"Thy trumpet lies in the dust...
Help me to don my armour!
Let hard blows of trouble strike fire into my life.
Let my heart beat in pain--beating the drum of thy victory.
My hands shall be utterly emptied to take up thy trumpet."
RABINDRANATH TAGORE.
"War declared--_at last_!" Keith announced, in his quiet impressive
voice; and Lady Forsyth heard the words with an odd mingling of
relief and dread.
The next moment she was startled by a stab of almost physical pain
near her heart. That it was not physical she knew very well.
Instinctively she glanced at Mark, whose eyes were already on her
face; and there passed between them a swift, unspoken message that
eased the hearts of both.
Breakfast, usually a cheerful meal, was rather a silent affair; and
the minute it was over Lady Forsyth slipped away to her turret-room.
Sheila was helping Ralph pack, that he might hurry down south and
report himself at the India Office. Mark had gone off to the study
with Keith; and Lady Forsyth had been sitting in her chair by the
window for nearly half an hour before she heard his step outside the
door.
She turned, with his name on her lips; but her throat felt
constricted, and no sound came.
In response to that mute appeal, he dropped on one knee beside her
and laid his hands in her lap. It was his old boyish trick when he
came to confess a delinquency and knew himself forgiven in advance.
"Mother," he said, "we've got to put everything into this, you and
I--to the uttermost farthing. All our men must go. And I must give
'em the lead myself."
His voice was steady, and there was a light in his eyes that she had
never seen there yet. For all her courage, her own smile was a
rather misty affair.
"You're my uttermost farthing," was all she could say.
"Yes. It's bitter hard luck on you. But--you don't grudge my going?"
She shook her head. "The greater my treasures the greater my gift.
This widow's mite is a very large mite!" she added, smiling bravely
now, and passing her hands slowly over his broad shoulders down to
his elbows where they rested.
For answer he looked steadily into her eyes. The faint, yet
perceptible barrier raised by his engagement was levelled utterly;
the old blessed sense of comradeship restored. Friction between them
was purely a surface affair. The moment they touched fundamentals,
they were one. And Mark, for his part, was aware of a restfulness in
this deeper understanding; a restfulness that he had missed of late
without knowing it.
He knew now, very well; and she saw that he knew: but he only said,
"I was sure I could count on you. Keith, approves, of course. I
rather thought of going down at once with Ralph. You know--it's
enlisting I'm after. The quickest way----"
"Oh Mark--not that!" Her hands went up in protest; and, for the
first time, there was sharp pain in her voice.
"Now be a good Mums and listen without interrupting," he commanded,
imprisoning her hands. "We're simply going to have the biggest rush
to the colours that the world's ever seen. I'm sure of it. And it's
up to us 'aristocratic noodles' to give the sacred working-men, of
our sacred democracy, a thumping good lead. That's what I meant
about my own fellows. Thought you understood----"
"But, my dear--" she checked herself, half laughing. "Have you done?
May I interrupt now?"
"You have interrupted! Always do. Go ahead!"
"Well, this is how _I_ feel about it. Scores and scores of our
blessed noodles will enlist, for the very reason you've given. The
thing will be overdone, and if there's a shortage anywhere, it'll be
among the officers. Then the wrong sort of men will get commissions
and numbers of the right sort will remain stuck in the ranks: one way
of democratising the Army! Horrible idea! I believe, as you very
well know, in the true aristocracy of breeding and character, in its
duties even more than its privileges; and above all in its innate
spirit of leadership, that can be trained but not made. That's
why--especially in a war that will exceed all others in horror and
intensity--I strongly object to wholesale squandering of officer
material, our most precious possession."
"But, mother, I'm not an officer," Mark protested, adding with a
twinkle: "You're having a jolly long innings, you know!"
"Well, I must speak now. It's my only chance. And you're officer
material, Mark. You'd make a fine one, with a minimum of training.
You've got it in you. Will you--for once admit I may be in the
right?"
He regarded her quizzically. "I was determined not to, when you
started."
"Well, at least consult Keith and Uncle John and Uncle Everard before
you do anything drastic! You wouldn't have to wait long for a
commission. We've heaps of interest--Frank Gordon and Jim Stuart,
not to mention others, would do anything for you in that line. I
don't want to be selfish or unpatriotic, but you've admitted it comes
hard on me. Why make it needlessly harder?"
To her entire amazement he flung his arms round her and leaned his
head against her shoulder.
"You blessed little mother," he said under his breath. "You're as
plucky as they're made. Our share in this war shall begin with a
private victory for you! And let's hope it may be a good omen!"
Taking her head between his hands he kissed her fervently, and she
clung to him without a word.
At last he sighed and stood up, very erect, looking out across the
sunlit water to the shadowy hills. Her eyes took the same direction;
but the familiar scene was no more than a bright quivering blue of
colour. For a moment they both felt oddly shy of each other.
Presently it passed, and Helen looked up at her son. "I can't say
what I'm feeling, Mark. But I don't think you'll regret my victory.
Besides, there's Bel."
"Yes. Poor Bel," he said in a changed voice. "She hates the whole
business. And she'll hate it worse than ever now. But if she plays
up as you have, she'll do!" He glanced at his watch. "She'll be
here in a minute. I must go and meet her. Don't stay and brood
alone, Mums. Go down and talk to Keith. He wants to rush into
Ardmuir this morning and fix up a recruiting show for Friday. Sir
Mark Forsyth in the chair! On Saturday I vote we go south. There'll
be a thundering lot to do. This food panic's disgraceful. Famine,
indeed! As if we hadn't a ship afloat."
She put her hands to her temples. "It makes one's head spin. I'll
go soon, dear, but I must have a few minutes alone--to take it all
in."
So he left her, and went slowly down-stairs with a preoccupied look
in his eyes. It was scarcely the look of a lover eager to meet the
beloved after two days' absence; and in truth his natural eagerness
was dimmed by a lurking doubt as to how Bel would receive his
announcement. The contrast between the utter confidence he had felt
in his mother's acquiescence and his curious lack of confidence in
the girl he meant to make his wife hurt him horribly. He blamed
himself for it, as a matter of course; but deep down, he knew that
doubt did not come readily to his nature; that never yet had he
doubted where he loved.
From the front door he caught sight of her at the far end of the
drive, moving in her graceful, leisurely fashion, head bent, eyes on
the ground. She was wearing the yellow silk golf coat and the amber
beads, and the distractingly becoming hat; and, of a sudden, Mark
realised with a pang, how, in the last few days, the great issues at
stake had dwarfed everything--even Bel.
But now that the tension was over, the die cast, her spell reasserted
itself; and a great wave of tenderness flowed through him. It would
be hateful having to leave her: but he was so made that the question
of choice simply did not enter his head.
Now he hurried forward, convinced that so great an occasion must lift
her above herself. It was always the same: at sight of her, doubt
grew shamefaced--and fled.
Before he reached her, she looked up and waved with her parasol, and
Bobs, suddenly recognising her, bounded forward with eloquent tongue
and tail. While she was patting him, Mark came up and quietly
slipped a hand through her arm.
"That's good," he said, with a sigh of satisfaction. "Come to our
summer-house on the heather and have a talk."
As he led her towards the copse she gave him one of her soft
side-long glances, whether of scrutiny or affection it were hard to
say.
"Bobs is more demonstrative than his master."
The answering flash of his eye and tongue were direct as his whole
nature. "You won't induce me to kiss you in the open drive by your
base insinuations!"
And it was not till they reached the depth of the little wood that he
came to a standstill; a strange light of exaltation on his face.
Then he drew her to him and kissed her with a still intensity of
passion, as if he would make her understand the measure of his love
before telling her that which, perversely taken, might seem to throw
a doubt on it.
When he released her, she stood back a little and smiled on him, rosy
from his kiss, hands laid lightly on his breast.
"Are you as glad--as all that, to get her back?" she asked.
"More than all that--heaps more. I agree with Robert Louis.
Separation has its good points! But we'll soon be suffering from too
sharp a taste of it--scores of us. I suppose you deigned to glance
at the head-lines this morning?"
"Yes, of course." She frowned. "It's horrible--beyond belief. Rex
says it simply means that, in spite of all our science and progress,
the world's not civilised yet."
"More fool he, to imagine it was. Patches of it are half-civilised,
that's about all. And enough too. Over-civilisation, goodness knows
why, has a queer tendency to rot men's souls. Makes the body too
comfortable, perhaps."
"Rubbish! That's one of your fads just because you're against
progress."
"Not I, in the right direction. I'm only against the modern craze
for rushing wildly round a fixed point and getting nowhere. This war
may set the clock back, but I bet it'll get us somewhere before it's
done with us."
He was back at the unavoidable subject again; and this time he
resolved to have done with shilly-shallying.
They had reached the summer-house fronting moor and loch; and as he
stood aside to let her pass in, she said, smiling: "I like the way
you barbarians justify your own point of view! Anyway, I suppose
you're all satisfied now, and things will be a little more normal?"
"Normal?" His shock of surprise sounded in his tone. "How can they
be normal when we've got to fight for our lives against a Power like
Germany? Who'd wish them to be? I'm afraid you haven't read much
_more_ than the head-lines, Bel. There's no end to think of: no end
to do. As soon as I've rounded up my fellows here, we must go back
home and round 'em up there. I wanted to enlist myself, but mother's
persuaded me to apply for a commission. She's splendid about it, and
I'm counting on you to be the same."
"Mark!" Her surprise was no less than his own. She sank upon a
wooden seat near the window and looked up at him, with eyes that had
gone suddenly chill and hard, like bits of blue glass. "Have you
quite gone off your head?"
Words and tone produced a horrid revulsion of feeling. But he
answered her with studied quietness. "I was never saner in my life."
She received that statement with a faint lift of her brows.
"You can stand there and tell me--me--you're going to fight in the
most awful war there's ever been, as calmly as if you were talking
about ordering a new suit, in spite of all I said about Ulster?"
"Ulster! Good Lord, you're not building on _that_?" he cried,
enlightened at last. "My darling girl, can't you see for yourself
that there's no shadow of comparison? That was a matter of personal
choice. Something I could give up for your sake--and I did."
"Well, if you really--care, you ought to give up this too. It's not
fair on me, or your mother. Fighting is the soldiers' business.
Leave it to them."
"A few hundred thousand against millions--eh?"
"That's the Government's fault. Besides, we've plenty of
Territorials and things."
His short laugh sounded more impatient than amused.
"A lot you know about Territorials and things! They're thousands
below strength. And anyway, Bel, it's not a question of
Territorials--or of caring. It's a plain matter of duty."
"Well, you've money and brains. You could do quite good work in lots
of other ways."
"And round up better chaps than myself to go out and fight for me?
No, thank you! There'll be too many ready to take shelter behind
that plausible excuse. If they feel they can do so honestly, let
them. Anything I could do at home could be equally well done by
mother and Keith. Did you happen to notice the 'Call to Arms'? Do
words like that leave you unmoved?"
"N-no. But it means common men, not men with big responsibilities
like you."
"Bel, that's pure quibbling. It says 'All,' and it means 'All.'
Could any man, I ask you, with a shred of conscience or love for his
country, read that and remain at home rotting round with recruits and
committees? I couldn't, that's flat. This war is either a crusade
or a meaningless horror. And for me--it's a crusade. I'm not
talking hot air. There's too much of that in the papers already.
I'm only trying to make you see that I've no choice. I can't stand
outside--even for you."
"That simply means you won't," she said very low. He sighed and
stood silent, baffled, yet unshaken, looking out over the
sun-splashed heather. Then it occurred to him that, being a woman,
persuasion might move her though argument failed.
He sank on one knee and put his arm round her. "Darling," he urged,
"I can't bear hurting you like this. War is cruelly hard on the
women: but you only make things worse for us both if you let it come
between us."
He felt her stiffen under his hand. "It has come between us
utterly," she said. "All this week it's been getting worse. If you
talk till all's blue, I shall never see this--with your eyes. So it
just amounts to this. You must either give up your quixotic notion
of patriotism, or ... you must give up ... me."
She spoke with more than her usual deliberation. The words seemed to
drop out clear and hard as pebbles.
"Bel! You don't mean that!" he cried, hurt to the quick. "It would
simply break my heart."
His sincerity was so plain, that her own heart thrilled in response.
She slipped a hand round his head. Her fingers drifted with a slow
caressing movement over his hair; and her voice took its most
seductive tone.
"Mark, darling, if that's true, keep me--keep me. I'm yours, if only
... you'll stay out of the fighting!"
Instantly he released her and sprang to his feet--angry, miserable,
desperate. Yet still, in his very desperation, he argued, pleaded,
and exhorted her afresh: without result. He had struck the layer of
adamant beneath her skin-deep tenderness. She could not, or would
not, see things in their true proportion; and, finally, her hardness
stung his pride into life.
"It's Maitland, I suppose, who's been perverting you," he flung out
angrily. "Better marry him, if you're so keen on a husband who
prefers to let others do his fighting for him."
At that she swept to her feet, the incarnation of dignity, and looked
him full in the eyes. "Rex has nothing whatever to do with it. And
your other suggestion doesn't deserve an answer." She stood silent a
moment; but he neither spoke nor moved. Then: "I--I'm going now,"
she said. "We shall be leaving here very soon."
"No hurry. We're going ourselves on Saturday." He was watching her
fingers. She had drawn off his ring, and she tendered it him without
a word.
Still he made no move.
"Take it," she whispered, "it's yours--now!"
"_I've_ no use for the beastly thing," he answered between his teeth,
and lifting it from her palm he flung it out into the heather.
Her dignity and coldness went to pieces in a flash. "Oh Mark--what a
sin!" she cried sharply; and hurrying out, she knelt down and began
feeling, with fingers that shook a little, for her vanished treasure.
Mark, watching her from the threshold of the summer-house, did not so
much as notice that faint tremor. The red mist of anger clouded his
brain.
"So much for a woman's sense of proportion!" he said bitterly. "It's
not a sin for you to smash me up because I refuse to play the
shirker. But it's a sin to chuck away fifty pounds' worth of
diamonds. Money's sacred--if nothing else is. Keep it if you find
it, or it'll go straight into the loch."
As she rose to answer him, her eye lighted on the gleaming thing, and
with a sigh of relief she picked it up. "Sooner than that, I will
keep it, though I can't wear it," she said. "Besides, you may think
better of this."
"Not until the Germans do," he answered, and she knew he meant it.
"Don't return any other trifles, or they'll go the same way as the
ring."
"Then I suppose--it's good-bye."
He heard the faint tremor in her voice. But at that moment her very
tears would scarce have moved him.
"Oh, good-bye," he said casually, his face hard as a rock. "Whatever
happens, let's preserve the decencies."
She caught her breath as if he had struck her; then turning she
walked away through the heather, gracefully, deliberately, with the
familiar swing of her parasol at each step; even as he had seen her
walking towards him half an hour ago.
He had blamed himself for doubting her, and she had justified his
doubts up to the hilt. In spite of the dull pain and anger within
him, his eyes followed her, clung to her, till the last gleam of her
yellow coat disappeared among the trees.
Then, with the look of a man stunned, he sat down near the
window-ledge and bowed his head upon his arms.