"We cannot grieve as they that have no hope."
A cloud of dark and brooding melancholy settled upon Fort George after
the departure of the troops. The streets were silent. Many of the huts
had their doors padlocked and rough plank shutters nailed over the
windows. Never the familiar sound of a native voice was heard, nor the
clatter of a horse's hoof on the roads. The place had an indescribable
air of loneliness and desertion. The men who were left behind were busy
all day helping to build sand-bag barricades in front of the
post-office, which was to be turned into a fort for our safety in case
the town should be attacked later on if the fighting went against our
men. All the Mashona boys had run away to their kraals, and there were
no domestics or boys for public work, so the convicts, who were mostly
Cape natives, were let out under a strong guard of white men and told
off in gangs to do the work of digging earth to fill the sand-bags.
The Fort George women who had their homes and their children to mind
were busier than ever, having no servants; but the wretched Salisbury
women, of whom whether I liked it or not I was obliged to consider
myself part and parcel, had nothing whatsoever to do from morning to
night. Fortunately or unfortunately for us, Mrs Brand in giving Judy a
seat in her cart had been obliged to leave her Cape maid Adriana behind,
and she had given the woman instructions to divide her services amongst
us. On this account we did not feel the loss of servants much, but
perhaps it might have been better if we had had something to do, even
housework, for a more wretched quartette of idle people it would have
been hard to find anywhere. Three of us at least had a secret that we
desperately desired to hide from the others, and the fourth--Mrs
Skeffington-Smythe--was quite the most maliciously curious woman ever
born.
Adriana, a big bustling creature well able to do the work of our small
household, came and cooked in our kitchen and served the meals for all
four of us in our little hut, and so there we were, everlastingly
together, Mrs Valetta and I rarely speaking to each other, and Miss
Cleeve and her friend always on the verge of a quarrel.
The latter two professed a great and eternal attachment to each other,
but Mrs Valetta disposed of their friendship thus:
"Mrs Skeffy and Anna Cleeve make me tired. They simply stick together
because they know so much about each other they daren't quarrel, but a
quarrel is bound to come one of these days and then their secrets will
be flying about all over the place and we'll have something to amuse us.
Anna. Cleeve is far too clever a girl not to tire of Mrs
Skeffington-Smythe, who is the silliest woman I have ever met. She
thinks of nothing all day but polishing her nails and soaking her soul
in Swinburne."
It usually rained heavily all the mornings and cleared up in the
afternoons, and the first time we went round to the tennis-court in
desperation for something to do we found that every sign of the markings
had been washed away. No one had the heart to paint them on again even
if the brush and whitewash could have been discovered, so we left it as
we found it with the wind sweeping leaves and pieces of stick and paper
across it and turning it into the most desolate spot in the town. We
went home again and sat sullenly round the tea-table--four idle,
wretched women! And I believed myself to be the most wretched of all.
I don't know how I bore the passing of the days. My heart was "a thing
of stone in a valley lone." To the pain of the blow Judy had dealt me,
which still benumbed my spirit, was added the strain of waiting for
Anthony Kinsella's return from Linkwater. My tongue did me the service
of saying all the everyday necessary things, and I ate and took part in
life like the rest of them, but I could not sleep and I could not think,
and it seemed to me that life would never be the same again.
"I could never again be friends with the roses--
I should hate sweet music."
I found myself listening to a conversation about Mrs Geach, which
reminded me of nothing so much as an attack by three savage Indian
squaws on some helpless victim fastened to the stake. It transpired
that no one had seen her since the day before the departure of the
Column, and though every one turned their eyes away from her in the
street, or looked through her as if die were a spirit, here were three
people very much annoyed because she now preferred to stay indoors and
not be seen. The most charitable thing to be heard was a remark of Anna
Cleeve's:
"Poor wretch! Life can't be very interesting for her now George
Rookwood has gone."
"What can she expect?" said Mrs Skeffington-Smythe with an air of the
utmost virtue. "If a woman deliberately runs off the rails she must
expect a smash-up."
"The smash-up is not the worst part of it, I imagine," remarked Mrs
Valetta. "No doubt there is plenty of compensating excitement about
_that_. It is in the cold grey years that come after that the full tale
of misery is told. However, I don't think she has reached that point
yet."
"No, wait; some day George Rookwood will meet a girl and fall in love."
Mrs Skeffington-Smythe spoke in a pleasant gentle tone and her eyes
took on the rapt look of one contemplating the tenderest kind of
romance. Just about this time the doctor paid his daily visit, and one
of his items of news concerned Mrs Rookwood. The men were charitable
enough not to grudge her the name of the man for whom she had staked her
all on the great chess-board of life.
"As no one had seen anything of her since the departure of Rookwood,"
said Dr Abingdon, "and the house showed no sign of being occupied, Blow
thought it his business to call there this morning, and when he couldn't
make any one hear he proceeded to break in, and--what do you think?"
Every one had put on a frozen face at the first mention of Mrs
Rookwood, giving the doctor to understand that they considered it
insufferable impertinence on his part to speak of such a person in their
presence at all; but at his dramatic pause curiosity could not be
restrained.
"Well? What?" said Miss Cleeve.
"Has she committed suicide?" cried Mrs Skeffington-Smythe.
Mrs Valetta had the decency to curl her lip at them.
"Not at all," chuckled the doctor, delighted with his effect. "She's
simply _not there_. Everything was found in tip-top order, and a note
on the table addressed to Blow telling him not to bother or make any
search as she was perfectly all right but had made up her mind to go on
a journey. What do you think of that?"
"But where can she be gone to?"
"That's the question! No one saw her go, but it now turns out that her
horse was not commandeered because Rookwood reported that it had a sore
foot. Well, sore foot or no sore foot it's gone, and she's gone with
it."
"Well, she's both clever and lucky to be out of this desolate hole,"
commented Mrs Valetta.
And she was right. For us the days grew greyer, emptier, and more
forlorn. Walks outside the town were forbidden by the Commandant, who
was Colonel Blow grown unrecognisably cross and surly. There were no
walks inside the town except from house to house, and as we had never
been on calling terms with the Fort George women there were no houses
for us to go to.
Mrs Skeffington-Smythe used to lie on the sofa most of the day, either
polishing her already over-polished nails with a silver polisher or
reading Swinburne's _Poems and Ballads_, a copy of which she carried
about with her eternally.
Anna Cleeve would sit by her embroidering on linen, or writing up her
journal, which she kept faithfully, saying she would some day write a
history of the war. It should have made interesting reading if her pen
was half as biting as her tongue.
I wrote letters, and sometimes sketched--anything to appear to take in
life the interest I had ceased to feel, and to get through the days
until the patrol came back from Linkwater. Mrs Valetta sat always in
Mrs-Pat-Campbellish attitudes, biting her lips and watching the world
stand still, through half-closed eyes. When the others were not there I
was sometimes obliged to listen to her acrid comments on them, and the
world in general, and life grew a little greyer and drearier in the
listening.
I learned that Anna Cleeve was staying on a visit with some rather
well-off cousins in Salisbury. Her uncle was an official of the
Company. She had come out to Africa, said Mrs Valetta, with the pure
and simple purpose all women have from their cradles up. She purposed
to marry--and to marry well--some one with money enough to take her back
to the country she loved.
"A London girl! You know what that means. They never see any beauty
away from Bond Street or outside of the Royal Academy. However, she is
going to marry Herbert Stanfield, and he is well off enough to take her
back. But she had better hurry up. She is twenty-five now, and looks
thirty when things go wrong. I dare say you know she imagines herself
in love with Anthony Kinsella."
Her oddly-coloured eyes flashed like a searchlight over me; but though
my heart came into my throat in a suffocating way, I had my mask on and
I think she could read nothing.
"Do you think it quite fair to discuss other people's private and rather
sacred affairs, Mrs Valetta?"
"Oh, fair? Perhaps not, but it will always be done while there are men
and women in the world, and if you think that anything can be kept
private and sacred in this country, my dear girl, you are greatly
deluded. Every one knows and has discussed the matter of Anna Cleeve's
infatuation for Anthony Kinsella. Some people will even supply you with
the conversation that occurred when she taxed him with being already
married."
I felt the blood leaving my face. I dared not speak for fear of
betraying to this cruel woman how much I was suffering.
"Of course friendships between men and women are everyday affairs in
this country. We are nearly all married and bored and trying to find
some interest in life. But the married women don't care about the girls
annexing their privileges. And then there are some men with whom
friendship is forbidden; Anthony Kinsella is one of them. However, Anna
Cleeve's friendship with him came to a wise end, and she is now engaged
to her rich man. But I haven't the slightest doubt as to where her
heart is."
"How can you say such things?" I said, quivering with indignation.
"What has it to do with you or me? You are probably doing Miss Cleeve a
great injustice."
She answered in her usual dry and weary manner:
"I may or I may not be. But I think it would be easier to fall in love
with Tony Kinsella than out of it, don't you?"
I advanced no opinion. I had learned to expect her thrusts and to
receive them without testifying. Nevertheless they added to my pain
which was already more than I could bear.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
After four days the relief column returned from Linkwater.
A watcher stationed in the tower told of its approach one afternoon, and
in less than ten minutes the whole community was out too, watching and
waiting. I went with the rest; it was impossible to do otherwise
without making myself conspicuous, but I tied a big veil round my face
for fear my mask should fail me at the moment I saw Anthony. Mrs
Valetta came too and Anna Cleeve, pale as a bone, the former with her
teeth dug into her lip in a way that was painful to watch. Not that I
watched her. One look was enough to tell me not to look again, and I
was occupied with my own misery.
Anthony Kinsella riding carelessly with his right arm turned in on his
hip was all I saw. A dark face with two blue points in it under a
slouched felt hat: eyes that with one swift look dragged my glance to
his over the heads of everybody, long before he rode in amongst us with
his little band. In the midst of them was an untented cart drawn by
oxen containing several women and children and a sick man. Every one
crowded round the riders shaking hands, questioning, welcoming. The
Commandant without delay had his arm round Anthony Kinsella's shoulders
and drew him into his office, closing the door. They were officials and
had to attend to the business of the country. We were left to welcome
the poor people in the cart--two sullen, sunburnt, colonial women, very
Dutch and disagreeable, and a tribe of small brats. Huts had been
prepared for them and the doctor had the sick man carried off to the
hospital.
Gerry Deshon and the rest of them hailed us cheerfully and dismounting
proceeded to recount their adventures, which it transpired had not been
of a wildly exciting order. They had seen nothing of the enemy, and
instead of being pleased thereat were full of weariness and wrath.
"Devil an _impi_!" they bitterly announced. "Not the scrag end of one.
All we got for our pains was the pleasure of being chewed up by flies
and skeeters, Dennison's horse gone dead lame, and Stair with a sprained
arm."
"Yes, and those blessed Dutchmen didn't want to be rescued. They kicked
at being taken away from their farms. Kinsella had his work cut out
making them quit. The women cursed and the brats howled. Oh, it was
dreamful!"
"The most awful flat frosty business you ever saw!"
"Never mind," said the American, who had been called away to join the
conclave in the office and now reappeared. "Never mind, my dears.
We're away off to the woods to-night."
"To-night!" Disgust and fatigue departed from the tea-coloured,
begrimed visages.
"To-night?"
"Yea-bu, verily, verily, this very night. Kim has said it. If we get a
big move on us we'll be in time for the shine at Buluwayo yet. If we
can't catch up with the other column maybe we can cut across country and
do a little stunt of our own. Kim knows this old map like the palm of
his hand. Excuse _me_--I must go and look after the commissariat."
"And I must go and get some sleep or else I'll freck."
"Me too."
Every one began to disappear in a great hurry.
"Aren't we going to get a word with Major Kinsella?" said Mrs
Skeffington-Smythe to the postmaster, who stood sulking in the verandah.
"I want to ask him to look after my husband and see that he is not too
reckless."
"He has a forty-foot pile of letters and telegrams to go through with
the Commandant. _He_ won't get much sleep before they start tonight."
Every one returned home, except Dr Marriott, who after listening to all
that had been said went and leaned against the door of the office which
enclosed Anthony and Colonel Blow. I would have liked to go and lean
there with him.
It was the custom for Anna Cleeve and Mrs Skeffington-Smythe to spend
the early part of the afternoon resting in their tent, rejoining us
later for tea, and Mrs Skeffington-Smythe was for this plan now for the
heat was intense and one longed for shade and rest, but Miss Cleeve
turned on her irritably.
"Don't talk to me about lying down, Nina, when every one else is
standing up doing something. Let us go back to the hut. I suppose
you'll give us some tea, Nonie?"
"Yes. Thank God for Adriana!" said Mrs Valetta fervently. "We may as
well make use of her while we have her. Perhaps she too will scoot off
in the night soon."
So we went back and sat down in the old sweet way--Mrs
Skeffington-Smythe on the sofa, Anna on the stool by her side
embroidering, and Mrs Valetta rocking herself in the rocking-chair. I
with my everlasting sketch-book sketched a figure that sat carelessly on
horseback with one hand turned in on the hip. But I kept my book out of
the reach of other eyes.
Adriana laid tea. There was a tense feeling in the room and expectation
hung in the air. Anna Cleeve and I avoided each other's glance, and
when Mrs Skeffington-Smythe began to whine about her Monty once more,
her friend gave her a look that was like the flash of a knife in the
air.
"Don't begin that, Nina, for God's sake--wait till you're hurt."
Surprise dried Nina Skeffington-Smythe's tears, and at the moment a
man's step was heard approaching. Anna Cleeve's teeth dug into her lip
again and I put my hand to my throat, for it seemed to have suddenly
grown a great pulse there that was suffocating me. Mrs Valetta rushed
to the door, and Dr Abingdon walked in bestowing a surprised leer upon
her for this unusually ardent welcome. She would not or could not
conceal her disappointment.
"Oh! it's only _you_," said she brutally, and even such a hardened old
sinner was dashed for a moment. But I invited him to sit by me and have
some tea, and he immediately regained his _aplomb_. Nonie Valetta
turned her back on us and stood by the window staring out. I poured the
tea, and flat expressionless small talk circulated for a moment or two,
but the doctor had some news for us.
"From what Kinsella reports, Blow has given orders for the barricades to
be finished to-night, and every one is to sleep in _laager_."
"What! Leave our beds?" screamed Mrs Skeffington-Smythe rolling her
striped eyes.
"No, take them with you," said the doctor.
Mrs Valetta turned angrily on him.
"Ridiculous! I don't believe there is the faintest chance of an
attack."
"It's what they're doing in Salisbury and Victoria. We're very lucky if
we don't have to be shut up all day as well as all night. Pickets have
been thrown out round the township, and at the first alarm every one is
to sprint for _laager_. Upon such an occasion I shall be the first man
in."
He was interrupted by the footsteps of a new arrival--a boy called Curry
this time--with an official document from which he read us the
information that we had just received _viva voce_. We were instructed
that the place was now under martial law, and that every one must
explicitly obey the word of the Commandant or take the consequences.
Furthermore, we were all to be in _laager_ before sundown every evening.
After reading his document very grandly Mr Curry invited himself to a
cup of tea, which he swallowed hastily. He then departed in a bustling
manner and the doctor followed in his wake. We were left to cogitate
upon the charms of _laager_.
"Frightfully jolly!" said Anna Cleeve. "To be penned in every night
with a lot of women and old men and screaming babies. I wish I had hung
on to the back of Connie Brand's cart."
We had heard that morning of the latter's safe arrival with Judy in
Salisbury.
"It'll be just as bad in Salisbury," said Mrs Valetta gloomily. Mrs
Skeffington-Smythe was rapidly making a calculation of the likely
accommodation in the _laager_.
"There's the court-house room, and the R.M.'s office, and the
postmaster's den behind the post-office--yes, and the Mining
Commissioner's room and that other little den behind the Magistrate's
office--the N.C.'s room. I suppose every one will crowd into the big
court-room--thank Heaven I brought down my tent; we'll have it pegged
out in the yard, Anna, and lace ourselves in at night and be perfectly
cool and comfy."
"E'um!" agreed Anna, whose thoughts were obviously elsewhere.
"And if you secure the N.C.'s office, Mrs Valetta, we shall have a
retiring-room as well for the evenings. I don't see why we should have
such a bad time after all."
"It's six o'clock now," said Mrs Valetta. "I should think we had
better begin to collect our things and make arrangements, shouldn't you,
Miss Saurin?"
I agreed, and Mrs Skeffington-Smythe stirred, but Anna Cleeve pushed
her back into her place.
"Oh, not yet, not yet. What's the use of rushing? There's tons of
time. Let's talk things over."
For a reason which we all very well knew, she was determined not to go.
"I expect some one else will be in directly with more instructions--we
might just as well wait and see." She suddenly turned to Mrs Valetta.
"You and Miss Saurin get ready, Nonie--never mind us."
Mrs Valetta made no move, but I presently rose and with an indifferent
smile left them. What did it matter? If he did come I was only in the
next room. I could hear his voice, at least, and perhaps it would be
best so. Could I after all bear to meet him there, casually, under all
those women's eyes--Anna Cleeve's searching glance, Nonie Valetta's
ice-cold stare?
Perhaps it would be best after all, I thought, only to hear his voice;
an opportunity would come later to speak to him. Surely he would make
one!
Even while I faltered, standing before the broken mirror and staring at
my own pale reflection there, his hand was on the door, and he came in
amongst them with a gay greeting for every one. Afterwards it seemed to
my aching ears there was a moment of expectation, an almost
imperceptible pause--as though he had glanced round the room looking for
some one else. His words seemed to verify my thought.
"I thought I should find every one here," he said, and my heart leapt.
Was there a curious inflection on the word _everyone_, or did I only
imagine it? I could hear him stirring the tea they had given him, and
the jingle of his spoon in the saucer afterwards, and the showers of
questions and exclamations that fell upon him as he stood drinking.
Very clearly I heard Mrs Valetta's question, though it was in a soft
and entreating voice I had never heard her use before:
"Why are you going, Kim? Surely it is your duty to stay here and mind
us."
"Yes, _do_ stay," implored Mrs Skeffington-Smythe. "It will make such
a difference. How safe we'll all feel!"
Anna Cleeve said nothing, but I could feel her _looking_. He laughed at
their fears and fancies, waved off their compliments, and made light of
everything.
"There's nothing to be afraid of, only do as Blow tells you. I don't
for a moment suppose there's to be any fighting here or I wouldn't go;
there won't be any fighting anywhere; the brutes are sure to run as soon
as we come up with them; we shall be back in a week or two--you'll see.
I must go now. This is `Hail and Farewell!' for the time being. We
leave in about an hour's time and I've a power of work to do yet."
Still he did not go. Still I stood staring into the mirror.
"Oh, of course we shall come out and see you off," they said.
There was a little pause. He appeared to be on the point of leaving; a
chain jingled and the creak of some leather strap he wore about him
could be plainly heard. He struck his riding-boot with something he
held in his hand. I stood rooted to the ground, staring--staring--at
the pale passionate waiting face in the glass before me. What was I
waiting for so passionately?
"Where is Miss Saurin?" he said.
At this a wave of pure happiness seemed to sweep over me and recede
again, leaving me as weak and faint as if a real great wave of the sea
had dashed itself against me. I leaned upon the dressing-table,
trembling and helpless to move, and dimly in my throbbing head I heard
the answers carelessly given that I was about somewhere, getting my
things ready to go into _laager_--busy doing something or other.
A moment later he was gone, with I know not what thought in his heart.
Those women had the wisdom not to come and look for me afterwards. I
think my eyes would have struck them dead as they entered the room.
In a little while I had recovered myself and went calmly on with my
preparations. Judy's rouge box, forgotten, stood open on the table. I
had never used paint in my life, but at the sight of my white face in
the mirror I dipped my finger into the red powder and made two little
smears on my face before I re-entered the sitting room. Nonie Valetta
was at the window again; the other two had gone.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
At seven o'clock ten horses were standing saddled and bridled in the
square, and speculation was rife as to who the tenth was for. Maurice
Stair had been put out of business by his sprained arm, so it had been
decided that he could not go to the front, evidently some one had been
chosen in his place. Wrath and envy mingled with curiosity was written
upon the face of every stay-behind.
Was it possible that Clinton (the man most unwillingly left in charge of
our guns) was breaking away after all? they fiercely asked. Had Stair's
arm miraculously recovered? Was Bleksley an open rebel? Had the doctor
suddenly become inspired with a lust for war?--but that was too
far-fetched a supposition even for Mashonaland!
The horse was gravely examined: an ancient beast with gnarled hocks, no
tail, and a dappling of tiny dark blue pits on his grey hide, as though
he had suffered with small-pox in some long-past year. But there was
spirit in his eye, and some one murmured over him the mystic word
"salted."
"_He_ won't die of _dik-kop_ this journey!" was prophetically announced.
The men were "riding light"; all that was on the horses was a blanket, a
mackintosh sheet, and a wallet with food enough for two or three days.
It was popularly stated that this little crowd had an excellent chance
of meeting a Matabele _impi_, and being cut off before they had gone
twenty miles. However, they came out of Swears's, where most of them
had been snatching a last hasty meal, laughing like schoolboys, and all
the stay-behinds hung and clamoured after them, eyeing the horses
wistfully, giving grandiloquent advice about everything, and complaining
bitterly of their lot.
To every one's amazement it was seen that the tenth man was no other
than Dr Marriott. Suddenly appearing he shambled on to the grey horse,
mounted awkwardly and sat there, a moody drooping figure, looking as
though he belonged to some other world than that of the gay jesting
crowd around him; possibly he did; probably he was lost in strange
dreams of the strange lands of which De Quincey has told us.
Swift enquiries were as swiftly answered, and the whispered news flew
round that, obsessed by his desire to go to the front, he had pleaded
with Anthony Kinsella and not pleaded in vain. Anthony, against all
advice, had consented to take him in the place of Stair. There was no
lack of criticism on the mistaken weakness of Kim.
"The fellow's a waster--"
"He will only be a drag--he's a good-for-nothing!"
"He's dopey now--lost in pipe dreams."
"And he rides fourteen stone--his horse will freck by the way."
"No, that's a mistake--he only rides eight and a half--he's all leather
and bones since he took to the juice of the poppy."
I looked round for Mrs Marriott, fearing she might overhear some of
these frank comments, low-spoken as they were, but she was nowhere to be
seen and at that moment Anthony Kinsella came on to the court-house
verandah with Colonel Blow and another man. He was smiling at some
remark of the latter, but as he ran down the steps the smile fell from
him and his face took on the hard, dark, hawk-like look habitual to it.
He strode in amongst the horses and seized his own. Laughter and
good-byes still hung on the air, but he bade good-bye to no one;
abruptly in that rough voice with a crake in it that thrilled and filled
me with longing to be a man too, to spring upon a horse, and ride with
him into the night, he terminated their laughter and farewells.
"Cut this short, you fellows!"
A moment later every one was in the saddle ready to start. He was the
only one left standing. He stood there amongst them, suddenly still as
though he had forgotten something and was trying to remember what it
was; and he was staring, staring, over heads, past faces, through the
scarlet rays of the sinking sun, straight into my eyes; and I was
staring back into his.
We took a long, long look at one another, and I think he read all that
was in my heart for him; while what I saw told me that if all the world
said otherwise I was to know that Anthony Kinsella was a true man and no
knave. Those straight steady eyes were never the windows of a false
soul. I had given myself to no traitor and liar, but to a brave and
upright man, gentle and strong and fine.
And he was going from me: only God and the old blind hag Fate knew if I
should ever see him again. Mayhap this was our farewell, this passing
of hearts through the eyes; and it was not enough. Body and spirit
cried out for more--a touching of hands at least. His eyes called me,
dragged me; it was as though he thrust his hand into my breast and laid
hold of my bare heart drawing it out towards himself, and with it me.
For I felt my feet moving--moving, and swiftly and straight I walked to
him, into his open arms, and he kissed me on the lips, there before
every one.
"God keep you, my heart! Wait for me--and believe in me," he said, and
though his voice was low the words rang out clear and strong on the
still air, for all to hear who listed. In that moment misery and
distrust was wiped from my heart and from my life, as though it had
never been.
An instant later all was over, he was riding ahead of his little band,
away into the sunset: and the men and the children were cheering, hands
were waving, hats and handkerchiefs fluttering. Cheer upon cheer rang
through the air, and voices came ringing back, until they grew fainter
and fainter, and at last only the far-off thud of the horses' feet was
heard.
Later I became aware that I was standing alone. The women I had come
with had disappeared, and the few men left were looking at me curiously.
None of them were men I knew. Suddenly I heard a woman laugh in a
strange fashion. It was one of the sullen Dutch women Anthony had
brought back from Linkwater. She stood amongst her Dutch friends and
made a remark, speaking coarsely and pronouncing her words in a
strangely raucous way:
"_Yah vot_!... he's very faskinating, darie Kinsella... Too bad he's
married already!"
Again she laughed that coarse, rankling laugh, and this time one or two
of her men friends joined her. I stood perfectly still as though I had
heard nothing, as though I had been turned to stone. I was realising
with a terrible coldness at my heart that the look of truth and honour I
had read in Anthony Kinsella's eyes had not been so plain to others. A
message had come to me from his very soul; but it was to me only. I
knew that all was well between us, that the way was open and fair before
us, that I could believe and trust him to the death. But these others
did not. They thought I had been kissed by some other woman's husband!
Well! It had to be so. They only thought--I knew. And I could afford
to wait and prove my faith. He would be back soon. At that thought
colour came back into my cheeks and blood to my heart. I lifted my head
proudly and walked from them all.
One of the Dutchmen made a remark in a loud, astonished voice:
"_Maar! ek ser for yoh_! these _Engelsch_ women have a damned cheek."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Before the next hour was out I was face to face with the fact that all
the women I knew in the place meant to cut me. Mrs Valetta did not
leave me long in doubt as to her intentions. On my return to the house,
to collect my things for the night in _laager_, she came to the door
with a tempestuous face and over her head the eyes of Annabel Cleeve,
with the gleam of a knife in them, met mine.
"As your most unwilling chaperon," Mrs Valetta burst out, "I have some
right to ask you, Miss Saurin, for an explanation of your scandalous
behaviour."
Tempest began to rage in me also, but I answered her civilly.
"I do not for a moment admit that I have behaved scandalously, Mrs
Valetta, but as you say that you have a right to an explanation will you
kindly tell me what it is you want explained?"
"Explained!" she cried violently. "You can never explain away your
infamous conduct of the last half-hour--not if you live to be a hundred.
Kissing a married man in that open and shameless manner! Your
reputation is gone for ever."
"You think it would have been more pardonable if I had done it
secretly?" I was driven to saying. She glared at me with the utmost
fury.
"You can't jest it away, so don't mislead yourself. You are done for
forever in Mashonaland."
"I'm frightfully sorry for your poor sister-in-law," Mrs
Skeffington-Smythe chimed in pleasantly from her seat on the sofa. "She
is so peculiarly sensitive about scandal."
Annabel Cleeve now contributed her little damnatory verse to the
commination service.
"It must be admitted that we live in a free and easy fashion up here:
but neither the manners or morals of the _Quartier Latin_ are ever
likely to become popular."
I surveyed them with such calmness as I could for the moment command,
this three-cornered attack being quite unexpected.
"You are all exceedingly kind and charitable," I said, "and your
solicitude for my reputation is quite touching--"
"Don't talk of what you have not," broke in Mrs Valetta vindictively.
"If you ever had a reputation it is gone. You can't kiss Tony Kinsella
with impunity."
"I never do anything with impunity," I said with burning cheeks but
making a great effort to control my anger. "I kissed Anthony Kinsella
as any girl may kiss the man she is going to many."
Anna Cleeve gasped as though she had received a blow, then she laughed
and Mrs Valetta joined her, but their laughter made a jarring and
unlovely jangle.
"A man may not have two wives--even in the _Quartier Latin_, I believe,"
sneered Miss Cleeve with her mouth awry, and Mrs Valetta broke in
harshly:
"It is ridiculous to pretend to be unenlightened on that point. I
warned you that he was married and I shall let every one know that you
were not in ignorance of the fact."
"I do not believe what you told me. It is not true," I said, my anger
breaking out at last. "And I refuse to discuss the matter further.
There is not a grain of generosity amongst the three of you. You prefer
to believe the worst; do so." As I turned to leave the room and the
house I stopped for an instant and faced them. My passionate words
seemed to have stricken them dumb. "But do not believe that I do not
know what my real crime is."
Nonie Valetta sat down suddenly on a chair and passed her handkerchief
across her dry mouth. She looked like a haunted thing, and I was sorry
for her. But Anna Cleeve faced me with sneering lips. Malice and some
other bitter passion stared from her eyes, and she half whispered, half
hissed, a word at me across the darkening room.
"What?"
"That Anthony Kinsella loves me." The words had formed on my lips and I
was ready to fling them at her: but I did not. I left the words unsaid
and anger died down within me, for I could recognise despair when I saw
it. It was not hard for me to imagine the torment of a woman who loved
Anthony Kinsella and was passed by. I could afford to be generous:
generosity was demanded of me.
"Let it all pass," I said gently, and turning from them opened the door
and went out of the house.