Jill stepped forward, tossing her head, as though to imply that there
had never been any doubt about her welcome, and Jack followed closely
behind, while the servant led the way down two long passages running at
right angles to each other, and threw open a door at the end, announcing
the visitors' names in stentorian tones.
A strong whiff of cigar smoke filled the air, and there sat the General
on a crimson velvet arm-chair, which was hardly redder than his own
complexion. His protruding eyes looked as glassy as ever, and his grey
locks were ruffled at the top until he bore a ludicrous likeness to a
paroquet. He held the crumpled card in his hand, and greeted his
visitors with a chuckle of amusement.
"Well, sir. Well, ma'am--`kind enquiries,' eh? Come to see how the
poor old man is faring after his fall?"
"Yes! We wanted to know. We thought it would be polite, as we were the
un--er--unwitting causers of your accident."
Jill brought out the right word with fine effect, whereupon the General
made great play with his outstanding tufts of eyebrow, pretending to
frown, and look ferocious.
"Un--witting, indeed! If that is your idea of unwitting, I should like
to know how you would define deliberate intent! I'll forgive you this
time, but let me catch you at any of your tricks again, and the fat will
be in the fire! Sit down--sit down. It's not often an old bachelor
like myself has the honour of entertaining a young lady visitor. No man
has had better friends, or more of them, than Terence Digby, but there
are precious few remaining nowadays. I've left them behind me in many a
lonely grave, without a stick or stone to show the resting-place of some
of the bravest fellows the world has ever known. It's lonely work to
outlive one's best friends."
"Have you been in many wars, sir?" asked Jack, quick to scent a story of
adventure. He dropped his hat on the floor and wriggled back in his
chair, the rebellious locks of hair which his sisters christened
"Cetewayo," after the Zulu chief, sticking up rampantly at the back of
his head. "Have you been in any real, proper wars?"
"I should think I have, sir. Many wars, and tough and serious wars at
that, though a whipper-snapper like you would not know their names, and
the English newspapers sandwich the news of them in a corner--with a
small headline of `Border War.' It's the Border Wars which keep the
Empire together, let me tell you, sir--the Border Wars which entail the
most self-sacrificing and thankless work. There's no honour and glory
about them. The people you are fighting for don't even take the trouble
to find out where you are, or what the trouble is about. Not that there
ought to be any hardship about that to the true soldier. He fights for
his King! That is enough for him!"
A curious softening of expression came over the fierce old face as he
spoke the last sentence. The young people both noticed it, and dimly
suspected a deeper meaning to the words, but they were in no mood for
moralising.
"I should prefer the honour and glory," Jill declared boldly. "I'd hate
to be sent to fight savages in pokey out-of-the-way places where nobody
was watching and saying, `England expects!' I could be most
terrifically brave, if I knew it would be in the papers in the morning,
and I should be a hero when I got home; but I'd be scared to death up
among great lonely mountains with the feeling that nobody cared. Were
you ever frightened, General Digby?"
"Soldiers are never frightened. You are only a girl," interrupted Jack
indignantly, but his host did not agree with his conclusions.
"She may be a girl, but she knows what she is talking about. She
understands, because she is a girl, perhaps. Women have that faculty
born in them. Banners and flags, and bands playing patriotic airs, and
the feeling that the world is watching, have an inspiring effect on the
most timid of men. Who told you that a soldier was never afraid, young
sir? Whoever it was did not know what he was talking about. Yes, I
have been afraid, deadly afraid, many times over, and no man dared to
call Terence Digby a coward. To camp with a handful of men among the
great lonely mountains, as your sister so aptly puts it, never knowing
when or how the attack may fall--an attack of devils rather than men; to
know that if you are taken torture will be your portion, not death,--
there is nothing to dread in dying for one's country,--that shakes the
nerves of the strongest man! I hear people talking about modern
warfare, and saying it is the hardest trial of bravery to fight an
unseen foe three or four miles away. Well, well! I wonder if they have
ever seen a rush of one of those warlike hill-tribes, and stood waiting
to receive it as I have had to do times and again!"
"Did you kill lots of men--yourself? How many have you killed?" Jack
inquired eagerly, but the General refused to be specific.
"I prefer not to think. It's not a pleasant recollection. When the
world is a little older, let us hope we shall find some better way of
settling a quarrel than seeing who can kill off the most men. What are
you going to be when you are a man, Mr Jack? Going in for a
profession?"
Jack's face fell. For personal questions, especially questions
referring to his studies, he had a strong distaste. He wriggled on his
chair, and mumbled between his lips--
"Trying for a scholarship. Half fees for the next three years. If I
get it father will send me on to Cambridge. He wants me to be a doctor,
and help him in the practice when he gets old."
"And you?"
Jack shrugged his shoulders.
"I'd like to be a surgeon. It would be fine patching people up, setting
their bones, and trying things no one had dared to do before; but I
couldn't stand driving round every day to look after their wretched
colds, and vaccinate the babies. I'd like to be an army doctor best of
all."
"Humph! Would you! Much you know about it. I fancy you'd soon be
thankful to take on the babies in exchange. Well, I've only one piece
of advice to give you, my boy: never be persuaded to take up a career
into which you cannot throw your whole heart and soul. You are
responsible for your life's work, and will have to account for it some
day. Don't make things harder by drifting into uncongenial
surroundings. You look to me like a young fellow who might drift. Too
easy-going by half!"
Jack flushed uncomfortably. He hated being criticised, especially when
the criticism was true, as conscience proclaimed the present indictment
to be. There came to him every now and then moments of illumination,
when, as if a flashlight was suddenly played over the future, he
realised that he would soon be a man, with a man's duties and
responsibilities to himself and to others, and that these years of
preparation were his training-ground for the fight, concerning the
spending of which he would either rejoice or sorrow all his life long.
At such moments the blood tingled in his veins, and he felt strong to do
all things, and deny himself all things, if only the goal could be
reached; but the vision soon faded, and he relapsed once more into
careless, happy-go-lucky ways, caring more for a "lark" than for any
solid gain, present or to come.
The old man stared at the boy for a moment,--seemed as if about to add
something to his denunciation, but changed his mind, and addressed Jill
instead.
"And you, missy? Girls have professions nowadays as well as their
brothers. Have you any special vocation in view?"
Jill shook her pretty shaggy head.
"Oh no, I'm just going to be a plain lady!" whereat the General threw
himself back in his chair with a stentorian laugh.
"No, that you never will! That is, fortunately, out of your own hands.
You will have to make another choice, my dear."
Jill showed her white teeth in a smile, wholly unembarrassed by the
compliment.
"I mean, I shall get married as soon as I leave school. I should hate
to have to make money for myself. I'll marry a rich man with lots of
dogs and horses, and then I can enjoy myself without any bother."
The General drew his eyebrows together and stared scrutinisingly at the
girlish figure seated on the high-backed oak chair. Flowing locks,
short petticoats, heavy boots, woollen gloves--just a bit of a
schoolgirl in the hobbledehoy stage in which feminine instincts seem
dormant--and the ambitions are more those of a boy than a girl. But
Jill was going to be a woman some day, and a fascinating woman into the
bargain, with all the power for good or evil over the lives of others
which such fascination brings. The General shook his head in warning
fashion.
"Don't say that, my girl. Never say or think a thing like that again!
You are only a child, but you'll grow up. It's wonderful how quickly
you young things spring up. You'll be a woman before you can say, `Jack
Robinson!' and there's no worse sin a woman can commit than to look upon
marriage as a mere profession, an easy way of securing board and
lodging. It's not only ruining her own life--it's ten times worse--for
it ruins another into the bargain. When I was a young fellow I asked a
girl to marry me--the only girl I ever did ask--and she wouldn't look at
me. She was a poor girl, and I had lots of money, but she was honest
with me all the same, and I've been grateful to her all my life. I've
been a lonely old fellow, but it would have been a thousand times worse
to have had a wife who did not love me! You put it out of your head,
little girl, that you are going to sell yourself for all the horses and
dogs in creation."
"Um--" said Jill vaguely.
She had scented a love--story, and with the inherent curiosity of her
sex was dying to hear more about it.
"And what became of the girl? Did she marry--someone else?"
"Which girl? Oh--I suppose so! I went out to India and lost sight of
her. I did not want to see her again. I hope she settled down with a
good fellow who could take care of her. Hullo, what's this?"
The man-servant had entered the room with a tray, which he proceeded to
place on a table by Jill's side. It contained the usual paraphernalia
for afternoon tea, but it appeared that the General did not as a rule
indulge in this meal, hence his astonishment at its appearance.
"Thought the young lady would like some, eh? Quite right--quite right.
You keep me up to my duties as usual! Johnson has been with me for the
last thirty years!" he explained to his guests. "We fought together in
the East, and I should get on badly without him nowadays. Now, my dear,
help yourself. You are the lady of the party, so you must preside."
Jill pulled off her gloves, gave a surreptitious lick to an ink-stain on
the second finger of her right hand, rubbed it dry on the side of her
dress, and proceeded to do the honours with equal self-possession and
enjoyment. If Betty could see her now! A real General with a man-
servant to wait upon him! It was a hundred times more important and
exciting than Mrs Vanburgh and her governesses!
"Have you got any medals--Victoria Crosses and things?" she asked, with
a view to adding point to her account of the interview, and the General
gave a loud guffaw of amusement.
"A selection of Victoria Crosses! Eh, what? No, I am sorry to say I
have not; only one or two medals, such as any man might possess who has
served the same number of years. Where are they? In a drawer in my
bedroom, of course! You don't expect me to hang them up on the wall, do
you?"
"Yes, I do. I should! Where everyone would see and ask questions about
them. I'd wear them, too, whenever I possibly could!" cried Jill,
unabashed, and once more the General shook his head and exclaimed--
"Woman, woman!" in a tone of tragic significance.
When the meal was over, however, he yielded to Jack's entreaties, and
escorted his visitors into the adjoining bedroom, where various warlike
trophies reposed with the medals in the drawers of an old cabinet. The
boy's interest was intense, but Jill soon wearied and turned to inspect
the general furnishing of the room. It was very bare and plain--a
narrow camp bed, a few chairs, and a dressing-table--bare of everything
but the absolute necessities of toilet, and those of the simplest
description. One saw the old soldier in every arrangement, but it was
on the opposite corner of the room that Jill's eyes rested with the
greatest astonishment.
On the wall hung a picture which she did not remember having seen
before, representing a group of Eastern beggars, and in the foreground
the figure of Christ with a beautiful, earnest face--a _young_ face, not
the worn and haggard representation so often seen--talking to one whose
handsome robes showed him to be a person of position, who stood with
hanging head and pained, disappointed expression. Beneath the picture
stood a kneeling-chair with a pile of devotional books on the ledge.
The whole effect was that of a quiet corner or "closet," as the Apostle
calls it, and Jill was still staring at it with distended eyes when the
General turned round and discovered her.
"You appear to be astonished by the sight of my corner! Why?" he
inquired, and a more observant listener might have discovered a certain
tension and anxiety in his tone, but Jill noticed nothing, and answered
with the brutal candour of youth--
"I--I did not think you were--like that!"
"Ah! Why not? Because I lost my temper, and railed at you the other
day. Eh, what?"
Jack and Jill gave a simultaneous exclamation of denial, for there had
been a note of real pain and shame in the old man's voice which was
quick to reach their hearts. In truth, they had thought no less of the
General for his expression of temper. It was only what was to be
expected under the circumstances, and he had been a brick in defending
them from their father's anger. It was difficult to explain the real
reason of their surprise at the discovery of his Christianity. One
could not say, for instance, "because your face is so red, and your eyes
are so fierce, and your voice is so loud, and your manner of
conversation so abrupt and startling; because you have been a slayer of
men, and have lived a life of storm and adventure," yet it was in truth
the contrast to the pale, anaemic type which young people instinctively
picture in a devotee which caused the astonishment in their minds. They
remained silent, hanging their heads, while the General continued
sadly--
"Well, well, I don't wonder! That tongue of mine has dishonoured me a
hundred times before now, but, bad specimen as I am, I should be a
hundred times worse but for the time spent in that corner. Have you
seen that picture before?"
Jill shook her head.
"No, it is not half so well-known as it deserves to be! `Christ and the
Young Ruler,' who went away sorrowful `because he had great
possessions.' It has never entered your head, I suppose, to pray to be
preserved from prosperity, or _in_ prosperity, if you like that better?
Of course not! Precious few people ever do, yet the temptations of
prosperity are fifty times more subtle, if they are less pressing, than
those of poverty. I tell you, sir, when a man is young and strong, and
feels the blood coursing in his veins, and when his balance at the
banker's allows him to do pretty well as he chooses, it is precious
difficult to realise that he needs any help, human or Divine. Even
now--selfish old beggar that I am!--I have no one's convenience but my
own to consider, and if I want a thing there's no end of a fuss if I
don't get it in the twinkling of an eye. So I keep that picture there
to remind me that my money is only lent to me to use for the good of
others. Christ, the Captain! I am here to obey His orders!"
As he spoke he lifted his hand to his brow in stiff military salute, and
over the fierce old face came the same wonderful softening which the
twins had noticed a few minutes before.
They were speechless with embarrassment, as young things often are when
a conversation suddenly takes a serious turn; but when they had taken
their leave, with many invitations to repeat their visit, the same
thought lingered in the mind of each as they made their way homeward.
"Fancy him turning out so--good!" cried Jill wonderingly. "He really
almost--preached. I _was_ surprised!"
"Humph!" returned Jack vaguely, for the figure of the old soldier
saluting his Captain had made too deep an impression on his heart to be
lightly discussed. "Christ, the Captain!" The idea appealed to his
boyish instincts, and awoke a new ambition. Hitherto he had looked upon
religion as a thing apart from his own life, the monopoly of women and
clergymen, whose business it was; now for the first time it appealed to
him as a fine and manly virtue.
Sitting by his lonely fireside, General Digby reproached himself for his
lack of influence on his new friends. He would have been a happy man if
he had known that by God's grace he had that afternoon planted a seed
for God in Jack Trevor's careless heart. "Christ, the Captain!" To the
last day of the boy's life he never forgot those words, nor the picture
of the old soldier with his hand raised to the salute.