Jim Disposed Of
That dignity had hardly been attained when an interesting ceremony, in
which Ted played but a subordinate part, took place in Simla. Major
Russell and Ethel Woodburn, finding how much they had to talk about, and
how many thrilling experiences must be related, very sensibly came to
the conclusion that their best course would be to marry with as little
delay as possible.
Colonel Woodburn's natural objections to such haste had first to be
overcome, but having at length become reconciled to the idea of losing
his daughter, he allowed the date to be fixed. Charlie and Ted were sent
for, and at the latter's urgent request, Subadar Goria Tapa was invited
to the wedding. The Sirmur Battalion's head-quarters were then, as now,
situated at no great distance from Simla, so that neither Captain
Dorricot nor the subadar found any difficulty in attending. Captain
Spencer was another guest whom Ted was glad to meet again. Rapidly as he
had returned from Kashmir on hearing the news of the outbreak, he had
been too late to join his regiment and take part in the march to Delhi.
John Lawrence had found employment for him with the Movable Column, and
he had been badly wounded in the fighting that took place while
Nicholson was in command.
Three days before the wedding date Ted entered Simla and greeted his
brother with a salute. Now that the dull days of exile and inaction had
come to an end he was in the merriest of moods.
"Come to report myself, sir," said he with a solemn face.
"Hullo, Lieutenant Russell, V.C.!" was his brother's greeting as Jim
looked up from a table strewn with papers. "Glad you're looking fit
again. I'm blest if I know what you want here, but Ethel would have you.
Nice nuisance you'll be, I know."
The words of this truly fraternal greeting were belied by the hearty
handgrip. Ted retorted in kind.
"Well, that's brotherly love if you like," said he. "Wretched man! Here
I've come, my heart swelling with sympathy and pity for you, and this is
your return. I won't be sorry for you any longer, not one bit. Serves
you jolly well right. Hope you forget the ring, and gash yourself whilst
shaving, and that you're late, and that you get stuck in the service,
and that your collar comes undone, and your tie crawls round your neck."
"Much obliged, I'm sure," replied Jim, laughing at his brother's
boisterous spirits.
"Bless you, Major Russell, you're very welcome."
Jim winked with much deliberation, whereupon Ted thumped him between the
ribs and continued his chaff.
"Cheer up, old man; it'll soon be over, and p'raps you'll recover.
You're not the first fellow to be married, though I suppose you imagine
that there's never been such an important affair upon this poor old
globe before. Cheer up! I've heard of fellows who've survived it."
"Thanks! I'm fairly cheerful considering, but being with the Lucknow
Army don't seem to have improved your at-no-time very admirable
manners."
"Never had any. Everybody used to tell me how much I took after my
eldest brother. Seriously, Jim, I wish you'd been with us at Lucknow.
I've had a great time."
And Jim listened, leaning back with legs crossed and hands clasped
behind his head, while Ted recounted some of the most striking episodes
of the campaign and of his own adventures.
"You're a decent sort of kid, Ted," the elder brother allowed. "I wish
the Guides had been there. Now I believe you're dying to have a chat
with Ethel, and I know she's as anxious as can be to see you again. So
go and find her, young 'un. I'm horribly busy and can't go with you. I
would if I could, you may be sure."
"I will go and condole with her. _She_ needs some genuine sympathy and
consolation, and she shall have it. How far is it? Worth taking the
horse out again?"
"No, not five minutes away."
Before Ted had proceeded a couple of hundred yards, he beheld the object
of his search riding towards home, her thoughts uplifted far above the
humble wayfarer whom she was about to pass without recognition.
"Evening, Miss Woodburn!" said Ted.
Ethel gave a start and reined in her horse.
"Why, Ted, I didn't know you'd arrived."
"Just come. Affectionate brother intimated that, as he had no room for
thinking of anyone but you, I disturbed him."
"So you were coming to see me? You are looking well, Ted. I half
expected to see a decrepit invalid with crutches and bandages."
"I'm all right now. Should have come though to see you married if I'd
had to be brought on a doolie."
He assisted the girl to dismount, and, giving the horse in charge of the
sais, they entered the house.
"I am glad you look so well," repeated Miss Woodburn. "Paterson kept us
posted up as to your state so long as he remained at Lucknow. We had an
anxious time for a week or two."
"You heard about Tynan, I suppose? He proved a brick in the end, did he
not?"
"Yes, I was glad when I read Alec's account of how he died. That is--you
know what I mean?"
Ted nodded.
"Had you not seen him since that night at Lahore?" Ethel continued.
"Never once until that moment. I've not been able to find out anything
about him either. He must have enrolled in the Volunteers, under an
assumed name, of course."
Colonel Woodburn, looking his old self again, was genuinely pleased to
welcome the boy. For half an hour he drew him out on the subject of the
Lucknow campaign, and then Ethel claimed her brother-in-law again.
"Come and see my presents, Ted," she ordered.
"With pleasure--oh, by the way, I've brought my little contribution.
Hope you'll like it."
She gave a little scream of delight as he handed her an open box.
"Oh, how beautiful! How lovely! Ted, you shouldn't have given me
anything like this. It's much too good."
"It's not half good enough."
"Look at this necklet, father! Is it not exquisite?"
Colonel Woodburn examined the present, and gave a whistle of amazement.
"Ted, my boy, wherever did you get this?" he asked. "It's worth hundreds
or I'm no judge. Diamonds and rubies of this size! And what
workmanship!"
"It's from Lucknow, colonel. Loot, I'm afraid."
"Loot?" The colonel looked more serious, as he asked the question.
"I'm not certain--only circumstantial evidence. You see, there was a lot
of looting when we entered Lucknow, and the Sikhs and Jung Bahadur's
Gurkhas got nearly everything. Jung's men took several thousand carts
filled with loot back to Nepal. A day or two before I was wounded I
happened to save the life of one of Jung's Gurkhas who was being set
upon by a crowd. He seemed to be an officer of good standing, and he was
very grateful, and when I spoke to him in Magar-Kura, he was just
delighted. When I was well enough I found that this parcel had been
handed to me, and this necklace was inside, and not a word of
explanation. So I guess they came from him, but couldn't make sure as
he'd gone. It was probably one of many things he'd picked up in the
palace, but I don't know that for certain. They were allowed to loot for
a little while to repay their services, so it's come by perfectly
honestly, Ethel. I offered it to the general of our column for him to
send to the common stock, but he sent back word that it was mine, right
enough. So it's quite right, isn't it, Colonel Woodburn? Mayn't she
accept it with a clear conscience?"
"Certainly, except that it's much too costly a present to accept, Ted."
"It is indeed, old boy. I'm very, very grateful, and it's very generous
of you, but you must keep it. You'd be sorry in a year or two, and you'd
blame me for taking it."
Ted began to grow angry. "If you won't take it, Ethel," he sullenly
declared, "I'll throw it on the fire. I mean it."
"But, Ted, you'll be married some day, and think how you would like your
wife to have this--and she _ought_ to have it. Then you would think it
mean of me to have taken it."
He laughed scornfully.
"Marry? Me? I'm not going to get married! I don't want anyone to have it
but you; I meant it for you as soon as I saw it."
A way of escape occurred to the girl.
"Let us strike a bargain, old boy. If I accept it now, will you allow me
to present it to your wife on the day you get married?"
Again Ted laughed, this time with light heart.
"I agree to that--it amounts to the same thing."
"Do you approve of the arrangement, father?"
"Trust a woman to find some way out," said the colonel. "I think the
arrangement a good one. Honour satisfied on both sides."
"Now, Ted, I can thank you properly--especially for your thought on
first seeing the necklet. But come and see the rest of the 'loot', as
your unprincipled and shameless brother calls it."
"He calls it that, does he? Good judge, Jim."
"Yes, his first daily enquiry is, 'Any more loot to-day?' After being
satisfied on that point he condescends to enquire after me."
"I shouldn't have thought he was ever 'satisfied on that point'."
Ethel Woodburn laughed merrily.
"Quite true, he's not. He invariably grunts, 'Is that all to-day?' and
tells me that I ought to have laid myself out to be particularly nice to
everyone for the past fortnight."
"Greedy brute, isn't he? But I say, Ethel, isn't he content with these?
I call it a jolly good show considering that the presents from England
haven't come yet. I s'pose it's just Jim's peculiar way of expressing
his gratitude."
"Have you shown him the necklet?"
"No fear; he'd have collared it and stuck to it, and pawned it before
you could see it. He wouldn't have had your scruples."
"I'm afraid that you have a very poor opinion of my husband
that-is-to-be, Lieutenant Russell."
Ted laughed, and most rudely winked.
"About as bad as your own, I guess, Mrs. Major Russell."
Ted walked round from table to table reading the cards and asking who
was who.
"Sir Arthur Fletcher," he read out, halting before one of the presents.
"That's jolly nice of him!"
"I see Charlie Dorricot's sent nothing yet?" he added. "He's due
to-night, isn't he?"
"Yes, I expect to make his acquaintance shortly."
"Ripping good chap, Charlie! You'll like him.
"He's very anxious to inspect you," the young subaltern continued. "He
did all he could to draw Jim out about you, but it was no go--Jim just
gazed amiably upon him. Then he drew a fancy picture of you."
"Who did? Jim?"
"Don't jeer! You know who I mean. He also offered bribes to read your
letters--precious small bribes, though! But nothing could make Jim
wrathy when he was reading the epistles of Ethel."
"You helped him, I suppose?"
"Helped Jim--to read them? Who's mixed with the personal pronouns now?"
"From your account of your cousin," Ethel observed, disdaining to answer
the gibes, "I think it very doubtful that I shall like him. He appears
to have been--well--impertinent."
"Regular impudent beggar he is! I knew you'd think so; that's why I told
you. Never mind, Ethel, you may be sure of this, that he'll like you.
Besides, I stuck up for you, as Jim wouldn't."
"I am indeed grateful, Lieutenant Russell."
"You do look nice when you laugh, Ethel. Ah! here they are, I can hear
Charlie's voice."
They went down to greet the new-comers.
"I seem to know you quite well already, Captain Dorricot," Ethel
remarked as they were introduced.
"I'm afraid I can hardly say that I know you at all," Charlie replied,
"as Jim would never venture on a description, however greatly I
encouraged him, feeling, no doubt, his inability to do the subject
justice."
"That's really rather nice, you know," Ted commented, with a grave air
of abstraction; and the girl blushed becomingly.
An awkward pause ensued. Then four people spoke together. Three stopped
respectfully.
"Can you guess, Jim, what Ted has given us for a present?"
"That's a hint for you, Charlie. Open your packages at once. I am about
to marry a most sordid little woman, whose absorbing thought is:
'Presents, and how to obtain them'."
"Sir, you speak that which is not true. Look at this!"
"Whew! You've been looting, young man. Where?"
"Not at all--present--Lucknow--Gurkhas. By the way, Charlie, did you
know that young Roberts, your school-fellow, won the V.C.? Won it twice
over, in fact--I saw him."
"Well done, D.A.Q.M.G.! That young man will make his mark in the world.
He's a man that understands men--and things."
Ethel then related Ted's story of the jewels and the bargain made, and
Charlie presented his gifts, a pair of paintings brought back with him
from England two months before. To everyone's surprise he next dragged
out a pair of silver-mounted kukris, Goria Thapa's present to Major
Russell, in memory of their father's friendship.
Charlie and Ted returned to Jim's quarters, leaving the lovers half an
hour of solitude.
"My stars, Ted, that's a pretty girl!" observed the former.
"Isn't she stunning? She's no end fun either, though she looks so
demure."
"Jim has displayed unusual discrimination, I must say."
* * * * *
The day, by custom termed "auspicious"--though why the bridegroom cannot
tell--came round at last. Major Russell appeared as joyous as could
reasonably be expected--and no more. Whilst awaiting the bride's
appearance Captain Dorricot, as best man, apparently considered his a
most gladsome task. Why does "a best man" consider it necessary to be
ribald?
"Major Russell," he whispered, "are you or are you not going to hold
yourself straight? Think of me! You're disgracing me before all these
people. Don't look so cheap, man; you'll get used to it!
"Now remember my advice and start from to-day as master; let her see
that you won't be trodden upon."
"Oh, don't be an idiot!"
"Bless us, he thinks, poor fellow, that it'll be rather nice to be
trodden upon by her! Quick! She's coming! Take your eyes from the roof
and try to look as though you'd been here before and could do it on your
head."
Good as the advice was it passed unheeded, for all eyes were now turned
towards the church porch as Ethel Woodburn entered--charmingly sweet,
and shyly happy.
The ceremony over, our friend Ted forgot his new-born dignity and became
a boy again, and a perfectly irrepressible one, until Jim and his
dainty wife had driven away in the direction of the everlasting hills.
Then came the reaction of depression that must inevitably attend the
happiest and best-suited marriages.
"Poor old colonel seems cut-up!" said Charlie, as he and Spencer and Ted
lounged in the veranda some hours later gazing at the spangled velvet of
the sky.
"No wonder," mused Spencer. "He's left alone now, poor fellow! It's
hardly a joyful occasion for him. Have a cheroot, Russell?"
"No, thanks!" Ted replied.
"Teddy's a good boy," Dorricot laughed.
"He's quite right," said Spencer. "Nothing to be ashamed of in knowing
that one is not old enough to have stopped growing."
"She's a pretty girl!" Dorricot observed thoughtfully after a pause.
"Hope I may do as well as Jim when my time comes."
* * * * *
Ted Russell's adventures as a boy were over. Readers interested in his
subsequent career, if any such there be, may care to know that shortly
after his return to India after serving under Sir Hope Grant in China,
he obtained twelve-months' home leave. While in England the necklet,
curiously enough, did again change hands, and Captain Edward Russell was
by no means so greatly astounded by the circumstance as, to judge from
former declarations, he ought to have been.
Throughout the Second Afghan War he commanded one of the regiments of
Roberts' army, and Colonel Paterson distinguished himself during the
same campaign at Ahmed Khel, his regiment being with Sir Donald Stewart.
The old friends met at Kabul, and Ted took part in the famous march to
Kandahar, whilst Paterson proceeded with his general to the Kyber, and
thence to Peshawur.
A few years later Colonel Russell was in command of a brigade in one of
the North-west Frontier expeditions, and he finally retired from the
army with a hammered slug in his right leg, as Major-general Russell.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Disputed V.C., by Frederick P. Gibbon