Her Majesty's--th had got their orders for Malta, and some surmised
for India, though it was not yet known; but all agreed it was
hard,--“confoundedly hard,” they called it. “Had n't they had their turn
of Inidan service?--how many years had that grim old major passed in the
Deccan,--what weary winters had the bronzed bald captain there spent at
Rangoon!”
How they inveighed against the national niggardliness that insisted on
making a small army do the work of a large one! How they scouted the
popular idea that regiments were treated alike and without favoritism!
_They_ knew better. They knew that if they had been the Nine Hundred and
Ninth, or Three Thousand and First, there would have been no thought of
sending them back to cholera and jungle fever. Some, with a little sly
flattery, ascribed the order to their efficiency, and declared that they
had done their work so well at Gonurshabad, the Government selected them
at once when fresh troubles were threatening; and a few old grumblers,
tired of service, sick of the Horse Guards,--not over-enamored of
even life,--agreed that it was rank folly to join a regiment where the
Lieutenant-Colonel was not a man of high connections; as they said, “If
old Cave there had been a Lord George or even an Honorable, we 'd have
had ten years more of home service.”
With the exception of two or three raw subalterns who had never been out
of England, and who wanted the glory of pig-sticking and the brevet
to tell tiger stories, there were gloom and depression everywhere. The
financially gifted complained that as they had all or nearly all
bought their commissions, there was no comparison between the treatment
administered to them and to officers in any foreign army; and such as
knew geography asked triumphantly whether a Frenchman, who could be only
sent to Africa, or an Austrian, whose most remote banishment was the
“Banat,” was in the same position as an unfortunate Briton, who could be
despatched to patrol the North Pole to-day, and to-morrow relieve guard
at New Zealand? By a unanimous vote it was carried that the English
army was the worst paid, hardest worked, and most ill-treated service in
Europe; but the roast-beef played just at the moment, and they went in
to dinner.
As the last bars of that prandial melody were dying away, two men
crossed the barrack-yard towards the mess-house. They were in close
confabulation, and although evidently on their way to dinner, showed by
their loitering pace how much more engrossed they were by the subject
that engaged them than by any desire for the pleasures of the table.
They were Colonel Cave and Sewell.
“I can scarcely picture to my mind as great a fool as that,” said
Sewell, angrily. “Can you?”
“I don't know,” said Cave, slowly and doubtingly. “First of all, I never
was heir to a large estate; and, secondly, I was never, that I remember,
in love.”
“In love! in fiddlestick. Why, he has not seen the girl this year and
half; he scarcely knows her. I doubt greatly if she cares a straw for
him; and for a caprice--a mere caprice--to surrender his right to a fine
fortune and a good position is absolute idiocy; but I tell you more,
Cave, though worse--far worse.” Here his voice grew harsh and grating,
as he continued: “When I and other men like me played with Trafford, we
betted with the man who was to inherit Holt. When I asked the fellow to
my house, and suffered a certain intimacy--for I never liked him--it was
because he represented twelve thousand a year in broad acres. I 'd
stand a good deal from a man like that, that I 'd soon pull another up
for,--eh?”
The interrogative here puzzled Cave, who certainly was not a concurring
party to the sentiment, and yet did not want to make it matter of
discussion.
“We shall be late,--we've lost our soup already,” said he, moving more
briskly forward.
“I 'd no more have let that fellow take on him, as he did under my roof,
than I 'd sufifer him to kennel his dogs in my dressing-room. You
don't know--you can't know--how he behaved.” These words were spoken in
passionate warmth, and still there was that in the speaker's manner that
showed a want of real earnestness; so it certainly seemed to Cave, who
secretly determined to give no encouragement to further disclosures.
“There are things,” resumed Sewell, “that a man can't speak on,--at
least, he can only speak of them when they become the talk of the town.”
“Come along, I want my dinner. I'm not sure I have not a guest, besides,
who does not know any of our fellows. I only remembered him this
instant. Is n't this Saturday?”
“One thing I 'll swear,--he shall pay me every shilling he owes me, or
he does not sail with the regiment. I 'll stand no nonsense of renewals;
if he has to sell out for it, he shall book up. You have told him, I
hope, he has nothing to expect from my forbearance?”
“We can talk this all over another time. Come along now,--we 're very
late.”
“Go on, then, and eat your dinner; leave me to my cigar--I 've no
appetite. I 'll drop in when you have dined.”
“No, no; you shall come too,--your absence will only make fellows talk;
they are talking already.”
“Are they? and in what way?” asked he, sternly.
“Nothing seriously, of course,” mumbled Cave, for he saw how he had
fallen into an indiscretion; “but you must come, and you must be
yourself too. It's the only way to meet flying rumors.”
“Come along, then,” said Sewell, passing his arm within the other's; and
they hurried forward without another word being spoken by either.
It was evident that Sewell's appearance caused some surprise. There was
a certain awkward significance in the way men looked at him and at each
other that implied astonishment at his presence.
“I didn't know you were down here,” said the old Major, making an
involuntary explanation of his look of wonderment.
“Nothing very remarkable, I take it, that a man is stopping at his own
house,” said Se well, testily. “No--no fish. Get me some mutton,” added
he to the mess-waiter.
“You have heard that we 've got our orders,” said a captain opposite
him.
“Yes; Cave told me.”
“I rather like it,--that is, if it means India,” said a very
young-looking ensign.
Sewell put up his eye-glass and looked at the speaker, and then, letting
it drop, went on with his dinner without a word.
“There 's no man can tell you more about Bengal than Colonel Sewell
there,” said Cave, to some one near him. “He served on the staff there,
and knows every corner of it.”
“I wish I did n't, with all my heart. It's a sort of knowledge that
costs a man pretty dearly.”
“I 've always been told India was a capital place,” said a gay,
frank-looking young lieutenant, “and that if a man did n't drink, or
take to high play, he could get on admirably.”
“Nor entangle himself with a pretty woman,” added another.
“Nor raise a smashing loan from the Agra Bank,” cried a third.
“You are the very wisest young gentlemen it has ever been my privilege
to sit down with,” said Sewell, with a grin. “Whence could you have
gleaned all these prudent maxims?”
“I got mine,” said the Lieutenant, “from a cousin. Such a good fellow
as he was! He always tipped me when I was at Sandhurst, but he's past
tipping any one now.”
“Dead?”
“No; I believe it would be better he were; but he was ruined
in India,--'let in' on a race, and lost everything, even to his
commission.”
“Was his name Stanley?”
“No, Stapyleton,--Frank Stapyleton,--he was in the Grays.”
“Sewell, what are you drinking?” cried Cave, with a loudness that
overbore the talk around him. “I can't see you down there. You 've got
amongst the youngsters.”
“I am in the midst of all that is agreeable and entertaining,” said
Sewell, with a smile of most malicious meaning. “Talk of youngsters,
indeed! I'd like to hear where you could match them for knowledge of
life and mankind.”
There was certainly nothing in his look or manner as he spoke these
words that suggested distrust or suspicion to those around him, for they
seemed overjoyed at his praise, and delighted to hear themselves called
men of the world. The grim old Major at the opposite side of the table
shook his head thoughtfully, and muttered some words to himself.
“They 're a shady lot, I take it,” said a young captain to his neighbor,
“those fellows who remain in India, and never come home; either they
have done something they can't meet in England, or they want to do
things in India they couldn't do here.”
“There's great truth in that remark,” said Sewell. “Captain Neeves, let
us have a glass of wine together. I have myself seen a great deal to
bear out your observation.”
Neeves colored with pleasure at this approval, and went on: “I heard of
one fellow--I forget his name--I never remember names; but he had a very
pretty wife, and all the fellows used to make up to her, and pay her
immense attention, and the husband rooked them all at écarté, every man
of them.”
“What a scoundrel!” said Sewell, with energy. “You ought to have
preserved the name, if only for a warning.”
“I think I can get it, Colonel. I 'll try and obtain it for you.”
“Was it Moorcroft?” cried one.
“Or Massingbred?” asked another.
“I'll wager a sovereign it was Dudgeon; wasn't it Dudgeon?”
But no; it was none of the three. Still, the suggestions opened a whole
chapter of biographical details, in which each of these worthies vied
with the other. No man ever listened to the various anecdotes narrated
with a more eager interest than Sewell. Now and then, indeed, a slight
incredulity--a sort of puzzled astonishment that the world could be so
very wicked, that there really were such fellows--would seem to distract
him; but he listened on, and even occasionally asked an explanation
of this or of that, to show the extreme attention he vouchsafed to the
theme.
To be sure, their attempts to describe the way some trick was played
with the cards or the dice, how the horse was “nobbled” or the match
“squared,” were neither very remarkable for accuracy nor clearness. They
had not been well “briefed,” as lawyers say, or they had not mastered
their instructions. Sewell, however, was no captious critic; he took
what he got, and was thankful.
When they arose from the table, the old Major, dropping behind the line
of those who lounged into the adjoining room, caught a young officer by
the arm, and whispered some few words in his ear.
“What a scrape I 'm in!” cried the young fellow as he listened.
“I think not, this time; but let it be a caution to you how you talk of
rumors in presence of men who are strangers to you.”
“I say, Major,” asked a young captain, coming up hurriedly, “isn't that
Sewell the man of the Agra affair?”
“I don't think I 'd ask him about it, that's all,” said the Major,
slyly, and moved away.
“I got amongst a capital lot of young fellows at my end of the
table--second battalion men, I think,--who were all new to me, but very
agreeable,” said Sewell to Cave, as he sipped his coffee.
“You'd like your rubber, Sewell, I know,” said Cave; “let us see if we
haven't got some good players.”
“Not to-night,--thanks,--I promised my wife to be home early; one of the
chicks is poorly.”
“I want so much to have a game with Colonel Sewell,” said a young
fellow. “They told me up at Delhi that you hadn't your equal at whist or
billiards.”
Sewell's pale face grew flushed; but though he smiled and bowed, it
was not difficult to see that his manner evinced more irritation than
pleasure.
“I say,” said another, who sat shuffling the cards by himself at a
table, “who knows that trick about the double ace in picquet? That was
the way Beresford was rooked at Madras.”
“I must say good-night,” said Sewell; “it's a long drive to the Nest You
'll come over to breakfast some morning before you leave, won't you?”
“I 'll do my best. At all events, I 'll pay my respects to Mrs. Sewell;”
and with a good deal of hand-shaking and some cordial speeches Sewell
took his leave and retired.
Had any one marked the pace at which Sewell drove home that night, black
and dark as it was, he would have said, “There goes one on some errand
of life or death.” There was something of recklessness in the way
he pushed his strong-boned thoroughbred, urging him up hill and down
without check or relief, nor slackening rein till he drew up at his own
door, the panting beast making the buggy tremble with the violent action
of his respiration. Low muttering to himself, the groom led the beast
to the stable, and Sewell passed up the stairs to the small drawing-room
where his wife usually sat.
She was reading as he entered; a little table with a tea equipage at
her side. She did not raise her eyes from her book when he came in; but
whether his footstep on the stair had its meaning to her quick ears
or not, a slight flush quivered on her cheek, and her mouth trembled
faintly.
“Shall I give you some tea?” asked she, as he threw himself into a seat.
He made no answer, and she laid down her book, and sat still and silent.
“Was your dinner pleasant?” said she, after a pause.
“How could it be other than pleasant, Madam,” said he, fiercely, “when
they talked so much of _you?_”
“Of _me?_--talked of _me?_”
“Just so; there were a set of young fellows who had just joined from
another battalion, and who discoursed of you, of your life in India, of
your voyage home, and lastly of some incidents that were attributed to
your sojourn here. To me it was perfectly delightful. I had my opinion
asked over and over again, if I thought that such a levity was so
perfectly harmless, and such another liberty was the soul of innocence?
In a word, Madam, I enjoyed the privilege, very rarely accorded to a
husband, I fancy, to sit in judgment over his own wife, and say what he
thought of her conduct.”
“Was there no one to tell these gentlemen to whom they were speaking?”
said she, with a subdued, quiet tone.
“No; I came in late and took my place amongst men all strangers to me. I
assure you I profited largely by the incident. It is so seldom one gets
public opinion in its undiluted form, it 's quite refreshing to taste
it neat. Of course they were not always correct. I could have set them
right on many points. They had got a totally wrong version of what they
called the 'Agra row,' though one of the party said he was Beresford's
cousin.”
She grasped the table convulsively to steady herself, and in so doing
threw it down, and the whole tea equipage with it.
“Yes,” continued he, as though responding to this evidence of emotion on
her part,--“yes; it pushed one's patience pretty hard to be obliged to
sit under such criticism.”
“And what obliged you, sir? was it fear?”
“Yes, Madam, you have guessed it. I was afraid--terribly afraid to own I
was your husband.”
A low faint groan was all she uttered, as she covered her face with her
hands. “I had next,” continued he, “to listen to a dispute as to whether
Trafford had ever seriously offered to run away with you or not. It was
almost put to the vote. Faith, I believe my casting voice might have
carried the thing either way if I had only known how to give it.” She
murmured something too low to be heard correctly, but he caught at
part of it, and said: “Well, that was pretty much what I suspected. The
debate was, however, adjourned; and as Cave called me by my name at the
moment, the confidences came to an abrupt conclusion. As I foresaw that
these youngsters, ignorant of life and manners as they were, would be at
once for making apologetic speeches and such-like, I stole away and
came home, _more domestico_, to ruminate over my enjoyments at my own
fireside.”
“I trust, sir, they were strangers to your own delinquencies. I hope
they had no unpleasant reminders to give you of yourself.”
“Pardon, Madam. They related several of what you pleasantly call my
delinquencies, but they only came in as the by-play of the scene where
you were the great character. We figured as brigands. It was _you_
always who stunned the victim; _I_ only rifled his pockets--fact, I
assure you. I'm sorry that china is smashed. It was Saxe,--wasn't it?”
She nodded.
“And a present of Trafford's too! What a pity! I declare I believe
we shall not have a single relic of the dear fellow, except it be a
protested bill or two.” He paused a moment or so, and then said, “Do you
know, it just strikes me that if they saw how ill--how shamefully you
played your cards in this Trafford affair, they 'd actually absolve you
of all the Circe gifts the world ascribes to you.”
She fixed her eyes steadfastly on him, and as her clasped hands dropped
on her knees, she leaned forward and said: “What do you mean by it? What
do you want by this? If these men, whose insolent taunts you had not
courage to arrest or to resent, say truly, whose the fault? Ay, sir,
whose the fault? Answer me, if you dare, and say, was not my shame
incurred to cover and conceal _yours?_”
“Your tragedy-queen airs have no effect upon me. I 've been too long
behind the scenes to be frightened by stage thunder. What is past
is past. You married a gambler; and if you shared his good luck, you
oughtn't to grumble at partaking his bad fortune. If you had been tired
of the yoke, I take it you 'd have thrown it behind you many a day ago.”
“If I had not done so, you know well why,” said she, fiercely.
“The old story, I suppose,--the dear darlings upstairs. Well, I can't
discuss what I know nothing about. I can only promise you that such ties
would never bind _me_.”
“I ask you once again what you mean by this?” cried she, as her lips
trembled and her pale cheeks shook with agitation. “What does it point
to? What am I to do? What am I to be?”
“That's the puzzle,” said he, with an insolent levity; “and I 'll be
shot if I can solve it! Sometimes I think we 'd do better to renounce
the partnership, and try what we could do alone; and sometimes I
suspect--it sounds odd, does n't it?--but I suspect that we need each
other.”
She had by this time buried her face between her hands, and by the
convulsive motion of her shoulders, showed she was weeping bitterly.
“One thing is certainly clear,” said he, rising, and standing with his
back to the fire,--“if we decide to part company, we have n't the means.
If either of us would desert the ship, there 's no boat left to do it
with.”
She arose feebly from her chair, but sank down again, weak and overcome.
“Shall I give you my arm?” asked he.
“No; send Jane to me,” said she, in a voice barely above a whisper.
He rang the bell, and said, “Tell Jane her mistress wants her;” and with
this he searched for a book on the table, found it, and strolled off to
his room, humming an air as he went.