A MEMORABLE OCCASION
'A Memorable occasion!'
The phrase seemed, somehow, to be inevitable on the further side of the
city, where, as Râm Nâth had foretold, all of Nushapore that was worth
considering was gathered together for the ceremony of laying the
foundation-stone of the Anglo-Vernacular College. Râm Nâth may have
started the assertion, but every one else followed suit. Sir George in
his presidential address, the treasurer in his financial statement, the
distinguished native official who--in proposing the vote of thanks to
Lady Arbuthnot for her able assistance--managed to drag in the Dufferin
fund and the benefits of female education by the way! So, one by one,
the delegates of the various sects and associations who were,
blissfully, to forget their differences over----over this memorable
occasion!
Some added a 'most' to it; others went so far as to say it marked an
era; while a peculiarly eloquent speaker went one better by introducing
the 'Annals of Empire.'
But the point on which they were all agreed was--that it _was_ 'a
memorable occasion.'
And there was curiously little unreality about the assertion, for
everybody went about with a noticeable satisfaction that was due to a
feeling of duty done. It was all infinitely proper; also pleasing, for
when the initial ceremony was over and a pause came for tea between it
and the giving of diplomas, it was quite a pretty sight to see the
mixed multitude walking about admiring and criticising the building,
that some time or another--for funds at the moment were a trifle
low--would be built. And this had been made possible by the ingenious
and distinctly novel device of laying out the site as a lawn, on which
narrow beds of flowers followed the lines of the foundations to come,
while in the centre, under what was to be the central dome, stood a
model (large enough to allow the delighted native visitors to creep
through it if they chose), which had been made of bamboo, brown paper,
and mud plaster by a distinguished toy artist in the city, who had had
long practice in the making of _tazzias_[18] for the _Mohurrum_
processions.
He stood beside his latest creation now, a perfect incarnation of smile
in spotless white robes, with a muslin skullcap on his well-oiled hair,
ready to receive congratulations on his work. They were many, though
the English people kept theirs chiefly for the garden.
'I wish I could make my pansies grow as evenly,' remarked one lady who
was devoted to hers, as she looked enviously round the reading-room to
be, that was outlined by a dense border of purple and yellow.
'Nothing easier!' replied the Secretary-to-Government, who was showing
her round. 'Cut them to pattern with a foot-rule--they are only stuck
in for the day!' He pulled up one as he spoke, showed it to her
rootless, then stuck it in again with a laugh. 'It is a regular native
dodge. They are A1 at making dream-palaces, you know. Curious, isn't
it? that the mushroom should grow so well in India, the most
conservative of countries; but cheap labour and cheap words are
absolutely demoralising.'
'Stuck in! So they are,' echoed the gardening lady. 'Just a regular
child's garden; but it looks well, doesn't it! Poor things!' she added,
stooping to touch a pansy with the caressing touch of the flower-lover;
'but if they were only left alone for a time, you know, they would soon
strike root.'
'Perhaps!' admitted the Secretary-to-Government dubiously, as they
drifted off to the tea-table where Mrs. Chris Davenant--who had
presented her bouquet with charming grace--was presiding, assisted by
Chris in his frock-coat with a flower in his buttonhole.
He was, in the eyes of many around him, at the pinnacle of prosperity,
for the Lieutenant-Governor, as he drank his tea, was talking to him
(as Vice-President); yet he did not look happy, perhaps because he
could catch a glimpse outside the tent of Swâmi Viseshwar Nâth,
standing apart from the ruck amid the little knot of high-caste Hindoos
who had brought him there with blandishings and bribes, as ocular
demonstration of the widespread sympathy and support the college was
receiving from all classes of the community, and who had promised to be
responsible for his bodily and spiritual immunity from defilement.
By and by, Chris knew, he would have to reckon with that figure, whose
brown, bare shaven head, and brown, bare legs, showed beyond a short
salmon-pink shirt hung with a rope of big brown beads matching the tint
of the skin. Such an inconceivable, incredible figure, seen behind that
of Mrs. Carruthers in her last Paris frock!
Yes! by and by Chris must make his choice. If it had only been for
himself, that choice, it would have been easy; but it was for Naraini
also----
_Naraini! Naraini! Naraini!_
The thought of her haunted him. Her very aloofness from such a scene as
this, the impossibility of imagining her in any part of it, held him
captive. No! there was no place here for such as she; not even in the
tent where a few of the more emancipated wives, and sisters, and
mothers of Shark Lane were, literally, on show to the elect; and
whither Lady Arbuthnot was at that very moment being conducted by an
elate but apologetic husband, who was saying with cheerful pomp--
'You will find them very stupid, since they have as yet enjoyed small
benefit from liberal education; but time will show.'
Time will show! Undoubtedly; it was showing results already in the
foundations of flowers through which the speaker was passing. Results
that were oddly despotic, beyond the expectation or control of those
who had planted that child's garden. The poppies, for instance, native
to the soil as they were, had given up the pretence of root; the exotic
pansies, on the other hand, winked boldly at the westering sun as at an
enemy vanquished.
It was fate, or something beyond fate, even here.
'It really,' remarked Sir George almost mechanically, 'is a memorable
occasion.'
'Very, indeed!' assented poor Chris, realising that it was one, at any
rate, that _he_ was not likely to forget.
'Excuse me!' put in the Commissioner, coming up hurriedly, 'but if I
may, sir, I should like to have a word with you!'
Sir George put down his cup, Chris moved off, and so did the two
officials, to converse earnestly as they circled round that toy model
of the College to come.
'I agree that it is unfortunate,' admitted Sir George, pausing at last,
a trifle impatiently, 'but I refuse to believe there is any immediate
likelihood of disturbance. It is inconceivable with _this_ going on.
Every one looks content, except perhaps the pensioners. Jehân Aziz,
I notice, is absent, but that is only decent--and one cannot wonder
at their annoyance.' Here his glance fell resentfully on Mr.
Lucanaster, who--the day being Sunday when no other entertainment was
available--had honoured the 'memorable occasion' with his presence.
'That has been a most unfortunate business,' he continued, frowning,
'but you will admit that the Nawâb has, on the whole, behaved well in
allowing both his wife's death and the girl's abduction--though, I
believe, Lucanaster is, as he says, out of that--to be hushed up.'
'Why should he allow it? that's what I want to know, sir,' argued the
Commissioner. 'There is something behind, depend upon it, and that is
never satisfactory with a native. The whole thing is fairly maddening,
just at a time when I wanted to feed the lot on soothing syrup--even
the fact that that culpable homicide case in cantonments has to be hung
up because the accused is ill with typhoid!'
'I wouldn't worry about it, though, Kenyon,' replied Sir George kindly,
'as I told Mr. Raymond this morning.'
'Raymond?' echoed the Commissioner eagerly. 'What did he say? His views
are always interesting.
The kindness vanished. 'Something of what you tell me. I disagreed with
him, as I disagree with you. However, to show you that I have perfect
confidence in your discretion, and also to back my own opinion--for,
mind you, if I thought there was the very slightest chance of your
having to use it, I would hesitate to give it--you shall have what you
ask for, sanction to wire direct to Fareedabad after you have seen what
the city is like for yourself, instead of returning to report. It
might, as you say, make the difference of catching the midnight mail;
though there really is no----' He shrugged his shoulders tolerantly.
'However, you had better have it in order,' he continued, taking out
his pocket-book and pencil with a certain elaborate patience, and
finally, with a return to his usual kindly manner, holding out a duly
signed and dated service-telegram. 'There!' he said, with a smile, 'I
carry forms about with me these times. Now, mind, this is a personal
favour for to-night only, Kenyon. I wouldn't do as much for any one
else in India, and it is only to sot your mind at ease; you can bring
it back to me when you come to report! And now, for heaven's sake, let
us get over this diploma business. I only wish I could come with you to
the city, but I must see this show through.'
So, while the hoofs of the Commissioner's horse, as he rode citywards
with the chief of the police and the magistrate who had brought the
disturbing rumours, echoed down the hard white road, which was laid so
evenly between a double row of mud roundels protecting lately planted
trees, the show--as Sir George had called it--began. It was rather like
a school-prize-giving, with men and women instead of children, for the
inevitable table (covered with the twopenny-halfpenny _phul-kâri_ made
for the European market, which, with its sham Orientalism, has on such
occasions replaced the honest red office baize) was set in front of Sir
George and Lady Arbuthnot. On it were three packed posies in green
glass tumblers, a pile of diplomas, duly made out in the recipients'
names, and another pile of sham Oriental brocade bags in which to keep
them.
'You belong, of course?' said the Secretary-to-Government, who was
standing apart during the opening speeches, to a sunburnt little lady
in a wide pith hat.
'Who, I?' she answered cheerfully. 'Oh dear, no--I am not often in at
headquarters, and I get on all right with my schools and that sort of
thing without it, so it doesn't seem worth while.'
'Perhaps not,' replied the man of headquarters, once more dubiously. It
was impossible for him to avoid that attitude towards much that had to
pass through his hands, so he set the doubtful point aside and listened
to the President's certainties as he enlarged on the great need for
closer ties of friendship and sympathy between the rulers and the
ruled, and the excellent results to be expected from meetings of this
kind. Then, of course, some one else spoke, and some one else. And
outside the lawn, enclosed with grass hurdles, and set with those
foundations of flowers, India was going on its way as it had gone,
untouched by change, for thousands and thousands of years; and two
women, furtively sweeping up a prize of horse-droppings on the
outskirts of the assemblage in order to make them into fuel, talked, as
they swept, of the amulet that had promised safety and brought death.
'Will you come, please, and form up in line,' said a steward, fussily
collecting his candidates among the listening circle. 'It will look
better, and save time.'
'Oh dear! I hope I shan't get put next a native,' murmured one little
lady, quite plaintively, as she obeyed.
The Secretary-to-Government, who overheard the remark, smiled; still
dubiously.
He smiled again, and so did some others, when Mrs. Chris Davenant came
up to receive a diploma which--it had occurred to her astuteness--might
be worked to her advantage in English society. Perhaps the reflection
that she had already shown her willingness to enter into social
relations with the other race was accountable for these smiles, but she
herself, and Chris too, were quite grave over it.
The latter, indeed, could not at the moment have been otherwise over
anything in heaven or earth; for not five minutes past, as he stood
dully indifferent on the edge of that circle of listeners, he had felt
a touch on the sleeve of his frock-coat; heard a low voice.
'To-night, Krishn, at the "Circling of the Lights" in Kâli's shrine. We
meet there, Her priests and His, to settle this matter. And thou must
be there also.'
He had not turned to see who the speaker was; he had known all too
well. For the moment he could have laughed aloud at the hideous
incongruity of it, with Viva standing there waiting for her diploma.
It was growing late. The light atoms were trooping in streams across
the western sky, crowding closer and closer into rays as they sought
shelter from the coming darkness in the sinking sun. There was a great
hush over all things, in which Grace Arbuthnot's voice, as she read out
the names of the recipients, could be distinctly heard. A hush, not a
silence: that cannot come within earshot of a great city.
'It has taken longer than I thought,' remarked one of the stewards,
yawning, when--at long last--the list came to an end.
'Gracious!' exclaimed Mrs. Chris--horrified at the watch Mr. Lucanaster
showed her sulkily--'we shall be late. Here, Chris! take this thing
while I put on my jacket.'
She thrust the diploma into her husband's hand, and left it there, as
she hurried into the dusk after Mr. Lucanaster, who had gone to search
for his dogcart.
'Jerry will be fast asleep, I expect,' said Grace Arbuthnot
regretfully, as she settled herself in the carriage beside Sir George,
'for I told Lesley to put him to bed early and give him some bromide.
Oh! there is nothing the matter with him, George! Only, you know, he
gets a little over-excited sometimes when he has a touch of fever, and
bromide sets him off to sleep nicely. I am sorry Lesley couldn't come
this afternoon--it must have been dull for her at home!'
Dull, however, was the last word Lesley Drummond would have applied to
that afternoon's experience. When she had followed Jack Raymond into
the telegraph-office at the station, she had simply obeyed orders, not
knowing in the least what was going to happen. He had, however. He had
walked straight up to the clerk, who had turned deadly grey-green at
his reappearance, and seized him by the throat; so that violence was
over, and the offender in collapse on the stool behind him, by the time
that Lesley had locked the door and looked round.
'Will you come here, please?' Jack Raymond said to her quietly. 'You'll
find a pencil and paper, I expect, on the table--and where is the
cipher telegram--oh, there!--that will do. Now, _baboo_, telegraph that
right, will you? Miss Drummond, if you will look over and tick the
letters off as he signals them, and _let me know when he makes a
mistake_, I'll--I'll settle it!'
He drew the revolver out of his pocket as he spoke, and stood to one
side to let those two pass to the instrument. 'Of course, _baboo_,' he
continued, 'the lady, who--unfortunately for you--can signal, could do
it herself, but I prefer that you should do what you are told. Do you
understand?'
The greyness and the greenness became almost deathlike. And Lesley
Drummond's colour forsook her also. Would it be a death-warrant she
would have to give by looking up and saying 'Wrong'? It might be.
His face--the face she was accustomed to see so careless--looked
stern enough now even for that. Yet it might be needful. This
treachery--there had not been time to exchange a single word about
it--might mean so much. But _he_ would know how much, and so be able to
judge.
Yet as she bent over the telegram, ticking the--to her--unmeaning
cipher off, letter by letter, she felt that her heart echoed that
uneven shudder of the handles; and she felt that Jack Raymond's eyes
upon her, as he watched for a sign, were like the eyes of fate. Would
she have to give that sign? And if so, what would happen? There was no
thought of pity _for the man_, in her mind, only a great dread, a
horrible apprehension, of this responsibility _for herself_. Yet it
must be so; she knew that, though the words, 'Don't--don't, please,
don't--oh! don't be a fool,' came constantly to the very verge of her
lips.
'Is that all?' asked Jack Raymond, when a longer pause than usual came.
She felt quite sick and giddy with relief as she nodded--for even now
she feared lest a look up might be construed into a sign.
'I ought to have told you-before you began--that his sort aren't
obstinate,' he went on observantly. 'There is no fear of--of that--Miss
Drummond! So now, please, for the station-master. And I think it will
be better to tell them not to wire back. There are evidently railway
men in this affair; besides, we mustn't risk being found out too soon,
must we? So "extreme caution" and "utmost secrecy" is our game--the
great thing is to get the troops started before we _are_ found out.'
Found out! Lesley had hardly realised that view of the matter as yet,
and the thought gave her a qualm. Yet she went on checking the
_baboo's_ signals and the brief answers that were asked for, just to
show that the orders were understood.
When that was over, Jack Raymond looked at the _baboo_ distastefully,
then turned to the girl--'I'm puzzled what to do with him,' he said in
French; whereat the _baboo_ seemed to give up all hope of escape and
sank in a dejected heap on the floor, rocking himself backwards and
forwards, and murmuring, 'I quite innocent man--oh, my lord! innocent
as suckling babes,' until Jack bid him be quiet.
'It is no use wasting time by trying to find out how far he is in it.
He would only lie, and I know enough for the present. As I told you
coming along, the danger is in the native regiment refusing to keep
order, if they are _asked_ to do so. That would be mutiny, and the
knowledge of the penalty would make the men reckless, and there
might--excuse me--be the devil of a row; What we want to do is to avoid
the necessity for asking them, by having other men available. They
won't be wanted before ten o'clock at earliest--the rush on the
hospitals was to be about midnight. The Fareedabad fellows should be
here, at latest, by nine--plenty of time! And if we let Sir George and
Co. know what we have done by, say, eight o'clock, that should do. It
is no use giving ourselves away too soon, and the thing we have to make
certain of is that the Fareedabad men do come up to time. Now, I could
tie the _baboo_ up and lock the door on him, but how am I to guard
against the likelihood of fellow-conspirators coming to look after him?
_They_ might get to sending telegrams; they may be sending them now
through the other office for all I know, in which case they must be
stopped here. At any rate, this man must have been on his guard against
any communication with Fareedabad, or he would not have been so sharp.
In fact, if we had gone to the Post Office, he would never have
repeated our message: for, as I told you, the only wire to Fareedabad
is the railway one. _That_, I expect, is why he was on duty. However,
I'm inclined to think we had best stop here, for a time, and make
certain. Of course, if one of us could stop and the other go, it might
be best. But I can't do without you--a message might come through any
moment and I should be in _his_ hands, the brute!--he thought himself
quite safe, and would have been, but for you! You locked the door,
didn't you?'
He walked over to it, however, to make sure of the fastening, and then
pushed the heavy office table across it. 'They may have duplicate keys,
and I don't want them inside,' he explained. Then he stood for a moment
looking at the girl--'I m awfully sorry; but you won't mind, I know. I
wonder if there is a cushion anywhere to make you more comfortable. No!
but a ledger will be better than the bare floor.' He took one or two
and placed them behind the table. 'Now, if you don't mind sitting down
there, where I can see you and nobody else can--even if we have to open
the shutter--that will do nicely.' Then he turned to the heap in the
corner. 'Now get up, _baboo-jee_,' he said politely, 'and resume your
duties; you can sit on that stool. If anybody comes along, keep quiet,
and don't open the shutter till I give the signal. Then you can
transact business as usual. But mind, if you try it on again, the
Miss-_sahiba_ will warn me, and I will--warn you.'
He laid the revolver ostentatiously on the table, then--borrowing the
_baboo's_ comforter, which was hanging on a peg--he sat down at the
table in a beautifully _baboo_-esque attitude with his legs twined
round his chair.
'Will I do?' he asked gravely of Lesley when he had finished making
himself a smoking-cap out of black transfer-paper, and she could not
help laughing softly.
'I assure you it is very serious, he said, smiling also; 'and I'm
awfully sorry to keep you; but you ought to get back in time for
dinner.'
'Dinner!' she echoed, a trifle hurt, 'surely dinner----'
'Is a minor matter? Never! Besides, I hope to God we are both going to
have a _good_ dinner to-night; for that means--success. There is no
earthly reason why there _should_ be a row, you know. If we see this
through, and the troops come up to time----' he paused, lost in his own
previsions. 'Well,' he said finally, 'we had better not talk. A
native's bare feet are more inaudible than our whispers, and it won't
do to be found out. So--steady it is for an hour or so.'
An hour! Lesley's heart sank after the first ten minutes. They seemed
interminable to her, seated on the ledgers behind the table. She could
just see Jack Raymond at the other end of it, his head down on his
crossed arms. Was he dozing? As likely as not; he was just that sort;
while her nerves were quivering. The action had been well enough; the
excitement of that had carried her with it; but now----? What if Mr.
Raymond's estimate of the danger had been excessive? He had once, long
ago, fired on a mob in too great haste. At least Government had thought
so. What had possessed her, in a moment, to trust his judgment
absolutely--to cast in her lot with his, as it were, unreservedly? She
blushed even in the darkness, that was fast obscuring all things, at
the thought----
'You had better light the lamp, _baboo_. There is one, isn't there? by
your desk,' came his voice calmly.
Then he was not asleep!
'And he was very kind. But if they were found out? If they asked her
why she had done this thing, what would she answer? What _could_ she
say to Grace Arbuthnot, who had been wiser; even though she had
loved----
The lamp flared up under the _baboo's_ trembling fingers and showed her
face.
'You poor child!' came his voice again, 'I'm bitterly sorry; but it
can't be long now; and--and let's hope for that good dinner!'
She was glad of the jesting finish, glad that the lamp went out this
time under those trembling fingers. When it flared up again she was
ready to be more cheerful. And it was an easier task after that, for
the deadly quiet passed and the thrill came into life again, making her
forget the question--What if they should be found out?--in the
possibility of being found out all too soon.
For some one tried the handle of the door hurriedly, called loudly on
Mohun Ditta to come out and report; then after a time departed with
curses.
'You had better open the shutter, _baboo_,' said Jack Raymond; 'and go
on, not exactly as if I wasn't here--that mightn't be safe under the
circumstances--but as if you were thinking of your pension.'
'Yes, sir,' bleated the _baboo_, 'I will do best endeavours to please.'
So silence fell again, to be broken by another step outside; clearly an
English step, making the listener at the table look up as the steps
died away.
'Here, _baboo_! send this off quick!' came an English voice; and Jack
Raymond had hard work not to look round.
But the wire was only to lay odds on a race in Calcutta; and even the
strain of listening for each unknown letter did not come to Lesley, for
the _baboo_ showed the adaptability of his kind, by reading out the
words loudly and saying, 'Is that right, sir?' to the sender.
'I hope so, _baboo_!' said the English boy with a laugh, 'or I shall be
stony broke!' So the steps died away once more.
'Only twenty minutes left!' remarked Jack Raymond as silence fell
again; but not for long. The first voice came back--this time to the
shutter--full of reproaches; and the frantic anxiety of the _baboo_ to
keep the conversation within bounds, and prevent anything absolutely
incriminating from cropping up, made one listener smile as he sat
pretending to copy way-bills into a ledger. And when the voice passed
on, and he turned to look, he laughed outright to see the wretched
creature mopping the perspiration off his forehead.
'Had about enough?' he began, then paused, for an imperative 'kling
kling' rang out from the electric bell.
'Asking if the line is clear,' said Lesley from her post, and Jack
Raymond rose and stretched himself.
'Then that's over! The train has reached Bahâna, and we can
go--and--and face the rest!' He held out his hand to help her to rise.
Face it! Could she? She hesitated, and at that moment a step sounded
outside, rapid, with a clink in it--the clink of spurs!
'Here, _baboo!_' said a guttural Northern voice. 'This for
dispatch--_be-rung_ (bearing) _Sirkâri_. Take it, fool--I have no time
to lose--and give receipt!'
There was a pause, then the clink of spurs passed again, and Jack
Raymond, who had slipped into his chair, crossed to the desk, looked
over the _baboo's_ shoulder at the telegram, which was in cipher, and
turned to Lesley smiling.
'Perhaps we shan't have to face it after all! They are sending to
Fareedabad off their own bat. Well! better late than never!' There was
a ring of bitterness in his voice.
'You mean----' began Lesley, who had crossed too, and now stood looking
down at the official signature below the cipher with a half
comprehension.
'That they will be a bit surprised when the troops turn up at nine; but
stay! we can dodge them a bit! _Baboo!_ what time was this telegram
given in?'
The baboo glanced at the clock. 'A quarter to eight, sir.'
'Nothing of the kind!' contradicted Jack Raymond in a tone of voice
which turned his hearer grey-green once more; 'it came in at--let me
see, what is the latest I can give it?--twenty minutes to seven. Fill
that in, _baboo_, and file it--not there, you fool!--below the other
one--_that_ didn't come in till half-past! You won't forget these
facts, will you? If you don't, I--I won't remember that you made a
_mistake in telegraphing_ at first. Do you understand? Now, Miss
Drummond, you should have just time to get home and dress for dinner.'
After he had pushed away the table and unlocked the door, she followed
him out into the still almost-deserted station without a word. A lamp
or two had been lit; at the farther end a group of coolies lounged;
closer in, a light showed from an office.
'I'll bring the cycles,' said Jack Raymond, and she passed out from the
semi-darkness and shadow into the clear dusk beyond, and stood waiting,
full of a vague amazement at herself and all things.
Behind the long line of sheds, the overhanging bastion belonging to the
Royal Pensioners rose dark against the sky, where the sunset still
lingered pale, flawless. But the risen moon turned the slanting
silhouette into a reality of brick and mortar, and the dark spots
crowning it to the figures of men.
And overhead, those specks in the pearl grey were kites; for the
'Sovereignty of Air'--delayed by the necessity for some of the
competitors appearing on the 'memorable occasion'--had not yet been
awarded. Five or six kites still floated for the supremacy, and many a
pair of dark eyes watched them, wondering which would soar the longest,
and gain the Kingship. Lateefa's most of all, as in his capacity of
kite-maker to the Royal Family he pulled in each kite as it sank, and
added it to the bundle of the vanquished. Only six kites left, and one
of them carried the sign of Kingship with a vengeance; for he had been
too late, as he had feared he would be, in his visit to the courtyard.
Six kites, and which of them held the ring?
No wonder his eyes never left those hovering specks that still defied
the falling dew.
But Lesley, looking at them also, scarcely realised that they _were_
kites. She was absorbed by her own mean miserable lack of backbone. She
had shrunk, she told herself, from the possibility of having to face
failure hand-in-hand, as it were, with Jack Raymond, and now she shrank
from losing her hold on his success. Or was it her hold on him--the man
himself?
'You will just have time if you scorch,' he said in cheery haste as he
came down the steps. 'I'm going round first to see if those in
authority know all I do. If they do, they can't help falling into line
with--with _our_ plans, and we can fall out! But I shall suggest that
if, by chance, the up-mail was a bit late, the Fareedabad people might
have taken advantage, etc. It will be as well to prepare the way for
the troops arriving, before they're supposed to have started!'--he
paused at the look on her face. 'At least I _can_ do so! Of course, if
you would rather _not_ back out--but, as far as I'm concerned, I think
it would be better to lie low, until the row's over, at any rate.
Afterwards, it may be necessary--or you might wish----'
She shook her head hastily as she mounted.
'Good-bye,' he said, holding out his hand; 'and--and--your way is
better, Miss Drummond!'
Better! As she sped through the warm peaceful dusk she felt herself a
fraud, for she could have cried because it was all over--because she
was losing her hold on him!
But everything was a fraud; the peaceful dusk most of all, since its
peacefulness held danger, perhaps death. Not unknown, unlooked--for,
but expected, appraised----
The gong was sounding as she raced up to the portico, a carriage stood
at the door, some guests for the Sunday dinner-party were stepping out
of it. She would be horribly late, and what excuse could she make to
Lady Arbuthnot?
None was needed. As she came out of her room again after an incredibly
short space of time, and ran down-stairs, she overtook Grace coming
from hers.
'Oh! Lesley,' she said, turning as she fastened her bracelet, 'I wanted
to see you, and I haven't had a moment since I came in. Sir George is
called out--the Commissioner met us on our way back. It is trouble in
the city--but George has sent for troops, and they say it will pass
over, as it was _taken in time_. But, of course, no one is to know--so
George, remember, has a touch of fever, and everything is to go on as
usual.'
'I 'm--I'm very sorry,' said the girl lamely.
'Sorry!' echoed Grace, 'I'm not sure if I am. I felt it would come, and
I'm glad, oh! so glad, that George was so prompt! It will be well over,
and it _must_ be so, for it was taken _in time_, you see. By the bye!
how was Jerry this afternoon? I only had time to glance in at the door
as I ran up to dress, but he didn't stir, so he must have gone to sleep
all right--Needham said he hadn't been talking.
Lesley, who had not had time even for that glance, felt relieved. 'Oh!
he was very happy. I put him to bed, and gave him what you left before
I went out on my cycle.'
The next moment she had passed into the circle of expectant guests in
the drawing-room, and was adding her apologies for being late to Lady
Arbuthnot's.
'Bicycling is a very wholesome exercise,' gravely remarked the young
assistant--in for a Saturday to Monday from an out-station--who took
her in to dinner.
'Very,' she replied as gravely, telling herself that a vertebrate
creature had some excuse for not being able to control its backbone,
when it was uncertain if it had to stand on its head or its heels.