FAINT HEART AND FAIR LADY.
"My dear, I fear you will think I have been indiscreet."
Mrs James Antony looked up, and caught her husband's humourously
deprecating expression. "Oh, James, I know that means you have done
something dreadful, and want me to get you out of the difficulty!" she
sighed. "Well, love, what is it?"
"I have sent a _kasid_ to meet poor Gerrard, to tell him he is to come to
us, and we will take no refusal. As soon as the man was gone, I
remembered that you would probably object to his being thrown into Miss
Cinnamond's company."
"But surely you must see for yourself, love, that it would be most
awkward for both of them? I almost think I had better ask Mrs Jardine to
take in dear Honour for the time. She would be delighted, I am sure."
"You know best, my dear. If Lady Cinnamond would not mind finding
herself under such an obligation to Mrs Jardine, it is not for me to make
objections."
"She would dislike it extremely, love, as you well know. But what else
is there to be done?"
"I don't myself see why there should be any awkwardness at all," said
James Antony sturdily. "If Miss Cinnamond is going to marry Gerrard,
they had better come to an understanding and get it over, and if
not--why, they will have to meet in the future, and they may as well
begin now. If the girl chooses to be silly about it, she had better go
back to her mother."
"But, James, love, you don't consider. How could I let her go back,
knowing that poor dear Mrs Cowper has taken such a dislike to her sister?
Now that she has lost her babe, it would be terrible if they met before
time had softened her grief a little. And it is not as if dear Honour
were in the least to blame. I am sure she was keeping house for her
father most beautifully when he was compelled to take the field. We are
indebted to the Cinnamonds for so many civilities that it would be hard
indeed if we could not help them out of a difficulty by entertaining the
poor girl for a while."
"Quite so, my dear, but it would also be hard if the poor girl could not
help us by assisting to entertain a fellow-guest for a while. In fact, I
consider that by bringing them to a mutual understanding we should be
doing a kindness not only to the young people themselves but to the
General and Lady Cinnamond."
"Certainly they have no objection to Lieutenant Gerrard," said Mrs Antony
meditatively.
"None whatever, my dear, so that we shall positively be furthering their
wishes. Come, Jane; ain't I only wise in bringing my indiscretions to
you to set right, since you are such a dab at getting me out of a mess?"
"Fie, James, what slang! Indeed I don't wonder you affect to consult me,
since it seems to me you will get your own way undisturbed."
James Antony might go on his way with his great laugh, and his wife shake
her head at him in purely simulated reproof, but the results of their
involuntary diplomacy were hardly as satisfactory to the objects thereof
as to themselves. Gerrard's heart gave an ecstatic bound when his host
mentioned casually on meeting him that Miss Cinnamond was staying at the
Residency during the absence of her father at the front and her mother in
the hills. All the way from the camp within sight of Agpur, during the
hot voyage diversified with interludes of sniping from the river-banks,
he had assured himself persistently that nothing should induce him to
take advantage of Bob's generosity. But these good resolutions were
forgotten as he lay in the palanquin which conveyed him from the
landing-place to the Residency, listening, without comprehending what was
said, to James Antony's gruff voice firing off items of latest
intelligence like minute-guns. In a few moments he would see Honour,
look into her frank eyes, hold her cool hand, begin the siege of her
heart in which his faithful love--freed from the disturbing influence of
Charteris's presence--must surely succeed in breaking down the rampart of
maiden coldness within which she had entrenched herself. Yes, he was
glad of Charteris's absence; thankful for it. Bob had bidden him of his
own free will to go ahead, and was he to waste the opportunity for which
he had so long yearned in vain?
But disappointment was waiting for him at the Residency. Honour remained
so persistently in the background behind Mrs Antony that it seemed almost
as if she was hiding. Her hand barely touched Gerrard's, her eyes
shunned his, and her manner was constrained--almost awkward. Before
Gerrard had crossed the verandah he had divined a reason for this change:
she had read her own heart at last, and it was Bob Charteris that she
loved. And here was he, lagging miserably superfluous on the stage for
three or four weeks, while Charteris was held fast by his duties before
Agpur, and was as unaware of his good fortune as he was unable to profit
by it.
Second thoughts brought, if not a degree of hope, at least a less
complete yielding to despair. Perhaps it was not Charteris whose image
blinded Honour to the presence of her other lover. It might only be that
people had been talking, that Mrs Jardine had presumed to offer Honour
some advice inconsistent with the delicate nature of the situation,
perhaps urged her to terminate it in Gerrard's favour, since she had,
unasked, taken his candidature under her wing. That would be quite
sufficient to account for the girl's coolness and constraint. The battle
was not, then, absolutely lost, and it might even yet be possible to turn
it into a victory. Gerrard would be very cautious, very diplomatic, and
would keep their intercourse on the safe ground of their common
preferences in prose and poetry, until he had enabled her to dissociate
him in her mind from his too zealous champions.
Save in one respect, Honour responded to this treatment with a readiness
that was almost embarrassing. Her novel shyness fell from her when it
became clear that Gerrard was not intending immediately to speak to her
of love, and in discussing the new Dickens and the latest Tennyson she
revealed herself to him almost as freely as of old. James Antony
agonized his wife by portentous nods and winks behind their backs,
indicative of the complete and final understanding now in course of
accomplishment, but Mrs Antony was not so well satisfied, though she was
unaware of the exact nature of the rift in Gerrard's lute. One day
Honour broke into a deep discussion of the social and educational topics
touched on in the _Princess_ with a question which had no relation to
them whatever. It was clear that her thoughts were far from Gerrard's
exposition of his views, or why should she suddenly have asked how long
it took him to reach Charteris at Kardi with the guns after receiving his
note entreating him to hasten? Gerrard set his teeth. It was Charteris,
then. He answered the question fully, and also the others by which it
was followed. Honour's curiosity on the subject of the unauthorised
operations in Agpur seemed insatiable, and bit by bit she drew from him
the whole history of the campaign. Following her lead, he made a loyal
endeavour to keep Charteris in the forefront of his narrative, smiling
bitterly to himself when once or twice she questioned him directly about
his own doings. This was mere politeness, of course, it was Charteris in
whom she was really interested.
The irony of his own anticipations struck Gerrard forcibly after a
fortnight or so principally spent in talking about Charteris. Outside
the air was filled with wars and rumours of wars, with reports that the
Granthi army was moving on Ranjitgarh, or that this or the other Sirdar
was about to cut the communications with Agpur, and in the society of
James Antony and his intimates these were the topics that everybody
discussed. But spending the mid-day hours in the damp heat of the
drawing-room, where paper grew mouldy and the covers peeled off books,
under the influence of the rains, with Mrs Antony occupied at a discreet
distance with reading or letter-writing, Gerrard endured what would have
been martyrdom but for the bitter-sweet sense of Honour's
presence--possessing which he could not be wholly miserable. Continually
there forced itself on him the change in her since the days when they had
lamented together the supposed death of Charteris. She was restless,
prone to a curious impatience, and the literary interests which had first
drawn them together satisfied her no more. Only one explanation could
fit the facts. Bob Charteris was not literary in his tastes, and Honour,
with her heart awakened, had learnt to know that life was more than books.
As the time approached for Gerrard's return to active service, it struck
him that she had perceived her unconscious cruelty, and was endeavouring
to atone for it. He loved her the better for the thought, though it made
him all the more miserable, since the tenderness in her voice, the tears
he sometimes surprised in her eyes, must spring from a pity that was not
at all akin to love. No doubt, too, she was thinking of Charteris,
keeping the field in the rains, and extensively abused on all sides as
the cause of the war, and Gerrard would have liked to assure her that he
understood, and to prophesy a general revulsion of feeling when the Agpur
business had been brought to a successful conclusion. But apparently
sympathy was at a discount with Honour, for the slightest attempt to
approach the subject--even an honest effort to assure her that Bob's
safety should be his first care in the future, for her sake--brought back
at once the sense of constraint, and made her manner hard and impatient,
not to say snappish. Their final parting took place in public, but this
was Gerrard's own fault, for he could not trust himself alone with her.
He might have been a weak fool to hang about her for so long, but to
offer himself as a bearer of tender messages for Charteris was beyond
him. She was very pale, and seemed to find difficulty in speaking, and
he guessed at once that she was envying him his good fortune in seeing
her lover so soon. But his selfishness in refusing to volunteer as a
messenger was rightly punished, for Mrs Jardine, who had seen fit to
appear at the Residency to borrow a fancy-work pattern from Mrs Antony,
just as he was about to start, was not minded to leave things longer in
the uncertainty which had tried her so deeply.
"What! no message for poor Mr Charteris?" she inquired archly, as
Honour's hand touched Gerrard's to the accompaniment of a single murmured
word of farewell.
"Miss Cinnamond knows that I should feel honoured in carrying any message
of hers," he said stiffly.
Honour blushed red, though she looked annoyed. "Oh, give him my best
wishes, please!" she said lightly.
"Very distant and suitable, I'm sure!" muttered Mrs Jardine, much
disappointed, but Honour did not hear her.
"_You_ have not asked for any message--for yourself," she murmured,
looking at Gerrard's sword-belt as if she had never seen one quite like
it before.
"I did not venture--it is only your kindness that makes you think of it,"
he stammered.
"Perhaps you would rather not have it?" She raised her eyes for an
instant and looked at him bravely. "My very best wishes--to you."
"_Bus, bus!_" shouted James Antony from the foot of the steps. "Don't be
all day binding ladies' favours on your helm, Gerrard, my boy. Get it
over; it ain't as bad as it looks."
He ran up the steps again, and his great hand descended heavily on
Gerrard's shoulder, and Gerrard, thrilled through by the glance Honour
had turned upon him, and with all his preconceived ideas shattered and
clashing under the impact of a wholly new thought, must perforce allow
himself to be hurried away, vaguely aware that Mrs Jardine, baulked of
her expected sensation, was apostrophizing the acting-Resident as a
"naughty man!" At the foot of the steps he turned suddenly. One word
with Honour, even in Mrs Jardine's hearing, and his doubts would be
resolved for ever. But James Antony fairly dragged him on.
"No looking back now, my dear fellow. You must make me your messenger if
you have anything to say. Do you forget that they are waiting for you at
the _ghat_?"
Gerrard mounted his pony reluctantly, then looked eagerly round.
Honour's face might end his doubts as easily as her voice. But she was
not to be seen; Mrs Jardine was nodding and smiling alone in the
verandah, rather to the disgust of Mrs Antony, who was dimly visible in
the doorway of the drawing-room. Gerrard could not detect the form
crouched behind her spreading skirts, the face peering under her falling
sleeve, and once again doubt attained mastery over his mind. If Honour
had meant really to rebuke him for his backwardness, then was he indeed
the most blessed of men, but perhaps she was only mildly chaffing
Charteris's friend. It was not like her, but could one moment at parting
give the lie to the experience, the settled certainty, of weeks of close
intercourse? And she had not cared to wait to see him ride away!
During the river voyage, despite the ample opportunity he enjoyed for
forming definite conclusions, Gerrard remained balanced between two
contradictory opinions, and he was still much tumbled up and down in his
mind when he landed and fell into the eminently bracing company of
Charteris. British troops and siege-guns--not now to be spared from
Granthistan--had come and were still coming up from Bombay, and the lines
which had been fortified by the Darwanis and Habshiabad force were now
only part of an extensive position. Charteris pointed out the various
spots, much changed now since the battle in which Gerrard had received
his wound, as they rode up to the camp.
"Then you are under the yoke again, Bob?" said Gerrard.
"Rayther, just a very few! The Brigadier has determined in his own mind
that I am dead set upon presuming, so, to make it impossible, he snaps my
head off every time he sees me, and at once."
"Hard luck, old boy!"
"Oh, I share it with my betters. By the bye, is it true that the
Governor-General has been powdering Sir Edmund's wig?"
"In a way. Antony wanted to promise Sher Singh his life if he would
surrender, and the G.-G. came down upon him like a hundred of bricks.
Told him that if he had put forth any such proclamation he would have to
recall it, I believe, but happily things had not gone so far."
"I'm sorry for Sir Edmund, but I back Blairgowrie--which is jolly
handsome behaviour, since he has written some uncommon nasty things about
me. 'Pon my word, Hal, I'm right glad that they refused us our
siege-guns, and left us here tied by the leg for the hot weather."
Gerrard looked at him in astonishment. "But if we had been able to stamp
out Sher Singh's rebellion--as we could have done if they had supported
us properly--it would have saved this second Granthi War, Bob."
"That's just it. We should have gone on trying to govern through the
Durbar, and declaring that we were merely taking care of the country
until Lena Singh comes of age, knowing that if he ever reigned alone it
would mean the destruction of all we had done. But now the farce is at
an end, and they must annex Granthistan. Our _ikbal_[1] stands fairly
high, but it can't take the risk of a war bad enough to drag the C.-in-C.
from his Olympian retirement every two or three years. I'm sorry for Sir
Edmund, who has done his very best to bolster up the Durbar, but facts
are too strong for him."
"He will take it hard," said Gerrard. "Here is my camp, I see--my
_campoo_,[2] I should say," as they were met by a cluster of salaaming
Habshiabadis, who testified loudly their joy at his return. "But why
shouldn't I report myself to the Brigadier at once, Bob, and then come
back and settle in?"
"Because you ain't wanted, my boy. You don't go dropping in on your
General in that promiscuous style. You wait till it's convenient to him
to send for you, and then you apologize for your existence in the most
abject terms at your command. I happen to know--friend at court, you
see--that you'll be summoned about sunset, and if you behave very nicely,
and answer prettily when you're spoken to, you may even be honoured by an
invitation to dinner."
"Learning one's place!" said Gerrard, with a wry look.
"Exactly--as I have been doing. Our days of independent action are over,
old boy. If we had been allowed to capture Agpur it might have been
different, but I don't know. Who wouldn't go from governing kingdoms to
take up regimental work again?"
Gerrard did not possess the art of banishing unpleasantness with a jest,
and his brow was clouded as they rode up to his tent between the lines of
the Habshiabadis. For them, however, he had nothing but praise,
rejoicing their hearts by admiration of their discipline, and learning,
as he expected, that Charteris had continued their military education
during his absence. General Desdichado was still maintaining a judicious
seclusion, owing to a fresh attack of illness, it seemed, and Charteris
remarked on the curious character of the ailment, which invariably became
acute when there was a question of the General's coming in contact with
any British officer.
"Scandal says that nothing but Sadiq Ali's direct command keeps him in
the field at all," he added. "Otherwise he would sneak back to
Habshiabad, and drink himself to death there in peace."
They were inside the tent now, and Charteris turned suddenly on his
friend. "Well, Hal, what news? Is that blessing of mine wanted, or not?"
"It's no good pretending I don't know what you mean, but on my life, Bob,
I can't tell you."
"Can't tell--in a matter of this kind? Nonsense!"
"It's this way. Almost the whole of the time I was there I could have
sworn she cared for you. We talked of nothing but you and your doings."
"Precious little in that. You did just the same when you thought I was
dead, and it meant absolutely nothing."
"But it makes every possible difference when we both know you are alive.
At any rate, I was too jolly downhearted to court another refusal. But
just as I came away, she looked at me in a way that made me think--and
something that she said----"
"And you didn't make sure? My young friend, it strikes me that you fear
your fate a good deal."
"Our Mr James hurried me away. But I am afraid--and I don't mind saying
so--of risking my last chance."
"Why your last? I wish I were coxcomb enough to be sure it was your
last, and that you would lose it."
"But even if she refused us both again, you can't go on persecuting a
girl who has said no to you three times."
"Why not? I shall go on asking her, if she says no a hundred times.
It's for her own good. No girl can really wish to be an old maid."
"Rather than marry you or me, perhaps."
"That shows how little she knows about it. But I give you my word she
ain't going to lose a good husband through any slackness of mine. You
won't find me wasting my opportunities as you have been doing."
"You pitch it pretty strong, Bob, but I believe I deserve it. Still, it
was not my fault that I could not settle things that last moment. Will
you do this for me, old boy? When we get back to Ranjitgarh, leave me
free to speak to her if I meet her first. If I find that it is you after
all, I promise you to make no attempt to persuade her, and if you meet
her first, of course you will find out for yourself."
"I believe you, my boy! And I only hope we may find out definitely.
This uncertainty plays the very mischief with a man when he has time to
think of it."
"My dear Bob, you don't mean to say you would rather know that all was up
with you than be able to go on hoping?"
"That I would! One can set one's teeth then, and grin and bear it, but
it's horrid disturbing, when you're trying to give your mind to regular
hard grinding work, for the thought of all that kind of thing to be
always intruding."
"If I didn't know you better than you know yourself, old boy, I should
say not only that you didn't care a pin for her, but that you couldn't.
Why, how could one carry on work at all without those very thoughts to
help one?"
"You're getting libellous, Hal. It's the uncertainty, not the thoughts,
that I find disturbing. If she would take me--bless her!--I'll lay you
anything you like she would be the Commander-in-Chief's lady in the
shortest time on record."
"Bob, it's precious hard on both of us. Whichever gets her, one of us
must be miserable."
"Let us make quite sure that she's happy, then. But it's a little late
to be talking like this, ain't it? What I find most cause to blame in
you, Hal, is a tendency to the sentimental. Turn your mind strictly to
business--namely, to receiving the orderly who is about to summon you to
the presence of the high and mighty Speathley."
After the warning he had received, Gerrard was not likely to be late for
his appointment, but when he arrived at Major-General Speathley's
headquarters, it was evident that the Brigadier thought it salutary for
junior officers to cool their heels a little in his anteroom. A number
of other men were hanging about, and a low buzz of conversation filled
the tent. Gerrard was known by name to most of those present, and he was
soon in possession of the chief item of interest which was agitating the
camp. That morning's reconnaissance had been pushed as far as Ratan
Singh's tomb, which had been occupied without opposition, and a careful
search had revealed the shallow grave in which the dishonoured remains of
Nisbet and Cowper had been hastily hidden after the tragedy in the spring.
"The old man swears he will turn out Ratan Singh--whoever he may have
been--and give the poor chaps a _pucca_ funeral in the shrine itself,"
said one youth.
"I was not aware that we fought with the dead," said Gerrard, rather
disgusted.
"Seems rayther a spicy idea to me," drawled another. "They do our
fellows out of a grave, so we prig one of theirs for 'em."
"Surely we can do better for them than a second-hand tomb," said Gerrard,
more emphatically than he realised. "Wouldn't it be more to the purpose
to leave Ratan Singh in peace, since he has done us no injury, and punish
the living who deserve it?"
"Eh--what?" demanded an explosive voice behind the group. "And who may
you be, young sir, who think your opinion so well worth hearing?"
Gerrard turned to confront a short choleric man in uniform, whom he had
no difficulty in recognising to be the Brigadier. "My name is Gerrard,
sir, and I am attached to the Habshiabad force."
"Oho!" General Speathley drew out with some difficulty an eyeglass, and
fixing it in his eye, looked up at Gerrard as though he had been too
small to see without it. "So this is another of the sucking Caesars who
command armies in Granthistan! And what, pray, may be the nature of your
very valuable suggestion, sir?"
"I have acted as Resident at Agpur, sir, and know something about the
people, and I was about to say that they would be far more impressed with
the retribution if we buried our glorious dead in the very midst of the
city from which they were driven rather than in an old tomb outside it."
The astonishment on the General's face was reflected on those around him.
Clearly it was not often that Brigadier Speathley heard an opinion
different from his own. "Proceed, sir, proceed!" he snapped ferociously.
"I'll be bound we haven't been favoured with the full extent of your
views yet."
The tone was intolerable, and Gerrard grew white with suppressed wrath.
"I have no more to say, sir, if the petty and unchristian course of
turning a dead man out of his grave has already been decided upon."
"I thought so!" cried the General in triumph. "Antony's cursed
sentimental notions, of course--might have known it. You are one of
those who prefer the blackfellows to your own people, sir, who think the
lives of the Company's servants are nothing compared with the fear of
displeasing the natives."
"At least, sir, I placed myself at Mr Charteris's disposal to rescue or
avenge Captain Cowper and Mr Nisbet, or your army might not have been
here to-day. And you will permit me to add that I still consider my plan
likely to be more impressive, if less disgusting, to the natives than
yours."
"And you'll permit me to say, sir," roared the General, whose eyes were
protruding from his head, "that my plan will be carried out if every
pestilent political in Granthistan is opposed to it. It's high time you
came back to duty, sir. You seconded subalterns think no small beer of
yourselves, I know, but you'll learn better here, I can tell you, and
you'll find---- Eh, what's that?"
An unobtrusive aide-de-camp was presenting a paper at his elbow, and as
he read it his face changed, but by no means cleared. "Hum--ha!" he
muttered, "it seems you have some fancy status here--political trick, I
suppose--some quibble about Habshiabad lying outside Granthistan. But
it's all one. If you ain't under my command, you don't get mentioned in
my despatches--see? Eh, how does that suit you, sir?"
"I am honoured by the omission, sir," said Gerrard.
[1] Prestige.
[2] Native force under European leadership.