USE AND WONT.
/The/ sun had risen some time, and the waves of heat were rolling up
to the assault of Colonel Bleackley’s camp in the shadeless desert,
but the bored and discontented officers who were lounging about the
mess tent made no move to retire to their own quarters. They had no
spirit even for what jealous civilians called “Arabit-hunting,” the
perpetual diversion of Sir Harry and his circle--which meant recalling
the exploits of this or that comrade in the battles, and how many of
the enemy he had killed. The few words exchanged among them were not
of a character flattering to the commander of their column.
“Shoving his responsibility off upon Delany!” growled Captain Keeling
savagely. “We ought to be in Umarganj now, and should be if he had
done his duty.”
“More just to say Delany shouldered the responsibility of his own
accord,” said the measured tones of Sir Dugald Haigh. “But it ought
not to have been left to him.”
“Well, he’s paid for it, poor chap!” muttered some one else. “Must
have broke down somewhere, or he’d be back by now.”
“Wouldn’t choose to be in Bleackley’s shoes when old Harry talks to
him about this business!” said another cheerfully.
“If the General don’t take it up, I’ll expose him myself!” snarled
Captain Keeling, with the public spirit which so endeared him to his
superiors.
“I believe you, my boy!” cried the rest in chorus, which broke off
into shouts of welcome as an exhausted young man rode a very meek
horse painfully into the space before the tent. With unwonted
discretion, Brian declined to state the result of his mission
otherwise than by nods and winks, but by the way he brandished the
despatch which he insisted he must deliver to Colonel Bleackley
forthwith, the others guessed he had been successful. But while he
waited for his audience he could not resist telling the rest how
uncommonly cool they were here--which was naturally soothing to men
who felt that they were rapidly frizzling away,--and to prove his
words, describing the terrible mortality in the General’s camp. That
Colonel Bleackley heard what was said was clear when he had read the
despatch, though his bearer professed to have awakened him from sleep.
“You are acquainted with the contents of this, I suppose, Captain
Delany?”
“I am, Colonel. The General would likely think it better in case the
despatch got destroyed.”
“Sir Henry was of course unaware when he wrote that my spies report
Umarganj to have been evacuated by the enemy. I doubt whether I am
justified in pushing forward, on the strength of an order dictated in
the state of health you describe. In case of the General’s death I
might incur very grave censure.”
Brian felt Captain Keeling bristling behind him, and anticipated him
hastily. “Believe me, Colonel, if Sir Henry were unhappily to succumb,
he’d rise from his grave to haunt y’ if you did not push forward.”
“You are acquainted with his probable course of action in any
circumstances whatever, apparently.” Colonel Bleackley looked at Brian
without any particular affection. “Better go and rest and get
something to eat. So valuable a person must not come to harm, if I am
to escape the attentions of the General’s ghost.”
Brian went off vowing angrily that he was not going to rest--not he! A
snack of something to eat, and he was good for the day’s work yet.
Besides, it was no use trying to sleep in this heat; he had tried it
at the other camp, and it meant dying before you could wake up--in the
case of other people, he explained hastily in answer to interested
enquiries. But whether it was that the double journey had taken more
out of him than he knew, or that it really was cooler here--owing to
the drier air--than near the river, it is certain that he was fast
asleep when Captain Keeling lifted the flap of his tent and looked in,
and on being addressed merely grunted and went to sleep again.
“Poor beggar! let him sleep. He deserves it,” said Sir Dugald Haigh,
looking over Captain Keeling’s shoulder.
“I know he deserves the best we can give him. That’s why I thought he
ought to come on this reconnaissance.”
“And you’re disappointed because the poor chap ain’t made of cast
steel and whipcord like yourself? After all, he’ll be in at the death,
thanks to Bleackley.”
“Hang Bleackley! I’ll swear I could take the place by a _coup de main_
with my men and your guns--and to be forbidden to approach too near,
or pursue the enemy----”
“Got to engage ’em first--find ’em, too. Well, when you do, the guns
will be up in support, if I have to drag ’em through the sand at my
quad.’s tail.”
“All serene. I count on you.”
Brian’s slumbers that day were disturbed by rolling thunder, which
worried rather than troubled him--it was so persistent. He was never
really awakened, however, and arose at sunset, refreshed but rather
injured, to find to his astonishment that there had been no storm at
all. The thunder of which he had been intermittently conscious was
that of Sir Dugald Haigh’s guns, with the support of which the
Khemistan Horse had attacked a strong Arabit force covering Umarganj
and driven it from its position. Forbidden beforehand to follow up his
victory, Captain Keeling, with murder in his heart, could only send to
inform his superior that the way to the town was now open, and entreat
to be allowed to pursue the retreating foe and cut off Kamal-ud-din’s
retreat. He had not been in the fight--so Captain Keeling had learnt
from the prisoners he had taken,--but he was certainly in the town,
and his capture would end the war at one blow. But Colonel Bleackley
scented stratagems and ambushes, and flatly forbade his subordinate to
do more than bivouac for the night on the ground he had won. The next
day the whole force moved forward majestically--also slowly,--the
Khemistan Horse acting as advanced-guard instead of reconnoitring
ahead of the column. Brian, riding with Captain Keeling, had little
conversation with him, for the Commandant was too much disgusted to
talk. He was quite certain Kamal-ud-din would have seized the
opportunity to make good his escape, and all the work would have to be
done over again. They rode on grumpily in the broiling heat, their
eyes mocked by the most enticing mirage imaginable in the
circumstances. A stately castle rose from the margin of a pellucid
lake, in which its battlemented turrets were faithfully mirrored.
Behind it towered mountains which it could have been sworn were
snow-capped, and on either side were waving palms and green
undergrowth. Both men were well accustomed to deceptions of such a
kind by this time, and were not unduly disappointed when the
delightful prospect faded suddenly, revealing a straggling mass of mud
hovels surrounded by a mud wall and clustering about a mud fort. This
was Umarganj, the goal of their efforts--but a goal without reward, as
Captain Keeling perceived when he handed his telescope to his
companion and pointed out a group of men waiting in the shade of the
gateway facing them.
“Townspeople--on the watch to surrender the place,” he growled.
“Kamal-ud-din and his Arabits have cut their stick, of course.”
“I wonder now was he gone when the spies brought that tale to
Bleackley yesterday?” said Brian.
“Not he. Spread the report in the hope Bleackley would think he was a
day late for the fair and go home. You put a stop to that, happily.
Then my young gentleman leaves the fellows we defeated yesterday to
fight a rearguard action and allow him time to get away, and clears
out comfortably while we have our proper meals and go to bed in nice
time!”
Brian laughed at the savagery of the tone, and they rode on, to be met
by the men they had seen--a number of the notables of the town, whose
protestations of their devotion to the General and the British, and
their delight in surrendering, scarcely carried conviction. They were
a ragged, wild-looking crew, and the place was so miserable and
poverty-stricken that both men were conscious of a mean joy in the
thought that Colonel Bleackley would consider its possession a very
poor return for the long march it had cost. But one of the
ambassadors--possibly reading some depreciation in the faces of the
conquerors--approached them ingratiatingly.
“The Sahib and the Beebee are quite safe, and their servants,” he
said. “And”--with a smirk--“we have a prisoner to hand over who will
rejoice the heart of the Padishah--on whom be the blessing of God!”
“The Sahib and Beebee!” repeated Brian in astonishment. “What Sahib
and Beebee? It can’t possibly be----”
“Not your sister and her husband--how could it be?” demanded Captain
Keeling crushingly. “They are miles away on t’other side of the
river.”
“I don’t know. I did hear at H.Q. that Puggy had come in swearing he
would stake his reputation they had never been on that bank at all,
but he had gone out on another errand, and I had no time to hunt him
up. If it could be----!”
“Who is this Sahib?” snapped Captain Keeling to the man.
“This slave cannot tell his name, Sahib, but he is sick, and his
Beebee enjoys the gift of good fortune.”
“I wouldn’t exactly have thought that!” muttered Brian. “But I must
see--I’ll ride on. Good heavens, if it might be! How in the world
would they get here?”
“You had better wait, unless you want to be chased and put under
arrest. Here comes the great Bleackley to take over the negotiations.
Now for a triumphal entry!”
Quivering with impatience, Brian had to wait while Colonel
Bleackley--through an interpreter--questioned the deputation, and
learned that Kamal-ud-din, with his family and such of his forces as
remained faithful to him, had left the town the night before. Of the
Arabits who declined to follow his fortunes farther, most had gone
their several ways, after plundering where they could, and besides the
townspeople there were left only a few who were tired of fighting, and
the wounded from yesterday’s action. Renewed assurances of the town’s
delight in welcoming the British convinced Colonel Bleackley that no
treachery was to be feared, and he announced his intention of taking
possession of the fort. Led by the Khemistan Horse, the expedition
entered the town and marched through the streets, to be greeted by a
weird apparition as it approached the fort gate. An elderly native--a
down-country Mohammedan from his dress--was dancing wildly on the
battlements and waving his _pagri_ like a streamer. Catching sight of
Brian, he turned the stream of blessings he was pouring on the column
generally into a more personal channel, and Brian recognised his
brother-in-law’s bearer.
“If you’ll believe me, it is them after all!” he cried joyfully. “Come
down, y’old sinner, and show us where your Sahib is.”
Descending with miraculous speed by some unseen staircase, Abdul
Qaiyam appeared in the gateway, his turban neatly rolled as though by
magic, his aspect composed and stately. “The Sahib and the Beebee
await the young Sahib,” he announced in his most important voice.
“Go and find your sister by all means, Delany,” said Colonel
Bleackley, and Brian followed his guide to the courtyard guarding the
zenana door, where Richard lay on his charpoy on the verandah, with
Eveleen beaming proudly at his side, Ketty beside her, and a nervous
figure lurking in the shadows behind.
“Hillo, Delany!” said Richard.
“So here y’are at last, Brian!” cried Eveleen, most unjustly. “No
thanks to you we’re here to meet you!”
“I believe you, ma’am! No thanks to me y’are here at all, but to your
own wicked wayward will. Well, this is a sight for sore eyes! How are
y’, Ambrose? Now tell me all about it, Evie.”
Shaking hands with Richard and kissing Eveleen simultaneously, Brian
settled himself between them. “Now that’s first chop! Give you my word
I never thought I’d have this pleasure. Sit down here, Evie, and tell
me all the story of your perverse doings, and how you managed to crown
’em all by letting yourself be found at Umarganj instead of among the
Codgers.”
Eveleen needed no second invitation to embark on so congenial a theme,
and with Richard putting in a dry word or two here and there in a weak
voice--to serve, as he remarked once, as rocks in the path of the
cataract--her narrative poured forth, with characteristic disdain of
order and chronology, and frequent promises to return later to such
and such a point and explain--the moment for which never came. Still,
having extorted permission to tell her tale in her own way, she did
arrive at last at the evening of Richard’s return to consciousness,
and Kamal-ud-din’s most inopportune appearance on the scene.
“If you’ll believe me, Brian, I was _frightened_”--with the solemnity
needed to carry conviction of so improbable a fact,--“really terribly
frightened. The instant before I was scolding Ambrose for not letting
me know the very moment he had his senses again, and I had plenty more
to say, when there stood that--that _incongruous_ youth, _glooming_ at
us with great angry eyes, and a drawn sword in his hand!”
“And I leave you to guess what your sister did,” said Richard, taking
advantage of her pause for effect.
“Why, I’d say she’d spring up and take her stand nobly in the front of
you, and treat that incongruous youth to the rough side of her
tongue,” said Brian.
“Well, then, I did not!” said Eveleen triumphantly. “You’ll never
guess it. I’m ashamed of myself entirely when I think how I’d ever do
such a thing. I just ducked down behind Ambrose, and cried, and cried,
and cried!”
“Y’old impostor, Evie!” shouted Brian.
“I was _not_. ’Twas all I could do--to think how everything had gone
wrong just as it was getting right. And poor Ambrose lying there
getting soaked with tears, and not a chance of saying a word because
of the noise!”
“As you may imagine, your sister is colouring her narrative a bit,”
supplied Richard. “’Matter of fact, the Khan was as much taken aback
as we were, and began to look most uncommon foolish. It was
unnecessary for me to say anything--even had I had the chance.”
“Do I understand, then, that Evie wept and wept until her tears would
float him out of the place, still looking foolish?” demanded Brian.
“You do not. The Seal of Solomon was still hung round Ambrose’s neck,
and the chain cot my hair as I cried. That reminded me of the thing.”
“It would,” acquiesced Brian gravely.
“And I jumped up, and took it off Ambrose, and held it out to the
youth and said, ‘Ah, take it, take it, and my blessing with it! All
the luck you can have I’ll wish you with all my heart, and if it’s my
poor eyes y’are set on I’ll give them to y’on a plate like St Lucy,
and go groping blind all the rest of my life, but don’t take me away
from Ambrose here!’”
“Precious moving!” remarked Brian. “And I hope Kamal-ud-din was duly
moved?”
“He was not.” Eveleen paused, and Richard filled the gap.
“Unfortunately my wife spoke in English, you see--which is not one of
the Khan’s accomplishments. Otherwise her rash offer might have been
accepted, and you would have found a shocking spectacle to greet you.”
“Ah, you may talk and make a joke of it!” said Eveleen, with
tremendous energy; “but I meant it, and I’d have done it too.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it. But how was the sacrifice averted?”
“I ventured to put in my oar,” said Richard. “Seeing the youth look
puzzled and angry, I summoned up my best Persian and laid the
compliments on with a trowel. I told him the terror of his name had
frightened my wife into thinking him capable of things he would never
dream of doing. I blamed myself for giving him the seal when it was
not mine to give, and begged him humbly to hold me responsible. I
pointed out that Mrs Ambrose was now quite willing to surrender it--as
a spontaneous tribute of esteem and admiration. I congratulated myself
on recovering my senses in time to unite my sentiments with hers in
making the gift.”
“Sure you never heard such an oration!” said Eveleen to Brian. “It
flowed on, and gained strength as it flowed--like a river--and I only
understanding a word here and there. And the poor Khan looking more
and more sheepish under the weight of compliments! And the whole thing
no good at all in the end!”
“No, I deny that!” said Richard vigorously. “If it didn’t convince the
young gentleman, I shall always swear it brought him into an amiable
frame of mind.”
“And how would he show that? Up to the present, he don’t seem to have
had much chance, between the two of you.”
“He asked,” said Eveleen with dignity, “was the Beebee willing to give
him the seal of her own free will? _I_ could understand that, and I
nodded my head as fast as I could go.”
“Quite forgetting that y’ought have nodded up instead of down?”
chuckled Brian. “’Tis a scatter-brain y’are, Evie!”
“Well, he knew what I meant, because I held the thing out to him with
my sweetest smile, and he took it, and said to Ambrose his mother had
warned him he’d better accept a gift offered with goodwill than seize
an unwilling wife, and I was so thankful I didn’t interrupt the
proceedings to tell him he’d never have had a wife in me.”
“Sure it’s well he’s a good boy and minds his mamma,” said Brian, his
tone a little puzzled.
“Ah, but that was not all, then. I wondered would you see it. He said
to Ambrose: ‘The Bahadar Jang gave life to me, his enemy, when he sent
to warn me that my brother was seeking to compass my death. In return
I leave him his people, safe and sound.’ Then some more compliments,
and away he went. And that was the last we saw of him--except a cloud
of dust vanishing to the southward yesterday evening. But who’s this
coming in--Europeans?”
“The great Bleackley coming to pay his respects to the rescued lady,
no doubt. And Keeling--you know him. Why, my dear girl, what’s the
matter?” for Eveleen had sprung up in terror.
“It’s Tom. I ought have told you before. I was coming to it. But
they’ll likely not notice.” She shook an agitated finger at the figure
in the background. “Just pretend he ain’t there, Brian.”
But evidently Colonel Bleackley was better informed than she hoped,
for when he had greeted her and Richard and congratulated them on
their escape and demanded a full account of their adventures later on,
he said blandly--
“You have that renegade Thomas here, I understand. Like the fellow’s
impudence to take refuge with you. Wonder he ain’t ashamed to show his
face. The man who trained the Khans’ artillery and fired on the
Residency, I mean.”
“But sure he has saved our lives again and again. He’s only here now
because he came back to save us when he might have escaped,” urged
Eveleen hotly. “Ah, now, Colonel Bleackley, let the poor fellow go!”
But Colonel Bleackley shook his head. “Impossible, my dear madam,
impossible! How could I answer to the General for such a piece of
folly? He will wish to deal with the fellow himself, I am certain, and
make an example of him.”
“Don’t you trouble yourself, Miss Evie,” said Carthew, coming forward
in his shuffling way. “It was bound to come. I’ve never done anybody
much credit yet, but I’m glad it’s through helpin’ you and the Major
that I’ve got caught. Leave it at that.”
But nothing was farther from Eveleen’s intentions, and the moment
Colonel Bleackley was gone--Carthew having been removed in custody
earlier--she attacked her brother again on the subject.
“He must be let go, Brian--you must give the General no peace till he
pardons him. He had actually escaped--he went away with the Khan,
leaving us, as he thought, perfectly safe. Then one of the servants
let out that the younger Khanum--Jamal-ud-din’s mother--had left word
with the town authorities, and bribed them, to kill us and make out
we’d never been here at all, and poor Tom came riding back post-haste
to warn us. We were quite quiet and happy, not keeping any watch or
anything, but he got us into the tower beside the gateway, where there
was a little bit of a room with a tiny door, and there we stayed all
night--fearfully hot. The townspeople came prowling round the empty
courts and places, but Tom cocked his pistols very loud when they came
near us, and they were frightened. They must have thought you were not
coming to the city when you didn’t advance yesterday, for this morning
they sent word that ’twas all right, we were quite safe, for you were
coming, and when we sent Bearer up to the top of the gate to look, he
called out that ’twas so, and he danced for joy! But when poor Tom
tried to go away again the way the Khan had gone, the people stopped
him and wouldn’t let him go, and he came back here. We must save him,
or we’ll be disgraced for ever. Ambrose feels just precisely as I do
about it.”
“Well, my dear, I think if Carthew could make up his mind to face a
trial----”
“But he can’t--you know he can’t. It ain’t his fault if he was born a
coward, and if it is, we have reason to be tender to his faults if any
one has. If you won’t help him escape, I will.”
“I will,” said Brian; “but I won’t be melodramatic about it. I’ll just
get hold of the General.”
And get hold of the General he did--when the expedition retraced its
steps to the riverside camp,--riding ahead to bear the news of all
that had happened. Officers and men streamed out joyously to welcome
Eveleen and her husband--Colonel Bleackley thought it was to welcome
him, and smiled on them graciously,--and Sir Harry himself rode out on
Black Prince, looking old and shaky, with his worn blue coat hanging
loose upon him, but his face wreathed with smiles.
“I was never so delighted in my life!” he cried, as he shook hands
vigorously with the rescued ones. “It has been touch and go with me,
but I began to mend when I heard Haigh’s guns in the
distance--showing, as I hoped, that Kamal-ud-din had been brought to
action, and now the sight of Mrs Ambrose has wrought a complete cure!
No time to waste if we are to leave that plague-spot in time to get
across the river, but at least we can frizzle through the rest of the
hot weather in the shade at Qadirabad, instead of out in the desert.”
“Y’ought take a little rest at Bab-us-Sahel yourself, Sir Harry,” said
Eveleen. “’Twould do you great good.”
“Well, well, all in good time. Lord Maryport has been kind enough to
bid me build a house there and do my work in a better climate than
Qadirabad. You and Ambrose may go down by road now in safety if you
choose, for the King of the Codgers has thrown up his hand. Vowed to
Doveton at Bab-us-Sahel that he would never come in to make his
submission with less than seven hundred retainers at his back, the old
rascal! but I sent him word he was to present himself in Qadirabad
without a follower of any sort, and he’s coming! So you may go when
you like--but with an escort this time, if you please, ma’am----”
Eveleen had the grace to look ashamed. “Keeping us all on the rack
with anxiety on your behalf--as if the hot weather wasn’t trying
enough by itself,--and taking up the services of my whole espionage to
find you, without even letting ’em have the satisfaction of doing it!
It’s to that brother of yours you owe it that you’re here, do you know
that?”
“I do, Sir Harry, I do. Knowing him yourself, would you say he was one
to hide his trumpet under a bushel?”
Sir Harry considered the metaphor gravely. “Perhaps not,
ma’am--perhaps not. But I owe him not a little gratitude for schooling
that fighting brute Dick Turpin for me. The beast is a reformed
character nowadays, by the look of him. I shall hear of it from the
Bombay papers, no doubt--a regular shout of execration of the wicked
officer who all but killed his horse. Or they’ll go a step farther,
and say he did kill him. Why not? paper and ink are cheap, and truth
is precious dear. Some day I shall see it set forth solemnly in print
that I eat an Arabit baby for my breakfast every morning, and insist
upon having ’em fat--ever since the mild and restraining influence of
the accomplished Colonel Bayard was so unfortunately withdrawn!”
He spoke in jest, but as though with prevision of the paper warfare
that was to embitter the remainder of his life. The Flag might fly
from the round tower of Qadirabad, and in the cool chambers where the
Khans had passed their time drowsily in drugged slumber their
supplanter might work ten, twelve, eighteen hours a day upon plans for
the sanitary, economic, moral betterment of Khemistan. But the flow of
poisoned comment from Bombay was to know no rest, and the famous
Bayard-Lennox controversy, which raged unabated throughout both men’s
lives, and still divides historians, was to leave the home authorities
doubtful whether the annexation of Khemistan had not after all been a
piece of high-handed rascality perpetrated by the General on his own
authority, and to rob him and his force of their well-deserved
honours. Sir Harry could not see as far as this, however.
“But I’ll do something for your brother myself,” he added
mysteriously. “He shall go down to Bombay in September with my nephew
Fred, and help him bring back my wife and girls. That’s a task to his
mind--eh? Don’t you tell him, ma’am--let it come as a surprise.
Where’s the fellow gone?”
“Here he is,” said Eveleen, rather nervously, for Brian had rejoined
them in company with a sallow man in native dress, who seemed to shun
the curious glances thrown at him. “And this is the person who saved
our lives, Sir Harry.”
The General looked searchingly at the renegade, then spoke briskly.
“An American, I understand, Mr Thomas?”
It was the chance of escape, and Eveleen breathed again. But for once
Carthew held up his head and squared his shoulders. “No, General; I
can’t deny my country even to save my life. I am an Englishman.”
“Nothing to boast of in your case, I fear. I am sorry to see you here.
At Qadirabad I shall be compelled to place you under strict arrest,
pending an enquiry into your case--at Qadirabad, do you understand?”
If Carthew did not understand, Brian and Eveleen did, and the next
morning the two, going out for an early ride, halted near a tent on
the outskirts of the camp, mysteriously left unguarded. Brian led a
spare horse with well-filled saddle-bags, and when they rode on again
this horse had a rider. Out of sight of the camp, on the southward
route leading eventually to Kamal-ud-din’s refuge in the Delta, the
three halted.
“Tom, you wouldn’t come back even now and face it?” asked Eveleen
anxiously. “The General would see you had a fair trial, and we would
all bear witness----”
“I can’t, Miss Evie.” Carthew’s habitual stoop and shifty manner had
returned. “I can’t face it. I’m shamed enough. The private soldiers
point their thumbs at me. They all know who I am--the chap that fired
on his own people. No, thankin’ you kindly, I’ll go where everybody
else is as bad as me.”
“God bless you, Tom--even there--wherever you go!” and Eveleen and
Brian shook hands with him, and watched him ride away in the cool
light of the dawn.
* * * * * * * *
“I’m greatly pleased you have seen my sister--really made her
acquaintance, I mean.” Brian spoke with an anxiety which was a little
comic in view of the extreme youth of the lady he was addressing. Miss
Sally Lennox resembled her father too strongly to be called
good-looking, and Brian was the only person ever likely to claim that
the famous eagle-beak was an ornament to a feminine face. She was very
quiet in manner, even demure--an epithet which was not one of reproach
in those days. Brian and she were sitting on the steps leading to the
ramparts above the General’s house in the Fort, with the charitable
purpose of shielding the retreat of her elder sister and Captain
Stewart to the battlements overhead, where they were enjoying sweet
communion, all unconscious that Sir Harry was demanding his senior
aide-de-camp, and Lady Lennox looking for her step-daughter.
“Yes, Mamma gave me permission to spend the day with her. Papa was so
kind as to ask her for me.” Miss Sally was invariably proper to the
point of primness in her intercourse with her stepmother, which may
have accounted for some of the wisdom with which her father credited
her.
“And you saw a good deal of her? And--and did you get on?”
The amusement in Sally’s smile was not unmixed with gentle contempt.
She not to “get on” with any woman living--or to confess it if she did
not! “Oh, I assure you we got on delightfully. Mrs Ambrose was good
enough to describe all her adventures to me. How charmingly she
talks--so original and vivacious, ain’t she?”
“And did you see Ambrose at all?”
“He came in while I was there. I thought him a very agreeable,
gentlemanly person. I adore that dry cool manner.” The merest glint of
an upward glance through long eyelashes to observe how Brian received
this, which was naturally not with enthusiasm.
“He’s a good fellow, of course. I wonder now--d’ye remember my telling
y’at Poonah I was troubled about my sister and Ambrose?--that they
didn’t seem quite to hit it off together.”
“I remember it perfectly.” Again the smile. As though any information
was ever forgotten that had once been stored away beneath the smooth
bands of hair on that knowing little head!
“Well, now, did you notice anything of the kind--that he did not
appreciate her as he ought?”
“No, indeed. I thought them a most congenial couple.”
“Well, there y’are now! That was the very last thing I’d have said of
’em. Was it just my fancy after all? Wait now and I’ll tell you. When
I was on my way here with the General first of all, I heard a man in
the Club at Bombay telling a story of another man who went home at the
same time he did, to marry a lady he’d got engaged to years and years
before. This man was at a ball one night, and the second man came into
the supper-room looking like a ghost, and poured himself out a glass
of brandy neat. ‘What’s the matter?’ says the first fellow. ‘She’s
old--she’s old!’ he says--‘and she was the loveliest girl in the three
kingdoms.’ ‘But sure y’have seen her before to-night?’ says t’other.
‘Times and times, but always in the open, and on her horse. ’Tis a
picture she is then, as she always was. But to-night, dressed up among
all the girls----! And I have come eight thousand miles to marry her!’
‘And did he marry her?’ asks one of the men that were listening. ‘Of
course,’ says the fellow--‘’tis the sort he is,’ and that was all. I
was not saying anything, naturally, but I made some enquiries
afterwards in a careless sort of way, and found the man that had
spoken was in Ireland about the time my sister was married. Tell me
now, what d’ye think?”
This time Sally’s smile was very pleasant--almost compassionate. “Let
me tell you what I noticed,” she said. “Your sister and I were
together in her room when Major Ambrose came in from office. Your
sister rose to go and meet him, but remembered me and sat down again,
though I begged her not to make a stranger of me. Then he came and
looked round the curtain. ‘Er--I wanted just to know where you were,
my dear,’ he said. Now where should she be but there? It was not
necessary for him to come. He came because he wished to see her.”
“And you gather from that----?”
“Pray what would _you_ gather?”
“It sounds all right, don’t it? Well, that’s consoling, indeed. But
will you tell me, was it all right the whole time or not? Was I just
imagining things?”
“How can I tell? And”--demurely--“do you think we ought to discuss
other people’s affairs in this way?”
“But sure it’s my own sister, and for my own consolation. She was a
pretty good age, of course--bound to be after all those years. It’s
t’other way about with me, don’t you know? The girl I’ll marry will be
nothing but a babe in arms compared with me.” From some idea of the
reverence due to youth, Brian was wont to conduct his wooing in this
impersonal style, which was seen through by the lady with the greatest
ease.
“Never mind!” she said kindly. “I am sure she will cherish the utmost
regard for you.”
“But I’ll be double her age! I’ll be a he-hag!”
“It sounds rather like an ass,” murmured Sally. “Donkey” was a slang
word then--as “moke” is now, and impossible on the lips of Lady
Lennox’s step-daughter.
“Then it sounds like what I am! But will it be that all poor Evie did
for her husband--when she saved his life, don’t you know,--will that
have turned his heart to her again?”
“How sentimental we are becoming!” lightly. “No, I think not. Efforts
of that kind might prove her own affection for her husband, but could
hardly awaken his if it were dead.”
“Then will you tell me what it was that did, O wise young judge?”
“How can I say for certain? I can only suggest that Major Ambrose is
convinced by this time that his wife is one of the happy people who
never grow old----”
“He is that, indeed. Have I not heard him myself times without number
cast it at her that she would never grow _up_?”
“I had not quite finished.--And perhaps he finds himself prizing,
because they are hers, even those features in her character which he
used to resent.”
“Cannot do without her--eh? But sure that’s a consequence, and I’m
asking you for a cause, a reason, an explanation!”
“I’m afraid that’s all I can give you,” meekly.
“‘My wise little Sally!’” murmured Brian.
“That is a quotation--from Papa, ain’t it?” reprovingly.
“Quite so. But”--audaciously--“it’s a quotation which I trust one day
to make my own!”
THE END.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES.
Sydney C. Grier was the pseudonym of Hilda Caroline Gregg.
This book is part of the author’s “Modern East” series. The full
series, in order, being:
The Flag of the Adventurer
Two Strong Men
The Advanced-Guard
His Excellency’s English Governess
Peace With Honour
The Warden of the Marches
Alterations to the text:
A few minor punctuation corrections.
Note: minor spelling and hyphenization inconsistencies have been left
as is.
[Title Page]
Add illustrator’s credit and brief note indicating this novel’s
position in the series. See above.
[Footnotes]
Place footnotes in square brackets inline with the text.
[Chapter I]
Change “Shahbaz Khan, and his son, _Karimdad_” to _Karimdâd_. (Keeping
this character’s name consistent.)
[Chapter V]
“Have it your own way, my dear, You have your…” change the second
comma to a period.
[Chapter XIII]
“stopping the _daks_ and attacking our boats” to _dâks_. (Keeping
this foreign word consistent.)
[Chapter XV]
“gun was heard in front, then a regular _fusilade_” to _fusillade_.
[Chapter XVI]
“there was no _respose_ to the dismay in Colonel Bayard’s” to
_response_.
[Chapter XXII]
“because you’ve been _contrairy_ wishing it” to _contrary_.
[End of Text]