YOU GO ALONE.
"It is poor work beating butterflies with a cart-rope."
--LUCAS MALET.
On the morning of that eventful 17th of March, Evelyn and Honor left
the bungalow directly after breakfast, bent upon such shopping as
Kohat could afford.
The nearest approach to shops, in the accepted sense of the word, were
the open stalls in the native city. But there could be no question of
exploring these; and the manifold needs of Western womanhood were
inadequately met by the regimental go-downs attached to each corps in
the cantonment. These consisted of spacious buildings, shelved from
floor to ceiling, and stocked with a fine medley of human
requirements, ranging from bone buttons to champagne, from quinine and
chlorodyne to rolls of silk for evening gowns. A new consignment from
"down-country" came up every month or so; and it was quite one of the
events of life in Kohat to go the round of the go-downs as soon as
possible after the arrival of these, so as to secure the pick of the
market while the goods were fresh and the choice comparatively varied.
Herein lay ample scope for those small spites and jealousies that are
more than bread and meat to women of a certain type.
Evelyn had actually sent for gloves and shoes by this means, from a
cheap Calcutta firm, instead of despatching an order to Simla regally
regardless of cost. They by no means satisfied her fastidious taste;
but she felt exalted to a superhuman pitch of virtue as she bore them
home in her dandy.
"I don't believe Theo will like these shoes one bit!" she remarked
with a satisfied laugh to Honor who rode beside her. "He will tell me
to order the next ones from Simla straight away, and I shall be ever
so dutiful and obey him without any fuss--shan't I, you grave, wise
Honor?"
"I should be an inhuman monster if I could keep grave and wise in your
company!" Honor answered, laughing back at her. "You will go on buying
expensive shoes to the end of the chapter, if that's what you are
driving at. Why have your spirits gone up with such a run this
morning?"
"I don't know. It's nice enough that they _are_ up. I got a lovely
letter from Theo--that's partly why, perhaps." Her eyes softened at
the remembrance of that letter. "He'll be home again in less than a
fortnight."
"Yes; in less than a fortnight," Honor repeated, and wondered where
she should go when that time arrived. She had not yet found courage to
face the idea in detail.
Evelyn kept up an unbroken ripple of hilarity till the verandah was
reached, laughing as Honor had not heard her laugh since Theo had
left.
"You're 'fey,' child," she said, as she helped her out of the dandy.
"I shall have you in floods of tears before night."
"No, you won't; I don't feel as if anything _could_ happen to make me
cry to-day. Hullo! there's Major Wyndham's horse out there."
Honor started.
"What can he want over here so early? Come in quick and find out."
They hurried through the hall into the dining-room, Evelyn leading, a
swift premonition of evil killing the laughter on their lips.
Paul stood by the piano looking at Desmond's photograph; his arms
folded; his "February face" more eloquent than he knew.
"Good-morning, Mrs Desmond," he said; and his sympathetic hand-clasp
sent her mercurial spirits down to zero.
"What is it?" she asked, blanching visibly. "You have brought bad
news?"
Paul assented in silence.
"If it is very horrible--don't tell me--I won't hear it!" She held up
both hands, as if warding off a blow. But Honor, coming quickly
forward, put both arms round her.
"Hush, dear, hush!" she said soothingly. "That is nonsense. We _must_
know what has happened, at once."
"Let him tell _you_, then; it won't hurt you like it hurts me." And
disengaging herself, she went over to the verandah doorway, and stood
there, looking out into the sunshine; her back to the room; her small
hands clasped; every nerve strained to miss no word of what was
passing behind her.
Honor turned promptly on Paul, an anguish of suspense in her eyes.
"Is it--the worst?"
"No--no--not that," he reassured her hastily.
"Tell me everything, please."
"I only know bare facts; the news came by helio. It seems there was a
sharp hand-to-hand engagement. The Boy and some of his men were taken
by surprise. Just as Theo reached them Denvil was--killed!"
A stifled sound broke from Evelyn.
"And--Theo?" Honor's low voice seemed to come from very far away.
"Theo has been badly cut about. Four wounds. The most serious is a
bullet wound in his face--close to the right eye. They seem afraid
that he may possibly--lose his sight."
"It is not true--oh, it is _not_ true!" Evelyn's hands went up to her
head with a desperate cry. Then she swayed, tottered backward, and
fell prone among the sofa cushions.
"Honor--come to me--I'm frightened!" she moaned, without lifting her
head; and in an instant Honor was bending over her, murmuring brave
words of encouragement, removing her hat, and mechanically smoothing
her hair.
"Is--he still here?" Evelyn asked under her breath.
"Yes, dear. Do you want him?"
"No--no; send him away. I want you--only you!"
Wyndham was already nearing the door and Honor followed him out into
the hall.
"You see she's a little off her balance, poor child."
"Yes, I see," he answered wearily. "And I thank God with all my heart
that _you_ are here. Will you tell Mrs Desmond that an escort is
returning to-day with Theo and--the Boy. They will reach Kohat
to-morrow evening."
Honor straightened herself suddenly.
"I will tell her. To-morrow evening. Does Frank know too?"
"Yes; she was in when I came. It upset her very much. Not a soul in
the regiment--officers or men--will have a minute's peace of mind till
the result of this wound is known for certain. In all the misery of
it, one is proud to realise that."
Something of his own grief showed in his voice for the first time, and
Honor's heart contracted with too keen a sympathy.
"Ah, Paul! you speak of it so calmly--as if you were just one with the
rest. But I, at least, can guess what the pain and suspense must be
for you."
His face softened at the tender inflection of her voice.
"No," he said, "even you cannot guess that. Now go back to his wife.
If I can be of any use at all send for me. I shall not come round
otherwise till I bring him here to-morrow evening. I mean to ride out
with a small escort and meet them on the way."
Honor found Evelyn rigid and tearless among her cushions. The strange
mingling of coldness and terror in her eyes startled the girl. She
hurried to the sofa and knelt down at her side.
"Don't look like that, Evelyn," she said. "It's horrible! Only think,
Theo will be here to-morrow evening. Paul told me so just now."
"To-morrow--to-morrow? He will be here, in this house--to-morrow?" She
repeated the word with stunned iteration, and there was no feeling in
her tone, only an uncanny fear, that chilled the blood in Honor's
veins.
"I never thought--it would be so soon. How can we manage about getting
away?"
"Getting away--where--in Heaven's name?" Honor rose abruptly. She
began to feel as though she were moving in a nightmare.
"Oh, anywhere, away from here. I can't--I won't see him, when he is
'badly cut about' and--half blind. I thought--if you would take me to
Murree--Mrs Olliver would be quite glad to look after him. And when he
is better, he could come up too. But if--if he is really going to
be--blind----"
She closed her eyes and shuddered. No flicker of pity stirred in
Honor's heart. It needed all her force of will to control her temper,
even for a few minutes longer. But a grim curiosity urged her to
discover how far it was possible to travel along such incredible lines
of thought and feeling.
"Well, what then?" she demanded coldly.
"Then--I know I could--never come back to him--never!" Theo's wife
answered slowly, without raising her eyes, or the look in Honor's face
would surely have frozen the words on her lips. "To feel that he was
always in the dark would frighten me out of my life. And he would
never be left alone, I know. There are so many--others."
But Honor could bear no more. Bending down, she caught hold of
Evelyn's shoulders and fairly shook her, as though she would shake her
back to life and human feeling. Her blue eyes blazed with indignation.
"How _dare_ you talk like that!" she said in a low note of
concentrated wrath. "How dare you think such despicable thoughts! Of
course there are others who would give their lives to save him from a
minute's pain; and you would let them take your place,--yours? And you
can actually expect that _I_--of all people--will back you up in your
desertion of him? No indeed! If you go, you go alone; and I shall
never have a word to say to you again. I may be speaking hotly,
because I am furiously angry. But I mean every word I say; and my
actions will prove it. What's more, _I will not let you go_. You
_shall_ stand by him, however frightened you may be. You talk
of--loving him, and you would treat him as I should be ashamed to
treat a dog! Evelyn! Evelyn!"--her voice broke suddenly, and tears
started to her eyes,--"tell me you did not mean what you said; or I
don't know how I am to go on helping you at all!"
There was more of command than of entreaty in the last words, and
Evelyn looked up at the transfigured beauty of her face with a slow
shivering sigh.
"You are very wonderful, and very--terrible, Honor," she said. "I
never imagined you could be as terrible as that." Then her lips
quivered, and she caught at the girl's skirt, drawing her nearer. "You
_must_ go on helping me, or everything will go to pieces."
"So long as you remain a loyal wife to--Theo, I cannot choose but do
so, with all my heart."
She knelt down again now; and Evelyn, flinging both arms round her
neck, broke into a passion of weeping.
"I think I was half mad," she moaned through her tears, clinging to
Honor as a drowning woman clings to a spar. "And I am dreadfully
frightened still. But I will do whatever you tell me. I will try to be
a loyal wife, even if----"
"We won't think of that at all," Honor interposed hastily. "It
cannot--it shall not happen!"
But Evelyn's tears flowed on unchecked. The fire of Honor's just anger
had melted the morsel of ice in her heart; and in a very short time
she had cried herself to sleep.
Then Honor gently unlocked the clinging fingers, and went straight to
Frank Olliver's room.