A LETTER FROM AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE
It was universally acknowledged that the Rajah's Prime Minister, Kobad
Shikan, was the most magnificent figure on the polo-ground that
afternoon. The splendour of his attire was almost dazzling. He literally
glittered with jewels. And his snow-white beard added very greatly to
the general brilliance of his appearance. It was not his custom to
attend social gatherings at all. Unlike the Rajah, he was by no means
British in his tastes; and he never wore European costume. At the same
time no one had ever detected any anti-British sentiments in him. He
walked with such extreme wariness that no one actually knew what his
sentiments were.
Why he had decided to grace the occasion with his presence was a matter
for conjecture. Owing possibly to his habitual reticence, he was no
favourite with the English portion of the community. Daisy Musgrave had
nicknamed him Bluebeard long since, and Peggy firmly believed that
somewhere in the depths of the Rajah's Palace this old man kept his
chamber of horrors.
"What on earth has he come for, Nick?" murmured Olga, as they found
places in the pavilion.
Nick laughed, a baffling laugh. "I asked him to come," he said.
"You, Nick! Why?"
He frowned at her. "Don't ask questions, little girl! Ah, that's a fine
pony down there! Ye gods! What wouldn't I give to have another fling at
the game!"
"Oh, but you never must!" said Olga quickly. "I couldn't bear you to
take that risk indeed."
"You'd like to wrap me up in cotton-wool and seal me in a safe," laughed
Nick.
"No; but, Nick, you are so reckless," she said, with loving eyes upon
him. "It would be madness, wouldn't it, Max?"
Max's shrewd look rested for a moment on his host. "Little gods
sometimes accomplish what mere mortals would never dream of attempting,"
he said. "How soon do you expect to be Viceroy, Nick?"
"Oh, not for a year or two," said Nick. "I haven't talked it over with
my wife yet. There's no knowing. She may object. Wives are sometimes
hard to please, you know." He flung a humorous glance at Max, and turned
to leave them. "You will excuse me, I am sure, with the utmost pleasure.
I am going to play spelicans with Kobad Shikan."
He was gone, and Olga turned to Max, smiling somewhat uneasily. "I wish
he wouldn't," she said.
"What? Play spelicans? I should think he might prove as great an adept
at that as walking the tight rope," said Max. "Ah, here comes your
friend Mrs. Musgrave! She went home and told her husband this morning
that I was the most objectionable young man she had ever met."
Olga's eyes widened with indignation. "Max, I'm sure she didn't, and if
she did it was entirely your own fault. I believe you wanted her to
think so."
"Some people have an antipathy to red hair," observed Max. "You had
yourself at one time, I believe. Hullo! Is that our gallant Noel in
polo-kit? What a magnificent spectacle!"
It was Noel following Daisy, whose rickshaw he had just spied, and
bearing the proud Peggy on his shoulder.
He came straight to Olga, smiling with supreme ease, lowered Peggy from
her perch, and dropped into the vacant seat beside her. Daisy passed on
with a smile to join the Bradlaws. Peggy remained, glued to her hero's
side.
"I say," said Noel, "I hope you haven't been thinking me beastly rude,
Olga. I've been wishing you happiness with all my heart all the morning,
but I simply couldn't get round to tell you so."
It was charmingly spoken. Her hand lay in his while he said it. He did
not seem to observe his brother on her other side. But Peggy observed
him and clung to Noel's shoulder with wide, fascinated eyes fixed upon
the stranger.
"Noel," cut in the high, baby voice, "isn't that an ugly man? Who's that
ugly man, Noel?"
Noel squeezed Olga's hand and set it free to lift the small questioner
to his knee.
"That handsome gentleman, Peggy, is my brother, and he is going to marry
this pretty lady--whom you know. Any more questions?"
Peggy stared at Olga very seriously. "Do you want to marry him, Miss
Ratcliffe?" she asked.
"Of course she does," said Max. "Everyone wants to marry me. It's a sort
of disease that spreads like the plague."
Peggy's eyes returned to him and fixed him with grave attention.
"I don't want to marry you," she announced with absolute decision.
"You'd rather have the plague, eh?" suggested Noel.
"No," said Peggy, and turned to him with her sweet, adoring smile. "But
I'm goin' to marry you; aren't I, Noel?"
"Hear, hear!" said Noel with enthusiasm.
"Highly suitable," said Max.
"I hope you will both be very happy," said Olga, with a touch of
earnestness that she emphasized with a secret pressure of Noel's arm.
"We shall be as happy as the day is long," said Noel, smiling straight
into her eyes. "Now, little sweetheart," turning to Peggy, "I must be
off. We've got some tough work in front of us."
"I hope you'll win," said Olga.
He stood up, looking very straight and handsome. His dark eyes, laughing
downwards, seemed to challenge her to detect any shadow of
disappointment in them.
"Win! Why, of course we shall. We're going to lick Akbar & Co. into the
middle of next week--for the honour of the Regiment and Badgers."
He cast an impudent glance over his shoulder towards his commanding
officer, with whom, however, he was a supreme favourite; smiled again at
Olga while wholly over-looking Max, then swung around on his heel and
departed.
Peggy stood for a moment watching him go, then with sudden resolution
put aside the arm Olga had passed around her and ran after him.
"Highly suitable," Max said again.
Olga turned to him. "That's what Nick says. But it's such a long while
for him to wait, poor boy."
"That wouldn't hurt him," said Max. "Do him all the good in the world,
in fact. He's too much of a spoilt darling at present."
"Oh, Max, how can you say so? He is so splendid."
Max's mouth curved downwards. He said nothing.
"Max!" Olga's voice was anxious; it held a hint of pleading also, "you
haven't--quarrelled, have you?"
Max turned deliberately and looked at her. "I never quarrel," he said.
"But you don't seem to be on very good terms," she said.
"The boy is such a puppy," Max said.
"Oh, he isn't!" she protested, flushing swiftly and very hotly. "He--he
is the very nicest boy I know."
He laughed a little. "I believe you would have married him if I hadn't
come along just in time."
Olga turned her burning face to the field. She was silent for a space,
studying the mixed crowd assembled there, till, feeling his eyes
persistently upon her, she was at length impelled to speak.
"It is quite possible," she said in a low voice.
"Really? You like him well enough for that?" Max's voice was quite calm,
even impersonal. He spoke as one seeking information on a point that
concerned him not at all.
Again for a time Olga was silent while the deep flush slowly died out of
her face. At last with a little gesture of confidence only observable by
him, she slipped her hand under his arm. "I wasn't in love with him,
Max," she whispered. "But--I think--perhaps I could have been."
He pressed her hand to him with no visible movement. "And now?" he said.
"Ah, no, not now," she murmured, half-laughing. "You have quite put an
end to that."
They were interrupted. Colonel Bradlaw had just heard of their
engagement from Daisy, and came up to make Max's acquaintance and to
offer his pompous felicitations.
Before these were over the game began, greatly to Olga's relief. She
took a keen interest in it, and marked the adroit celerity with which
the Rajah's team took the field with anxiety. The Rajah himself was an
excellent player, and he was obviously on his mettle. Moreover, his
ponies were superior to those of the British team; and the odds were
plainly in his favour.
"Oh, he mustn't win; he mustn't!" said Olga feverishly.
"Don't get excited!" Max advised. "Follow the example of Nick's
Oriental friend in front of us. He doesn't look as if red-hot pincers
would make him lose his dignity."
"Horrid old man!" breathed Olga.
And yet Kobad Shikan was conversing with Nick with exemplary courtesy,
giving no adequate occasion for such criticism.
"Is he another _bête-noir_ of yours then?" asked Max.
She laughed a little. "Yes, I think he is detestable, and I believe he
hates us all."
"Poor old man!" said Max.
All through that afternoon of splendid Indian winter, they watched the
polo, talking, laughing, or intimately silent. All through the afternoon
Nick remained with Kobad Shikan, airily marking time. And all through
the afternoon Noel distinguished himself, whirling hither and thither,
hotly, keenly, untiringly pressing for the victory. If the Rajah were on
his mettle, so undoubtedly was he. He had never played so brilliantly
before, and the wild applause he gained for himself should have been
nectar to his soul. Yet to many it almost seemed that he did not hear
it. He laughed throughout the game, but it was with set teeth, and once
in a close encounter with the Rajah his eyes flamed open fury into the
face of the Oriental as the latter swept the ball out of his reach.
It was a splendid fight, but the British team were outmatched. In the
end, after a fierce struggle, they were beaten by a single goal.
Victors and vanquished came to the pavilion later and had tea with their
supporters. But Noel did not return to Olga's side. He kept at a
distance, surrounded by an enthusiastic group of fellow-subalterns.
Peggy, restrained by her mother from joining him, watched him with
longing eyes; but she watched in vain. Noel did not so much as glance in
their direction, and very soon he departed altogether with a
brother-officer.
"Wyndham seems down on his luck," observed Major Forsyth, Noel's Major,
to Daisy, to whom he had just brought tea. "He's no need to be. He
played like a dozen devils."
She smiled with that touch of tenderness that all women had for Noel. "I
expect he doesn't like being beaten, poor boy."
"He hasn't learned the art of taking it gracefully," said the Major.
"But he shouldn't show temper. It's a sign of coltishness that I don't
care for."
"Ah, well, he's young," said Daisy, with a sigh. "He'll get over that."
Her thoughts dwelt regretfully upon the young officer as she returned
with Peggy. She believed that she understood Noel better than anyone
else did just then.
Peggy did not understand him at all, and was deeply hurt by her
cavalier's defection. She did think he might have said good-bye to her
before he went.
Will, meeting them at the gate of their own compound, laughed down his
small daughter's grievance. "Do you really suppose he could remember a
midget like you?" he asked, as he tossed her on to his shoulder. "You
expect too much of us, my baby."
"You wouldn't have goed away like that, Daddy," she protested, locking
her small fingers lovingly under his chin.
"Ah, well, I'm old, you see," said Will. "I've learned how to please--or
should I say how not to displease?--you sensitive ladies."
"Did Mummy teach you?" asked Peggy with interest.
Will laughed with his eyes on his wife's face. "On that subject," he
said, "she taught me absolutely all I know."
Daisy smiled in return. "I set you some hard lessons, didn't I, Will?"
she said. "Why, how late we are! I had no idea the evening mail was in.
Peggy, run to _ayah_, darling! Only one letter for me! Who on earth is
it from?"
She took it up and inspected the handwriting on the envelope.
"It's a bold enough scrawl," said Will. "Some male acquaintance
apparently."
"No one interesting, I am sure," said Daisy.
She opened the envelope as she stood, withdrew the letter, and glanced
at the signature.
The next instant she flushed suddenly and hotly. "That man!" she
ejaculated.
"What man?" said Will.
She turned to the beginning of the letter. "Oh, it's no one you know,
dear. A man I met long ago at Mahalaleshwar--that time you were at
Bombay, soon after we married. He was a shocking flirt. So was I--in
those days. But he got too serious at last, and I had to cut and run. I
daresay there wasn't any real harm in him. It was probably all my own
fault. It always is the woman's fault, isn't it?"
She twined her arm in his, looking up into his face with a little smile,
half-mocking, half-wistful.
He stooped to kiss her. "Well, what does the bounder want?"
"Oh, nothing much," she said. "Simply, he finds himself in this
direction after big game, and, having heard of our being here, he wants
to know if we will put him up for a night or two--for the sake of old
times, he has the effrontery to add."
"Do you want him?" asked Will, the echo of a fighting note in his voice.
She smiled again as she heard it. "No, not particularly. I am really
indifferent. But I think it would look rather silly to refuse, don't
you? Besides, it would be good for him to see how old and staid I have
become."
Will looked slightly grim. Nevertheless, he did not argue the point.
"All right, Daisy. Do as you think best!" he said.
She returned to her letter, still holding his arm. "That's very wise of
you, Will," she said softly. "Then I suppose I shall write and tell him
to come."
"What's the fellow's name?" asked Will.
Daisy turned again to the signature. "Merton Hunt-Goring. He was a major
in the Sappers, but he has retired now, he says. He can't be very young.
He was no chicken in those days. I didn't really like him, you know; but
he amused me."
Will smiled. "Poor darling! Your bore of a husband never did that."
She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. "Dear old duffer! When are we
going for that honeymoon of ours? And what shall we do with Peggy? Don't
say we've got to wait till she is safely married to Noel!"
Will's eyes opened. Never since Peggy's birth had Peggy's mother
tolerated the possibility of leaving her. He had always believed that
her whole soul centred in the child, and he had been content to believe
it; such was the greatness of his love.
"You would never bear to leave Peggy behind," he said.
She laughed at him, her soft, mocking laugh of mischievous, elusive
charm. "Do you suppose I shall want a child to look after when I am on
my honeymoon? Of course I should leave her behind--not alone with
_ayah_, of course. But that could be arranged. Anyhow, it is high time
she learned to toddle alone on her own wee legs for a little. She is
very independent already. She wouldn't really miss me, you know."
"Wouldn't she?" said Will. "But what of you? Your heart would ache for
her from the moment you left her to the moment of your return."
She laughed again, lightly, merrily, her cheek against his sleeve.
"Not with my own man to keep me happy. There were no Peggies in the
Garden of Eden, were there?" Then, as he still looked doubtful, "Oh,
Will,--my own dearest one--how blind--how blind thou art!"
That moved him, touching him very nearly. He suddenly flushed a deep
red. His arm went swiftly round her. "Daisy, Daisy--" he whispered
haltingly, "I am not--not more to you than our child?"
She turned her face up to his; her eyes were full of tears though she
was smiling still. "More to me than all the world, dear," she whispered
back; "dearer to me than my hope of heaven."
She had never spoken such words to him before; he had never dreamed to
hear them on her lips. It was not Daisy's way to express herself thus.
In the far-off days of their courtship she had ever, daintily yet
firmly, kept him at a distance. Since those days she had suffered
shipwreck--a shipwreck from which his love alone had delivered her; but
though the bond between them had drawn them very close, he had never
pictured himself as ruling supreme in his wife's heart.
He was strongly moved by the revelation; but it was utterly impossible
to put his feeling into words. He could only stoop and kiss her with a
murmured, "God bless you, Daisy!"
They parted then, she to follow Peggy and superintend the evening tub,
he to return to his desk and his work.
But his work did not flourish that evening; and presently, waxing
impatient, he rose and went to seek her, drawn as a needle to a magnet.
He found her dressed for the regimental ball, and such was the witchery
of her in her gown of shimmering black that he stood a moment in the
doorway of her room as though hesitating to enter.
She turned from her table smiling her gay, sweet smile. Her silvery hair
shone soft and wonderful in the lamplight.
"Ah, my dear Will," she said, "are you coming to for once? I wish you
would. Do leave that stuffy old work--just to please me!" She went to
meet him, with hands coaxingly outstretched. "It's getting late," she
said, "I'll help you to dress."
He took the hands, gazing at her as if he could not turn his eyes away.
"There's not much point in my trying to work to-night," he said, his
voice very deep and a trifle husky. "I see and think of nothing but you.
Great heavens, Daisy, how lovely you are!"
She laughed at him with tender raillery. "Dearly beloved gander, there
is no one in the world thinks so but you."
"You've turned my head to-night," he said, still gazing at her. "By
Heaven, I believe I'm falling in love with you all over again."
"Ah, well, it's to some purpose this time," she laughed, "for I'm very
badly smitten too."
He did not laugh; he could not. "Daisy," he said, "we will have that
honeymoon."
She pressed towards him with eagerness none the less because she
pretended it to be half-feigned. "Will, you darling! When? When?"
His arms clasped her. His chest was heaving. "Very soon," he said,
speaking softly down into her upraised face. "I've been thinking,
dear--thinking very hard, ever since you asked me. I can get long leave
in about three months--if I work for it. We'll go Home for the summer,
you and I and the kiddie. If you are sure you can bear it, we will take
her to Muriel Ratcliffe--and leave her in her charge."
He paused.
"Go on!" breathed Daisy. "And then?"
"Then we will go away together--you and I--you and I--right away into
the country, and be--alone."
Daisy drew a deep breath. Her eyes were shining. She spoke no word.
Only, after a moment, her hands stole upwards and clasped his neck.
"Will it do?" said Will.
She nodded mutely.
He held her closely. "Daisy, forgive me for asking--it won't hurt you to
go back to England?"
Her eyes met his with absolute candour. "No, dear," she said.
"I was thinking," he said, stumbling a little, "sometimes old scenes,
you know--they bring back--old heartaches."
"My heart will never ache--in that way," she answered gently, "while I
have you." She paused a moment; then: "I'd like you to understand,
Will," she said. "It isn't that I have forgotten. I have simply passed
on. One does, you know. And I think that is--sometimes--how the last
come to be first. It doesn't hurt me any longer to remember my old love.
And it mustn't hurt you either. For it isn't a thing that could ever
again come between us. Nothing ever could, Will. We are too closely
united for that. And it is your love, your faith, your patience, that
have made it so."
She ended with her head back, her lips raised to his, and in the kiss
that passed between them there was something sacred, something in the
nature of a bond.
Yet in a moment she was smiling again, the while she slipped from his
close embrace. "And now you are going to dress for the ball. Come, you
won't refuse me just for to-night--just for to-night!"
She pleaded with him like a girl and she proved irresistible. Half
dazzled by her, he surrendered to her wiles.
"I will come if you like, Daisy; but I'm afraid I shall only be in the
way. My dancing has grown very rusty from long disuse."
"What nonsense!" she protested. "Why, I only married you for the sake of
your dancing. If you don't come, I shall spend the whole evening dancing
with Nick."
"Oh, I'm not afraid of Nick!" said Will. "He is as safe as the Bank of
England."
"Is he?" said Daisy. "You wait till you catch us alone some day. I tell
you frankly, Will, I've kissed Nick more than once!"
"My dear," he said, "your frankness is your salvation. You have my full
permission to do so as often as you meet."
She made a face at him, and finally freed herself. "Many thanks! But you
wouldn't like me to create a scandal by dancing with him all the
evening, I am sure. So," giving him a small, emphatic push, "go at once
and dress your lazy self, and do your duty as a husband for once!"
"Shall I be adequately rewarded for it?" questioned Will, looking back
as he turned to go.
She blew him an airy kiss. "Yes, you shall have half my waltzes."
He still lingered. "And the other half?"
"The other half," said Daisy, "will be divided equally between Nick and
my prospective son-in-law."
And at that Will laughed like a merry boy and moved away. "I know I can
cut out Noel," he said as he went. "As for Nick, he is welcome to as
many as he can get."