hugh ate their lunch together under +some dripping trees, and they managed to make merry over it in spite of +the fact that both were fairly wet through. He made her share the sherry +in his flask, laughing down all protests, treating her with the absolute +ease that had always characterized their friendship. It was such a day +as Doris had often spent in his company, and the return to the old +genial atmosphere was like the sweetness of a spring day in the midst of +winter. + +It was he who at length suggested the advisability of returning home. +"I'm sure you ought to get back and change," he said. "It'll be getting +dark in another hour." + +Her face fell, "I have enjoyed it," she said regretfully. + +"You'll come again," said Hugh. "They are meeting at Kendal's Corner on +Christmas Eve. I shall look out for you." + +She smiled. "Very well, I'll be there. Thank you for giving me such a +good time, Hugh." + +"My dear girl!" said Hugh. + +They rode back together through a driving drizzle, and, as Hugh had +predicted, the early dusk had fallen before they reached the mill. The +roar of the water sounded indescribably desolate as they drew near, and +Doris gave a sharp, involuntary shiver. + +It was then that Hugh drew close to her and stretched out a hand in the +growing darkness. "Doris!" he said softly. + +She put her own into it swiftly, impulsively. "Oh, Hugh!" she said with +a sob. + +"Don't!" said Hugh gently. "Stick to it, dear! I think you won't be +sorry in the end. I believe he's a good chap. Give him all you can! It's +the only way to be happy." + +Her fingers tightened convulsively upon his. She spoke no word. + +"Don't, dear!" he said again very earnestly. "It's such a mistake. +Honestly, I don't think you've anything to be sorry for. So don't let +yourself be faint-hearted! I know he's not a bad sort." + +"He's very good," whispered Doris. + +"Yes, that's just it," said Hugh. "So don't be afraid of giving! You'll +never regret it. No one could help loving you, Doris. Remember that, +dear, when you're feeling down! You're just the sweetest woman in the +world, and the man who couldn't worship you would be a hopeless fool." + +They were passing over the bridge that spanned the stream. The road was +narrow, and their horses moved side by side. They went over it with +hands locked. + +They were nearing the house when Doris reined in. "Good-bye, dear Hugh!" +she said. "You're the truest friend any woman ever had." + +He reined in also. They stood in the deep shadow of some trees close to +the gate that led into the Mill House garden. The roar of the water was +all about them. They seemed to be isolated from all the world. And so +Hugh Chesyl, being moved beyond his wont, lifted the hand that lay so +confidingly in his, and kissed it with all reverence. + +"I want you to be happy," he said. + +A moment later they parted without further words on either side, he to +retrace his steps across the bridge, she to turn wearily in at the iron +gate under the dripping trees that led to the Mill House porch. + +She heard a man's step in front of her as she went, and at the porch she +found her husband. + +"Oh, Jeff!" she said, slightly startled. "I didn't know it was you." + +"I've been looking out for you for some time," he said. "You must be +very wet." + +"Yes, it's rained nearly all day, hasn't it? We didn't have much sport, +but I enjoyed it." Doris slid down into the hands he held up to her. +"Why, you are wet too," she said. "Hadn't you better change?" + +"I'll take the horse round first," he said. "Won't you go in?" + +She went in with a feeling of deep depression. Jeff's armour of reserve +seemed impenetrable. With lagging feet she climbed the stairs and +entered her sitting-room. + +A bright fire was burning there, and the lamp was alight. A little +thrill of purely physical pleasure went through her at the sight. She +paused to take off her hat, then went forward and stooped to warm her +hands at the blaze. + +She was certainly very tired. The arm-chair by the hearth was invitingly +near. She sank into it with a sigh and closed her eyes. + +It must have been ten minutes later that the door, which she had left +ajar, was pushed open, and Jeff stood on the threshold. + +He was carrying a steaming cup of milk. A moment he paused as if on the +verge of asking admittance; then as his eyes fell upon the slight young +figure sunk in the chair, he closed his lips and came forward in +silence. + +A few seconds later, Doris opened her eyes with a start at the touch of +his hand on her shoulder. + +She sat up sharply. "Oh, Jeff, how you startled me!" + +It was the first time she had ever seen him in her little sitting-room, +though she had more than once invited him thither. His presence at that +moment was for some reason peculiarly disconcerting. + +"I am sorry," he said, in his slow way. "The door was half open, and I +saw you were asleep. I don't think you are wise to sit down in your wet +clothes. I have brought you some milk and brandy." + +"Oh, but I never take brandy," she said, collecting herself with a +little smile and rising. "It's very kind of you, Jeff. But I can't drink +it, really. It would go straight to my head." + +"You must drink it," said Jeff. + +He presented it to her with the words, but Doris backed away +half-laughing. + +"No, really, Jeff! I'll go and have a hot bath. That will do quite as +well." + +"You must drink this first," said Jeff. + +There was a dogged note in his voice, and at sound of it Doris's brows +went up, and her smile passed. + +"I mean it," said Jeff, setting cup and saucer on the table before her. +"I can't run the risk of having you laid up. Drink it now, before it +gets cold!" + +A little gleam of mutiny shone in Doris's eyes. "My dear Jeff," she said +very decidedly. "I have told you already that I do not drink brandy. I +am going to have a hot bath and change, and after that I will have some +tea. But I draw the line at hot grog. So, please, take it away! Give it +to Granny Grimshaw! It would do her more good." + +She smiled again suddenly and winningly with the words. After all it was +absurd to be vexed over such a trifle. + +But, to her amazement, Jeff's face hardened. He stepped to her, and, as +if she had been a child, took her by the shoulders, and put her down +into a chair by the table. + +"Doris," he said, and his voice sounded deep and stern above her head, +"I may not get much out of my bargain, but I think I may claim obedience +at least. There is not enough brandy there to hurt you, and I wish you +to take it." + +She stiffened at his action, as if she would actively resist; but she +only became rigid under his hands. + +There followed a tense and painful silence. Then without a word Doris +took the cup and raised it unsteadily to her lips. In the same moment +Jeff took his hands from her shoulders, straightened himself, and in +silence left the room. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +CHRISTMAS EVE + + +It was only a small episode, but it made an impression upon Doris that +she was slow to forget. It was not that she resented the assertion of +authority. She had the fairness to admit his right, but in a very subtle +fashion it hurt her. It made her feel more than ever the hollowness of +the bargain, to which he had made such grim allusion. It added, +moreover, to her uneasiness, making her suspect that he was fully as +dissatisfied as she. Yet, in face of the stony front he presented she +could not continue to proffer her friendship. He seemed to have no use +for it. He seemed, in fact, to avoid her, and the old shyness that had +oppressed her in the beginning returned upon her fourfold. She admitted +to herself that she was becoming afraid of the man. The very sound of +his voice made her heart beat thick and hard, and each succeeding day +witnessed a diminishing of her confidence. + +Under these circumstances she withdrew more and more into her solitude, +and it was with something like dismay that she received the news from +Granny Grimshaw at the beginning of Christmas week that it was Jeff's +custom to entertain two or three of his farmer friends at supper on +Christmas Eve. + +"Only the menkind, my dear," said Granny Grimshaw consolingly. "And +they're easy enough to amuse, as all the world knows. Give 'em a good +feed, and they won't give any trouble. It's quite a job to get ready for +'em, that it is, but it's the only bit of entertaining he does all the +year round, so I don't grudge it." + +"You must let me help you," Doris said. + +And help she did, protest notwithstanding, so that Jeff, returning from +his work in the middle of the day, was surprised to find her flushed and +animated in the kitchen, clad in one of Granny Grimshaw's aprons, +rolling out pastry with the ready deftness of a practised pastry-cook. + +There was no dismay in her greeting of him, and only she knew of that +sudden quickening of the heart that invariably followed his appearance. + +"You didn't tell me about your Christmas party, Jeff," she said. "Granny +and I are going to give you a big spread. I hope you will invite me to +the feast." + +Jeff's dark face flushed a little as he made reply. "I'm afraid you +wouldn't enjoy it much." + +"But you haven't introduced me to any of your friends yet," she +protested. "I should like to meet them." + +"I'm not so sure of that," said Jeff. + +She looked up at him for a moment. "Don't you think that's rather a +mistake?" she said. + +"Why?" said Jeff. + +With something of an effort she explained. "To take it for granted that +I shall look down on them. I don't want to look down on them, Jeff." + +"It isn't that," said Jeff curtly. "But they're not your sort. They +don't talk your language. I'm not sure that I want you to meet them." + +"But you can't keep me away from everyone, can you?" she said gently. + +He did not answer her, and she returned to her pastry-making in silence. + +But evidently her words had made some impression, for that evening when +she rose from the supper table to bid him a formal good-night, he very +abruptly reverted to the subject. + +"If you really think you can stand the racket on Christmas Eve, I hope +you will join the party. There will be only four or five besides myself. +I have never invited the womenkind." + +"Perhaps by next Christmas I shall have got to know them a little," said +Doris, "and then we can invite them too. Thank you for asking me, Jeff. +I'll come." + +But yet she viewed the prospect with considerable misgiving, and would +have thankfully foregone the ordeal, if she had not felt constrained to +face it. + +The preparations went forward under Granny Grimshaw's guidance without a +hitch, but they were kept busy up to the last moment, and on the day +before Christmas Eve Doris scribbled a hasty note to Hugh Chesyl, +excusing herself from attending the meet. + +It was the only thing to be done, for she could not let him expect her +in vain, but she regretted it later when at the breakfast-table the +following day her husband silently handed to her Hugh's reply. + +Hugh had written to convey his good wishes for Christmas, and this she +explained to Jeff; but he received her explanation in utter silence, and +she forthwith abandoned the subject. A smouldering resentment began to +burn within her. What right had he to treat Hugh's friendship with her +as a thing to be ashamed of? She longed to ask him, but would not risk +an open rupture. She knew that if she gave her indignation rein she +would not be able to control it. + +So the matter passed, and she slipped Hugh's note into her bosom with a +sense of outraged pride that went with her throughout the day. It was +still present with her like an evil spirit when she went to her room to +dress. + +She had not much time at her disposal, and she slipped into her black +evening gown with a passing wonder as to how Jeff's friends would be +attired. Descending again, she found Jim Dawlish fixing a piece of +mistletoe over the parlour door, and smiled at his occupation. + +He smiled at her in a fashion that sent the blood suddenly and hotly to +her face, and she passed on to the kitchen, erect and quivering with +anger. + +"Lor', my dearie, what a pretty picture you be, to be sure!" was Granny +Grimshaw's greeting, and again a tremor of misgiving went through the +girl's heart. Had she made herself too pretty for the occasion? + +She mustered spirit, however, to laugh at the compliment, and busied +herself with the final arrangements. + +Jeff appeared a few minutes later, clad in black but not in evening +dress. His eyes dwelt upon his wife for a moment or two before he +addressed her. + +"Do you mind being in the parlour when they come in?" + +She looked up at him with a smile which she knew to be forced. "Are you +sure I shan't be one too many, Jeff?" + +"Quite," said Jeff. + +There was no appealing against that, and she accompanied him without +further words. + +Jim Dawlish was standing by the parlour door, admiring his handiwork. He +nudged Jeff as he went by, and was rewarded by Jeff's heaviest scowl. + +A minute later, to Doris's mingled relief and dread, came the sounds of +the first arrival. + +This proved to be a Mr. Griggs and his son, a horsey young man, whom she +vaguely knew by sight, having encountered him when following the hounds. +Mr. Griggs was a jolly old farmer, with a somewhat convivial +countenance. He shook her warmly by the hand, and asked her how she +liked being married. + +Doris was endeavouring to reply to this difficult question as airily as +possible, when three more of Jeff's friends made their appearance, and +were brought up by Jeff in a group for introduction, thereby relieving +her of the obligation. + +The party was now complete, and they all sat down to supper in varying +degrees of shyness. Doris worked hard to play her part as hostess, but +it was certainly no light task. Two of the last-comers were brothers of +the name of Chubb, and from neither of these could she extract more than +one word at a time. The third, Farmer Locke, was of the aggressive, +bulldog type, and he very speedily asserted himself. He seemed, indeed, +somewhat inclined to browbeat her, loudly arguing her slightest remark +after a fashion which she found decidedly exasperating, but presently +discovered to be his invariable habit with everyone. He flatly +contradicted even Jeff, but she was pleased to hear Jeff bluntly hold +his own, and secretly admired him for the achievement. + +On the whole, the meal was not quite so much of an ordeal as she had +anticipated, and she was just beginning to congratulate herself upon +this fact when she discovered that young Griggs was ogling her with most +unmistakable familiarity whenever she glanced his way. She at once cut +him pointedly and with supreme disdain, only to find his father, who +was seated on her right, doing exactly the same thing. + +Furious indignation entered her sore soul at this second discovery, and +from the smiling, genial hostess she froze into a marble statue of +aloofness. But tongues were loosened somewhat by that time, and her +change of attitude did not apparently affect the guests. + +Mr. Locke continued his aggressive course, and the brothers Chubb were +emboldened to take it by turns to oppose him, while old Griggs drank +deeply and smacked his lips, and young Griggs told Jeff anecdotes in an +undertone which he interspersed with bold glances in the direction of +his stony-faced young hostess. + +The appearance of Jim Dawlish carrying a steaming bowl of punch seemed +to Doris at length the signal for departure, and she rose from the +table. + +Jeff instantly rose at the farther end, and she divined that he had no +wish to detain her. Mr. Griggs the elder, on the other hand, was loud in +protest. + +"We haven't drunk your health yet, missis," he said. + +She forced herself to smile. "That is very kind of you. I am sure Jeff +will return thanks for me." + +She made it evident that she had no intention of remaining, protest +notwithstanding, so Mr. Griggs arose and turned to open the door, still +loudly deploring her departure. Young Griggs was already there, +however. He leered at her as she approached him, and it occurred to her +that he was not very steady on his legs. She prepared him an icy bow, +which she was in the very act of executing when he made a sudden lurch +forward, and caught her round the waist. She heard him laugh with coarse +mirth, and had a glimpse of the bunch of mistletoe dangling above their +heads ere she fiercely pushed him from her into the passage. + +The next instant Jeff was beside her, and she turned and clung to him in +desperation. + +"Jeff, don't let him!" she cried. + +Jeff stretched out an arm to keep the young man back. A roar of laughter +rose from the remaining guests. + +"Kiss her yourself then, Jeff!" cried old Griggs, hammering on the +table. "You've got her under the mistletoe." + +"He daren't!" said Jim Dawlish, with a wink. + +"Afraid to kiss his own wife!" gibed Locke, and the Chubb brothers +laughed in uproarious appreciation of the sally. + +It was then that Doris became aware of a change in Jeff. The arm he had +stretched out for her protection suddenly encircled her. He bent his +face to hers. + +"They shan't say that!" he muttered under his breath. + +She divined his intention in an instant, and a wild flame of anger shot +up within her. This was how he treated her confidence! She made a swift +effort to wrench herself from him, then, feeling his arm tighten to +frustrate her, she struck him across the face in frantic indignation. + +Again a roar of laughter arose behind them, and then very suddenly she +forgot everyone in the world but Jeff, for it was as if at that blow of +hers an evil spirit had taken swift possession of him. He gripped her +hands with savage strength, forcing them behind her, and so holding her, +with eyes that seared her soul, he kissed her passionately, violently, +devouringly, on face and neck and throat, sparing her not a whit, till +in an agony of helpless shame she sank powerless in his arms. + +She heard again the jeering laughter in the room behind her, but between +herself and Jeff there was a terrible silence, till abruptly he set her +free, saying curtly, "You brought it on yourself. Now go!" + +Her knees were shaking under her. She was burning from head to foot, as +though she had been wrapped in flame. But with an effort she controlled +herself. + +She went in utter silence, feeling as if her heart were dead within her, +mounted the stairs with growing weakness, found and fumbled at her own +door, entered at last, and sank inert upon the floor. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +CHRISTMAS MORNING + + +Christmas morning broke with a sprinkle of snow, and an icy wind that +blew from the north, promising a heavier fall ere the day was over. + +Jeff was late in descending, and he saw that the door of Doris's room +was open as he passed. He glanced in, saw that the room was empty, and +entered to lay a packet that he carried on her dressing-table. As he did +so, his eyes fell upon an envelope lying there, and that single glance +revealed the fact that it was addressed to him. + +He picked it up, and, turning, cast a searching look around the room. +Across the end of the great four-poster bed hung the black lace gown she +had worn the previous evening, but the bed itself was undisturbed. He +saw in a moment that it had not been slept in. Sharply he turned to the +envelope in his hand, and ripped it open. Something bright rolled out +upon the floor. He stopped it with his foot. It was her wedding-ring. + +An awful look showed for a moment in Jeff's eyes and passed. He stooped +and picked up the ring; then, with a species of deadly composure more +terrible than any agitation, he took out the letter that the envelope +contained. + +It was very short--the first letter that she had ever written to him. + + "Dear Jeff," it ran, "after what happened last night, I do not + think you will be surprised to hear that I feel I cannot stay + any longer under your roof. I have tried to be friends with you, + but you would not have it so, and now it has become quite + impossible for me to go on. I am leaving for town by the first + train I can catch. I am going to work for my living, and some + day I shall hope to make good to you all that I know you have + spent on my comfort. + + "Please do not imagine I am going in anger. I blame myself more + than I blame you. I never ought to have married you, knowing + that I did not love you in the ordinary way. But this is the + only course open to me now. So good-bye! + + "Doris." + +Jeff Ironside looked up from the letter, and out across the grey +meadows. His face was pale, the square jaw absolutely rigid; but there +was no anger in his eyes, only the iron of an implacable determination. +For several seconds he watched the feathery snowflakes drifting over the +fields; then, with absolute steadiness, he returned both letter and ring +to the envelope, placed them in his pocket, and, turning, left the room. + +Granny Grimshaw met him at the foot of the stairs. "Oh, Master Jeff," +she said, "I am that worried. We can't find Mrs. Ironside." + +Jeff paused an instant and turned his grim face to her. "It's all right, +Granny. I know where she is," he said. "Keep the breakfast hot!" + +And with that he was gone. + +He drove out of the yard a few minutes later in his dog-cart, muffled in +a great coat with the collar up to his ears. + +At the station, Doris sat huddled in a corner of the little waiting-room +counting the dreary minutes as she waited for her train. No one beside +herself was going by it. + +She had walked across the fields, and had made a _detour_ to leave a +note at the Manor for Hugh. She could not leave Hugh in ignorance of her +action. + +She glanced nervously at the watch on her wrist. Yes, Jeff probably knew +by this time. How was he taking it? Was he very angry? But surely even +he must see how impossible he had made her life with him. + +Restlessly she arose and went to the window. It had begun to snow in +earnest. The road was all blurred and grey with the falling flakes. She +shivered again. Her feet were like ice. Very oddly her thoughts turned +to that day in September when Jeff had knelt before her and drawn off +her muddy boots before the great open fire. A great sigh welled up +within her and her eyes filled with quick tears. If only he would have +consented to be her friend. She was so lonely--so lonely! + +There came the sound of wheels along the road, and she turned away. +Evidently someone else was coming for the train. A little tremor of +impatience went through her. Would the train never come? + +The wheels stopped before the station door. Someone descended, and there +followed the sound of a man's feet approaching her retreat. A hand was +laid upon the door, and she braced herself to meet a possible +acquaintance. It opened, and she glanced up. + +"Oh, Jeff!" she said. + +He shut the door behind him and came forward. His face was set in +dogged, unyielding lines. + +"I have come to take you back," he said. + +She drew sharply away from him. This was the last thing she had +expected. + +Desperately she faced him. "I can't come with you, Jeff," she said. "My +mind is quite made up. I am very sorry for everything, especially sorry +that you have taken the trouble to follow me. But my decision is quite +unalterable." + +Her breath came fast as she ended. Her heart was throbbing in thick, +heavy strokes. There was something so implacable in his attitude. + +He did not speak at once, and she stood before him, striving with all +her strength to still her agitation. Then quite calmly he stood back and +motioned her to pass him. "Whatever you decide to do afterwards," he +said, "you must come back with me now. We had better start at once +before it gets worse." + +A quiver of anger went through her; it was almost a sensation of hatred. +She remained motionless. "I refuse," she said in a low voice, her grey +eyes steadily raised to his. + +She saw his black brows meet, but he gave no sign of impatience. "And +I--insist," he said stubbornly. + +She felt the blood receding from her face. It was to be open conflict, +then. She collected all her resolution to oppose him, for to yield at +that moment was out of the question. + +It was then, while she stood summoning her forces, that there came to +her ears the distant hum and throb of an approaching train. It was +coming at last. A porter ran past the window that looked upon the +platform, announcing its approach with a dismal yell. Doris straightened +and turned to go. + +Jeff turned also. An odd light sprang up in his gipsy eyes. He went +straight to the door ere she could reach it, locked it, and withdrew the +key. + +That fired Doris. Her composure went in a single instant. "Jeff," she +exclaimed, "how dare you?" + +He turned to the dingy window overlooking the line. "You compel me," he +said. + +She sank back impotent against the table. He stood staring grimly forth, +filling the window with his bulk. + +Nearer came the train and nearer. Doris felt the hot blood drumming in +her brain. Something that was very nearly akin to frenzy entered into +her. She stood up with sudden, fierce resolution. + +"Jeff," she said, "I will not be kept here against my will! Do you hear? +I will not! Give me that key!" + +He took no more notice of the command than if it had been the buzzing of +a fly. His attention apparently was caught by something outside. He +leaned forward, watching intently. + +Something in his attitude checked her wrath at its height. It was as +though a cold hand had been laid upon her heart. What was it he was +looking at? She felt she must know. As the train thundered into the +station she went to his side and looked forth also. + +The next moment, with a shock that was physical, she saw the object of +his interest. Hugh Chesyl, with a face of grave perturbation, was +standing on the platform, searching this way and that. It was evident +that he had but just arrived at the station, and in a flash she divined +the reason of his coming. Quite obviously he was looking for her. + +Sharply she withdrew herself from the window, and in the same moment +Jeff also turned. Their eyes met, and Doris caught her breath. + +For it was as if a sword had pierced her. In a single, blinding instant +of revelation she read his thought, and sheer horror held her silent +before him. She stood as one paralyzed. + +He did not utter a word, simply stood and looked at her, with eyes grown +devilish in their scrutiny. Then very suddenly and terribly he laughed, +and flung round upon his heel. + +In that instant Doris's powers returned to her, urged by appalling +necessity. She sprang forward, reached the door, set her back against +it, faced him with the wild courage of agonizing fear. + +"Jeff! Jeff!" she panted. "What are you going to do?" + +The train had come to a standstill. There was a commotion of voices and +running feet. Jeff, still with that awful look in his eyes, stood still. + +"You will miss your train," he said. + +"What are you going to do?" she reiterated. + +He smiled--a grim, dreadful smile. "I am going to see you off. You can +go now. Your friend Chesyl can follow by the next train--when I have +done with him." + +He had the key in his hand. He stooped to insert it in the lock. But +swiftly she caught his wrist. "Jeff, stop--stop!" she gasped; and, as he +looked at her: "I'm not going away now!" + +He wrung his hand free. "You had better go--for your own sake!" he said. + +She flinched in spite of herself from the blazing menace of his eyes, +but again necessity spurred her. She stretched out her arms, barring his +way. + +"I won't! I can't! Jeff--Jeff--for Heaven's sake--Jeff!" Her voice +broke into wild entreaty. He had taken her roughly by the shoulders, +pulling her from his path. He would have put her from him, but she +snatched her opportunity and clung to him fast with all her quivering +strength. + +He stood still then, suddenly rigid. "I have warned you!" he said, in a +voice so deep with passion that her heart quailed and ceased to beat. + +"Let me go!" + +But she only tightened her trembling hold. "You shan't go, Jeff! You +shan't insult Hugh Chesyl! He is a gentleman!" + +"Is he?" said Jeff, very bitterly. + +She could feel his every muscle strung and taut, ready for uncontrolled +violence. Yet still with her puny strength she held him, for she dared +not let him go. + +"Jeff, listen to me! You must listen! Hugh is my very good friend--no +more than that. He has come here to say 'Good-bye.' I left a note for +him on my way here, just to tell him I was going. He is my friend--only +my friend." + +"I don't believe you," said Jeff. + +She shrank as if he had struck her, but her hands still clutched his +coat. She attempted no further protestations, only stood with her white +face lifted and clear eyes fixed on his. The red fire that shone +fiercely back on her was powerless to subdue her steady regard, though +she felt as though it scorched her through and through. + +From the platform came the shriek of the guard's whistle. The train was +departing. + +Doris heard it go with a sick sense of despair. She knew that her +liberty went with it. As the last carriage passed she spoke again. + +"I will go back with you now." + +"If I will take you back," said Jeff. + +Her hands clenched upon his coat. An awful weakness had begun to assail +her. She fought against it desperately. + +Someone tried the handle of the door, pulled at it and desisted. She +caught her breath. Jeff's hand went out to open, but she shifted her +grasp, and again gripped his wrist. + +"Wait! Wait!" she whispered through her white lips. + +This time he did not shake her off. He stood with his eyes on hers and +waited. + +The man on the other side of the door, evidently concluding that the +waiting-room had not been opened that day, gave up the attempt and +passed on. With straining ears Doris listened to his departing +footsteps. A few seconds later she saw Jeff's eyes go to the farther +window. Her own followed them. Hugh Chesyl, clad in a long grey ulster, +was tramping away through the snow. + +He passed from sight, and Doris relaxed her hold. Her face was white and +spent. "Will you take me home?" she said faintly. + +Slowly Jeff's eyes came back to her, dwelt upon her. He must have seen +the exhaustion in her face, but his own showed no softening. + +He spoke at last sternly, with grim mastery. "If I take you back it must +be on a different footing. You tell me this man is no more to you than a +friend. I am even less. Do you think I will be satisfied with that?" + +"I have tried to make you my friend," she said. + +"And you have failed," he said. "Shall I tell you why? Or can you +guess?" + +She was silent. + +He clenched his hands hard against his sides. "You know what happened +yesterday," he said. "It had nearly happened a hundred times before. I +kept it back till it got too strong for me. You dangled your friendship +before me till I was nearly mad with the want of you. You had better +have offered me nothing at all than that." + +"Oh, Jeff!" she said. + +He went on, heedless of reproach. "It has come to this with me: +friendship, if it comes at all, must come after. You tell me Chesyl is +not your lover. Do you deny that he has ever made love to you?" + +"Since he knew of my marriage--never!" she said. + +"Yet you ride home with him in the dark hand in hand!" said Jeff. + +The colour flamed in her face and as swiftly died. "Hugh Chesyl is not +my lover," she said proudly. + +"And you expect me to believe you?" he said. + +"I do." + +He gazed at her without pity. "You will secure my belief in you," he +said, "only by coming to me as my wife." + +A great shiver went through her. She stood silent. + +"As my wife," he repeated looking straight into her face with eyes that +compelled. She was trembling from head to foot. He waited a moment, +then: "You would sooner run away with Hugh Chesyl?" he asked very +bitterly. + +Sheer pain drove her into speech. "Oh, Jeff," she cried passionately, +"don't make me hate you!" + +He started at that as an animal starts at the goad, and in an instant he +took her suddenly and fiercely by the shoulders. "Hate me, then! Hate +me!" he said, and kissed her again savagely on her white, panting lips +as he had kissed her the night before, showing no mercy. + +She did not resist him. Her strength was gone. She hung quivering in his +arms till the storm of his passion had passed also. Then: "Let us go!" +she whispered: "Let us go!" + +He released her slowly and turned to open the door. Then, seeing that +she moved unsteadily, he put his arm about her, supporting her. So, side +by side and linked together, they went out into the driving snow. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +CHRISTMAS NIGHT + + +Doris was nearly fainting with cold and misery when they stopped at last +before the Mill House door. All the previous night she had sat up +listening with nerves on edge, and had finally taken her departure in +the early morning without food. + +When Jeff turned to help her down she looked at him helplessly, seeing +him through a drifting mist that obscured all besides. He saw her +weakness at a single glance, and, mounting the step, took her in his +arms. + +She sank down against his shoulder. "Oh, Jeff, I can't help it," she +whispered, through lips that were stiff and blue with cold. + +"All right. I know," he said, and for the first time in many days she +heard a note of kindness in his voice. + +He bore her straight through to the kitchen, and laid her down upon the +old oak settle, just as he had done on that day in September when first +he had brought her to his home. + +Granny Grimshaw, full of tender solicitude, came hastening to her, but +Jeff intervened. + +"Hot milk and brandy--quick!" he ordered, and fell himself to chafing +the icy fingers. + +When Granny Grimshaw brought the cup, he took it from her, and held it +for Doris to drink; and then, when she had swallowed a little and the +blood was creeping back into her face, he took off her boots and chafed +her feet also. + +Granny Grimshaw put some bread into the milk while this was in progress +and coaxed Doris to finish it. She asked no questions, simply treating +her as she might have treated a lost child who had strayed away. There +was a vast fund of wisdom in the old grey head that was so often shaken +over the follies of youth. + +And, finally, when Doris had a little recovered, she went with her to +her room, and helped her to bed, where she tucked her up with her own +hot-water bottle and left her. + +From sheer exhaustion Doris slept, though her sleep was not a happy one. +Long, tangled dreams wound in a ceaseless procession through her brain, +and through them all she was persistently and fruitlessly striving to +persuade Jeff to let her go. + +In the late afternoon she awoke suddenly to the sound of men's voices in +the room below her, and started up in nameless fear. + +"Were you wanting anything, my dearie?" asked Granny Grimshaw, from a +chair by the fire. + +"Who is that talking?" she asked nervously. + +"It's Master Jeff and a visitor," said the old woman. "Now, don't you +bother your head about them! I'm going along to get you some tea." + +She bustled away with the words, and Doris lay back, listening with +every nerve stretched. Her husband's deep voice was unmistakable, but +the other she could not distinguish. Only after a while there came the +sounds of movement, the opening of a door. + +When that happened she sprang swiftly from the bed to her own door, and +softly opened it. + +Two men stood in the hall below. Slipping out on to the landing, she +leaned upon the banisters in the darkness and looked down. Even as she +did so, a voice she knew well came up out of the gloom--a kindly, +well-bred voice that spoke with a slight drawl. + +"I shouldn't be downhearted, Ironside. Remember, no one is cornered so +long as he can turn round and go back. It's the only thing to do when +you know you've taken a wrong turning." + +Doris caught her breath. Her fingers gripped the black oak rail. She +listened in rigid expectancy for Jeff's answer. But no answer came. + +In a moment Hugh's voice came again, still calm and friendly. "I'm going +away directly. The Squire has been ordered to the South for the rest of +the winter, and I've promised to go with him. I suppose we shall start +some time next week. May I look in and say 'Good-bye'?" + +There was a pause. The girl on the landing above waited tensely for +Jeff's answer. It came at last slowly, in a tone that was not +unfriendly, but which did not sound spontaneous. "You can do as you +like, Chesyl. I have no objection." + +"All right, then. Good-bye for the present! I hope when I do come I +shall find that all's well. All will be well in the end, eh, Jeff?" + +There was a touch of feeling in the question that made Doris aware that +the speaker had gripped her husband's hand. + +But again there was a pause before the answer came, heavily, it seemed +reluctantly: "Yes, it'll be all right for her in the end. Good-bye!" + +The front-door opened; they went out into the porch together. And Doris +slipped back, to her room. + +Those last words of her husband's rang strangely in her heart. Why had +he put it like that? + +Her thoughts went to Hugh--dear and faithful friend who had taken this +step on her behalf. What had passed between him and her husband during +that interview in the parlour? She longed to know. + +But whatever it had been, Hugh had emerged victorious. He had destroyed +those foul suspicions of Jeff's. He had conquered the man's enmity, +overthrown his passionate jealousy, humbled him into admitting himself +to be in the wrong. Very curiously that silent admission of Jeff's hurt +her pride almost as if it had been made on her behalf. The thought of +Jeff worsted by Hugh Chesyl, however deeply in the wrong he might be, +was somehow very hard to bear. Her heart ached for the man. She did not +want him to be humbled. + +When Granny Grimshaw came up with her tea, she was half-dressed. + +"I couldn't sleep any longer," she said. "It's dear of you to take such +care of me. But I'm quite all right. Dear Granny, forgive me for giving +you such a horrible Christmas Day!" She bent suddenly forward and kissed +the wrinkled face. + +"My dearie! My dearie!" said Granny Grimshaw. + +And then, exactly how it happened neither of them ever knew, all in a +moment Doris found herself folded close in the old woman's arms, sobbing +her heart out on the motherly shoulder. + +"You shouldn't cry, darling; you shouldn't cry," murmured Granny +Grimshaw, softly patting the slim young form. "It would hurt Master Jeff +more than anything to have you cry." + +"No, no! He doesn't really care for me. I could bear it better if he +did," whispered Doris. + +"Not care for you, my dearie? Why, what ever can you be thinking of?" +protested Granny Grimshaw. "He's eating his very heart out for you, and +I verily believe he'd kill himself sooner than make you unhappy." + +"Ah! You don't understand," sighed Doris. "He only wants--material +things." + +"Oh, my dear, my dear!" said Granny Grimshaw. "Did you suppose that the +man ever lived who could love a woman without? We're human, dear, the +very best of us, and there's no getting out of it. Besides, love is +never satisfied with half measures." + +She drew the girl down into the chair before the fire and fussed over +her tenderly till she grew calmer. And then presently she slipped away. + +Doris finished her tea slowly with her eyes on the red coals, then rose +at length to continue her dressing. As she stood at the table twisting +up her hair, her glance fell on a small packet that lay there. + +With fingers that trembled a little she opened it. It contained a small +object wrapped in a slip of paper. There was writing upon it, which she +deciphered as she unrolled it. "For my wife, with all my love. Jeff." +And in her hand there lay a slender gold ring, exquisitely dainty, set +with pearls. A quick tremor went through Doris. She guessed that it had +belonged to his mother. + +Again she read the few simple words; they seemed to her to hold an +appeal which the man himself could never have uttered, and her heart +quivered in response as a finely tempered instrument vibrates to a +sudden sound. Had she never understood him? + +She finished her dressing with impulsive haste, and with Jeff's gift in +her hand turned to leave the room. + +Her heart throbbed violently as she descended. + +What would his mood be when she found him? If he would only be kind to +her! Ah, if only he would be kind! Granny Grimshaw was lighting the +lamps in the hall and parlour. + +"Everyone's out but me," she said. "Master Jeff and I generally keep +house alone together on Christmas night. I don't know why he doesn't +come in. He went out to see to the horses half an hour ago. He hasn't +had his tea yet." + +"I will give him his tea," Doris said. + +"Very well," said Granny Grimshaw. "I'll leave the kettle on for you +while I go up and dress." + +Doris went into the parlour to wait. The lamp on the table was alight, +the teacups ready, and a bright fire made the room cosy. She went to the +window and drew aside the curtain. + +The snow had ceased, and the sky was clear. Stars were beginning to +pierce the darkness. + +Slowly the minutes crawled by. She began to listen for his coming, to +chafe at his delay. At last, grown nervous with suspense, she turned +from the window and went into the hall. She opened the door and stepped +out into the porch. + +Still and starlit lay the path before her. The snow had been swept away. +Impulse seized her. She felt she could wait no longer. She slipped back +into the hall, took a coat of Jeff's from a peg, put it on, and so +passed out into the open. + +The way to the stable lay past the mill-stream. On noiseless feet she +followed it. The water was deep and dark and silent. She shivered as she +drew near. In the stable beyond, close to the mill, she saw a light. It +was moving towards her. In a moment she discovered Jeff's face above it, +and--was it something she actually saw in the face, or was it an +illusion created by the swinging lantern?--her heart gave a sudden jerk +of horror. For it was to her as if she looked upon the face of a dead +man. + +She stood still in the shadow of a weeping willow, arrested by that +look, and watched him come slowly forth. + +He moved heavily as one driven by Fate, pulling the stable door to after +him. This he turned to lock, then stooped, still with that face as of a +death-mask, and deliberately extinguished his lantern. + +Doris's heart jerked again at the action, and every pulse began to +clamour. Why did he put out the lantern before reaching the house? + +The next moment she heard his footsteps, slow and heavy, coming towards +her. The path wound along a bank a couple of feet above the mill-stream. +He approached till in the darkness he had nearly reached her, then he +stopped. + +She thought he had discerned her, but the next moment she realized that +he had not. He was facing the water; he seemed to be staring across it. +And even as she watched he took another step straight towards it. + +It was then that like a flashlight leaping from his brain to hers she +realized what he was about to do. How the knowledge came to her she +knew not, but it was hers past all disputing in that single second of +blinding revelation. And just as that morning she had been inspired to +act on sheer wild impulse, so now without an instant's pause she acted +again. She sprang from her hiding-place with a strangled cry, and threw +her arms about him. + +"Jeff! Jeff! What are you doing here?" + +He gave a great start that made her think of a frightened animal, and +stood still. She felt his arms grow rigid at his sides, and knew that +his hands were clenched. + +"Jeff!" she cried again, clinging faster. "You--you're never thinking +of--of that?" + +Her utterance ended in a shudder as she sought with all her strength to +drag him away from the icy water. + +He resisted her doggedly, standing like a rock. "Whatever I'm thinking +of doing is my affair," he said, shortly and sternly. "Go away and leave +me alone!" + +"I won't!" she cried back to him half-hysterically. "I won't! If--if +you're going to do that, you'll take me with you!" + +He turned round then and moved back to the path. "Who said I was going +to do anything?" he demanded in a voice that sounded half-angry and +half-ashamed. + +She answered him with absolute candour. "I saw your face just now. I +couldn't help knowing. Oh, Jeff, Jeff! is it as bad as that? Do you +hate me so badly as that?" + +He made a movement of the arms that was curiously passionate, but he did +not attempt to take her into them. "I don't hate you," he said, in a +voice that sounded half-choked. "I love you--so horribly"--there was a +note of ferocity in the low-spoken words--"that I can never know any +peace without you! And since with you it is otherwise, what remedy is +there? You love Hugh Chesyl. You only want to be free to marry him. +While I--" + +He broke off in fierce impotence, and began to thrust her from him. But +she held him fast. + +"Jeff--Jeff, this is madness! Listen to me! You must listen! Hugh and I +are friends, and we shall never be anything more. Jeff, let me be with +you! Teach me to love you! You can if you will. Don't--don't ruin both +our lives!" + +She was pleading with him passionately, still holding him back. And, as +she pleaded, she reached up her arms and slowly clasped his neck. + +"Oh, Jeff, be good to me--be good to me just this once!" she prayed. +"I've made such a hideous mistake, but don't punish me like this! I +swear if you go, I shall go too! There'll be nothing left to live for. +Jeff--Jeff, if you really love me, spare me this!" + +The broken entreaty went into agonized sobbing, yet she kept her face +upraised to his. Instinctively she knew that in that eleventh hour she +must offer all she had. + +Several moments throbbed away. She began to think that she had failed. +And then very suddenly he moved, put his arm about her, led her away. + +Not a word did he utter, but there was comfort in the holding of his +arm. She went with him with the curious hushed sense of one who stands +on the threshold of that which is sacred. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +A FARMER'S WIFE + + +Two eyes, old but yet keen, peered forth into the wintry night, and a +grey head nodded approvingly, as Jeff Ironside and his wife came in +silence to their home. And then the bedroom blind came down, and Granny +Grimshaw sat down cosily by her bit of wood fire to hold a strictly +private little service of thanksgiving. + +Downstairs into the raftered kitchen two people came, each holding each, +both speechless, with a restraint that bound them as by a spell. + +By nature the woman spoke first, her voice no more than a whisper. "Sit +on the settle, won't you? I'm going to get your tea." + +His arm fell from her. He sat down heavily, not looking at her. She +stepped to the fire and took the empty teapot from the hob, then +light-footed to the dresser for the tea. + +He did not watch her. For a while he sat staring blindly straight before +him. Then slowly he leaned forward, and dropped his head into his hands. + +Not till the tea was made did she so much as glance towards him, so +intent to all seeming was she upon her task. But when it was done, she +looked at him sitting there bowed upon the settle, and very suddenly, +very lightly, she came to his side. + +"Jeff!" she said. + +He neither moved nor spoke. + +She laid a shy hand on his shoulder. "Jeff!" Her voice was pleading and +rather breathless, as though she would ask him to bear with her. "I want +to thank you so much--so very much--for your Christmas gift. See! I'm +wearing it." + +She slipped her hand down into his, so that he held it pressed against +his cheek. He spoke no word, but against her fingers she felt a quiver. + +She bent over him, growing bolder. "Jeff, I--I want you to give me +back--my wedding-ring." + +He did not stir or answer. + +"Please!" she whispered. "Won't you?" + +And then dumbly, keeping his face hidden, he drew her hand down to his +breast-pocket. + +"Is it there?" she whispered. "May I take it?" + +Her fingers felt for and found what they sought. Her hand came up again, +wearing the ring. And then, with a swift, impulsive movement she knelt +before him, clasping his two wrists. + +"Jeff--Jeff! will you--will you try to forgive me?" + +There followed silence, but very strangely no misgiving assailed her. +She strove with gentle insistence to draw the shielding hands away. + +At first he resisted her, and then very suddenly he yielded. His hands +went out to her, his head dropped forward upon her shoulder. A strangled +sob shook him. + +And Doris knelt up with all her woman's compassion leaping to his need, +and clasped her warm arms about him, holding him to her heart. + +That broke him, broke him utterly, so that for a while no words could +pass between them. For Doris was crying too, even while she sought to +comfort. + +But at last, with a valiant effort, she checked her tears. +"Jeff--darling, don't let us be so--so silly," she murmured, with one +quivering hand laid upon his head. "We've got all we want--both of us. +Let's forget it all! Let's begin again!" + +He put his arms around her, not lifting his head. + +"Can't we?" she said softly. "I'm ready." + +He spoke at last below his breath. "You couldn't! You'll never forget +what a brute I've been." + +She turned her head quickly and laid her cheek against his forehead. +"Shall I tell you just how much I am going to remember?" + +He was silent, breathing deeply. + +"Just this," she said. "That you love me--so much--that you can't do +without me, and that you were willing--to give your life--for my +happiness. That is what I am going to remember, Jeff, and it will be a +very precious memory. And I want to tell you just one little thing +before we go any farther. It's about Hugh. I don't love him in the way +that you and I count love. I did very nearly for a little while. But +that is over. I don't think--I never have quite thought--that he is +altogether my sort, or I his. Jeff dear, you believe that?" + +"Yes," said Jeff. + +"Thank you," she said simply. "I want you to try and believe me always, +because I do tell the truth. And now, Jeff, I've got to tell you that +I'm dreadfully sorry for the way I've treated you. Yes, let me say it," +as he made a quick movement of protest. "It's true. I've treated you +abominably, mainly because I didn't understand. I do understand now. +You--you've opened my eyes. Oh, Jeff, thank God they were opened even at +the eleventh hour! What should I have done if--if--" She broke off with +a shiver, and then nestled to him like a child, as though that were the +end of the argument. "And now I'm going to be such a good wife to you," +she whispered, "to make up for it all. I always wanted to be a farmer's +wife, you know. But you must help me. Jeff, will you?" + +"I would die for you," he said, his head still bent as though he could +not wholly trust himself to look her in the face. + +She gave a funny little tremulous laugh. "Yes, I know. But that wouldn't +be a bit of good. You would only break my heart. You don't want to do +that, do you?" + +"Doris!" he said. + +"Why won't you call me Dot?" + +"Dot!" said Jeff very softly. + +"That's better." Again her voice quivered upon a laugh. Her arms +slackened from his shoulders, and instantly his fell away, setting her +free. She rose to her feet, yet lingered a moment, bending slightly over +him, her eyes very bright. + +But Jeff did not move, and with a half-sigh she turned away. "Would you +like to carry the teapot?" she said. + +He got up. + +"And you can hang up this coat of yours," she added. "I'll come in a +moment." + +She watched him go in his slow, strong fashion; then for a few still +seconds she stood quite tense with hands tightly gripped together. What +passed within her during those moments only her own heart ever knew, how +much of longing, how much of regret, how much of earnest, quivering +hope. + +She followed him almost at once as she had promised. + +The parlour door was open. She came to it in her light, impetuous way. +She halted on the threshold. + +"Jeff!" she said. "Come here!" + +She reached out her hands to him--little, nervous hands full of purpose. +She drew him close. She raised her lips to his. The mistletoe dangled +above their heads. + +"Will you kiss me, Jeff?" she whispered. + +He stooped, half-hesitating. + +Her arms stole about his neck. "You needn't--ever--be afraid to kiss +your own wife, dear," she said. "I want your love just in the ordinary +way--the ordinary way." + +He held her to him. "Dot--Dot--forgive me!" + +She shook her head with frank, fearless eyes raised to his. "It was a +bad bargain, Jeff. Forget it!" + +"And make another?" he suggested. + +To which she answered with her quick smile. "Love makes no bargains, +Jeff. Love just gives--and gives--and gives." + +And as his lips met hers he knew the wondrous truth of what she said. +For in that one long kiss she gave him all she had. And love conquered, +just in the old, sweet, ordinary way. + +[Footnote 2: Copyright, 1915, by Ethel M. Dell.] + + + + +The Place of Honour + +Wherein a woman with a love of freedom, two soldiers in the Indian Army, +and a snake-bite are most intimately concerned. + +CHAPTER I + +THE BRIDE + + +"And that is the major's bride? Ah, what a pity!" + +The soft, Irish eyes of Mrs. Raleigh, the surgeon's wife, looked across +the ball-room with a very real compassion in their grey depths. + +"Pity?" said young Turner, the subaltern, who chanced to be at that +moment in attendance upon her. "It's worse than that; it's a monstrous +shame! She's only nineteen, you know; and he is twenty years older at +least." + +Mrs. Raleigh sighed. + +"You have met her, Phil," she said. "I am going to get you to introduce +me. Let us go across to her." + +Mrs. Raleigh was greatly beloved by all subalterns. Her husband's +bungalow was open to them day and night, and they took full advantage +of the fact. + +It was not that there was anything particularly brilliant about the +surgeon's wife, but her ready sympathy made her a general favourite, and +her kindness of heart was known to be equal to the severest strain. + +Therefore, among the boys of the regiment she ruled supreme, and the +expression of her lightest wish generally provoked a jealous scramble. + +On the present occasion, however, young Turner did not display any +special alacrity to serve her. + +"There's such a crowd round her it's difficult to squeeze in edgeways," +he said. "I shouldn't trouble to go across yet if I were you." + +Mrs. Raleigh laughed a little and laid her hand on his arm. + +"So you don't like hovering on the outskirts, Phil," she said. + +He frowned, and then as suddenly smiled. + +"I'm not the sort that cares to fool with a married woman," he declared. +"There goes Devereux to swell the throng. I say, let's go and have a +drink." + +She laughed again as she rose to accompany him. Phil Turner was severely +honest in all his ways, and, being a good woman, she liked him for it. + +Nevertheless, though she yielded, her eyes still dwelt upon the girl in +bridal white who sat like a queen among her courtiers. The dark head +that was held so regally erect caught and chained the elder woman's +fancy. And the vivid, careless beauty of the face was a thing to bear +away in the heart and dream of in solitude. For the girl was lovely with +that loveliness which even the most grudging must acknowledge. She shone +in the crowd that surrounded her like a rare and brilliant flower in a +garden of herbs. + +Phil Turner's arm stirred with slight impatience under Mrs. Raleigh's +hand, and she turned beside him. + +"There is nothing like a really beautiful English girl in all the +world," she said, with a smile and another glance in the bride's +direction. + +Young Turner grunted, and she gave his arm a slight shake. + +"You don't deceive me," she said. "You admire her as much as I do. Now, +be honest." + +He looked at her for a moment moodily. Then---- + +"Yes," he said abruptly, "I do admire her. But, as for the major, I +think he's the biggest fool on this side of the Indian Ocean, and that's +saying a good deal." + +Mrs. Raleigh shook her head as if she desired to disagree. + +"Time alone will prove," she said. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +EARLY BREEZES + + +"It's been lovely," said the bride. She leant back in the open carriage, +gazing with wide, charmed eyes into the vivid Indian night. "And I'm not +a bit tired," she added. "Are you?" + +The man beside her did not instantly reply. He was a man of medium +height, dark and lithe and amazingly strong. It was not his habit to +speak much, but what little he said was usually very much to the point. +It was his custom to mask his feelings so completely that very few had +the smallest inkling as to his state of mind. + +He was considered a hard man in his regiment, but he was known to be a +splendid soldier, and chiefly for that reason he was respected rather +than disliked. But the kindest critic could not have called him either +popular or attractive. And the news of his marriage in England had +fallen like a thunderbolt upon his Indian acquaintances, for he had long +ago come to be regarded among them as the last man in the world to +commit such a folly. + +The full extent thereof had not been apparent till his return to his +regiment, accompanied by his bride, and then as one man the whole mess +had risen and condemned him in no measured terms, for the bride, with +all her entrancing beauty, her vivacity, her charm, was certainly a +startling contrast to the man who had wedded her--a contrast so sharp as +to be almost painful to the onlookers. + +She herself, however, seemed to be wholly unaware of any incongruity. +Perhaps she had not seen enough of the world to feel it, or perhaps she +was wilfully blind to the things she did not desire to see. + +In any case her face, as she lay back in the carriage by her husband's +side, expressed only the most complete contentment. + +"Are you tired, Eustace?" she asked, as he did not hasten to reply to +her first question. + +"No," he answered, "not tired; but glad to be going back." + +"You've been bored," she said quickly. "What a frightful pity! Why did +you stay so long?" + +Again he paused before replying, and she drummed on his knee with her +fingers with slight impatience. + +"I had a notion," he said, in his quiet, unhurried tones, "that my wife +would have considered it rather hard lines to be dragged away while +there was a single man left to dance with." + +The bride snatched her hand from his knee with a swiftness of action +that could hardly be mistaken. He might have been speaking in fun, but, +even so, it was an ugly jest. More probably he had meant the sting that +his words conveyed, for, owing to a delicate knee-cap that had once been +splintered by a bullet and still at times gave him trouble, Major Tudor +was a non-dancer. Whatever his meaning, the remark came upon her flushed +triumph like the icy chill before the dawn, dispelling dreams. + +"I am sorry," she said, with all the haste of youth, "that you +sacrificed yourself to please me. I hope you will not do so again. Now +that I am married, I do not need a chaperon. I could quite well return +alone." + +It was childishly spoken, but then she was a child, and the admiration +she had enjoyed throughout the evening had slightly turned her head. He +did not reply to her speech. Indeed, it was as if he had not heard it. +And her indignation mounted. There was not another man of her +acquaintance who would have treated her with a like lack of courtesy. +Did he think, because he was her husband, that she belonged to him so +completely that he could behave to her exactly as he saw fit? Perhaps. +She did not know him very well; nor apparently did he know her. For +during the brief six weeks of their married life she had been a little +shy, a little constrained, in his presence. But her success had, as it +were, unshackled her. Without hesitation she gave her feelings the rein. + +"Do you consider that I am not to be trusted?" she asked him sharply. + +"I beg your pardon?" + +There was a note of surprised interrogation in his voice. She did not +look at him, but she knew that his eyebrows were raised, and a +faint--quite a faint--sense of misgiving stole over her. + +"I asked if you thought me untrustworthy," she asked. + +"Oh!" + +He relapsed into silence again, and she became exasperated. + +"Why don't you answer me?" she said, with quick impatience. + +He turned his head deliberately and looked at her; and again she tingled +with an apprehension which no previous word or action of his had ever +justified. + +"Unprofitable questions," he said coolly, "like ill-timed jests, are +better left alone." + +It was the first intentional snub he had ever administered to her, and +she quivered under it, furious but impotent. All the evening's enjoyment +had gone out of her. She was conscious only of a desire to strike back +and wound him as he had wounded her. + +She did not utter another word during the drive, and when they reached +their bungalow--the daintiest and most luxurious in the station--she +alighted without touching the hand he offered her. + +Refreshments awaited them in the dining-room, and the bride swept in +and helped herself, suffering her cloak to fall from her shoulders. He +picked it up and threw it over a chair. His dark face was quite composed +and inscrutable. He was not a handsome man, but there was something +undeniably striking about him, a strength of personality that made him +somehow formidable. The red and gold uniform he wore served to emphasise +the breadth of shoulder, which his height did not justify. He was a +splendid wrestler. There was not a man in the mess whom he could not +throw. + +Yet to those who knew him best, his strength seemed to lie less in what +he did than in what he left undone. His restraint was the secret of his +power. + +Perhaps his young wife felt this, for notwithstanding her utmost effort +she knew herself to be at a disadvantage. She set down her glass of +sherbet unfinished and turned to the door. It was an abrupt move, but he +was ready for it. Before she reached it, he was waiting with the handle +in his grasp. + +"Going to bed, Audrey?" he asked gravely, "Good-night!" + +His manner did not betray that he was aware of her displeasure, yet +somehow she was quite convinced that he knew. She paused for a second, +and then, with her head held high, she was about to pass him without an +answering word or glance. But to her amazement he stopped her, his hand +upon her arm. + +"Good-night!" he said again. + +She faced him then in a blaze of passion, with white cheeks and flaming +eyes. But as she met his look her heart gave a sudden thump of fright, +and in a second her resistance had crumbled away. He did not speak +another word, but his look compelled. Undeniably he was master. + +Mutely she raised her face for his kiss, and he kissed her. + +"Sleep well," he said. + +And she went from him, subdued and humbled, to her room. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +AMID THE RUINS + + +"Do let us get away somewhere and enjoy ourselves!" + +Audrey spoke in a quick undertone to the man nearest to her. It was +three weeks since her arrival at the Frontier station, and she had +settled down to the life with the ease of a born Anglo-Indian. Her first +vivid enjoyment of its gaieties was a thing of the past, but no one +suspected the fact, her husband least of all. She had not, as a matter +of fact, been much with him during those three weeks, for she had struck +up a warm friendship with Mrs. Raleigh, and in common with all the +younger spirits of the regiment she availed herself fully of the +privileges of the latter's hospitality. + +On the present occasion, however--that of a picnic by moonlight at the +crumbling shrine of some long-forgotten holy man--Mrs. Raleigh was +absent, and Audrey was bored. She had arrived in her husband's +ralli-car, which he had driven himself, but she had speedily drifted +away from his side. + +There was an element of perversity in her which made her resent the +feeling that he only accompanied her into society to watch over her, +and, if necessary, to keep her in order. It was not a particularly +worthy feeling, but certainly there was something about his attitude +that fostered it. + +She guessed, and rightly, that, but for her, he would not have troubled +himself to attend these social gatherings, which he obviously enjoyed so +little. So when, having deliberately and with mischievous intent given +him the slip, she awoke suddenly to the fact that he had followed and +was standing near her, Audrey became childishly exasperated and seized +the first means of escape that offered. + +The man she addressed was one of the least enthusiastic of her admirers, +but this did not trouble her at all. She had been a spoilt child all her +life, and she was accustomed to make use of others without stopping to +ascertain their inclinations. + +Phil Turner, however, was by no means unwilling to be made use of in +this way. The boy was a gentleman, and was as chivalrous at heart as he +was honest. + +He turned at once in response to her quick whisper and offered her his +arm. + +"There's an old well at the back of the ruin," he said. "Come and see +it. Mind the stones." + +"That was splendid of you," she said approvingly, as they moved away +together. "Are you always so prompt? But I know you're not. I shouldn't +have asked you, only I took you for Mr. Devereux. You are very like him +at the back." + +"Never heard that before!" he responded bluntly. "Don't believe it, +either, if you will forgive my saying so." + +She laughed, a merry, ringing laugh. + +"Oh, don't you like Mr. Devereux?" + +"Yes, he's all right." Phil seldom spoke a disparaging word of any of +his comrades. "But I haven't the smallest wish to be like him," he +added. + +Audrey laughed at him again, freely, musically. She found this young +officer rather more entertaining than the rest. + +They reached the other side of the shrine. Here, in a _debris_ of stones +and weeds, there appeared the circular mouth of an old well, forgotten +like the shrine and long disused. + +Audrey examined the edge with a fastidious air, and finally sat down on +it. The place was flooded with moonlight. + +"I wish I were a man," she said suddenly. + +"Good Heavens! Why?" + +He asked the question in amazement. + +"I should like to be your equal," she told him gaily. "I should like to +do and say to you just exactly what I liked." + +Phil considered this seriously. + +"You can do both without being my equal," he remarked at length in his +bluntest tone, "that is, if you care to condescend." + +"Goodness!" laughed Audrey. "That's the only pretty thing I have ever +heard you say. I am sure it must be your first attempt. Now, isn't it?" + +He laughed. + +"And it wasn't strictly honest," proceeded Audrey daringly. "You know +you don't think that of any woman under the sun." + +He did not contradict her. He had a feeling that she was fooling him, +but somehow he rather liked it. + +"What about the women under the moon?" he said. "Perhaps they are +different?" + +She nodded merrily. + +"Perhaps they are," she conceded. "Certainly the men are. Now, you are +about the stodgiest person I know by daylight or lamplight +except--except--" She stopped. "No, I don't mean that!" she said, with +an impish smile. "There is no exception." + +Phil was frowning a little, but he looked relieved at her amendment. + +"Thank you!" he said brusquely. "I shall never dare to come near you +after that." + +"Except by moonlight?" she suggested, with the impudent audacity of a +child. + +What reply he would have made to that piece of nonsense he sometimes +wondered afterward, but circumstances prevented his making any. The +words had only just passed her lips when she sprang to her feet with a +wild shriek of horror, shaking her arm with frantic violence. + +"A snake!" she cried. "Take it away! Take it away! It's on my wrist!" + +Phil Turner, though young, was accustomed to keep his wits about him, +and, luckily for the girl, her agony did not scare them away. He had +seized her arm in a fierce grip almost before her frenzied appeal was +uttered. A small snake was coiled round her wrist, and he tore it away +with his free hand, not caring how he grasped it. He tried to fling the +thing from him, but somehow his hold upon it was not sufficient. Before +he knew it the creature had shot up his sleeve. + +The next instant he had shaken it down again with a muffled curse and +was trampling it savagely and vindictively into the stones at his feet. + +"Are you hurt?" he asked, wheeling sharply. + +"No," gasped Audrey, "no! But you--" + +"Yes, the little beast's bitten me," he returned. "You see--" + +"Oh, where, where?" she cried. "Let me see! Quick, quick! Something must +be done. Can't you suck it?" + +He pushed up his sleeve. + +"No; can't get at it," he said. "It's just below the elbow. Never mind; +it isn't serious!" + +He would have tweaked his sleeve down again, though he was pale under +his sunburn. But Audrey stopped him, holding his bare arm between her +hands. + +"Don't be a fool!" she gasped vehemently. "If you can't, I can--and I +will!" + +Before he could stop her she had stooped, still holding him fast, and +put her lips to the tiny puncture in his flesh, on which scarcely more +than a speck of blood was visible. + +Phil stiffened and stood still, every nerve rigid, as if something had +transfixed him. At last, hurriedly, jerkily, he spoke: + +"Mrs. Tudor--for Heaven's sake! I can't let you do this. It wasn't +poisonous, ten to one. Don't! I say, Audrey--please don't!" + +His voice was imploring, but she paid no heed. Her lips continued to +draw at the wound, while he, half-distracted, bent over her, protesting, +scarcely conscious of what he said, yet submitting in spite of himself. + +There came the sound of running feet, and he guessed that her scream had +given the alarm. He stood up with mingled agitation and relief, and an +instant later was face to face with her husband. + +"I--couldn't help it!" he stammered. "It was a snake-bite." + +People were crowding round them with questions and exclamations. But +Tudor gave utterance to neither. He only put his hand on his wife's +shoulder and spoke to her. + +"That will do, Audrey," he said. "There's a doctor here. Leave it to +him." + +At his words Audrey straightened herself, quivering all over; and then, +unnerved by sheer horror, she put out her hands with an unconscious +groping gesture, and fainted. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +AN UNCONVENTIONAL CALL + + +Audrey had been an only girl at home, and had run wild all her life +amongst a host of brothers. She had seen next to nothing of the world +previous to her marriage, consequently her knowledge of its ways was +extremely slender. + +That she had grown up headstrong and extremely unconventional was +scarcely to be wondered at. + +It had been entirely by her own choice that she had married Eustace +Tudor. She had just awakened to the fact that the family nest, like the +family purse, was of exceedingly narrow dimensions; and a passion for +exploring both mentally and physically was hers. + +They had met only a couple of months before he was due to sail for +India, and his proposal to her had been necessarily somewhat +precipitate. She had admired him wholeheartedly for he was a soldier of +no mean repute, and the glamour of marriage had done the rest. She had +married him and had, for nearly six weeks, thereafter, been supremely +happy. True, he had not made much love to her; it was not apparently +his way, but he had been full of kindness and consideration. And Audrey +had been content. + +But, arrived in that Indian Frontier station where all the world was +gay, she had become at once the centre of attraction, of admiration; +and, responding to this with girlish zest, she had begun to find +something lacking in her husband's treatment. + +It dawned upon her that, where others worshipped with open devotion, he +did not so much as bend the knee. And, over and above this serious +defect, he was critical of her actions and inclined to keep her in +order. + +This made her reckless at first, even defiant; but she found he could +master her defiance, and that frightened her. It made her uncertain as +to how far it was safe to resist him. And, being afraid of him, she +shrank a little from too close or intimate a companionship with him. + +She told herself that she valued her liberty too highly to part lightly +with it; but the reason in her heart was not this, and with all her +wilfulness, her childish self-sufficiency, she knew that it was not. + +On the morning that followed the moonlight picnic she deliberately +feigned sleep when he rose, lest he should think fit to prohibit her +early ride. She had not slept well after her fright; but she had a +project in her mind, and she fully meant to carry it out. + +She lay chafing till his horse's hoof-beats told her that he was +leaving the house behind him; then she, too, rose and ordered her own +horse. + +Phil Turner, haggard and depressed after a night of considerable pain, +was sitting up in bed with his arm in a sling, drinking tea, when a +fellow-subaltern, who with two others shared the bungalow with him, +entered, half-dressed and dishevelled, with the astounding news that +Mrs. Tudor was waiting in the compound to know how he was. + +Phil shot upright in amazement. + +"Good Heavens, man! She herself?" he ejaculated. + +His brother officer nodded, grinning. + +"What's to be done? Send out word that you're still alive though not too +chirpy, and would she like anything to drink on the veranda? I can't go, +you know; I'm not dressed." + +"Don't be an ass! Clear out and send me my bearer." + +Phil spoke with decision. Since Mrs. Tudor had elected to do this +extraordinary thing, it was not for him to refuse to follow her lead. He +was too far in her debt, even had he desired to do so. + +His bearer, therefore, was dispatched with a courteous message, and when +Phil entered the veranda a quarter of an hour later he found her +awaiting him there. + +"This is awfully kind of you," he said, as he grasped her outstretched +hand. "I was horribly put out about you! You are none the worse?" + +"Not a mite," she assured him. "And you? Your arm?" + +He made a face. + +"Raleigh was with me half the night, watching for dangerous symptoms; +but they didn't develop. He cauterized my arm as a precaution--a beastly +business. He hasn't been round again yet, but I believe it's better. +Yes, it was a poisonous bite. It would have been the death of me in all +probability, but for you. He told me so. I--I'm awfully obliged to you!" + +He coloured deeply as he made his clumsy acknowledgments. He did not +find it an easy task. As for Audrey, she put out her hands swiftly to +stop him. + +"Ah, don't!" she said. "You did a far greater thing for me." She +shuddered and put the matter from her. "I'm sure you ought not to be +up," she went on. "I shouldn't have waited, only I thought you might +feel hurt if I went away after you had sent out word that you would see +me. I think I'll go now. Good-bye!" + +There came the jingle of spurs on the veranda, and both started. The +colour rose in a great wave to the girl's face as she saw who it was, +but she turned at once to meet the newcomer. + +"Oh, Eustace," she said, "so you are back already from the +parade-ground!" + +He did not show any surprise at finding her there. + +"Yes; just returned," he said, with no more than a quiet glance at her +flushed face. + +"How are you, Phil? Had any sleep?" + +"Not much," Phil owned, with unmistakable embarrassment. "But Raleigh +says I'm not going to die this time. It was good of you--and Mrs. +Tudor--to look in. Won't you have something? That lazy beast Travers +isn't dressed yet!" + +"Oh, yes, he is!" said Travers, appearing at that moment. "I'll punch +your head for you, my boy, when we're alone! Hullo, Major! Come to see +the interesting invalid? You'll have some breakfast, won't you? Mrs. +Tudor will pour out tea for us." + +But Tudor declined their hospitality briefly but decidedly, and Audrey +was obliged to support him. + +Travers assisted her to mount, expressing his regret the while; and when +they were gone he turned round to his comrade with a grin. + +"The major seems to be in a genial mood this morning," he remarked. "Had +they arranged to meet here?" + +But Phil turned back into the bungalow with a heavy frown. + +"The major's a bungling fool!" he said bitterly. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE BARRIER + + +Tudor was very quiet and preoccupied during breakfast, but Audrey would +not notice it; and when at length she rose from the table she laid her +fingers for a second on his shoulder in a passing caress. + +He turned instantly and took her hand. + +"Just a moment, Audrey!" he said gravely. + +She stopped unwillingly, her hand fidgeting ineffectually to be free. + +He rose, still holding it in a quiet, strong grasp. He was frowning +slightly. + +"I only want to say," he said, "that what you did this morning was +somewhat unusual, though you may not have been aware of it. Please don't +do it again!" + +Her cheeks flamed, and she met his eyes defiantly. She left her hand in +his rather than prove her weakness, but quite suddenly she was trembling +all over. It was a moment for asserting her freedom of action, and she +fully meant to do so; but she was none the less afraid. + +"I was aware of it," she said, speaking very quickly before his look +could disconcert her. "But then what I did last night was unusual, too. +Also what Phil Turner did for me. You--you don't seem to realise that he +saved my life!" + +"I think you discharged your debt," Tudor returned, with a certain +dryness that struck her unpleasantly. + +"What else could I have done?" she demanded stormily. "If you had been +in my place--" + +He stopped her. + +"I was not discussing that," he said. "I have not blamed you for that. +Under the circumstances, you did the best thing possible. But I can't +say the same of your conduct this morning; and since you knew that what +you did was highly unconventional, I blame you for it. I hope you will +be more careful in the future." + +Audrey was chafing openly before he ended. + +"You treat me like a child," she broke in, the instant he paused. "You +don't give me credit for any judgment or discretion of my own." + +He raised his eyebrows. + +"That is hardly remarkable," he said. + +She snatched her hand from him at last, too exasperated for the moment +to care what she did or how she did it. + +"It is remarkable," she declared, her voice quivering with wrath. +"It--it's intolerable. And there's something else that struck me as +remarkable, too, and that is that you didn't think it worth while even +to thank Phil for--for saving my life last night. I think you might +have expressed a little gratitude, even--even if you didn't feel it." + +The bitter words were uttered before she realised their full bitterness. +But the moment she had spoken them she knew, for his face told her. + +A dead silence followed her outburst, and while it lasted she was +casting about wildly for some means of escape other than headlong +flight. Then, as if he read her impulse in her eyes, he moved at last +and turned aside. + +She did not hear his sigh as she made her escape, or even then she might +have scaled the barrier that divided them, and found beyond it a better +thing than the freedom she prized so highly. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +MRS. TUDOR'S CONFESSION + + +"Come in and sit down, Mrs. Tudor. Mrs. Raleigh isn't at home. But she +can't be long now. I have been waiting nearly half an hour." + +Phil Turner hoisted himself out of the easiest chair in the Raleighs' +drawing-room as he uttered the words, and advanced with a friendly smile +to greet the newcomer. + +"Oh, isn't she in?" said Audrey. "I am afraid I took her for granted at +the door." + +"We all do," he assured her. "It is what she likes best. Do you know, I +haven't seen you for nearly a fortnight? I called, you know, twice; but +you were out." + +Audrey laughed inconsequently. + +"Why don't you treat me as you treat Mrs. Raleigh?" she said. "Come in +and wait, next time." + +Phil smiled as he handed her to the chair he had just vacated. + +"The major isn't so kind to subalterns," he said. "He would certainly +think, if he didn't say it, that it was like my cheek." + +Audrey frowned over this. + +"I don't see what he has to do with it," she declared finally. "But it +doesn't signify. How is your arm?" + +"Practically convalescent, thanks! There's nothing like first aid, you +know. I say, Mrs. Tudor, you weren't any the worse? It didn't hurt you?" + +He looked down at her with anxiety in his frank eyes, and Audrey was +conscious suddenly that he was no longer a mere casual acquaintance. +Perhaps she had been vaguely aware of it before, but the actual +realisation of it had not been in her mind till that moment. + +She laughed lightly. + +"Of course not," she said. "How could it? Don't be so ridiculous, Phil." + +His face cleared. + +"That's right," he said heartily. "Don't mind me. But I couldn't help +wondering. And I thought it was so decent of you to come round and look +me up on that first morning." + +Audrey's smile faded. + +"I am glad you thought it was decent, anyhow," she said, with a touch of +bitterness. "No one else did." + +"Oh, rot, Mrs. Tudor!" + +Phil spoke hastily. He was frowning, as his custom was when embarrassed. + +She looked up at him and nodded emphatically. + +"Yes, it was--just that," she said, an odd little note of passion in +her voice. "I never thought of these things before, but it seems that +here no one thinks of anything else." + +"Don't take any notice of it," said Phil. "It isn't worth it." + +"I can't help myself," said Audrey. "You see--I'm married!" + +"So is Mrs. Raleigh." Phil spoke with sudden heat. "But she doesn't +care." + +"No, I know. But her husband is such an old dear. Everything she does is +right in his eyes." + +It was skating on thin ice, and Phil at least realised it. He made an +abrupt effort to pull up. + +"Yes, I'm awfully fond of Major Raleigh," he said. "By the way, he's an +immense admirer of yours. Your promptitude the other night quite won his +heart. He complimented your husband upon it." + +"Did he? What did Eustace say?" + +There was more than curiosity in Audrey's voice. + +"I don't know." + +Phil's eyes suddenly avoided hers. He spoke in a dogged, half-surly +tone. + +Audrey sat and looked at him for a moment. Then lightly she rose and +stood before him. + +"Tell me, please!" she said imperiously. + +He made a sharp gesture of remonstrance. + +"Sorry," he said, after a moment, as she waited inexorably. "I can't!" + +"Oh, but you can!" she returned. "You're not to say you won't to me." + +He looked down at her. + +"I am sorry!" he said less brusquely. "But it can't be done. It isn't +worth a tussle, I assure you, nor is it worth the possible annoyance it +might cause you if you had your way. Look here, can't we talk of +something else?" + +She laid her hand impulsively on his arm. + +"Tell me, Phil!" she said. + +He drew back abruptly. + +"You put me in a beastly position, Mrs. Tudor," he said. "I hate +repeating things. It isn't fair to corner me like this." + +"Don't be absurd!" said Audrey. Her face was flushed and determined. She +was bent upon having her own way in this, at least. "I shall begin to +hate you in a minute." + +But Phil could be determined, too. + +"Can't help it," he said; but there was genuine regret in his voice. +"You'll have to, I'm afraid." + +He was scarcely prepared for the effect of his words. She flung away +from him in tempestuous anger and turned as if to leave the room. But +before she reached the door some other impulse apparently overtook her. +She stopped abruptly with her back to Phil, and stood for what seemed to +him interminable seconds, fumbling with her handkerchief. + +Then, before he had fully realised the approaching catastrophe, her +self-control suddenly deserted her. She sank into a chair with her hands +over her face and began to cry. + +Now, Phil was young, and no woman had ever thus abandoned herself to +tears in his presence before. The sight sent a sharp shock through him +that was almost like a dart of physical pain. It paralysed him for an +instant; but the next he strode forward, convention flung to the winds, +desirous only to comfort. He reached her and bent over her, one hand +upon her shaking shoulder. + +"I say, Mrs. Tudor, don't--don't!" he urged. "What is the matter? You're +not crying because I wouldn't do as you asked me? You couldn't care all +that for such a trifle?" + +His voice was husky with agitation. He felt guiltily that it was all his +fault, and he could have kicked himself for his clumsiness. + +She did not answer him, nor did her sobs grow less. It was the pent-up +misery of weeks to which she was giving vent, and, having yielded, it +was no easy matter to check herself again. + +Phil became desperate and knelt down by her side, almost as distressed +as she. + +"I say," he pleaded--"I say, Audrey, don't cry! Tell me what is wrong. +Let me help you. Give me a chance, anyhow. I--I'd do anything in the +world, you know. Only tell me." + +He drew one of her hands away from her face and held it between his own. +She did not resist him. Her need of a comforter just then was very +great. Her head was bowed almost against his shoulder and it did not +occur to either of them that they were transgressing the most +elementary laws of conventionality. + +"You can't help me," she sobbed at last. "No one can. I'm just lonely +and miserable and homesick. I hate this place and everyone in it +except--except you--and a few others. I wish I were back in England. I +wish I'd never left it. I wish--I wish--I'd never married." + +Her voice came muffled and piteous. It was the cry of a desolate child. +And all the deep chivalry in Phil's soul quivered and thrilled in +response. Before he knew it, tender, consoling words had sprung to his +lips. + +"Don't cry, dear; don't cry!" he said. "You'll feel better about it +presently. We all go through it, and it's beastly, I know, I know. But +it won't last. Nothing does in this chancy world. So what's the good of +fretting?" + +She could not tell him. Her trouble was too immense at that moment to +bear discussion. But he comforted her. She liked the feel of his hand +upon her shoulder; the firm, friendly grasp of his fingers about her +own. + +"I sometimes think I can't go on," she whispered through her tears. +"It's like being in prison, and I want to run away. Only I can't--I +can't. I've got to bear it all my life." + +A slight sound from the open window followed this confidence, and Phil +looked up sharply. Audrey had not heard it, and she did not notice his +movement. + +Her head was still bent; and over it Phil, glaring like a tiger, met +the quiet, critical eyes of the girl's husband. + +He rose to his feet the next instant, but he did not utter a word. + +As for Tudor, he stood quite motionless, quite inscrutable, for the +space of seconds, looking gravely in upon them. Then, to Phil's +unspeakable amazement, he turned deliberately and walked away. There was +thick matting on Mrs. Raleigh's veranda, and his receding footsteps made +no sound. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +AN UNPLEASANT INTERVIEW + + +"There!" said Audrey, a few seconds later, "I've been a perfect idiot, I +know; but I'm better now. Tell me, do I look as if I had been crying?" + +She raised her pretty, woebegone face to his and smiled very faintly. + +There was something unmistakably grim about Phil at that moment, and she +wondered why. + +"Of course you do," he said bluntly. + +Audrey got up and peered at herself uneasily in a mirror. + +"It doesn't show much," she said, after a careful inspection. "And, +anyhow"--turning round to him--"I don't know what you have to be cross +about. It--it was all your fault!" + +Phil groaned and held his peace. She would know soon enough, he +reflected. + +Audrey drew nearer to him. + +"Tell me what he said to Major Raleigh, Phil," she said rather +tremulously. + +He shrugged his shoulders and yielded. + +"He only said that he wished your discretion equalled your promptitude +in emergencies," he said. + +"Oh," said Audrey. "Was that all? Well, I think you might have told me +before." + +Phil laughed grudgingly. The situation was abominable, but her utter +childishness palliated it. How was Tudor going to treat the matter? he +wondered. What if he-- + +A sudden thought flashed across Phil's brain, and his face grew set. Of +course it had been his fault, since she said so. It remained therefore +for him to extricate her, if he could. He turned to her. + +"Look here, Mrs. Tudor," he said, in a judicious, elder-brotherly tone, +"I think it's a mistake, don't you know, to let yourself get depressed +over--well, little things. I know what it is to feel down on your luck. +But luck turns, you know, and--and--he's a good sort--a bit stiff and +difficult to get on with, but still--a good sort. You won't think me +rude if I leave you now? I didn't expect Mrs. Raleigh to be so long, and +I'm afraid I can't wait any longer. I've got to dress for mess." + +"Goodness!" said Audrey, with a glance at the clock. "Does it take you +two hours? No, don't scowl! I'm only joking, so you needn't be cross. +Good-bye, then! Thank you for being kind to me." + +Her hand lay in his for a moment. She was smiling at him rather sadly, +notwithstanding her half-bantering words. + +Phil paused a second. + +"I'm confoundedly sorry!" he said impulsively. "Don't cry any more." + +She shook her head and withdrew her hand. + +"Who says I've been crying?" she said lightly. "Go away, and don't be +silly!" + +He took her at her word and departed. + +At the gate of the compound he met Mrs. Raleigh, but he refused to turn +back with her. + +"I really must go; I've got an engagement," he said. "But Mrs. Tudor is +waiting for you. Keep her as long as you can. I believe she's a bit +down--homesick, you know." And he hurried away, breaking into a run as +soon as he reached the road. + +He went straight to the Tudor's bungalow without giving himself time to +flinch from the interview that he had made up his mind he must have. + +The major _sahib_ was in, the _khitmutgar_ told him and Phil scribbled +an urgent message on his card and sent it to him. Two minutes later he +was shown into his superior officer's presence, and he realised that he +stood committed to the gravest task he had ever undertaken. + +Major Tudor was sitting unoccupied before the writing-table in his +smoking-room, but he rose as Phil entered. His face was composed as +usual. + +"Well, Mr. Turner?" he said, as Phil came heavily forward. + +Phil, more nervous than he had ever been before, halted in front of +him. + +"I came to speak to you, sir," he said with an effort, "to--to +explain--" + +Tudor was standing with his back to the light. He made no attempt to +help him out of his difficulties. + +Phil came to an abrupt pause; then, as if some inner force had suddenly +come to his assistance, he straightened himself and tackled the matter +afresh. + +"I came to tell you, sir," he said, meeting Tudor's eyes squarely, "that +I have nothing to be ashamed of. In case"--he paused momentarily--"you +should misunderstand what you saw half an hour ago, I thought it better +to speak at once." + +"Very prudent," said Tudor. "But--it is quite unnecessary. I do not +misunderstand." + +He spoke deliberately and coldly. But Phil clenched his hands. The words +cut him like a whip. + +"You refuse to believe me?" he said. + +Tudor did not answer. + +"I must trouble you for an answer," Phil said, forcing himself to speak +quietly. + +"As you please," said Tudor, in the same cold tone. "I have a question +to put first. Had I not chanced to see what took place, would you have +sought this interview?" + +The blood rose in a hot wave to Phil's head, but he did not wince or +hesitate. + +"Of course I shouldn't," he said. + +Tudor made a curt gesture as of dismissal. + +"Out of your own mouth--" he said, and turned contemptuously away. + +Phil stood quite still for the space of ten seconds, then the young +blood in him suddenly mounted to fever pitch. He strode up to his major, +and seized him fiercely by the shoulder. + +"I won't bear this from any man," he said between his teeth. "I am as +honourable as you are! If you say--or insinuate--otherwise, I--by +Heaven--I'll kill you!" + +The passionate words ceased, and there followed a silence more terrible +than any speech. Tudor stood absolutely motionless, facing the young +subaltern who towered over him, without a sign of either anger or +dismay. + +Then at last, very slowly and quietly, he spoke: + +"You have made a mistake. Take your hand away." + +Phil's hand dropped to his side. He was white to the lips. Yet he would +not relinquish his purpose at a word. + +"It hasn't been for my own sake," he said, his voice still shaking with +the anger he could not subdue. + +Tudor made no response. He stood with his eyes fixed steadily upon +Phil's agitated face. And, as if compelled by that searching gaze, Phil +reiterated the assertion. + +"If I had only had myself to consider," he said, "I shouldn't +have--stooped--to offer an explanation." + +"Let me remind you," Tudor said quietly, "that I have not asked for +one." + +"You prefer to misunderstand?" said Phil quickly. + +"I prefer to take my own view," amended Tudor. "If you are wise--you +will be satisfied to leave it so." + +It was final, and, though far from satisfied, Phil felt the futility of +further discussion. He turned to the door. + +"Very well, sir," he said briefly, and went out, holding his head high. + +As for Tudor, he sat down again before his writing-table with an unmoved +countenance, and after a short interval took up his correspondence. +There was no anger in his eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +AT THE DANCE + + +Audrey saw no more of Phil Turner for some days. She did not enjoy much +of her husband's society, either. He appeared to be too busy to think of +her, and she in consequence spent most of her time with Mrs. Raleigh. +But Phil, who had been one of the latter's most constant visitors, did +not show himself there. + +It did not occur to Audrey that he absented himself on her account, and +she was disappointed not to meet him. Next perhaps to the surgeon's +wife, she had begun to regard him as her greatest friend. Certainly the +tie of obligation that bound them together was one that seemed to +warrant an intimate friendship. Moreover, Phil had been exceptionally +kind to her in distress, kinder far than Eustace had ever been. + +She was growing away from her husband very rapidly, and she knew it, +mourned over it even in softer moments; but she felt powerless to remedy +the evil. It seemed so obvious to her that he did not care. + +So she spent more and more of her hours away from the bungalow that had +been made so dainty for her presence, and Eustace never seemed to notice +that she was absent from his side. + +He accompanied her always when she went out in the evening, but he no +longer intruded his guardianship upon her, and deep in her inmost heart +this thing hurt his young wife as nothing had ever hurt her before. She +had her own way in all matters, but it gave her no pleasure; and the +feeling that, though he might not approve of what she did, he would +never remonstrate, grew and festered within her till she sometimes +marvelled that he did not read her misery in her eyes. + +She met Phil Turner again at length at a regimental dance. As usual her +card was quickly filled, but she reserved a waltz for him, and after a +while he came across and asked her for one. + +"You were very nearly too late," she told him. "Why didn't you come +before?" + +He looked awkward for a moment. Then-- + +"I was busy," he said rather shortly. "I'm one of the stewards." + +He scrawled his initials across her card and left her again. Audrey +concluded in her girlish way that something had made him cross, and +dismissed him from her mind. + +When at length he came to claim her she was hot and tired and suggested +sitting out. + +He frowned at the idea, but, upon Audrey waxing imperious, he yielded. +They sat out together, but not in the cool dark of the veranda as she +had anticipated, but in the full glare of the ballroom amidst all the +hubbub of the dancers. + +Audrey was annoyed, and showed it. + +"I am sure we might find a seat on the veranda," she said. + +But Phil was obstinate. + +"I assure you, Mrs. Tudor," he said, "I looked in there just now, and +every seat was occupied." + +"I don't believe you are telling the truth," she returned. + +He raised his eyebrows. + +"Thank you!" he said briefly. + +Something in the curt reply caught her attention, and she gave him a +quick glance. He was looking remarkably handsome in his red and gold +uniform with the scarlet cummerbund across his shirt. Vexed as she was +with him, Audrey could not help admitting it to herself. His brown, +resolute face attracted her irresistibly. + +She allowed a considerable pause to ensue before she went to the +inevitable attack. Somehow, notwithstanding his surliness, she had not +the faintest desire to quarrel with him. + +"You're very grumpy to-night," she remarked at length in her cheery +young voice. "What's the matter?" + +He started and looked intensely uncomfortable. + +"Nothing--of course!" he said. + +"Why of course? I wonder. With me it's the other way round. I am never +cross without a reason." + +Audrey was still cheery. + +He smiled faintly. + +"I congratulate you," he said. + +Audrey smiled also. Fully exposed as was their position, there was no +one near enough to overhear. + +"Well, don't be cross any more, Phil," she said persuasively. "Cheer up, +and come to tiffin with me to-morrow. Will you? I shall be quite alone." + +Phil's smile departed instantly. He glanced at her for a second, and +then fixed his eyes steadily upon the ground between his feet. + +"You're awfully good!" he said at last. "But--thanks very much--I +can't." + +"Can't?" echoed Audrey, with genuine disappointment. "Oh, I'm sure +that's nonsense! Why can't you? You're not on duty?" + +"No," he said, speaking slowly, "I'm not on duty; but--fact is, I'm +going up to the Hills shooting for a few days and--I shall be busy, +packing guns and things. Besides--" + +"Oh, do stop!" she broke in, with sudden impatience. "I know you are +only making up as you go along. It's very horrid of you, besides being +contemptible. Why can't you say at once that you are not coming because +you don't want to come?" + +Her quick pride had taken fire at sound of his deliberate excuse; and, +as was its wont upon provocation, her anger flamed high at a moment's +notice. + +Phil did not look at her. His expression was decidedly uneasy, but +there was a certain grimness about him that did not seem to indicate the +probability of any excessive show of docility in face of a browbeating. + +"I don't say it," he said doggedly at length, "because, besides being +rude, it wouldn't be strictly true." + +"I shouldn't have thought you would have had any scruples of that sort," +rejoined Audrey, hitting her hardest because he had managed to hurt her. +"They haven't been very apparent to-night." + +Phil made no protest, but he was frowning heavily. + +She leant slightly towards him, speaking behind her fan. + +"Be honest just for a second," she said, "if you can, and tell me; are +you tired of calling yourself a friend of mine? Are you trying to get +out of it? Because, if you are, it's quite the easiest thing in the +world to do so. But once done--" + +She paused. Phil was looking at her at last, and there was something in +his eyes that startled her. A sudden pity rushed over her heart. She +felt as she had felt once long ago in England when a dog--an old friend +of hers--had been injured. He had looked at her with just such eyes as +those that were fixed upon her now. Their dumb pleading had been almost +more than she could bear. + +Involuntarily she laid her hand on his arm, music and dancers all +forgotten in that moment of swift emotion. + +"Phil," she whispered tremulously, "what is it? What is it?" + +He did not answer her by a single word. He simply rose to his feet, as +if by her action she had suggested it, and whirled her in among the +dancers. + +He kept her going to the very last chord, she too full of wonder and +uncertainty to protest; and then he led her straight through the room to +where Mrs. Raleigh stood, surrounded by the usual crowd of subalterns, +muttered an excuse, and left her there. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +DREADFUL NEWS + + +It was nearly a week later that Audrey, riding home alone in a rickshaw +from a polo-match, was overtaken by young Gerald Devereux, a subaltern, +who was tearing along on foot as if on some urgent errand. Recognising +her, he reduced his speed and dropped into a jog-trot by her side. + +"You haven't heard, of course?" he jerked out breathlessly. "Beastly bad +news! Those hill tribes--always up to some devilry! Poor old +Phil--infernal luck!" + +"What?" exclaimed Audrey. "What has happened to him? Tell me, quick, +quick!" + +She turned as white as paper, and Devereux cursed himself for a clumsy +fool. + +"It may not be the worst," he gasped back. "Dash it! I'm so winded! We +hope, you know, we hope--but it's usually a knife and good-bye with +these ruffians. Still, there's a chance--just a chance." + +"But you haven't told me what has happened yet," cried Audrey, in a +fever of impatience. + +He answered her, still running by her side "The Waris have got him; +rushed his camp at night and bagged everything. The coolies were in the +know, no doubt. Only his _shikari_ got away. He has just come in wounded +with the news. I'm on my way to tell the Chief, though I don't see what +good he can do." + +"You mean you think he is murdered?" gasped Audrey, through white lips. + +He nodded. + +"Afraid so, poor beggar! Well, so long, Mrs. Tudor! We must hope for the +best as long as we can." + +He put his hand to his cap, and ran on, while Audrey, with a set, white +face, was borne to her bungalow. + +Her husband was sitting on the veranda. He rose as she alighted and gave +her his hand up the short flight of steps to his side. + +"You are rather late," he said in his grave way. "I am afraid you will +have to hurry." + +They were dining out that night, but Audrey had forgotten it. She stared +at him as if dazed. + +"What is it?" he asked. "Nothing wrong?" + +She gasped hysterically. + +"Oh, Eustace, an awful thing--an awful thing!" she cried. "Mr. Devereux +has just told me--" + +Her voice broke, and her lips formed soundless words. She groped vaguely +for support with one hand. + +Tudor put his arm round her and led her, tottering, indoors. + +"All right; tell me presently," he said quietly. "Sit down and keep +still for a little." + +He put her into an arm-chair and left her there. In a few seconds he +returned with some brandy and water, which he held to her lips in +silence. Then, setting down the glass, he began to rub her nerveless +hands. + +Audrey submitted passively at first to his ministrations, but presently +as her strength returned she sat up. + +"You haven't heard?" she asked him shakily. + +"I have heard nothing," he answered. "Can you tell me now?" + +"Yes--yes!" She paused a moment to steady her voice. Then--"It's Phil!" +she faltered. "He has been taken prisoner--murdered perhaps--by those +dreadful hill men! Oh Eustace"--lifting her face appealingly--"do you +think they would kill him? Do you? Do you?" + +But Tudor said nothing. He made no attempt to comfort her, and she +turned from him in bitter disappointment. His lack of sympathy at such a +moment was almost more than she could bear. + +"How did Devereux know?" he asked, after a pause. + +She shook her head. + +"He said something about a _shikari_. He was going to tell the colonel; +but he didn't think it would be any use. He said--he said--" + +She broke off, quivering with agitation. Her husband took the glass +from the table again and made her drink a little. She tried to refuse, +but he insisted. + +"You have had a shock. It will do you good," he said, in his level, +unmoved voice. + +And Audrey yielded to the mastery she had scarcely felt of late. + +The spirit helped to steady her, and at length she rose. + +"I am going to my room, Eustace," she said, not looking at him. +"I--can't go out to-night. Perhaps you will make my excuses." + +He did not answer her, and she threw him a swift glance. He was standing +stiff and upright. His face was stern and composed; it might have been a +stone mask. + +"What excuse am I to make?" he asked. + +Her eyes widened. The question was utterly unexpected. + +"Why, the truth--of course," she said. "Say that I have been upset by +the news, that--that--I hadn't the heart--I couldn't--Eustace,"--appealing +suddenly, a tremor of indignation in her voice--"you don't seem to realise +that he is one of my greatest friends. Don't you understand?" + +"Yes," he said--"yes, I understand!" + +And she marvelled at the coldness--the deadly, concentrated coldness--of +his voice. + +"All the same," he went on, "I think you must make an effort to +accompany me to the Bentleys' to-night. It might be thought unusual if +I went alone." + +She stared at him in sudden, amazed anger. + +"Eustace!" she exclaimed. "How can you be so cruel, so cold-blooded, +so--so heartless? How can you expect such a thing of me--to sit at table +and hear them all talking about it, and his chances discussed? I +couldn't--I couldn't!" + +He did not press the point. Perhaps he realised that her nerves in their +present condition would prove wholly unequal to such a strain. + +"Very well," he said quietly at length. "I will send a note to excuse us +both." + +"I don't see why you should stay at home," Audrey said, turning to the +door. "I would far rather be alone." + +He did not explain his motive, and she went out of his presence with a +sensation of relief. She had never fully realised before how wide the +gulf between them had become. + +She remained shut up in her room all the evening, eating nothing, face +to face with the horror of young Devereux's brief words. It was the +first time within her memory that death had approached her sheltered +life, and she was shocked and frightened, as a child is frightened by +the terrors of the dark. + +Very late that night she crept into bed, dismissing her _ayah_, and lay +there shivering and forlorn, thinking, thinking, of the cruel faces and +flashing knives that Phil had awaked to see. She dozed at last in her +misery, only to wake again with a shriek of nightmare terror, and start +up sobbing hysterically. + +"Why, Audrey!" a quiet voice said, and she woke fully, to find her +husband standing by her bed. + +She turned to him impulsively, hiding her face against him, clinging to +him with straining arms. She could not utter a word, for an anguish of +weeping overtook her. And he was silent also, bending over her, his hand +upon her head. + +Gradually the paroxysm passed and she grew quieter; but she still clung +closely to him, and at length with difficulty she began to speak. + +"Oh, Eustace, it's all so horrible! I can't help seeing it. I'm sure +he's dead, or, if he isn't, it's almost worse. And I was so--unkind to +him the last time we were together. I thought he was cross, but I know +now he was only miserable; and I never dreamt I was never going to see +him again, or I wouldn't have been so--so horrid!" + +Haltingly, pathetically, the poor little confession was gasped out +through quivering sobs and the face of the man who listened was no +longer a stony mask; it was alight and tender with a compassion too +great for utterance. + +He bent a little lower over her, pressing her head closer to his heart; +and she heard its beating, slow and strong and regular, through all the +turmoil of her distress. + +"Poor child!" he said. "Poor child!" + +It was all the comfort he had to offer, but it was more to her than any +other words he had ever spoken. It voiced a sympathy which till that +moment had been wholly lacking--a sympathy that she desired more than +anything else on earth. + +"Don't go away, Eustace!" she begged presently. "It--it's so dreadful +all alone." + +"Try to sleep, dear," he said gently. + +"Yes, but I dream, I dream," she whispered piteously. + +He laid her very tenderly back on the pillow, and sat down beside her. + +"You won't dream while I am here," he said. + +She clasped his hand closely in both her own and begged him tremulously +to kiss her. By the dim light of her night-lamp she could scarcely see +his face; but as her lips met his a great peace stole over her. She felt +as if he had stretched out his hands to her across the great, dividing +gulf that had opened between them and drawn her to his side. + +About a quarter of an hour later Eustace Tudor rose noiselessly and +stood looking down at his young wife's sleeping face. It was placid as +an infant's, and her breathing was soft and regular. He knew that, +undisturbed, she would sleep so for hours. + +And so he did not dare to kiss her. He only bowed his head till his lips +touched the coverlet beneath which she lay; and then stealthily, +silently, he crept away. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +A CHANGE OF PRISONERS + + +Heavens, how the night crawled! Phil Turner, bound hand and foot, and +cruelly cramped in every limb, hitched himself to a sitting posture and +began to calculate how long he probably had to live. + +There was no moon, but the starlight entered his prison--it was no more +than a mud hut, but had it been built of stone walls many feet thick his +chance would scarcely have been lessened. It was merely a question of +time, he knew, and he marvelled that his fate had been delayed so long. + +To use his comrade's descriptive language, he had expected "a knife and +good-bye" full twenty hours before. But neither had been his portion. He +had been made a prisoner before he was fully awake, and hustled away to +the native fort before sunrise. He had been given _chupatties_ to eat +and spring water to drink, and, though painfully stiff from his bonds, +he was unwounded. + +It had been a daring capture, he reflected; but what were they keeping +him for? Not for the sake of hospitality--of that he was grimly +certain. There had been no pretence at any friendly feeling on the part +of his captors. They had glared hatred at him from the outset, and Phil +was firmly convinced, without any undue pessimism, that they had not the +smallest intention of sparing his life. + +But why they postponed the final deed was a problem, that he found +himself quite unable to solve. It had worried him perpetually for twenty +hours, and, combined with the misery of his bonds, made sleep an +impossibility. + +Sleep! The very thought of it was horrible to him. It had never struck +him before as a criminal waste of the precious hours of life, for Phil +was young, and he had not done with mortal existence. There were in it +deeps he had not sounded, heights he had never scaled. He was not +prepared to forego these at the will of a parcel of murderous ruffians +who chanced to object to the white man's rule. He had friends, +too--friends he could not afford to lose--friends who could not afford +to lose him. + +Doubtless his murder would be avenged in due course; but--He grimaced +wrily to himself in the darkness, and tried once more to ease his +cramped limbs. + +From outside came the murmur of voices. He could just see the shoulder +of one of his guards at the entrance and the steel glint of a +rifle-barrel. He gazed at the latter hungrily. Oh, for just a sporting +chance--to be free even in the midst of his enemies with that in his +hand! + +A shadow fell across the entrance, and he saw the rifle no more. He saw +the two Wari sentinels salaaming profoundly, and he began to wonder who +the newcomer might be--a personage of some importance apparently. + +There followed an interval of some minutes, during which Phil began to +chafe with feverish impatience. Then at last the shadow became +substance, moving into his line of vision, and a man, wrapped in a long, +native garment and wearing a _chuddah_ that concealed the greater part +of his face, glided into the hut on noiseless, sandalled feet. + +He held a naked knife in his hand, and Phil's heart began to thud +unpleasantly. It taxed all a man's self-control to face death in cold +blood, trussed hand and foot and helpless as an infant. But he gripped +himself hard, and faced the weapon without flinching. It would not do to +let these murderous ruffians see a white man afraid. + +"Hullo!" he said contemptuously. "Come to put the finishing touch, I +suppose? You'll hang for it, you infernal, treacherous brute; but that's +a detail you border thieves don't seem to mind." + +It eased the tension to hurl verbal defiance at his murderer, and there +was just the chance that the fellow might understand a little English. +But when his visitor stooped over him and deliberately cut his bonds, he +was astounded into silence. + +He waited dumfounded, and a muscular hand gripped his shoulder, holding +him motionless. + +"You'll be all right," a quiet voice said, "if you don't make a +confounded fool of yourself." + +Phil gave a great start, and the hand that gripped him tightened. +Through the gloom he made out the outline of a grim, bearded face. + +"Control yourself!" the quiet voice ordered. "Do you think I've done +this for nothing? We are alone--it may be for five minutes, it may be +for less. Get out of your things--sharp, and let me have them." + +"Great Jupiter--Tudor!" gasped Phil. + +"Yes--Tudor!" came the curt response. "Don't stop to jaw. Do as I tell +you." + +He took his hand from Phil's shoulder and stood up, backing into the +shadows. + +Phil stood up, too, straightening himself with an effort. The suddenness +of this thing had thrown him momentarily off his balance. + +"Quick!" commanded Tudor in a fierce whisper. "Take off your clothes. +There isn't a second to lose." + +But Phil stood uncertain. + +"What's the game, Major?" he asked. + +Tudor's hand gripped him again and violently. + +"You fool!" he whispered savagely. "Don't stand gaping there! Can't you +see it's a matter of life and death? Do you want to be killed?" + +"No, but--" + +Phil broke off. Tudor in that frame of mind was a stranger to him, but +he was none the less one who must be obeyed. Mechanically almost he +yielded to the man's insistence and began to strip off his clothes. + +Tudor helped him with an energy that neither fumed nor faltered. Mute +obedience was all he required. But when he dropped the garment he wore +from his own shoulders, Phil paused to protest. + +"I am not going to wear that!" he said. "What about you?" + +"I can look after myself," Tudor answered curtly. "Get into it--quick! +There is no time for arguing. You're going to wear these, too." + +He pulled the ragged, black beard from his face and the _chuddah_ from +his head. + +But Phil's eyes were opened, and he resisted. + +"Heavens above, sir!" he said. "Do you think I'm going to do a thing +like that?" + +"You must!" Tudor answered. + +He spoke quietly, but there was deadly determination behind his +quietude. They faced one another in the gloom, and suddenly there ran +between them a passion of feeling that blazed unseen like the hidden +current in an electric wire. + +For a few seconds it burnt fiercely, silently; then Tudor laid a firm +hand on the younger man's shoulder. + +"You must," he said again. "The choice does not rest with you. It is +made already. It only remains for you to yield--whatever it may cost +you--as I am doing." + +Phil started as if he had struck him. + +"You are wrong, sir," he exclaimed. "On my oath, you are wrong. You +don't understand. You never have understood. I--I--" + +Tudor silenced him summarily with a hand upon his lips. + +"I know, I know!" he said. "There is no time for this. Leave it and go. +If it is any comfort to you to know it, I think no evil of you. I +realise that what has happened had to happen, was in a sense inevitable, +and I blame myself alone. Listen to me. This disguise will take you +through all right if you keep your mouth shut. You are a priest, +remember, preaching the Jehad, only I've done all the preaching +necessary. You have simply to walk straight through them, down the hill +till you come to the pass, and then along the river-bed till you strike +the road to the Frontier. It's six miles away, but you will do it before +sunrise. No, don't speak! I haven't finished yet. You are going to do +this not for your own sake or for mine. You think you are going to +refuse, but you are not. As for me, your going or staying could make no +difference. I have come with a certain object in view, but I shall +remain, whether I gain that object or not. That I swear to you most +solemnly." + +He turned away with the words and began to loosen his sandals. Phil +watched him dumbly. He was face to face with a difficulty of such +monstrous proportions that he was utterly nonplussed. From the distance +came the sound of voices. + +"You had better go," observed Tudor, in steady tones. "The guards are +coming back. It will hasten matters for both of us if we are discovered +like this." + +"Sir!" Phil burst out suddenly. "I--can't!" + +Tudor wheeled swiftly. It was almost as if he had been waiting for that +desperate appeal. He caught up the native garment and flung it over +Phil's shoulders. He dragged the beard down over his face and secured +the _chuddah_ about his head. He did it all with incredible rapidity and +a strength that would not be gainsaid. + +Then, holding Phil fast in a merciless, irresistible grasp, he spoke: + +"If you attempt to disobey me now, I'll kill myself with my own hands." + +There was no mistaking the resolution of his voice, and it wrought the +end of the battle--an end inevitable. Phil realised it and accepted it +with a groan. He did not utter another word of protest. He was +conquered, humiliated, powerless. Only when at last he was ready to +depart he stood up and faced Tudor, as he had faced him on the day that +the latter had refused to give him a hearing. + +"I've given in to you," he said; "but it's to save your life, if +possible, and for no other reason. You can think what you like of me, +but not--of her! Because, before Heaven, I believe this will break her +heart." + +He would have said more, but Tudor cut him short. + +"Go!" he said. "Go! I know what I am doing--better than you think!" + +And Phil turned in silence and went out into the world-wide starlight. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE AWAKENING + + +The sun was already high when Audrey awoke. She started up, refreshed in +body and mind. Her first thought was of her husband. No doubt he had +gone out long before. He always rose early, even when off duty. + +Then she remembered Phil, and her face contracted as all the trouble of +the night before rushed back upon her. Was he still living? she +wondered. + +She stretched out her hand to ring for her _ayah_. But as she did so her +eyes fell upon a table by her side and she caught sight of an envelope +lying there. She picked it up. + +It was addressed to herself in her husband's handwriting, and, with a +sharp sense of anxiety, she tore it open. The note it contained was +characteristically brief: + + I hope by the time you read this to have procured young Turner's + release, if he still lives--at no very great cost, I beg you to + believe. I desire the letter that you will find on my + writing-table to be sent at once to the colonel. There is also + a note for Mrs. Raleigh which I want you to deliver yourself. + God bless you, Audrey. + + E.T. + +Audrey looked up from the letter with startled eyes and white cheeks. +What did it mean? What had he been doing in the night while she slept? +How was it possible for him to have saved Phil? + +Trembling, she sprang from her bed and began to dress. Possibly the note +to Mrs. Raleigh might explain the mystery. She would ride round with it +at once. + +She went into Tudor's room before starting and found the letter for the +colonel. It was addressed and sealed. She gave it to a _syce_ with +orders to deliver it into the colonel's own hands without delay. + +Then, still quivering with an apprehension she would not own, she +mounted and rode away to the surgeon's bungalow. + +Mrs. Raleigh received her with some surprise. + +"Ah, come in!" she said kindly. "I'm delighted to see you, dear; but, +sure, you are riding very late. And is there anything the matter?" + +"Yes," gasped Audrey breathlessly. "I mean no, I hope not. My husband +has--has gone to try to save Phil Turner; and--and he left a note for +you, which I was to deliver. He went away in the night, but he--of +course he'll--be back--soon!" + +Her voice faltered and died away. There was a look on Mrs. Raleigh's +face, hidden as it were behind her smile, that struck terror to Audrey's +heart. She thrust out the letter in an anguish of unconcealed suspense. + +"Read it! Read it!" she implored, "and tell me what has +happened--quickly, for I--I don't understand!" + +Mrs. Raleigh took the letter, passing a supporting arm around the girl's +quivering form. + +"Sit down, dear!" she said tenderly. + +Audrey obeyed, but her face was still raised in voiceless supplication +as Mrs. Raleigh opened the letter. The pause that followed was terrible +to her. She endured it in wrung silence, her hands fast gripped +together. + +Then Mrs. Raleigh turned, and in her eyes was a deep compassion, a +motherly tenderness of pity, that was to Audrey the confirmation of her +worst fears. + +She did not speak again. Her heart felt constricted, paralysed. But Mrs. +Raleigh saw the entreaty which her whole body expressed, and, stooping, +she took the rigid hands into hers. + +"My dear," she said, "he has gone into the Hills in disguise, up to the +native fort beyond Wara, as that is where he expects to find Phil. +Heaven help him and bring them both back!" + +Audrey stared at her with a stunned expression. Her lips were quite +white, and Mrs. Raleigh thought she was going to faint. + +But Audrey did not lose consciousness. She sat there as if turned to +stone, trying to speak and failing to make any sound. At last, +convulsively, words came. + +"They will take him for a spy," she said, both hands pressed to her +throat as if something there hurt her intolerably. "The +Waris--torture--spies!" + +"My darling, my darling, we must hope--hope and pray!" said the +Irishwoman, holding her closely. + +Audrey turned suddenly, passionately, in the enfolding arms and clung to +her as if in physical agony. + +"You may, you may," she said in a dreadful whisper, "but I can't--for I +don't believe. Do you in your heart believe he will ever come back?" + +Mrs. Raleigh did not answer. + +Audrey went on, still holding her tightly: + +"Do you think I don't know why he wrote to you? It was to put me in your +care, because--because he knew he was never coming back. And shall +I--shall I tell you why he went?" + +"Darling, hush--hush!" pleaded Mrs. Raleigh, her voice unsteady with +emotion. "There, don't say any more! Put your head on my shoulder, love. +Let me hold you so." + +But Audrey's convulsive hold did not relax. She had been a child all her +life up to that moment, but, like a worn-out garment, her childhood had +slipped from her, and she had emerged a woman. The old, happy ignorance +was gone for ever, and the revelation that had dispelled it was almost +more than she could bear. Her newly developed womanhood suffered as +womanhood alone can suffer. + +And yet, could she have drawn the veil once more before her eyes and so +have deadened that agonising pain, she would not have done so. + +She was awake now. The long, long sleep with its gay dreams, its +careless illusions, was over. But it was better to be awake, better to +see and know things as they were, even if the anguish thereof killed +her. And so she refused the hushing comfort that only a child--such a +child as she had been but yesterday--could have found satisfying. + +"Yes, I can tell you--now--why he went," she said, in that tense whisper +which so wrung Mrs. Raleigh's heart. "He went--for my sake! Think of it! +Think of it! He went because I was fretting about Phil. He went +because--because he thought--- that Phil's safety--meant--my happiness, +and that _his_ safety--his--his precious life--didn't--count!" + +The awful words sank into breathless silence. Mrs. Raleigh was crying +silently. She was powerless to cope with this. But Audrey shed no tears. +It was beyond tears and beyond mourning--this terrible revelation that +had come to her. By-and-by, it might be, both would come to her, if she +lived. + +She rose suddenly at length with a sharp gasp, as of one seeking air. + +"I am going," she said, in a clear, strong voice, "to the colonel. He +will help me to save my husband." + +And with that she turned to the veranda, and met the commanding-officer +face to face. There was another man behind him, but she did not look at +him. She instantly, without a second's pause, addressed the colonel. + +"I was coming to you," she said through her white lips. "You will help +me. You must help me. My husband is a prisoner, and I am going into the +Hills to find him. You must follow with men and guns. He must be +saved--whatever it costs." + +The colonel laid his hand on her shoulder, looking down at her very +earnestly, very kindly. + +"My dear Mrs. Tudor," he said, "all that can be done shall be done, all +that is humanly possible. I have already told Turner so. Did you know +that he was safe?" + +He drew her forward a step, and she saw that the man behind him was Phil +Turner himself--Phil Turner, grave, strong, resolute, with all his +manhood strung up to the moment's emergency, all his boyhood submerged +in a responsibility that overwhelmed the lesser part of him, leaving +only that which was great. + +He went straight up to Audrey and took the hands she stretched out to +him. Neither of them felt the presence of onlookers. + +"He saved my life, Mrs. Tudor!" he said simply. "He forced me to take it +at his hands. But I'm going back with some men to find him. You stay +here with Mrs. Raleigh till we come back. We shall be quicker alone." + +A great sob burst from Audrey. It was as if the few gallant words had +loosened the awful constriction at her heart. + +"Oh, Phil, Phil!" she cried brokenly. "You understand--what this is to +me--how I love him--how I love him! Bring him back to me! Promise, Phil, +promise!" + +And Phil bent till his lips touched the hands he held. + +"I will do it," he said with reverence--"so help me, God!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +A WOMAN'S AGONY + + +All through the day and the night that followed Audrey watched and +waited. + +She spent the terrible hours at the Raleighs' bungalow, scarcely +conscious of her surroundings in her anguish of suspense. It possessed +her like a raging fever, and she could not rest. At times it almost +seemed to suffocate her, and then she would pace to and fro, to and fro, +hardly knowing what she did. + +Mrs. Raleigh never left her, caring for her with a maternal tenderness +that never flagged. But for her Audrey would almost certainly have +collapsed under the strain. + +"If he had only known! If he had only known!" she kept repeating. "But +how could he know? for I never showed him. How could he even guess? And +now he never can know. It's too late, too late!" + +Futile, bitter regret! All through the night it followed her, and when +morning came the haggard misery it had wrought upon her face had robbed +it of all its youth. + +Mrs. Raleigh tried to comfort her with hopeful words, but she did not +seem so much as to hear them. She was listening, listening intently, for +every sound. + +It was about noon that young Travers raced in, hot and breathless, but +he stopped short in evident dismay when he saw Audrey. He would have +withdrawn as precipitately as he had entered, but she sprang after him +and caught him by the arms. + +"You have news!" she cried wildly. "What is it? Oh, what is it? Tell me +quickly!" + +He hesitated and glanced nervously at Mrs. Raleigh. + +"Yes, tell her," the latter said. "It is better than suspense." + +And so briefly, jerkily, the boy blurted on his news: + +"Phil's back again; but they haven't got the major. The fort was +deserted, except for one old man, and they have brought him along. They +are over at the colonel's bungalow now." + +He paused, shocked by the awful look his tidings had brought into +Audrey's eyes. + +The next instant she had sprung past him to the open door and was gone, +bareheaded and distraught, into the blazing sunshine. + +How she covered the distance of the long, white road to the colonel's +bungalow, Audrey never remembered afterwards. Her agony of mind was too +great for her brain to register any impression of physical stress. She +only knew that she ran and ran as one runs in a nightmare, till +suddenly she was on the veranda of the colonel's bungalow, stumbling, +breathless, crying hoarsely for "Phil! Phil!" + +He came to her instantly. + +"Where is he?" she cried, in high, strained tones. "Where is my husband? +You promised to bring him back to me! You promised--you promised--" + +Her voice failed. She felt choked, as if an iron hand were slowly, +remorselessly, crushing the life out of her panting heart. Thick +darkness hovered above her, but she fought it from her wildly, +frantically. + +"You promised--" She gasped again. + +He took her gently by the arm, supporting her. + +"Mrs. Tudor," he said very earnestly, "I have done my best." + +He led her unresisting into a room close by. The colonel was there, and +with him a man in flowing, native garments. + +"Mrs. Tudor," said Phil, his hand closing tightly upon her arm, "before +you blame me, I want you to speak to this man. He can tell you more +about your husband than I can." + +He spoke very quietly, very steadily, almost as if he were afraid she +might not understand him. + +Audrey made an effort to collect her reeling senses. The colonel bent +towards her. + +"Don't be afraid of him, Mrs. Tudor," he said kindly. "He is a friend, +and he speaks English." + +But Audrey did not so much as glance at the native, who stood, silent +and impassive, waiting to be questioned. The agony of the past thirty +hours had reached its limit. She sank into a chair by the colonel's +table and hid her face in her shaking hands. + +"I've nothing to ask him," she said hopelessly. "Eustace is +dead--dead--dead, without ever knowing how I loved him. Nothing matters +now. There is nothing left that ever can matter." + +Dead silence succeeded her words, then a quiet movement, then silence +again. + +She did not look up or stir. Her passion of grief had burnt itself out. +She was exhausted mentally and physically. + +Minutes passed, but she did not move. What was there to rouse her? There +was nothing left. She had no tears to shed. Tears were for small things. +This grief of hers was too immense, too infinite for tears. + +Only at last something, some inner prompting, stirred her, and as if at +the touch of a hand that compelled, she raised her head. + +She saw neither the colonel nor Phil, and a sharp prick of wonder +pierced her lethargy of despair. She turned in her chair, obedient still +to that inner force that compelled. Yes, they had gone. Only the native +remained--an old, bent man, who humbly awaited her pleasure. His face +was almost hidden in his _chuddah_. + +Audrey looked at him. + +"There is nothing to wait for," she said at length. "You need not +stay." + +He did not move. It was as if he had not heard. Her wonder grew into a +sort of detached curiosity. What did the man want? She remembered that +the colonel had told her that he understood English. + +"Is there--something--you wish to say to me?" she asked, and the bare +utterance of the words kindled a feeble spark of hope within her, almost +in spite of herself. + +He turned very slowly. + +"Yes, one thing," he said, paused an instant as she sprang to her feet +with a great cry, then straightened himself, pushed the _chuddah_ back +from his face, and flung out his arms to her passionately. + +"Audrey!" he said--"Audrey!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +HAPPINESS AGAIN + + +By slow degrees Audrey learnt the story of her husband's escape. + +It was Phil's doing in the main, he told her simply, and she understood +that but for Phil he would not have taken the trouble. Something Phil +had said to him that night had stuck in his mind, and it had finally +decided him to make the attempt. + +Circumstances had favoured him. Moreover it was by no means the first +time that he had been among the Hill tribes in native guise. One +sentinel alone had returned to guard the hut after Phil's departure, and +this man he had succeeded in overpowering without raising an alarm. + +Then, disguising himself once more, he had managed to escape just before +the dawn, and had lain hidden for hours among the boulders of the +river-bed, fearing to emerge by daylight. But in the evening he had left +his hiding-place, and found the fort to be occupied by British troops. +The Waris had gone to earth before their advance, and they had found the +place deserted. + +He had forthwith presented himself in his disguise and been taken +before Phil, the officer-in-command. + +"But surely he knew you?" + +"Yes, he knew me. But I swore him to secrecy." + +She drew a little closer to him. + +"Eustace, why?" she whispered. + +His arm tightened about her. + +"I had to know the truth first," he said. + +"Oh!" she murmured. "And now--are you satisfied?" + +He bent and kissed her forehead gravely, tenderly. + +"I am satisfied," he said. + + * * * * * + +"Well, didn't I tell you so?" laughed Phil, when they shook hands later. + +Audrey did not ask him what he meant, for, with all his honesty, Phil +could be enigmatical when he chose. Moreover, it really didn't much +matter, for, as she tacitly admitted to herself, fond as she was of him, +he no longer occupied the place of honour in her thoughts, and she was +not vitally interested in him now that the trouble was over. + +So when, a few weeks later, Phil cheerily packed his belongings and +departed to Poonah, having effected an exchange into the other battalion +stationed there, only his major understood why, and was sorry. + + + + +ETHEL M. DELL'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list + + +THE LAMP IN THE DESERT + +The scene of this splendid story is laid in India and tells of the lamp +of love that continues to shine through all sorts of tribulations to +final happiness. + + +GREATHEART + +The story of a cripple whose deformed body conceals a noble soul. + + +THE HUNDREDTH CHANCE + +A hero who worked to win even when there was only "a hundredth chance." + + +THE SWINDLER + +The story of a "bad man's" soul revealed by a woman's faith. + + +THE TIDAL WAVE + +Tales of love and of women who learned to know the true from the false. + + +THE SAFETY CURTAIN + +A very vivid love story of India. The volume also contains four other +long stories of equal interest. + + +Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Safety Curtain, and Other Stories +by Ethel M. Dell + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SAFETY CURTAIN *** + +***** This file should be named 16651.txt or 16651.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/6/5/16651/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Paul Ereaut and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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