THE FAITHFUL WOUND OF A FRIEND
All the social circle of Sharapura and most of the native population
usually assembled on the polo-ground to witness the great annual match
between the Rajah's team and the officers stationed at the cantonments.
It was to be followed by a dance at the mess-house in the evening, to
which all English residents far and near had been bidden, and which the
Rajah himself and his chief Minister, Kobad Shikan, had promised to
attend.
The day was a brilliant one, and Olga looked forward to its festivities
with a light heart. The thought of Noel was the only bitter drop in her
cup of happiness, but instinct told her that his wound would be but a
superficial one. She was sorry on his behalf, but not overwhelmingly so.
As Nick had wisely observed, it would be far more fitting for him to
wait and marry Peggy Musgrave. They were eminently well suited to each
other, and would be playfellows all their lives.
She expected Max to present himself in the course of the morning, and he
did not disappoint her. He made his casual appearance soon after Nick
had departed for the Palace, and found her in the garden. Not alone,
however, for Daisy had arrived before him to see how Olga fared after
the previous day's adventure.
Max, strolling out to them, was met by Olga in a glowing embarrassment
which he was far from sharing, and introduced forthwith to Daisy as
"Noel's brother."
Daisy, who had just been listening to a somewhat halting account of his
unexpected arrival the day before, marked her very evident confusion and
leaped to instant comprehension. So this was the cause of Noel's
reticence! She shook hands with Max with a very decided sense of
disappointment, resenting his intrusion on Noel's behalf, and with
womanly criticism marvelling that this thick-set unromantic Englishman
could ever have held the girl's fancy when Noel, the handsomest officer
in the district, had been so obviously at her feet.
She heaved a little sigh for Noel even while she said, smiling, "I have
just been hearing of your dramatic arrival yesterday, Dr. Wyndham. You
could scarcely have chosen a more thrilling moment."
He smiled also, with slight cynicism. "Yes, there were plenty of thrills
for all of us," he said. "Have you heard the latest?"
Daisy's eyes travelled from him to Olga, who stretched out her left
hand, bearing Max's ring upon it, and said, very sweetly and
impulsively: "Oh, Mrs. Musgrave, I was just going to tell you about it.
Please don't think me deceitful! It--it--it only happened last night."
"My darling child!" Daisy said. She took the outstretched, trembling
hand and folded it in a soft, warm clasp. Her eyes went back to Max,
whose expression became more ironical than ever under her scrutiny. It
was as if he observed and grimly ridiculed her jealousy on his brother's
behalf. And Daisy's resentment turned to a decided sense of hostility.
She discovered quite suddenly but also quite unmistakably that she was
not going to like this young man.
She was sure the green eyes under their shaggy red brows saw and mocked
her antipathy. There was even a touch of insolence about him as he
said: "I'm afraid it's taken your breath away, but it is not such a
sudden arrangement as it appears. Strange to say all women don't fall in
love with me at first sight. Olga, for instance, did quite the reverse,
didn't you, Olga?"
His eyes mocked Olga now openly and complacently. Daisy told herself
indignantly that she had never in her life witnessed anything so
disgustingly cold-blooded. He positively revolted her. She saw him as a
husband, selfish, supercilious, accepting with condescension his young
wife's eager devotion, and her congratulations died on her lips. For
Daisy was a woman with whom a man's homage counted for much. She had
been accustomed to it all her life and its absence was an offence
unpardonable. And then suddenly Olga overcame her shyness, and boldly
came to the rescue.
"Max, don't make Mrs. Musgrave think you a beast! It isn't fair to me.
He isn't a bit like this really," she added to Daisy. "It's all
affectation. Nick knows that."
Daisy laughed. The girlish speech helped her, if it did not remove her
doubts.
She gave her free hand to Max, saying, "I suppose we are none of us
ourselves to strangers, but, since you are engaged to Olga, I hope you
will not place me in that category. You are very, very lucky to have won
her, and I wish you both every happiness."
Max bowed, still with a hint of irony. "It's nice of you not to condole
with Olga," he said. "I feel inclined to myself. Perhaps, if I am not
wanted, I may be allowed to go and have a smoke on the verandah. I am
expecting my traps to turn up directly," he added to Olga.
"Oh, we must come and see about them," she said. "The _khit_ will show
you your room. Max is going to put up with us now," she told Daisy, with
a smile that pleaded with her friend to be lenient.
Daisy's hand still held hers. "That is nice, dear," she said. "I must
be getting back to Peggy. Is your _fiancé_ coming to the regimental
dance to-night?"
"Oh, Max,"--Olga's eyes shone upon him,--"you will, won't you? But of
course you will. Noel will have settled that."
The corner of Max's mouth went down. "Noel is not in the habit of
settling my affairs great or small," he observed. "If I go at all, it
will be in the little god's train and under his auspices alone. But I
warn you I'm not much of a dancer."
"What nonsense!" said Olga. "All doctors dance. It's part of their
hospital training."
"Is it?" said Max. "Then my medical education is incomplete. My partners
generally prefer to sit out after the first round."
"I shan't sit out with anyone," declared Olga. "It's such a waste of
time. One can do that any day."
"So one can," said Max. "I hope you are not hurrying away on my account,
Mrs. Musgrave. My business here is not urgent. It will very well wait."
He was evidently in an incurably cynical mood, and Olga gave him up in
despair. She went with Daisy to the gate, and, with her arms round her
neck, besought her, half-laughing, not to be misled by appearances.
"I was myself," she confessed. "I actually hated him once. But now--but
now--"
"But now it's all right," smiled Daisy. "Run back to him, dear child! I
should imagine he is the sort of young man who doesn't like to be kept
waiting."
That was all the criticism she permitted herself, but Olga, returning
slowly to Max on the verandah, was regretfully aware that the impression
he had made upon this friend of hers was far from favourable.
"It isn't nice of you, Max," she began, as she reached him. "It really
isn't nice of you."
But she got no further than that for the moment, for Max literally
lifted her off her feet, holding her fast in his arms while he kissed
the colour into her white face, finally lowering her into Nick's
favourite hammock and dexterously settling her therein.
"You shouldn't!" she protested feebly. "You shouldn't! And indeed I'm
not going to lie here."
"You are going to do as you are told, fair lady," he responded grimly.
"What have you been lying awake half the night for?"
"I didn't," she began. "At least--" seeing his look of open
incredulity--"it couldn't have been so long as that. And I--I had a lot
of things to think about. No, Max, you're not to feel my pulse! Max, I
won't have it!"
She pulled desperately, and freed herself. Max thrust his hands into his
pockets, faintly smiling, and stood over her, contemplating her.
"Well, tell me all the things you had to think about!" he said.
She shook her head, flushed still and slightly distressed. "No, Max."
He stooped over her, searching her face. "Do you like being engaged,
Olga?" he asked.
She sat up quickly and leaned against him, her hands clasped upon his
arm.
"I'm happy enough to--to want to cry," she said, a slight catch in her
voice.
He held her closely again, her head against his heart. "No, that's not
the reason," he said softly into her ear. "Something is bothering you,
isn't it?"
She swallowed once or twice and nodded. "I'm--foolish," she managed to
utter after a moment.
"Never mind if you can't help it!" he said. "Tell me what it's about!"
But she was silent.
"Afraid I shan't understand?" he questioned.
Her hand nestled into his, but she kept her face down. "I wrote a long,
long letter to Dad last night," she remarked irrelevantly, after a
pause. "He--I'm afraid he'll be rather surprised."
"I wonder," said Max.
She glanced up for an instant. "Did he know you were coming out here to
me?" she asked.
"He did." There was a queer note of dry exultation in Max's reply.
"Oh, Max!" Her head went back to its resting-place. "He thought I didn't
like you, you know. What--what did he say?"
"He told me I was a fool," said Max.
Olga laughed. "Dear Dad! I suppose he thought you were wasting your time
over a wild goose chase."
"Yes; he didn't anticipate my catching my wild goose, I admit. Kersley
on the other hand was so confident that he practically hoofed me out of
England. He wants a married partner, you know, so perhaps he was not
altogether disinterested."
Again the complacent note sounded in Max's voice.
Olga's fingers closed tightly on his hand. "Is that why you are so
anxious to get married?" she asked, in a muffled voice.
Max's fingers responded so swiftly and so mercilessly that she cried out
with the pain. "Max! How brutal!"
"You deserved it," said Max without compunction.
"But I didn't! I only asked a simple question," she protested.
"No, you didn't; it was a compound one." He opened his hand and sternly
regarded the crushed fingers. "If you develop claws, Olga," he said,
"you must expect trouble."
She laughed again. "It isn't a question of developing: they're
there--full-grown. Do you remember that day I stabbed you with my
darning-needle?"
"I do," said Max. He turned his hand over and showed her a small white
scar on the back. "I suppose you never realized that that was the
beginning of everything?"
"It wasn't with me!" declared Olga. "I could have slain you that night!"
"Because I told you you ought to be whipped," said Max. "It was quite
true, you know. Dr. Jim would have said the same. He would probably have
done it too."
"I'm sure he wouldn't!" Olga lay back in the hammock with the scarred
hand between her own. "Dad is very just. He would have realized that you
were quite insufferable."
"That wouldn't have justified you, my child," maintained Max.
She snapped her fingers at him. "I'd do it again to-day if you were as
horrid as you were then."
"Not you!" said Max.
She opened her eyes. "You think I wouldn't dare?"
He looked back at her with composure. "It is more a matter of caring
than daring, my dear," he said. "Your heart wouldn't be in it. But you
are afraid of me all the same."
She coloured and turned the subject. "When is Sir Kersley going to make
you his partner?"
"Directly I return," said Max.
"And when will that be?"
He considered a moment. "I expect to reach England in a month from now."
"Max!" She sat up again quickly. "Oh, you're not going so soon!" she
said.
He put his arm round her shoulders. "But you will be coming back
yourself in April. Nick told me so."
"In April! But that's æons away!" protested Olga.
His eyes looked down into hers, and the old gleam which once she had
taken for mockery hovered there. Her own eyes flickered and sank before
it. There was something quick and fiery in it that she could not meet.
"I'll take you back with me," he said, "if you will come."
She started a little. "Oh, no!" she said.
"Why 'Oh, no'?" he enquired.
She was silent for a moment, her face downcast. "I couldn't leave
Nick--possibly--out here," she said then.
"Why not? Can't the little god take care of himself?"
"No. And I wouldn't let him if he could. I shouldn't feel easy about
him. He--he--I feel as if he is trying to walk a tight rope every day."
"It's a sort of thing he ought to do very well, I should say," observed
Max. "But what is he doing it for?"
She looked up. "He thinks he is getting on splendidly," she said. "He
and the Rajah are such friends! But the Rajah isn't everybody, and I'm
not sure even of him. Someone tried to blow up the fort with a bomb not
so very long ago."
"Oh, that's the game, is it?" said Max. "You think a similar little joke
might be played on Nick, and if so you want to be there to see."
She smiled faintly, in a sense relieved that he did not treat the matter
too seriously. "It makes one a little nervous for him," she said,
"though of course there may be no reason for it."
"I see," said Max. "It's just a nightmare, is it?"
He was watching her intently, and under his look her heart quickened a
little.
"It may be all nonsense, yes," she admitted. "But in any case I won't
leave Nick out here. He is in my special charge."
He laughed. "Well, there's no appealing against that. You will be home
in April then. Will you marry me on Midsummer Day?"
Olga's eyelids flickered and fell. "I must think about it," she said.
He pinched her cheek. "Say Yes," he said.
She turned her face impulsively; her lips just touched his hand. "I
wonder if I shall, Max," she said.
"Say Yes," he repeated, still softly but with insistence.
She leaned her head against him. "I'd like to say Yes," she said. "But
somehow--somehow--I have a feeling that--that--"
"My dear," said Max very practically, "don't be silly!"
She turned and clung to him very tightly. "Max, I--I've got
something--on my mind."
His arm, very steady and strong, grew close about her. "Tell me!" he
said.
Haltingly she complied. "You will think me morbid. I can't help it. Max,
all last night--all last night--I felt as if--as if a spirit were with
me--calling--calling--calling, trying to make me understand something,
trying to--to warn me--of some danger--I couldn't see."
She broke off in tears. It seemed impossible to put the thing into
words. It was so intangible yet in her eyes so portentous. Max's hand
was on her head, stilling her agitation. She wondered if he thought her
very absurd, but he did not leave her long in doubt.
"There's nothing to cry about, my dear," he said. "Your nerves were a
bit strung up after the tiger episode, that's all. They will quiet down
in a day or two. All the same"--his hand pressed a little--"I'm glad you
told me. A trouble shared is only half a trouble, is it? And I have a
right to all your troubles now."
He took her handkerchief, and dried her eyes with the utmost kindness;
then turned her face gently upwards.
"Is that quite all?" he asked.
She tried to smile, with quivering lips.
"Not quite?" he questioned. "Come, I may as well know, mayn't I?"
"I don't know that there is anything gained by telling you," she said.
"You never liked talking about your cases to me."
He frowned a little. "My dear girl, what particular case is it you have
on your mind?"
She hesitated. "You won't be vexed?"
"Vexed? No!" he said; but he continued to frown slightly
notwithstanding.
"I hope you won't be," Olga said, "because I simply can't argue about
it. Max, I sometimes think to myself that if--you hadn't known--and
Violet hadn't come to know--about--about her mother--things might have
been--very different."
"Meaning I should have fallen in love with her?" said Max.
She nodded. "It may be a breach of confidence, but--I think I'll tell
you now. Max, she cared for you."
She spoke the words with an effort, her eyes turned from him. Perhaps
she was afraid that she might encounter cynicism in the vigilant green
eyes, and she could not have endured it at that moment.
But at least there was none in his voice when he said: "Yes, I know she
did. That was what made her hate me so badly afterwards. I am very
sorry, Olga; but, for your comfort let me tell you this. I should
never--under any circumstances--have come to care for her. You won't
like me for saying it, but she was never more to me than a very
interesting case, and, apart from medical investigation, she would
simply not have existed so far as I was concerned. She didn't appeal to
me."
Olga winced a little. "Oh, Max, but she was so beautiful!" she urged
wistfully.
He made a slight gesture of impatience. "I don't dispute it. But what
of it? My brain is not the sort to be turned by beauty. There was too
much of it for my taste. She was exotic. That type of beauty gives me
indigestion."
Olga looked at him reproachfully. "You didn't like her, Max?"
"Not much," said Max.
She made a movement as if she would withdraw herself from him, but he
quietly and very resolutely held her still. "Although you knew she cared
for you!" she said.
"Yes, in spite of that;" said Max. "In fact, I felt a bit vexed with her
for complicating matters in that fashion. Goodness knows I never gave
her the smallest reason for it!"
Olga laughed faintly, with an unwonted touch of bitterness. "It's a pity
women are such doting fools," she said.
He looked at her attentively. "Did you say that?" he asked.
She met his look, not without defiance. "Yes, and I meant it too. It's
such a wicked waste. And I think--- I think--in her case it was
something far worse. I believe it was that which in a very great measure
helped to unhinge her mind."
"How could I help it?" demanded Max almost fierily. "I never wanted her
to care."
"That was just the cruel part of it," said Olga. "It was just your utter
indifference that broke her heart."
"Good heavens!" said Max.
He let her go very abruptly and leaned against one of the verandah posts
as if he needed support.
Olga tilted herself over the side of the hammock and stood up. "You
couldn't help not caring," she said. "But--you might have been a little
kinder. You needn't have made her hate and fear you."
Max surveyed her grimly from under drawn brows. "My dear," he said,
"you simply don't know what you are talking about."
That fired her. A quiver of passion went suddenly through her. She faced
him as she had faced him in the old days with a courage that sustained
itself.
"Indeed, I know!" she said. "Better than it is in your power to
understand. Oh, I know now what made her--hate you so."
The last words came with a rush, almost under her breath; but they were
fully audible to the man lounging before her.
He did not speak at once, and yet he did not give the impression of
being at a loss. He continued to lounge while he contemplated her with
eyes of steady inscrutability.
He spoke at length with extreme deliberation. "And so you want to take
me to task for breaking her heart, do you?"
"She was my friend," said Olga quickly.
He stood up slowly. "And would you have liked it better if I had made
love to her?"
She flinched as if that stung. "No--no! But you might have been
kind--you might have been kind--since you knew she cared. If you hadn't
made such a study of her, she would never have looked your way. That was
the cruel part of it--the dreadful, cold-blooded part."
"What do you mean by kind?" said Max. "You don't seem to realize that
the poor girl was mad. If I had been soft with her she would have been
beyond my control at once."
"Oh, but she wasn't mad then," Olga's hands clasped each other tightly.
"Max," she said, and there was no longer indignation in her voice--it
held only pain, "I'm afraid you and I have a good deal to answer for."
"Perhaps," said Max. He was frowning still; but he did not appear angry.
She did not wholly understand either his look or tone. "I suppose she
thought I treated her badly," he said.
Olga nodded silently.
"She told you so?" His voice sounded stern; yet, still he did not seem
to be angry.
"No, never." Almost involuntarily she answered him. "But she did
say--once--that you cared only for your profession, that it was not in
you to--to worship any woman."
"And you think that too?" he said.
His voice was softer now; it moved her subtly. She turned her face away
from him and stifled a sob in her throat.
"No; but, Max--to build our life-happiness on--on the ruin of hers;
that--that--is what troubles me."
"But my dear girl!" he said. He took her two hands clasped into his. "I
can't reason with you, Olga," he said. "You are quite unreasonable, and
you know it. If you were any other woman, I should say that you felt in
the mood for a good cry and so were raking up any old grievance for a
pretext. As you are you, I won't say that. But I absolutely prohibit
crying in my presence. If you want to indulge in tears, you must wait
till I am out of the way."
She smiled at him faintly. "Max, I--I loved her-so; and I wasn't even
with her--when she died."
Max was silent, suddenly and conspicuously silent, so that she knew on
the instant that he had no sympathy to bestow on this point.
Yet an inner longing that was passionate urged her to brave his silence.
Pleadingly she raised her face to his.
"Max, you were there, I know. Tell me--tell me about it!"
But he looked straight back at her with eyes that told her nothing, and
she saw that his face was hard. For a little she tried to withstand him,
mutely beseeching him; but at length her eyes fell before his.
And then Max spoke, briefly yet not unkindly. "My dear Olga, believe
me, in nine cases out of ten it is better to forget those things that
are behind; and this is one of the nine. I can't tell you anything on
that subject, so we had better regard it as closed."
It was a bitter disappointment to her; but she saw that there was no
appealing against his decision. She made as though she would turn away.
But he stopped her with quiet mastery. "No, I won't have that," he said.
"I am not so cold-blooded as you think. I haven't hurt you--really,
Olga!"
A note of tenderness sounded in his voice. She yielded to him, albeit
under protest.
"But you have!" she said.
He held her in his arms again. He kissed her drooping lips. "Well, if I
have," he said, "it's the faithful wound of a friend. Can't you forgive
it?"
That Max should ever ask forgiveness was amazing. Her bitterness went
out like the flare of a match. She laid her head against his neck.
"Max--dear, I didn't mean to be horrid!"
"You couldn't be if you tried," he said.
She clung faster to him. "How can you say so? I've hardly ever been
anything else to you."
"When are you going to reform?" said Max, with his lips against her
forehead.
"Now," said Olga into his neck.
"Really?" Max's voice came down to her very softly. "Then--won't you say
Yes to the Midsummer Day project?"
She was silent for a little, as if considering the matter or summoning
her resolution. Then with sudden impulse she lifted her face fully to
his.
"Yes, Max," she said.