THE GREAT AMULET

by

MAUD DIVER

"Love is the greatest Amulet that makes this world a garden: and 'Hopecomes to all' outwears the accidents of life; and reaches withtremulous hands beyond the grave and Death. "

--R. L. S. 

"Four things come not back to man or woman: the sped arrow; the spokenword; the past life; and the neglected opportunity. "

--Omar El Khuttub. 

THE GREAT AMULET

by

MAUD DIVER

Author of "Captain Desmond, V. C. "

Shilling Edition

William Blackwood and SonsEdinburgh and LondonMCMXVAll rights reserved

_THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO_

_TRIX FLEMING_

 _IN MEMORY OF DALHOUSIE DAYS. _

 Let thy heart see that still the same Burns early friendship's sacred flame, The affinities have strongest part In youth, to draw men heart to heart: As life draws on, and finds no rest, The individual in each breast Is tyrannous to sunder them. 

 --Rossetti. 

CONTENTS. 

PROLOGUE

BOOK I. 

AFTER FIVE YEARS

BOOK II. 

JUST IMPEDIMENT

BOOK III. 

THE TENTS OF ISHMAEL

BOOK IV. 

THE VALLEY OF DECISION

THE GREAT AMULET. 

PROLOGUE. 

I. 

 "The little more, and how much it is! The little less, and what worlds away. " --Browning. 

No one in Zermatt dreamed that a wedding had been solemnised in theEnglish church on that September afternoon of the early eighties. Tourists and townsfolk alike had been cheated of a legitimate thrill ofinterest and speculation. Nor would even the most percipient haverecognised as bride and bridegroom the tall dark Englishman, in a roughshooting suit, and the girl, in simple white travelling gear, who stoodtogether, an hour later, on the outskirts of the little town, and tookleave of their solitary wedding guest:--an artist _cap-ŕ-pie_;velveteen coat, loosely knotted tie, and soft felt hat complete. 

In this Bohemian garb Michael Maurice, --as the bride's brother, --hadled his sister up the aisle, and duly surrendered her to Captain Lenox, R. A. , serenely unaware, the while, of censorious side-glances bestowedupon him by the ascetic-featured chaplain, who had an air ofofficiating under protest, of silently asserting his own aloofness fromthis hole-and-corner method of procedure. But his attitude waspowerless to affect the exalted emotion of that strange half-hour, wherein, by the repetition of a few simple, forcible words, a man andwoman take upon themselves the hardest task on earth with a valiantassurance which is at once pathetic and sublime. 

To Quita Maurice, impressionable at all times, the absence of ceremony, of those trivialities which obscure and belittle the one supreme fact, gave an added solemnity to the unadorned service: forced upon her ahalf-disturbing realisation that she was passing from an independence, dearer to her than life, into the keeping of a man:--a man of whom sheknew little beyond the fact that he loved her with a strength andsingleness of heart which is the heritage of those who reach life'ssummit without indulging in emotional excursions by the way. 

And now all needful preliminaries were over; even to the weddingbreakfast, a cheerful, casual meal of cold chicken, iced cake, and abottle of champagne, served in Maurice's unpretentious rooms, on thepastry-cook's second floor. 

The scene of their brief courtship lay behind them, dozing in thegolden stillness of late September: before them a footpath climbedthrough a forest of pine and fir to the Eiffel Alp Hotel; and on allsides multitudinous mountains flung heroic contours outward and upward, to a galaxy of peaks, that glittered diamond-bright upon a turquoisesky. A mule, ready-saddled, champed his bit at a respectful distancefrom the trio: for Lenox, an indefatigable mountaineer, had insisted ontaking the footpath up to the Eiffel; where they would spend ten days, before crossing into Italy, and so on to Brindisi, _en route_ for hisstation in India. 

The expiration of his leave, and his determination to take QuitaMaurice back with him, were responsible for the brevity of theirengagement, and for the absence, in both, of that brand-new aspectwhich proclaims a bride and bridegroom to an eternally interested world. 

For this last Eldred Lenox was abundantly grateful. All the Scot inhim asserted itself in a fierce reticence, an inbred sense of privacywhere a man's deepest feelings were concerned: and now, as he stoodbattling with his impatience to be gone, he was suffering acutediscomfiture from the demonstrative leave-taking in progress betweenMaurice and his sister. For their sakes, at least, he would fain haveeffaced himself: while they, as a matter of fact, were momentarilyoblivious of his existence. 

Artists both, of no mean quality, they had lived and worked togetherfor five years, since the day when Michael had rented his first modeststudio in the King's Road, Chelsea: and, setting aside Art, his feelingfor Quita was the one serious element in a nature light and variable asa summer cloud. From his French mother he derived an elastic spiritthat yielded itself to the emotion of the passing moment; and Lenox, watching him, marvelled at the sharp dividing-lines drawn between thedifferent races of earth. 

He half resented such facility of self-expression. Possibly he enviedit: though no doubt he would have denied the impeachment with an oath. 

Eventually it occurred to Maurice that he could not well stand in theroadway till sunset, taking leave of the sister he was so loth to lose, and, with a sigh of exasperation, he pushed her gently towards herhusband. 

"_Voilŕ, cherie_, . . . Enough of my endless adieux, or _ce bon_ Lenoxmay be tempted to break the sixth commandment on my account, inaddition to the eighth. "

Lenox smiled tolerantly down from six feet of height upon his slim, fair brother-in-law. 

"That temptation should be your own prerogative, my dear fellow, sinceI am taking her from you for good. "

Maurice laughed. 

"_Mon Dieu_, yes. You have certainly given me a fair excuse to hateyou. And I have wondered more than once, in the last three months, whyone could not manage it. "

"Too fatiguing for a man of your calibre!" the other answered withgood-humoured bluntness. "You could never be bothered to keep it up. "

"Ah, _mon ami_, you men who speak little speak to the point! You arealtogether too discerning. But for Quita's sake, at least, we couldnever be otherwise than firm friends. With all my heart I wish goodfortune to you both, and count the days to your return. "

The two men shook hands cordially: and Lenox, beckoning the muleteer, lifted his wife into the saddle; thus averting a final demonstration. She waved her hand to a blurred vision of her brother, smilingresolutely, till his back was turned: and he departed townward;--alonely brown figure, to which a slight stoop of the shoulders lent anadded air of pathos. 

Quita sat looking after him, her stillness belying the clash ofemotions at her heart. 

That vanishing figure on the sunlit road stood for all that she knewand loved best in the world: for Art, independence, good comradeship:for the happy, irresponsible, hand-to-mouth life of Bohemia: for thePast, dear and familiar, as a well-loved voice: while the quiet man ather side, --whose mere presence suggested latent force, and gave her asense of protection wholly new to her, --stood for the Future; theundiscovered country, peopled with possibilities, dark and bright. AndQuita Lenox, being blest, or curst, with the insight and detachedspirit of the artist, saw clearly that the Great Experiment held, forher, a large element of hazard; that she had staked her all upon a turnof the wheel, with what resulting Time alone could show. 

Her husband's hand on her arm brought reflection abruptly to an end. 

"He is almost out of sight now, " Lenox said quietly. "And I think it'stime we made a start. Will you come?"

She turned to him at once, with a smile whose April quality heightenedits charm. 

"Of course I will; and gladly. Don't think me horrid, Eldred. I havealways been frank with you, haven't I? And . . . It _is_ a wrenchleaving Michael to live and work alone. "

"I quite understand that: and I value your devotion to him for selfishreasons. It proves what you may be capable of feeling . . . For me, one of these days. "

The mingled dignity and humility of his tone so moved her that her onlyanswer was an impulsive pressure of the hand resting on her arm: andthey went forward for a long while without further speech, the muleteerhaving set off for the summit by a series of short cuts known to hiskind. 

Before long massed pines were above and below them; their jagged stemsand branches sharply imprinted on stretches of sunlit glacier, and onthe pathway in mottled patches of shadow. 

Eldred Lenox walked close to his wife, one hand resting on the crupperbehind her. The man's intensity of feeling did not rise readily to thesurface; and a certain proud sensitiveness, the cardinal weakness ofbig natures, withheld him from the full expression of an emotion towhich she could not adequately respond. He was content to wait, andhope; and in the meanwhile, he walked at her side wrapt in the mere joyof possession; one of the strongest, yet least recognised passions of aman's heart. From time to time he glanced at her attentively; and eachglance strengthened his faith in that which had come upon him, suddenas an earthquake, and no less subversive of ancient landmarks, ofconfirmed prejudices and convictions in regard to the woman element inman's life. 

For Quita Lenox, though far from beautiful, in the accepted sense, wasundeniably good to look at. Coils of soft hair, golden in the sun, brown in the shade; eyes neither grey nor green, intensified byunusually large pupils, and by brows and lashes almost black; astraight nose, low at the root; a mouth too long, too mobile forbeauty, its emotional quality safeguarded by an uncompromising chin, completed a face whose charm lay in no particular excellence ofdetails; but in the vivid spirit, --quick to see, to feel, tounderstand, --that informed and harmonised a somewhat contradictorywhole. An abiding sense of humour, hovering about her lips and in hereyes, kept the world sane and sweet for her, and leavened her wholeoutlook on life. A minor quality completed her charm. By virtue ofthe French blood in her veins, she imparted, even to the simplestgarments, an air of distinction, of exquisite finish, to which anEnglishwoman rarely attains. 

At three-and-twenty Quita Lenox was very artist, though not, as yet, very woman. The complex Ego, which is the keystone of Art, had notbeen tested and dominated by the great simple forces, which are thekeystone of life. 

But her husband was in no mood to analyse her appearance, or her charm. He wanted beyond all things to know what was passing in her mind, andbecause his own thoughts were too passionate for utterance, he waitedfor her to speak. But for the first time in his knowledge of her, hewaited in vain. Protracted silence on her part was a phenomenon sounusual, that at length he turned to her definitely, a shadow ofmisgiving in his clear Northern eyes. 

"Are you thinking over it all very seriously . . . Now that it is donepast undoing?"

He smiled in speaking, and she met his look with her accustomedfrankness. 

"And if I am . . . ? Surely that service gives one food forreflection. I had not so much as looked at it since early days whencuriosity impelled me to read it through; and weddings have never beenin my line. As a matter of fact, I was thinking just then whatunaccountable creatures we men and women are! How we ponder, anddebate, and fuss over trifles, and then plunge headlong past the bigturning-points of life, without a thought of the consequences lurkinground the corner. Which doesn't mean that you and I need spell ourconsequences with a capital C, or label them tragic in advance, " sheadded with a laugh. "For honestly, it seems to me that a risingartist, and a rising explorer, both devout worshippers of the eternalhills, may reasonably expect to possess many ideas and interests incommon: and those are the bricks out of which two people build theirHouse of Happiness, _n'est-ce pas, mon ami_?"

"Yes; if you choose to leave mutual trust, and mutual devotion, out onthe doorstep. "

"I don't choose: only, they are not the bricks, Eldred. One is thefoundation-stone; and the other, --the other is a great mysteriousSomething, that transforms the House into an enchanted palace. But wemust be content to begin with the House, --do you see?"

"Yes--I see. I am abundantly content to begin on any terms. "

Something in the man's tone impelled her to lean outward a little, sothat her shoulder rested lightly against the arm passed behind her. 

"You are much too good to me, dear, " she said softly. "I don't thinkone could possibly live with you and fail to love you. That is why Ihave dared to take the risk. "

He did not answer in words, nor did he give her the kiss she halfexpected; but his hand deserted the crupper, and the mule pricked avelvet ear at the check in his progress. Then Quita straightenedherself, as if reasserting her cherished independence. 

"After all, it is more interesting, in some ways, not to haveeverything cut and dried from the start, " she went on, striking off ata tangent, with an innate perversity incomprehensible to a mere man. "It prevents a headlong fall into the commonplace: and there is acertain excitement in looking on, so to speak, at one's own personaldrama, without feeling quite sure of its developments. "

Lenox knitted his brows. He could not always keep pace with her morefantastic moods. 

"Quita, are you talking nonsense?" he asked with a touch of irritation. 

"No. "

"Well, I wish you were. I don't like that sort of attitude towardsserious things; and I don't understand what you mean about looking onat one's own life. It sounds brutally detached, not to sayegotistical. "

"That is because you only climb mountains and handle men, _mon cher_, instead of trying to paint them, or translate them into verse. You arespared the artist's complication of a dual personality; of two soulsimprisoned in one body; the one who enjoys, and loves, and suffers; andthe one who looks on, and picks every emotion to pieces. I am afraidthe one you disapprove of has had the upper hand in me so far. Perhapsit is your mission to develop the other into a healthier state ofactivity. "

"I hope to Heaven it may be, " her husband answered fervently. "Thepresent state of things strikes me as a trifle inhuman. "

"But indeed I am not inhuman! Only . . . We have still a good deal tolearn about one another, Eldred, although we are man and wife. Youconfess to an amazing ignorance of women; while my own variedexperience of men has lain chiefly among 'the sayers of words'; and onecan hardly class you under that heading!"

"Good Lord, no! I should hope not. "

Quita threw up her head and laughed outright. 

"Really, Eldred, you are delightful!"

"Glad to hear it, " Lenox replied, a shade of sarcasm in his tone. "It's the first time I have been accused of such a thing. "

He quickened his pace; and she, divining a slight jar in theatmosphere, said no more. The supreme art in human intercourse is theart of punctuation, and in the long pause that ensued, silenceaccomplished her perfect work. 

Higher up they emerged on an open space of roadway, where the pinescame abruptly to an end; and the path shelved sheer from its brokenrailing to the Visp Valley below. Instinctively Quita drew rein anddrank in every detail of the vision before her with the wordlesssatisfaction that is the hall-mark of the true Nature-worshipper. Lenox stood quietly at her side, his gaze riveted on her face. He hadseen many mountains, giants among their kind; but never till now had hebeheld the glory of them reflected in a woman's eyes. At that momentthey seemed the only sentient things in a world of rock, and snow, andsunshine. It was as if the round earth, and the pillars thereof, hadbeen made for them, and them alone. 

Above the road a weather-beaten hut struck an isolated note of life, and across the valley Matterhorn towered, --solitary, superb, --hisrugged head and shoulders thrust heavenward through a diaphanous scarfof cloud. Suddenly Quita Lenox fronted her husband, and his facesoftened to a smile that hovered in the eyes an appreciable time beforeit reached his lips. 

"_Ŕ la bonheur_!" she said, smiling back at him. "We will break ourjourney here. You can tether 'Modestina' to that stump. I must do arough sketch of this, and put in notes for colouring, while you sitbeside me and smoke, and talk. When it's complete, I'll present it toyou as a memento of to-day. Will that suit you?"

"Rather!"

He lifted her from the saddle, in defiance of her laughing protest, and, holding her at arm's length, looked long and steadily into hereyes, as though he would reach and capture, by force of will, theelusive spirit that lived in their depths. 

It was in these rare moments of revelation that Quita was troubled by adisconcerting sense of exchanging false coin for gold. She tried tofree herself from his grasp; and the colour deepened in her cheeks. 

"Eldred, --let me go!" she said, with something less than her wontedassurance. "It frightens me when you look right into me like that. "

"Frightens you? Dearest, . . . What nonsense!" But for once hedisregarded her behest. 

"It's not nonsense. It makes me see too clearly the chained-up forceshidden under that surface quietness of yours. I think you might berather terrible if they ever broke loose. "

He laughed abruptly, and let her go. 

"I keep them chained up, I promise you: and they are never likely to doyou any harm. Now, begin upon your picture, and don't alarm yourselfabout nothing. "

She watched him thoughtfully as he led "Modestina" away, and tetheredher to a pine stump. It needed small discernment to perceive that theequitable poise of his character rested upon the noiseless convictionthat he was a man, and a gentleman: and it seemed to her that she didwell to feel proud of her husband. 

With which satisfying conviction she settled herself upon a slab of arock, whipped out the sketch-book, that hung permanently in a flatleather bag at her waist, and plunged headlong into her picture. Forin her case, impression and expression were almost simultaneous: themost distinctive quality of her work being the rapidity and certaintywith which she produced her effects. 

Lenox, returning, extended his firmly-knit length of figure on thesloping ground near by, and flung aside his cap; thus revealing moreclearly the rugged contour of his head, and the black hair whoseobstinate ripple no amount of brushing could subdue. With leisurelydeliberation he filled his pipe, and surrendered himself to theenchantment of the hour, before it slipped from him into the region ofaccomplished things. And it is this very evanescence, this rainbowquality of our hill-top moments, that adds such poignant intensity totheir charm. 

Much of their brief courtship had been spent in such wordlesscompanionship: the man smoking beside her, with, or without, a book, while she worked; and he never wearied of watching that abidingmiracle, a picture springing to life under an artist's fingers. 

"You're not likely to give up this sort of thing, I suppose?" he askedsuddenly; and she turned upon him with blank astonishment in her eyes. 

"Give it up? . . . You might as well ask if I shall ever give upseeing, or hearing, or feeling. It is a part of me. You don't want meto give it up, do you?"

"Far from it. I was merely thinking that it seems suicidal for anartist of your quality to bury herself alive in a little Frontierstation, on the edge of a desert, more than a hundred miles fromanywhere. "

"Rubbish! It simply means a new range of subjects for my brush. Tellme a little about it, please. I like to try and picture things inadvance; and I am lamentably ignorant about this remarkable FrontierForce, to which I now have the honour to belong. Are we all on thewrong side of the Indus, always?"

"Yes, for ever and ever; except when we get away on leave. "

"And then we go camping and climbing in the far hills beyond Kashmir, don't we?"

"Yes, invariably! For the rest of the time we keep 'cave' along sixhundred miles of heart-breaking Border country. "

"In other words, you are watch-dogs guarding the gates of an Empire?"

"That sounds far more imposing; and it's no less true. We are alsoactively engaged in helping the Indian Government to cultivate friendlyrelations with the tribes at the point of the bayonet!"

"And don't the tribes respond?"

"Yes, vigorously, to the tune of bullets and cold steel; so that wemanage to keep things pretty lively between us! Since we annexed theFrontier, nearly forty years ago, the Piffers have taken part in morethan thirty Border expeditions, all told, to say nothing of the AfghanWar. "

Quita's attention had been diverted from her picture to her husband'sface. 

"You get your fill of fighting at that rate, " she said, "And I thinkyou must be rather magnificent when you are fighting, Eldred. "

Lenox shrugged his shoulders, and laughed. 

"I'm a keen soldier, if that's what you're driving at: and I believethe world holds no finer school for character than constant activeservice. "

"I confess I never thought of looking at war in that light! But I canwell believe it, if its horrors and hardships turn out many men . . . Like you. "

Words and tone set the man's pulses in commotion. But he clenched histeeth upon his pipe-stem, and ignored the personal allusion. 

"Well, you can see for yourself, when you get there. Taking 'em allround, I think you'll find the Piffers as fine a set of fellows as youcould wish to meet anywhere; and it's hard work, and hard conditions oflife, that thrash them into shape. "

"And the stations, where I am to be 'buried alive' in such goodcompany?"

"I'm afraid the stations are the least satisfactory part of theprogramme. There are five of them along our north-west strip ofdesert; all more or less hopeless to get at. We play general postamong them every two or three years, to avoid stagnation and keep themen fit. Just now my battery's quartered at Dera Ghazee Khan, aGod-forsaken place, right down by Scindh. I don't know how I have thecheek to think of taking you there. "

"But if I refuse to be left behind . . . ?"

"Well, of course . . . In that case . . . " His eyes, looking up intohers, completed the sentence. 

"I'm not a 'society woman, ' remember; and setting aside yourcompanionship, I should prefer a 'God-forsaken place' on the IndianFrontier to St. John's Wood or Upper Tooting, any day! I am preparedto find it all very interesting. "

"So you may, at the start. But the interest is likely to wear thinafter the first few years of it. "

"Well, perhaps by that time we shall have arrived at the enchantedpalace, and then nothing else will matter at all!--There now; I've doneall I can to my sketch for the present. Shall we go on?"

Lenox roused himself, not without reluctance, and they went onaccordingly. 

Towards the summit, trees grew rare: and they found the solitary hotelperched aloft, upon an open space; a hive of restless shifting humanlife, set in the midst of the changeless hills. 

After a short interview with the manager's wife, they found themselvesalone again, in the private sitting-room engaged by Lenox. A wood fireburned merrily in the open hearth, for September evenings are chilly atthat altitude; and the windows, looking westward, gave generousadmittance to a flood of afternoon sunlight. 

Eldred, standing on the hearth-rug, surveyed all things in an access ofsilent satisfaction; while Quita moved lightly to and fro, franklyinterested in details. 

"Oh, how I love the cleanness and emptiness of these Swiss rooms!" sheexclaimed at last. "They make one feel so unspeakably wholesome andgood. And we are actually going to have dinner here, you and I? Justour two selves! How strange!"

On a sudden impulse she came close to him, and standing before him, took the lapels of his coat, one in each hand. 

"Eldred, . . . I don't seem able to take it in at all! Other brideshave so much of external paraphernalia to emphasise the fact they haveclosed one chapter of life, and begun another. But except for thatdreamlike half-hour in church, you and I seem merely to have come awaytogether for an everyday outing; and there is nothing anywhere, . . . Except this, "--she lifted the third finger of her left hand, --"to makeme realise that we are actually . . . Married. "

She spoke the last word under her breath; and almost before it was out, he had caught her to himself, and kissed her fervently, again and again. 

"Does that help you to realise it a little better, . . . My wife?" hewhispered; and for answer she drew in a long breath that was almost asob. He released her at once; and as she faced him, flushed andbreathless, he saw that tears stood in her eyes. 

"Why, . . . Why did you never . . . Kiss me . . . Like that before?"she asked very low. 

"God knows I have wanted to, a hundred times, " he answered. "But Ithink I was afraid you might . . . Hate it. Why do you ask, though?Would it have made any difference between us if I had?"

"I can't tell; . . . Oh, I can't tell! Only . . . You have been sorestrained, so unlike an . . . Ordinary lover, that I never dreamed itcould mean as much to you . . . As all that . . . " She pulled herselftogether with an effort. "Now I am going to take off my things, " shesaid. "Don't come, please. I want to get away by myself. "

A moment later he stood alone, between the sunlight and the firelight, gazing blankly at the door that hid her from view; and wonderingwhether he had advanced or retarded matters by his unpremeditated flashof self-revelation. 

II. 

 "A turn, and we stand in the heart of things. " --Browning. 

When Eldred Lenox sailed from India six months earlier, he would havescouted as impossible the suggestion that he might bring a wife backwith him on his return: and his uncompromising avoidance of women, fromboyhood upward, had seemed to justify him in his assurance. But Natureis inexorable. She has her own methods of accomplishing those thingsthat are necessary to a man's salvation; and behold in three months theimpossible had come to pass. The giant Mirabeau was right:--"_ce bętede mot_" ought by now to be struck out of our dictionaries. 

Lenox knew little of half measures: and, having succumbed, --in spite ofhimself, in spite of inherent prejudices and convictions, --he succumbedheart and soul. That which he had unduly scorned, he now undulyexalted. Only Time and the woman could lead him into the Middle Way, which is the way of truth. For beneath the surface hardness of theScot lurked the fire, the imaginative force, the proud sensitiveness ofthe Celt: a heritage from his Cornish mother, whose untimely death hadleft her two younger sons in the hands of a bachelor uncle, of red-hotCalvinistic views. Their father--a man of an altogether differentstamp--had met his boys on rare occasions, and ardently desired to knowmore of them: but an Afghan knife had ended his career before he couldfind leisure to complete their acquaintance. The history ofAnglo-India is one long chronicle of such minor tragedies. 

Thus fire-eating Jock Lenox had exercised iron rule over his charges, unhampered by parental interference: had reared them in anunquestioning fear of God, and an unquestioning distrust of more thanhalf His creatures; had impressed upon them, in season and out ofseason, that woman was the one fatal element in a man's life, theauthor of nine-tenths of its tragedy, complexity, and crime. 

Yet "one touch of Nature" had annulled, in three months, the work oftwenty years. So much for education!

For a while Lenox stood motionless where his wife had left him, asthough life itself were suspended until her return: for despite theglory of autumn sunshine, of leaping flames upon the hearth, the room, robbed of her presence, seemed colourless, dead. 

Then, as the minutes passed and she did not reappear, restlessness tookpossession of him; sure sign that he was very deeply moved. He crossedto the open window, but even the colossal calm of the mountains failedto quell the tumult of passion in his veins. Her last words left himanxious. There could be no peace till he had interpreted them to hisfull satisfaction; and the power of interpreting a woman's words couldnot be reckoned among his attributes. 

Suddenly it occurred to him that he had pocketed two unopened envelopesbefore starting for church. He drew them out; rather because he neededsome definite occupation, than because he felt curious as to theircontents. Men of his type are rarely overburdened with correspondents. 

The first was a business letter. He read it with scant attention, andreturned it to his breast-pocket. The second envelope bore thehandwriting of his senior subaltern, now in England on short leave. The two men were close friends; but Eldred's last letter had beenwritten four months ago; and the envelope in his hand containedRichardson's tardy response. He broke the seal with a smile at thoughtof his subaltern's astonishment when he should learn the truth. Theletter was longer than usual; and in glancing through it hurriedly, thename Miss Maurice caught his eye. "Great Scott!" he muttered aloud;then, with quickened interest, began upon the second page, ignoring theopening. 

"Wonder if you have run across the Maurices in Zermatt, " wrote MaxRichardson, with no faintest prevision of the circumstances in whichthe thoughtless lines would be read by his friend. "Artists both ofthem, brother and sister; and a rather remarkable couple, I'm told. She seems to have made a hit at the Academy; and the cousins I'mstaying with are very keen about her. I happened to mention that I waswriting to a chap in Zermatt, and they begged me to ask if you hadheard or seen anything of this Miss Maurice. There's a bit of aromance about her; that's what has pricked their interest. Seems shewas engaged to Sir Roger Bennet this season. A swell in the Art patronline. Lost his heart at first sight. But evidently on closeracquaintance found her rather a handful, and too much of a Bohemian tosuit his British taste! At all events there was a flare-up oversomething about three months ago, and Sir Roger backed out, politelybut definitely. It seems that Miss Maurice was a good deal cut up. Went off to Zermatt with her brother. And now rumour has it that sheis engaged, if not married, to some other chap out there, I suppose byway of a gentle intimation to Sir Roger that he hasn't broken herheart. My cousins are eaten up with curiosity to know if it's true. Women appear to be capable of that sort of thing. But it strikes amere man as playing rather low down on a luckless devil who has doneher no harm: and I don't envy him his hasty bargain, or the repentingat leisure that's bound to follow. Lord, what fools we men are! Andhow easily we lose our heads over a woman! All except you--the GreatInvulnerable, looking down upon our folly from the superior height of asnow-peak. . . . "

Lenox read no further. The last words enraged him, like a blow betweenthe eyes, and set the blood hammering in his temples. It would seem, at times, that Fate selects with fiendish nicety the psychologicalmoment when her arrows will strike deepest, and stick fastest. Thus, when his thirst was at its height, Lenox found the cup dashed from hislips; and that by the hand of his best friend:--a master-stroke ofOlympian comedy. 

With a curse he flung the letter on to the table. 

Wounded love, wounded pride, and baulked desire so clashed in him thatclear thought was impossible. He only knew that he had beendeliberately deceived, the most intolerable knowledge to a manincapable of deceit: and with the knowledge all the natural savage inhim sprang to life. If Richardson had appeared before him in theflesh, it is doubtful whether he could have stayed his hand: the moreso, since he believed that the man had written the truth: that thisgirl--whom it seemed that he had wooed with quite unnecessaryreverence--had taken the best he could give, and utilised it as a meresalve for her wounded vanity. 

He understood now why her heart had proved more difficult of accessthan her hand. He had believed it unawakened; had dreamed, as loverswill, of warming it into life with the fire of his own great love: andlo, he found himself forestalled by this execrable man in England. Clearly he had been a fool;--an infatuated fool! He stabbed himselfwith the epithet: and a vivid memory of his uncle's stock cynicismsturned the knife in the wound. All the prejudices and tenets of hisyouth rushed back upon him now: an avenging host, mocking at hisdiscomfiture; narrowing his judgment; blinding him to the woman's pointof view. 

And while he still stood battling with himself in a vain effort toregain his shaken self-control, the bedroom door opened, and his wifecame quickly towards him. 

His changed aspect arrested her: and the sight of her facing him thus, with the sunlight in her eyes and on her hair, her young purity ofoutline emphasised by the simplicity of her dress, so stirred hissenses, that, in defiance of pride, the whole heart of him went out toher, claiming her for his own. But it is at just such crises thathabit reveals itself as the hand of steel in a silken glove; and beforeshe could open her lips, Jock Lenox had stretched out a ghostly armfrom his grave in Aberdeen, and shut to the door of his nephew's heart. 

Quita glanced hurriedly from the discarded letter to her husband's face. 

"My dear, . . . What has gone wrong? You look terrible. Have you hadbad news?"

The irony of the question brought a smile to his lips. 

"Yes. I have had bad news. Read it for yourself. " And he pushed theletter towards her. 

"Why? Who is it from?"

"A friend of mine, in England, who seems to know a good deal more aboutyou than I do. "

"What on earth do you mean?" she asked sharply. 

"You know well enough what I mean. Read that letter if your memoryneeds refreshing. "

Her first instinct was indignant refusal. Then curiosity conquered. Besides, she wanted above all things to gain time: and while she read, her husband watched her keenly, with God knows what of forlorn hope athis heart. 

But a twisted truth is more formidable than a lie; and intuition warnedQuita that Lenox was in no mood to appreciate the fine shades ofdistinction between the literal facts and Max Richardson's freetranslation of the same. His frankly masculine comments fired hercheeks; and at the sight Lenox could restrain himself no longer. 

"By Heaven! You care for that fellow still!" he broke out hotly. "Andyou had the effrontery to take those solemn words on your lips thismorning, with the love of . . . Another man in your heart!"

Quita Lenox, whatever her failings, lacked neither spirit nor courage. She threw back her head, and faced his anger bravely. 

"How dare you say such things to me? I . . . Don't care for him. I--Ihate him!"

"Proof conclusive. Indifference kills hatred. No doubt you wanted toconvince yourself, and him, that you were indifferent; and to that endyou must needs crucify the first man who comes handy. An admirablesample of feminine justice!"

"Eldred, . . . You have no right to speak like that. I won't hear you. "

"I have every right; and you shall hear me. It was one thing to knowthat you could not give me all I wanted at the start. One hoped to setthat right, in time. But to accept me because another man's defectionhad piqued your vanity, . . . God knows how you could dare to do it!I see now why you found me unlike an ordinary lover. No doubt thatother fellow--curse him--took full advantage of his privilegedposition: while to me you seemed a thing so sacred that I hardly daredlay a hand on you. I might have known that a man who is fool enough toput a woman on a pedestal, is bound to pay a long price for his folly. "

He was lashing himself more mercilessly than he lashed her: and in thetorment of his spirit he did not pause to consider the possible effectof his words on a recklessly impulsive woman. 

"Really . . . You are insufferable!" she retorted, her breath comingshort and quick. "I have a little pride also; and you had better stopbefore you push me too far. For I tell you frankly, I don't careenough for you to stand this sort of treatment at your hands. "

The counter-stroke stung like a lash. The lines about his mouthhardened, and he straightened himself sharply. 

"Pity you were not more frank with me twenty-four hours ago. Then wemight both have been spared this morning's ironical service. However, the thing is done now. . . . "

"Indeed, it's not done!" she flashed out defiantly. "I have no notionof being your wife on sufferance, I assure you. We are only on thethreshold as yet. We need not go a step farther unless we choose. Andafter what you have said to me, . . . I do not choose. "

For an instant the man was stunned into silence; then, in a desperateimpulse, took a step towards her. 

"Quita, . . . You don't realise what you are saying? Nothing can alterthe fact that we are man and wife, now and always. "

She motioned him from her with an imperious gesture. 

"Don't touch me, please. I do realise, perfectly, that we are not freeto make any more dangerous experiments. But we are at least free tolive and work independently of one another. Of course I know that youcan compel me to remain with you, "--her colour deepened on thewords. --"But I know also that you have too much chivalry, too muchpride, to force yourself upon me against my wish. "

"By God, yes!" he answered from between his teeth. "And . . . What isyour wish, may I ask?"

For the first time she hesitated, and lowered her eyes. 

"I believe our wishes are identical, " she said. 

"No need to trouble about mine. You can put them out of courtaltogether. "

His tone spurred her to instant decision. 

"My wish is to go back to Zermatt at once, by the funicular; and . . . That we should not see one another again. I will accept nothing fromyou. I can earn my own living, as I have done till now. Thank God, Michael is too blessedly Bohemian to make a fuss, or be horrified atthings. He will simply be overjoyed to get me back. "

She turned from him hastily; and he stood, like a man paralysed, watching her go. On the threshold of the bedroom door she looked back. 

"Don't think of writing to me, or of trying to patch up areconciliation between us, " she said on a softened note. "Mendedthings are never reliable. I can neither forget nor forgive what youhave said to me to-day, and when you have had time to think thingsover, you will probably feel thankful that I had the courage to leaveyou. "

The soft closing of the door roused him, and he sprang forward with hername on his lips. Then Pride gripped him; Pride, and the habit ofself-mastery hammered into him by his redoubtable uncle. The fact thatour spirits thus live and work, deathlessly, in the lives and hearts ofthose with whom we have come into contact, is a form of immortality tooseldom recognised by man. 

In the silence that followed, Lenox looked blankly round the emptyroom:--the room where they should have spent their first eveningtogether. Then the irony, the finality of it all, overwhelmed him, andhe sank upon the nearest chair. "What have I done? . . . My God, whathave I done?" he breathed aloud. And it is characteristic of the manthat, for all his grinding sense of injury, he blamed himself morebitterly than he blamed his wife. 

His eye fell on the letter, which, had it contained a bombshell, couldscarce have wrought more damage in so short a space of time. Tearingit across and across, he flung it into the fire, and derived a gloomysatisfaction from watching it burn. But though paper and ink werereduced to ashes, neither fire nor steel could annihilate the wingedwords, thoughtlessly penned, that had altered the course of two lives. 

Footsteps in the bedroom brought Lenox again to his feet. 

He flung the door open, expecting--he knew what. 

An apathetic hotel porter was removing Quita's trunk: and nothing thathad been said or done in the last half-hour had hurt him so keenly asthis insignificant item:--the touch of commonplace that levels allthings. 

With a gesture he indicated his own portmanteau. "Take that also, " hesaid, and strode out of the room. 

At least he had the right to shield her from comment. To allappearance they must leave the place together! and he settled hisaccount with the smiling manageress, adding simply: "Madame has had badnews. "

He took a later train down the hill; deposited his trunk in a hotelbedroom; and spent his wedding-night under the stars; walking, ceaselessly, aimlessly, to deaden the ache at his heart. 

Next morning he despatched half a dozen lines to Richardson disowningall knowledge of Miss Maurice's concerns: and three weeks later hesailed from Brindisi without seeing his wife again. 

BOOK I. --AFTER FIVE YEARS. 

CHAPTER I. 

 "I, who am Love, burn with too fierce a fire, Even if I only pass and touch the soul, Life is not long enough to heal the wound. I pass, but my touch for ever leaves its mark. I, who am Love, burn with too fierce a fire. " --Turkish Song. 

Max Richardson lifted the "chick, " paused on the threshold, andsurveyed the empty room. 

A bachelor's room, in a frontier bungalow, boasts little of beauty, less of luxury. The legend of Anglo-India--"Here to-day, and goneto-morrow"--is visible on its nail-disfigured walls, battered campchairs and tables, supplemented by chance purchases from the "effects"of brother officers, retired, or untimely hurried out of "the day, andthe dust, and the ecstasy. "

To the observer for whom one hint of human revelation outweighs invalue a warehouseful of inexpressive furniture, a room of this typeholds one superlative interest. It is an index of character no lessinfallible than its owner's face. Its salient features may tell thesame tale as a dozen others in the same station--the tale of a soldiergoing to and fro in a land of unrest. But its minor details reveal theman beneath the uniform. 

There is as much individuality after all in a soldier as in any otherspecimen of God's handiwork; even though tradition and the War Officecompel him to an external suggestion of having been turned out by thedozen. 

The ramshackle room whereon Eldred Lenox had set his seal differed inone notable respect from others of its type. It contained no pictureeither of a woman or a horse. The dingy white wall was relieved bygroups of barbarous weapons--Thibetan daggers, a pair of wicked-lookingkookries, the jezail and Brown Bess of Border tribesmen, and themurderous Afghan knife, whose triangular two-foot blade has disfiguredtoo many British uniforms. 

In peaceful contrast to these trophies were one or two rough sketchesof the mountain regions beyond Kashmir; desolate stretches of glacierand moraine, or groups of stately peaks, the colouring washed in with asingular sureness of touch. There were also maps, finely executed byhand, of Thibet and Central Asia. To these fresh names and markingswere added, from time to time, with a thrill of satisfaction only to begauged by the man for whom the waste places of earth are a goodlyheritage, and who would sooner contribute a new name to the world'satlas than rule a kingdom. Higher up the twenty-foot walls, heads ofsambhur, markor, and the lesser deer of the Himalayas showed dimly inthe light of one lowered lamp. Skins of bear and leopard, and one ortwo costly Persian prayer-rugs, partially hid the groundwork of dustymatting, taken over with the bungalow from its former occupant, and inplaces revealing the stone floor beneath. The broad mantel-shelf wasgiven over to books, a motley crowd in divers stages of dilapidation. 'The Master of Ballantrae' shouldered 'The Queen's Regulations, ' onewould fancy with a swaggering hint of scorn; a battered copy of the'Pilgrim's Progress' stood resignedly between Bogle's 'Mission toThibet' and a technical handbook on Topography, the whole row beingpropped into position at one end by a great brown tobacco-jar, and atthe other by a bronze image of the Buddha in cross-legged meditation--amemento of Lenox's latest expedition to Thibet. 

The solitary lamp, its green shade set at a rakish angle, stood upon aspacious writing-table, strewn with closely written sheets of foolscap, pens, pencils, pipes, and books of reference, half a dozen of theselast being piled on the floor, close to the writer's chair. It was thetable of a man who leaves his work reluctantly, leaves it in such afashion that he can take it up again exactly where he left off, withoutwasting precious time upon preliminaries. 

On Lenox's bare deck-lounge a bull terrier, of powerful build anduncompromising ugliness, slept soundly, nose to tail, and on one of thecostly prayer-rugs his Pathan bearer slept also. The deep, evenbreathing of dog and man formed a murmurous duet in the twilightstillness. 

All these things Max Richardson noted, with a twinkle of amusement inhis blue eyes. Every detail of the room spoke to him eloquently of theman he had not seen for a year. Since his departure on furlough thebattery had changed stations, marching across sixty miles of sanddesert from Bunnoo to Dera Ishmael Khan, familiarly known as "DeraDismal, " a straggling station a few miles beyond the Indus. 

Richardson had arrived from Bombay late that evening, just in time tochange and hurry across to the station mess. To his surprise Lenox hadnot put in an appearance at the mess table, and Richardson, anticipating fever, --the curse of frontier life, --had left early, inquired the way to his Commandant's bungalow, and now stood on thethreshold, scarcely able to believe the evidence of his senses. Strange developments must have taken place during his absence, ifLenox--the woman-hater, the confirmed recluse--were actually dining out. 

He approached the snoring Pathan and roused him, not ungently, with thetoe of his boot. The native sprang up, fumbled at his disarrangedturban, salaamed deeply, and finally stood upright, a splendid figureof a man, six feet of him, if his peaked turban were taken intoaccount--hard, wiry, with aquiline features, grey beard, and eyes keenas a sword-thrust; a man without knowledge of fear, cunning andimplacable in hatred, but staunchly devoted to the Englishman heserved, who, in his eyes, was the first of living men. 

"The Captain Sahib--where is he?" Richardson demanded in the vernacular. 

"At Desmond Sahib's bungalow for dinner. By eleven o'clock hereturneth. Your Honour will await his coming?"

"Decidedly. "

Zyarulla turned up the lamp, and proceeded to set whisky, soda-water, and a tumbler among his master's scattered papers. Brutus, at thesound of a remembered voice, tapped the cane chair vigorously with hisstump of a tail, without offering to relinquish the one comfortableseat in the room. Richardson sat down beside him, caressed the strongugly head, and lit a cigar. 

The Pathan withdrew, leaving him alone with the dog and the whiskybottle, from which he helped himself liberally. Then, drawing one ofthe closely written sheets of paper towards him, he fell to reading itwith interest and attention. It was a minute geographical record of arecent journey through tracts of mountain country hitherto unexplored, a journey which had gained Lenox the letters C. I. E. After his name. Richardson, while failing to emulate the older man's zeal forwanderings that cut him off for months together from intercourse withhis kind, was yet keenly interested in their practical outcome. 

The stronger light in which he now sat revealed him as a big fair man, by no means ill-featured, his soldierly figure emphasised by the gunnermess-dress of those days, with its high scarlet waistcoat and profusionof round gilt buttons, in each of which twin flames winked andsparkled. A suggestion of kindly, uncritical contentment with thingsin general pervaded his face and bearing. The blue eyes were rarelyserious for long together; the mouth, under a neatly trimmed moustache, showed no harsh lines, no traces of past conflict. Had the greatOverseer of men's destinies not seen fit to guide him to the Frontier, out of reach of demoralising influences, it is doubtful whether hewould have escaped the trail of the petticoat, the snare of thegrass-widow in determined search of amusement. As it was, he hadpassed through the critical twenties with a clean defaulter sheet; hadestablished himself as a good soldier and a good comrade, a"friend-making, everywhere friend-finding soul, " and the closest amongthese was the Commandant of his battery--a wholesome and pleasant stateof things for both. 

He was beginning to weary of geographical detail, when steps sounded inthe verandah, and he was on his feet as Lenox came in. 

"Hullo, Dick! Good man to wait for me! Thought I should have seen youbefore mess, though. What do you mean by not coming here straight?"

"None of my fault, old chap. We were delayed as usual crossing thatblamed old Indus. Stuck on a sandbank for over an hour. Gives afellow time to count up his sins and renounce the devil, eh? Expectedto find you at mess, of course. I wasn't prepared for this sort ofupheaval in the natural order of things!"

Lenox stooped to caress Brutus, who was urgently demanding attention. 

"Upheavals belong to the natural order of things, " he said quietly. "The world would come to a standstill without them. Light a freshcheroot, and fill up. "

He indicated the chair vacated by Brutus, sat down by thewriting-table, and picking up a pipe proceeded to clean it out withscrupulous care. Richardson watched him the while, his face grownsuddenly thoughtful. Once he leaned forward, as though he had someurgent matter to communicate, but apparently changed his mind, andspoke conversationally between puffs at his cigar. 

"Zyarulla said you were at the Desmonds. Is that the cavalry Desmond, the V. C. Chap, whose wife was shot by a brute of a Ghazi four yearsago?"

"Yes;--a hideous affair. Yet, in the face of his second marriage, onecan hardly call it a misfortune. It was one of those evils that hadfar better happen to a man than not--that's a fact; and there are agood many such on this amazing planet. "

"Sounds a bit brutal, though, when the murder of a man's wife is inquestion. "

"Facts are apt to be brutal; even facts relating to the holy estate ofmatrimony!" Lenox's tone had an edge to it, and Richardson somewhathastily shifted to another aspect of the subject. 

"You are really intimate with these Desmonds, --both of them?"

"Yes. Both of them. I dine there about once a-week, just myself andDesmond's inseparable pal, Wyndham, who is over there most days. Youmust call at once. She is Colonel Meredith's sister, a magnificentwoman in every way. "

"A miraculous one, I should say, to have dragged such an adjective outof you!"

Lenox smiled. "No. Only one of the right sort. The sort that makesfine sons. She has one already; splendid little chap. The three of'em are off to Dalhousie early in May, and they have just persuaded meto spend my two months there instead of beyond Kashmir. Mrs Desmondhas a misguided notion that I am knocking myself to bits over my workin the interior. "

"Deuced sensible woman!" laughed Richardson. "It'll give me thegreatest pleasure in life to shake hands with her. "

"Come and do it to-morrow then. I'll go along with you. "

While he talked Lenox had filled a long German pipe with a bowl ofgenerous dimensions. Now he set a match to it, and as the first blueclouds curled upward a peculiarly aromatic fragrance filled the room. 

"That stuff of yours is A1, " Richardson remarked, with an appreciativesniff. "Pretty costly, I suppose?"

"Yes. My one extravagance. A special brand that I get out from home, a big batch at a time. Nothing like it for settling a man's nerves inthe small hours. "

"Do you still sit up over that sort of thing till the small hours?"

"Yes, most nights. What moonshine are you bothering your head aboutnow?"

"Strikes me that sleeplessness of yours must be becoming serious. Youlook several degrees less fit than you did a year ago, and that'ssaying a good deal. "

Lenox took his pipe from between his teeth, and regarded his subalternsteadily for a few seconds. 

"When I need medical advice I'll send for Courtenay, " he said, a hintof authority in his bantering tone. "We were discussing tobacco, and awoman; and the conjunction reminds me of an inspired German proverb Ihappened on the other day. 'God made man first; then He made woman;then He felt so sorry for man that He made--tobacco. ' Supreme, isn'tit?"

Lenox chuckled with keen appreciation over the characteristicallyTeuton bit of cynicism, and Richardson laughed aloud. 

"Rather rough on woman, that. You might almost have originated ityourself. "

"Wish I had. I'd be proud of it. Stick to tobacco, Dick, and you'llnever be tempted to blow your brains out. You may take my word for it, that jar of Arcadian mixture, " he specified it with his pipe-stem, "isworth all the women in creation put together. "

The bitterness that of late years had so puzzled and distressed hisfriend sounded again in his tone, and the laughter went out ofRichardson's eyes. 

But Lenox, absorbed in his own reflections, noticed nothing. 

"Let's hear what you've been doing with yourself at home, Dick, " hesaid suddenly. "You're not coherent on paper. I want a few facts. You went abroad latterly, didn't you? Toboganning, and that sort ofthing, I suppose?"

"Yes; went with those cousins I told you of--to Zermatt. "

"Delectable spot, " Lenox remarked drily, his eyes on the bowl of hispipe. "Hope you enjoyed yourself there?"

"Yes, rather so. Had a rattling good time. " Then he leaned forwardagain, elbows on knees. "Look here, Lenox, old chap; I'm no hand atskirting round a subject, and I feel bound to tell you that I know now. . . What happened there five years ago. "

Lenox started so violently that the pipe dropped from his hand. Aminimum of sleep and a maximum of tobacco do not tend to steady a man'snerve. 

"How the devil d'you come to do that?" he asked, picking up his fallentreasure, and readjusting its contents. 

"Well, you see, I happened to be with my cousins when they found outabout it. Queer what a deal of trouble some women will take just tosatisfy a bit of curiosity. "

"Damn their curiosity!" Lenox muttered between his teeth, addingsomething hastily, "You can spare me the details. Nothing stands achance against a woman's passion for other people's affairs. Verystraight of you to speak out at once. Don't allude to it again, though;--that's all. "

"But, Lenox, " Richardson persisted, not without misgiving, for it isill work tampering with the reserve of a Scot, "there's just onequestion I want to ask you, and I think I have a right to know thetruth. I remember writing a certain letter to you that autumn; arather disparaging letter about--Miss Maurice. " The name tripped himup, and he reddened. "I beg your pardon; I ought to say Mrs Lenox, though she still paints under the other name. "

"Say Miss Maurice, then, by all means, " Lenox answered coldly. "She iswelcome to call herself what she pleases so far as I am concerned. Goon. "

"I want to know when that letter reached you. "

"On the afternoon of the day--I was married. "

"Good Lord!" the other ejaculated blankly. "And all that I wroteof, --was it news to you?"

Lenox nodded without looking up. 

"My dear fellow, for God's sake don't tell me that a thoughtless letterof mine was responsible----"

Lenox rose and went over to the mantelpiece. The full light on hisface was more than he cared about just then. 

"You asked for the truth, " he said, in a hard, even voice, "and--youhave made a clean shot at it. We separated that day. I have neitherseen nor heard of her since. "

A long silence followed this bald statement of the case. MaxRichardson had no words in which to express the pain he felt. Brutusarose, and rubbed himself against his master's legs, as if dimly awarethat sympathy of some sort was required of him, and the regular beat ofthe sentry's footsteps asserted itself in the stillness. 

At last Richardson spoke. "Wonder you cared about shaking hands withme again after that. "

Lenox came nearer, and took him by the shoulder. 

"My dear good Dick, " he said quietly, "don't talk rubbish; and obligeme by putting the whole affair out of your head. It's as dead as adoor-nail. Has been these five years. After all, you were simply aninstrument--a providential instrument, " he added grimly--"in thegeneral scheme of things. " He paused for a moment; then returned tohis station on the hearth-rug. 

"You say she has been painting under her own name. Has she been doingmuch in that line lately?"

"Yes. She has made great strides. Her Academy pictures fetched highprices last year. "

"I am glad of that. "

The words were spoken with such grave politeness that Richardson lookedup as if suspecting sarcasm. But the other's face was inscrutable. "Do you happen to know where she is at present?" he asked, after apause. 

"No. I believe she and her brother travel about Europe. They nevercame back to England. That's what made my cousins feel sure there wassomething behind. "

"Yes, naturally. " Then, with an abrupt return to his usual manner, headded, "Now, old chap, I'm going to send you packing, and get to work. Deuced glad to have you back again. Hodson's a slacker of theslackest. We shan't keep _him_ up here much longer, I fancy. Bordernotions of work don't agree with his delicate digestion! See you againat early parade:--sharp up to time. "

And as Richardson's footsteps died into silence, Eldred Lenox wentslowly back to the writing-table. 

The past five years had not dealt tenderly with this man of surfacehardness and repressed sensibilities. The black hair at his templeswas too freely powdered with silver, the lines between his brows, andabout his well-formed mouth and jaw, were too deeply indented for a manof five-and-thirty. The whole rugged face of him was only saved fromharshness by a humorous kindliness in the keen blue eyes, that hadmeasured distance and faced death with an equal deliberation; and by aforehead whose breadth made the whole face vivid with intellect andpower. He looked ten years older than the inwardly exultant bridegroomwho had stood upon that sunlit road outside Zermatt, waiting to takepossession of the woman he had won. 

The attempt to relieve bitterness of spirit with the stimulant ofincessant work, and the questionable sedative of tobacco stronglytinctured with opium, was already producing its insidious, inevitableresult--was, in truth, threatening to undermine an iron constitutionwhile failing conspicuously to achieve the end in view. 

After sitting for twenty minutes before a blank sheet of foolscap, Lenox gave up all further effort at mental concentration. A nostalgiaof vast untenanted spaces was upon him, --of those great glacier regionswhere a man could stand alone with God and the universe, could shakehimself free from the fret of personal desire. And he had agreed toforgo this--the one real rest and refreshment life afforded him, --to"suffer gladly" the insistent trivialities of hill-station life, merely, forsooth, because a woman had asked it of him. Heanathematised himself for an inconsistent weak-minded fool. But he hadno intention of breaking his promise to Mrs Desmond. 

Since work was out of the question, he pushed his chair backimpatiently, left the table, and flung out both arms with a gesture ofdesperate weariness. Yet sleep was far from him, and he knew it;unless he chose to induce it by the only means ready to his hand. 

And to-night he did so choose. In general he had steeled himself toresist the temptation to smoke no more than was needed to quicken andclarify thought. But the short talk with Richardson had set all hisover-strained nerves on edge. His sum of sleep in the past week didnot amount to twenty-four hours, and for once in a way oblivion must bepurchased at any cost. 

Going over to the tall tobacco-jar that supported his library, herefilled his pouch with cool deliberation, stretched himself out uponthe deck-lounge, and smoked pipe after pipe, till the portion of thedrug contained in each accumulated to a perceptible dose. Then thegreat Dream Compeller took pity upon him, deadening thought, feeling, consciousness itself, till the pipe fell from between his fingers, --andhe slept. 

CHAPTER II. 

 "And, at each turn, it seemed as though Fate some huge net round both did throw To stay their feet, and dim their sight. " --W. Morris. 

Three weeks later, on a diamond-bright morning of early May, EldredLenox was in the saddle, riding at a foot's pace along a strip of apath that links the Strawberry Bank Hotel with Dalhousie's centralhill. Brutus trotted soberly to heel, while Shaitan--a black Galloway, half Biluch, half Arab--tossed an impatient head, sneezed several timesin succession, and generally declared his intention of taking mattersinto his own hands, so soon as he should reach the broader expanse ofTerah Mall. But Lenox, impelled by an inbred desire to climb, wasminded to push on to the higher, emptier levels of Bakrota--the greathill that towered, formidable, directly ahead of him. For thechalet-like dwellings of Dalhousie are scattered sparsely over threehills, Bakrota, Terah, Potrain; and the summit of the last and lowestis crowned by Strawberry Bank Hotel, mainly the resort of captains andsubalterns from the four plains stations of the district, doing theirtwo months of signalling, Garrison Class, or of unadulterated loafing, as the case may be. 

Lenox himself came under none of these headings. The man had a trickof refusing to be classed collectively, soldier though he was; a trickof isolation, inbred, unconscious, the outcome, perhaps, of muchsolitary wandering, of intimate association with the uttermost hills. It was as if they had imparted to him something of their ownruggedness, their aloofness, their stoical power of endurance. 

A cheery little breeze stirred the branches of horse-chestnuts andrhododendrons, tossed the silver-backed foliage of the ilex, and setthe cedar boughs swaying with slow, dignified indolence. Hidden withintheir depths of shadow, birds and monkeys twittered and chattered; andat intervals there came to Lenox the peculiar long-drawn note withwhich the hill villagers call to one another across the valleys. Aninfectious spirit of jubilation pervaded the air. The sun himself, inthese cheerful latitudes, is transformed from an instrument of tortureto the golden-locked hero of Norse and Greek legend; and with everystep of the ascent Lenox felt the blood course more swiftly through hisveins. 

Ilex and rhododendrons, clustering close to the road's edge, shut offthe vast prospect on his left; till, at an abrupt turn of the road, they gave place to a watercourse, descending in a cataract of bouldersto the valley below. Then the glorious company of the mountains sprangsuddenly into view, lifting scarred heads to heaven, and greeting thenew day with a Te Deum audible to the spirit, if not to the ear itself. To the spirit of Eldred Lenox these outward symbols of the eternalverities, fit emblems of the stern faith in which he had been reared, spoke with no uncertain voice; and their message was a message ofaspiration, of conquest, of the iron self-mastery and self-restraintindispensable to both. They reminded him, also, that life held manygood gifts in atonement for the one gift denied; that a man might doworse than live and work unhindered by the volcanic forces of passion. 

The past five years had, after all, been years of fruitful service tothe great country he loved; the three letters after his name assuredhim of that. And there remained much more to be done in the samedirection; work that would make unstinted demands upon his energy andfortitude; work that must, in due time, force him to forget. 

Arrived on the Mall, with its far-reaching view of valley and hill, andits outcrop of glittering granite, a word of encouragement set Shaitaninto a smart canter that brought them speedily to the half-way corner, whence a densely shadowed road climbs upward to the great forest ofKalatope. The glimpse of sun-splashed path and red pine-stems drewLenox aside from the open Mall; and horse and rider passed into thestretch of scented coolness at a brisk trot. The path, little morethan six feet wide, was innocent of railing. But much riding in theHimalayas hardens the nerves to these tight-rope performances, whichare part and parcel of life in the hills. 

For a while they went steadily forward, well content; till, on roundinga sharp corner, Shaitan stopped dead, his forefeet firmly planted onthe roadway, his sensitive ears thrust forward; and Lenox, who hadfallen into an absorbing train of thought, found himself confronted bya sufficiently startling reality. 

The path ahead of him was blocked by the unwieldy forms of fivebuffaloes, in charge of a naked brown wisp of humanity four feet high, armed with a no more formidable weapon than a pine branch stripped ofits needles. But the crux of the situation lay in the fact that, between the fourth and fifth buffaloes an Englishwoman, in a brownhabit, mounted on a restive chestnut pony, was in imminent danger ofslipping off the road to certain death among the rocks and bouldersbelow. For the chestnut had succeeded in wrenching his hindquartersoutward, his heels were already over the edge, and his rider, leaningwell forward, was applying whip and spur with a coolness and vigourthat could not fail to excite the man's admiration. 

It was a matter of seconds: Lenox could not stop to calculate possiblerisks. Buffaloes and herd-boy scattered right and left before hisfurious onset. A swinging blow from his hunting-crop sent two of thebulky beasts scrambling up the inner slope, while Brutus, who found thesituation all that heart of dog could desire, sent a third crashingover the khud to the accompaniment of shrill lamentations from theterrified child in charge. 

The whole thing passed in a flash; the pony, by a frantic but futileeffort to right himself, had just sent a shower of loose stonesrattling from under his hind feet, when Lenox, dismounting, gripped thecheek-strap with one hand, the other being occupied with his own reins. 

A vigorous forward pull landed the chestnut, panting and quivering, with all four feet on terra firma. But the rider's right arm hadfallen limply to her side, and Lenox, looking up, for the first time, into a face deeply shadowed by a wide-brimmed helmet, recognised . . . His wife. 

Her breath was still coming In small, quick gasps; but there was noshadow of fear in her eyes; no lightest tremor about her close-set lips. 

"Great God! _You_!" he ejaculated under his breath, and involuntarilytook a backward step away from her. 

At the shock of their encountering glances her cheeks flamed, and shelowered her lids. 

"I suppose I may say thank you for that, " she said, and her voice shookever so little. "A minute later, I should have gone over. "

He nodded, keeping his teeth close, his eyes down; and a deadweight ofsilence fell between them. 

Small sounds became suddenly self-assertive. The rustle of squirrelsalong the pine-stems, the monotonous music of the cuckoo, varied by acharge of toy pistol-shots when an inexperienced monkey alighted on adead twig. Brutus, standing squarely between them, eyed each in turnwith critical speculation, his ugly head cocked very much to one side. He instinctively mistrusted all wearers of petticoats, and had foundthe buffalo incident very much more to his taste. 

At length, in desperation, Quita made a movement as if to pass on. ButLenox laid a peremptory hand upon her bridle. 

"Tell me, how do you come to be _here_ of all impossible places onearth?"

His voice was harder than he knew, and a slight shadow passed acrossher face. 

"Is it really necessary to explain?" she asked, coldly. 

He relinquished her bridle at that. 

"As you please, of course. Only--it is a little awkward our being heretogether; and it might be as well to come to some sort of understandingbefore we separate. Are you up here for the season?"

"Yes, we have been up all the winter, Michael and I, except for twomonths at Lahore. When the snow melted we moved to the highest cottageon Bakrota. It is beautiful up there. We came out here eighteenmonths ago, " she went on a trifle hurriedly, grateful, now that the icewas broken, for the relief of commonplace speech. "I had heard a gooddeal about India, you know. I wanted to see it for myself, and ifpossible put a little of it on canvas. "

"And you are not disappointed?"

"No, indeed. It is wonderful beyond words. "

They had themselves well in hand now. Each had given the other a falseimpression at the start, and when two people are living atcross-purposes it is easier to move mountains than to remove that mostintangible of all barriers, a false impression. 

"And are you--up for the season?" Quita added, after a pause, with anatural touch of hesitancy. 

"No. Two months' leave. I am free, therefore, to go elsewhere, if mypresence here is in the least degree . . . Annoying to you. "

"Oh, but that would be a pity. You must have had a special reason forchoosing Dalhousie. "

"Some friends of mine were coming up, and asked me to come too. Butthey will quite understand if I say I should prefer to go shootingbeyond Chumba. "

"Don't say it, though, please. I would really rather you did not putyourself out in the smallest degree on _my_ account. Besides, " sheadded, achieving a rather uncertain smile, "we need not meet often, andno one--except Michael--will have any notion of . . . The truth. "

"Of course not, " he agreed, with glacial dignity. "I was forgettingthat you had--discarded my name. "

Again the blood flew to her cheeks. 

"It seemed the simplest way to avoid possible complications, orunnecessary lies. "

"And you flung away--my ring also?"

The question came out in spite of himself, for he had noted herungloved left hand. 

"No. Only I could not very well wear it--under the circumstances. "

He stood aside now to let her pass. He himself then mounted, andfollowed her along the narrow path, raging against the irony ofcircumstance, as a man bites upon a sore tooth. 

On reaching the spaciousness of Bakrota Mall, he had no choice but toride abreast of his companion. He did so without remark, and sinceQuita lacked courage to spur her pony to a canter, they continued toride thus for a time; each, under an admirable mask of composure, painfully aware of the other's presence. 

Speech seemed only likely to widen the gulf between them, and at alltimes Lenox had a large capacity for silence. 

Not so Quita. The last ten minutes had been overcrowded withconflicting emotions; her husband's mute proximity got upon her nerves, and a setting of pine and mountain put a finishing touch to an alreadyintolerable situation. She turned upon him at length, with a smallgesture of defiance, --a well-remembered tilt of her chin that piercedhim like a sword-thrust. 

"Don't feel bound to escort me, please. I am constantly out alone. You may have a long way to go; and we need hardly play at politeconventionalities--you and I. "

He glanced at her keenly for a second. 

"Thanks; I am in no hurry. But--if you would prefer it?"

"I think it would be less--uncomfortable for us both, " she made answerdesperately. 

"In that case, of course . . . " He gathered up his reins, and liftedhis hat, "At least I am glad to have been of some small service toyou, " he added, quietly. And before her brain or lips could formulatean answer, he had cantered off and vanished round a shoulder of thehill. 

CHAPTER III. 

 "Flower o' the clove, All the Latin I construe is 'Amo, I love'!" --Browning. 

Quita drew rein and sat motionless for several seconds, lookingstraight before her. 

"I wonder . . . I wonder very much, " she mused, "exactly what one mayinfer from all that. Either he has superb self-control, or I have beenwiped off the slate altogether. Most probably the latter. "

Then she moved forward slowly, in a state of mind so complicated that, for all her skill in self-analysis, she could not unravel her ownsensations. She only knew that she felt jarred through and through, and in a mood to give way to her most dare-devil impulses. But happilyfor her, no egregious piece of folly was ready to hand at the moment. 

Her appearance in India was itself the outcome of an impulse generatedby the arrival of two cheques, whose united figures took away herbreath; and confirmed by the fact that Michael's relations with theinevitable woman of the moment threatened serious complications--forthe woman. For Michael himself serious complications seemed out of allquestion. Frank Pagan though he was, he lacked, in a peculiar degree, the needful leavening of common clay. Love, as he knew it, was notinevitably based on passion. It was his imagination rather than hisheart that took fire, and only under the influence of a dominantemotion did he appear to be capable of the highest achievement. Briefly, he was in love with Love, with that elixir of the heart thatstirs the pulses, and quickens inspiration. The object loved stoodsecond. But, so long as the enchantment held, so long as no newimpression caught and whirled him in another direction, he honestlybelieved her to be supreme. 

Hence complications, many and embarrassing, which went far to interpretQuita's inconsequent flittings from one continental town to another. For, although the younger by eighteen months, she was many years olderin thought and character than her irresponsible brother; and in allmatters of moment she took, and was expected to take, the lead. 

The key to a perplexing character may often be found in theidiosyncrasies of its nearest and dearest; and this reversal of thenatural order of things explained much in Quita that appeared_difficile_ and contradictory; explained also her instant gravitationto Lenox, in whom she divined a supply of moral force, and themasculine spirit of protection, both strangely undeveloped in thebrother she so devoutly loved. And if at times the uncongenial task ofconscience-keeper, and general financier, coupled with complexities, arising from her own false position, had proved something of a strainupon her, Michael had never yet discovered the fact. She understoodand shared enough of his Pagan spirit to accept his emotional aids toself-expression at their true value. Do what he might, she could notfind it in her heart to be angry with him for long. He carried hisfine crop of failings with a cheerfulness and assurance so engaging, that it seemed almost ungracious to be aware of them. 

But there were moments when the woman in her rebelled, even toremonstrance, with small result; and when, at length, the arrival oftwo cheques coincided with Michael's announcement that a certainenamoured Countess obviously expected him to free her from the tyrannyof an unloved husband, Quita had laughingly suggested India as aninviting means of escape from entanglements present and to come. 

Half a night of meditation had sufficed to set her on the rock ofdecision. There were possibilities about India not to be named, evento her own heart. There were also empty spaces where white women wouldbe scarce, and where Michael must learn to work without the spur of afictitious stimulant. 

Before the week was out, behold them ploughing through theMediterranean, leaving the misguided Countess to pacify a suspicioushusband. A summer in Kashmir, and a winter in a deserted Himalayanstation, had confirmed Quita in the wisdom of their flight; and now herown unnamed possibility had been sprung upon her so suddenly, sostrangely, that it took away her breath, and left her as yet neitherglad nor sorry, but profoundly disturbed. 

Arrived at her own turning, she relieved her feelings a little bygetting Yorick at a canter up the twisted scrap of a path that climbedto a wooden doll's house, christened by a poetical Hindu landlord, the"Crow's Nest. " Perched on an impossible-looking slope of gravel andgranite, eight thousand feet above the Punjab, it seemed only to besaved from falling headlong by an eight-foot ledge of earth, whichQuita spoke of proudly as her "garden, " and which actually boasted twostrips of border aglow with early summer flowers. Here she found her_sais_ squatting on his heels; and springing from the saddle, dismissedYorick without his customary lump of sugar. 

On the steps of the trellised verandah she paused, nerving herself torecount her astonishing adventure in the right tone of voice, andinstinctively her brain noted every detail of the view outspread beforeher. The golden stillness of morning rested on hill and valley like abenediction. Green cornfields, white watercourses, granitepromontories, and black patches of forest--all were bathed in warmthand light without languor. The breath of the snows was still ice-cool, and exhilarating as wine; its freshness penetrated and enhanced by thefaint sweet scent of Banksia roses, that clothed the rickety woodworkin a fairy garment of green and ivory-white. Each least sound wascrystal clear in the rarefied air; the quarrelling of two sparrows, thehigh-pitched chatter from the compound behind the cottages, thecrooning of ring-doves among the pines. Butterflies, like detachedflowers, fluttered in and out. A faint breeze stirred the roses, sothat an occasional creamy petal fell circling to the ground. 

But for the first time Quita Maurice felt out of tune with it all. Adisturbing element had thrust itself into her life, deranging itsperspective, altering its values. She felt badly in need of commonhuman sympathy, and the exalted calm of these high latitudes irritatedrather than soothed her. 

With an impatient sigh she turned to enter the house. 

The glass doors of the centre room stood open, a characteristic room, half drawing-room, half studio; furnished mainly with two large easels, painting-stools, and cane chairs, yet bearing in every detail the stampof Quita's iridescent personality. A pianette, a violin, a litter ofmusic, and back numbers of the 'Art Journal' occupied one corner. Arevolving bookcase showed an inviting array of books. Her own canvaswas hidden by draperies of dull gold silk, and beside it, on a carvedstool, sprays of Banksia roses and honeysuckle soared plumelike from avase of beaten bronze. 

Before the second easel Michael stood, with his back towards her, brushand palette in hand, head critically tilted, his velveteen coat sagginga little from rounded shoulders. Absorbed in his picture, he was quiteunconscious of her presence. This irritated her also to anunjustifiable extent. Her vanity had suffered recent shock, and anunreasoning longing possessed her to be cared for, to be supremelyneeded. 

"_Michel_!" she cried imperatively from her post in thedoorway, --Michael objected strongly to the harsher pronunciation of hisname; and the two seldom spoke English when alone. "Is it necessary tofire a salute before you will deign to be aware that one has come back?"

At that he turned quickly about, and treated her to a burlesque bow ofapology. 

"_Mais non, chérie_ . . . A thousand pardons! But it is no fault ofmine that you have the footfall of a bird!"

She laughed in spite of herself. 

"Keep those sort of speeches for Miss Mayhew. She may possibly believethem. It would be all the same if I had the footfall of an elephant!Nothing short of siege-guns would distract your mind from that picture. It has bewitched you. "

"_Eh bien_! When it is complete it will be a masterpiece, " he assuredher loftily. 

"No doubt! But, in the meanwhile, it may interest you to know thatexcept for a genuine miracle, I should not be here at all. "

"_Mon Dieu_! But what happened? Tell me. "

Flinging aside palette and brushes, he caught her hands in his, and itcost her an effort to preserve her lightness of tone. 

"Nothing blood-curdling, since you see me without bruise or scratch. Only Yorick and I got tangled up with a herd of buffaloes on the KajiarRoad. In his fright, the little fool slipped half over the khud, andif a knight-errant had not fallen from heaven, in the nick of time, weshould both be lying somewhere in the valley by now, 'spoiling a patchof Indian corn'!"

Maurice frowned. "Don't be gruesome, Quita. "

"Sorry. I didn't mean to be. I was only quoting that uncannily cleverKipling boy at Lahore. Yorick and I were slithering over, just likethe loathly Tertium Quid on the Mushobra Road; and there is plenty ofIndian corn in the valley! I thought of it, all in a flash, and itwasn't enlivening, I assure you. "

"That is enough, " Maurice protested hastily. Tragedy oppressed him tothe verge of annoyance. "But tell me--who was the knight-errant, thatI may at least shake hands with him. "

The blood tingled in Quita's cheeks, and she went quickly forward intothe room. 

"I doubt if you will want to do that when you know his name, " she said. "It was--Captain Lenox. "

"_Nom de Dieu_! That fellow!" Michael flung out his hands with adramatic gesture of despair. "What is he doing here, _par exemple_, instead of poking about among his glaciers? _Now_ I suppose he willnot rest till he has taken you from me again. "

The frank selfishness of the man's first thought was so characteristicthat Quita smiled. But her smile had an edge to it. 

"Set your mind at rest on that point, " she said. "He is no moreanxious to claim--his property, than I am to be claimed. "

"Curse him! Did he dare to tell you so?"

Quita lifted her head; a spark of anger flashed in her eyes. 

"You seem to forget that he is a gentleman, and--my husband. " Then, recovering herself, she added more gently, "There are ways and ways oftelling things, _mon cher_, and since I have relieved your anxiety, weneed not mention him again. The subject is distasteful to me. Now, Iwant to see how you have got on with the masterpiece!"

She went to the easel; and Maurice, following, stood at her elbowanticipating the sweet savour of praise. For the picture was a notablebit of work, daringly simple in colouring and design, yet arresting, convincing, alive. 

It represented a young girl, with the promise of womanhood on hergravely sweet lips, and in the depths of her eyes, half-sitting uponthe crossed rails of the verandah. An ivory-white dress of Indian silkfell in shimmering folds to her feet. A dawn of clear amber made atender background to the dull gold of her hair. Trailing sprays of therose that ran riot over the house drooped towards her; and a pinebranch, striking in abruptly, made an effective splash of shadow in anatmosphere palpitating with the promise of fuller light. The onlyintense bit of colour in the picture was the violet blue of ElsieMayhew's eyes--eyes that looked into you and through you to somedream-world unsullied by the disconcerting realities of life, whichseemed only awaiting the given moment to rush in and dispel the dream. For, as the sky gave promise of fuller light, so did the girl's spiritseem hovering on the verge of fuller knowledge. 

Such at least was Quita's thought, as she stood silently appraising herbrother's work; and it brought a contraction to her throat, a stingingsensation to her eyeballs. 

"I congratulate you, Michel, " said she softly. "You have never doneanything to equal that. It is more than a portrait. It is aninterpretation, or will be, when it is complete. Her hopeless little'Button Quail' of a mother won't understand it in the least, butColonel Mayhew will. I wonder if you know yourself how much you haveput into it?"

"I know that I have put some superlative workmanship into it, " heanswered, looking upon the creation of his hand and brains withcritical grey-green eyes, curiously out of keeping with an ill-formedand unrestrained mouth. 

"Indeed you have. The thing is full of atmosphere, and your fleshtints are worthy of Perugino. You mean to give it to her?"

"_Cela va sans dire_. She wants it as a present for her father. "

"Why not hang it first, at Home?"

"Afterwards, perhaps. If she permits. "

"It is a big gift, Michel. It would fetch a high price; and we needmoney. "

Michael shrugged his shoulders with all an artist's scorn of "thecommon drudge. "

"Since when have you turned commercialist, _petite soeur_? If it is aquestion of starving, I can always paint another. I do not sell thisone, _voilŕ tout_. If it were only mine, I would have five lines ofSwinburne under it for title. They express her to perfection. Listen--

 'Her flower-soft lips were meek and passionate, For love upon them like a shadow sat, Patient, a foreseen vision of sweet things, A dream with eyes fast shut and plumeless wings, That know not what man's love or life shall be. '"

On the last line his voice deepened to an impassioned tone that broughtan anxious crease to Quita's forehead. 

"I wonder which you are most in love with, " she said on a forced noteof lightness. "The girl herself, or your picture of her? Do you evertreat her to such rhapsodies in the flesh? They must be a littleembarrassing for a child of twenty!"

"Your 'child of twenty' is already very much a woman, and I have theright to say to her what I please. "

"Not altogether, _mon ami_--unless----"

But Michael dismissed criticism as serenely as he dismissedconsequences. The episode of the Countess was as though it had neverbeen. 

"I have no concern with 'unless. ' Such uncomfortable words are wipedout of my vocabulary. They affect me like a false note in music. "

Quita laughed. "No one knows that better than I do! But speakingsimply as a woman, I know also that the man who opens our eyes to thepassionate side of things involves himself in a big moralresponsibility. And even _you_ cannot shelve the moralitiesaltogether. "

"_Dela dépend_. If the moralities hamper one's art, the shelf is thebest place for them in my opinion. "

His sister did not answer at once. Michael's confession of faith wasnot a matter to be lightly dismissed; for the simple reason that helived up to it in so far as human inconsistency will allow any man tolive up to his faith, however ignoble. 

"I sometimes wonder whether one's art really does gain by that form offreedom, " she said thoughtfully, "or only--one's consuming egotism. "

But the suggestion was rank heresy, and Michael would have none of it. 

"Really, Quita, you are as enlivening as a Lenten service! Upon mysoul, I'd sooner you turned vegetarian than developed a conscience!But believe me, I am devoted to Miss Mayhew. She is enchanting. Awild rose, half-open, with the dew still on her petals. Metaphorically, I am at her feet. Does that satisfy you, _ma belle_?"

"It might, if I had not heard a good deal of it before. You arechronically devoted to one or other of us, my beloved Pagan! That'sthe root of the difficulty. "

In atonement for directness of speech, she laid hands upon hisshoulders, and smiled very tenderly into his face. 

"I am chronically devoted to you, _coeur de mon coeur_, " he declared inall sincerity. "That is the only form of it I have yet known. "

His reward was a butterfly kiss between the eyebrows. 

"Out of your own mouth you stand condemned! It is quite charming forme; and for the rest--one accepts the unavoidable! But in soberprosaic truth, Michel, Elsie Mayhew is a great deal too good for you;and that nice Engineer boy, Mr Malcolm, is desperately in earnest abouther, I have seen his whole heart in his eyes when he looks at her----"

"_Mais, ma chčre_, what a serious derangement of his organism!" Michaelbroke in with irreverent laughter. "When all's said, the heart is apractical machine--even the heart of a lover, and a little of it musthave been left below for pumping purposes!"

She stamped her foot in helpless irritation. 

"Michel, how exasperating you are! Can't you see that I am in earnest?"

"Like my incomparable rival?" he queried unabashed. "Poor devil! Iwish him no harm. Is it my fault, after all, if the lady prefers a manwho is not cut out on a pattern, and filed for reference at the WarOffice? He is immaculate, _ce cher Malcolm_, from his parting to thetoes of his boots. And, _ma foi_, he is clean--like all thatredoubtable army of British officers--aggressively clean, inside andout, which one cannot always say with truth! But he has no finesse, no_savoir faire_ where women are concerned. If he is in earnest let himtry weapons more compelling than his _beaux yeux_. A man was not givenlips and a pair of hands for eating and fighting merely; and if hecannot turn them to good account, he deserves the fate that willassuredly be his. "

Quita's sigh, as she turned impatiently away, may have arisen from apassing thought of that other, who had also been remiss in putting lipsand hands to their legitimate use, and had reaped disaster accordingly. She took off her helmet, as if suddenly aware of its weight, and tossedit into a chair. 

"Is Miss Mayhew giving you another sitting after our sunrise picnic, onDynkund, to-morrow?" she asked in a changed voice. 

"Yes, and I intend that she shall stay on for tiffin also. "

"Then I will persuade Major Garth to follow suit, so that we may be a_parti carré_. And now, as it's more than half-past breakfast-time, wemight begin to think about sitting down! I believe Major Garth isriding up this morning with some books I lent him, and I must getforward a little with my picture before he comes. "

"His office hours seem to have become a negligible quantity lately, "Maurice remarked casually, his eyes on Elsie's face. 

"Yes, I told him so a few days ago, apparently without much effect. Major Garth is one of those men who combine a maximum of pleasure and aminimum of work with the capacity for securing good appointments, whichis quite an achievement--of its kind. I suppose I must gently pointout to him that now the station is waking up it would be well toconsider the proprieties a little more than we have done so far; or the'Button Quail' will be forbidding Elsie the house. She is volublydisapproving already, denounces him as a 'dangerous man' . . . Delectable adjective! But the cackle of Quails is nothing to me. Solong as the man behaves himself, and amuses me, I shall continue to seejust as much of him as I think fit. "

Major Garth, it may be mentioned in passing, had lately secured thecoveted post of Station Staff Officer. He also had spent the wintermonths in Dalhousie; and he could by no means be reckoned among the menwho fail with women through undue fastidiousness in regard to ways andmeans. 

CHAPTER IV. 

"A bird of the air shall carry the voice, and that which hath wingsshall tell the matter. "--_Eccles_. 

"Tired already? Nonsense! The air at this height is pure elixirvitae. It gives one a foretaste of the joy of being disembodied! Ifeel five years younger since I left the bungalow. "

"And I, on the other hand, feel uncomfortably aware that I shall neversee the forty-third milestone again!" And, seating himselfdeliberately on the trunk of a fallen deodar, James Garth looked up athis companion, where she stood above him on a rough-hewn block ofgranite, her alpenstock held high like a shepherd's crook, the slender, shapely form of her outlined upon a sky already athrill with theforeknowledge of dawn. 

Standing thus, lightly poised, impatient of delay, slim and upright asa young birch-tree, a cluster of roses at her waist, her expressiveface shadowed by the wide-brimmed helmet, she appeared triumphantly, girlishly young, for all her eight-and-twenty years. Her cheeksglowed; irrepressible animation sparkled in her eyes. The shock andjar of twenty-four hours ago seemed forgotten, as though they had neverbeen, for Quita Maurice was blessed with the happy faculty of livingvividly and exclusively in the present, and the exhilaration of ascent, the prospect of watching the world's awakening from a pine-crownedpinnacle, nine thousand feet up, were, for the moment, all-sufficing. 

James Garth, in his upward glance, appraised every detail of her dressand person; savoured to the full her very individual--if, at times, thorn-set--charm. He was a connoisseur of woman--of their moods, theirminor vanities, their methods of defence and attack--this man whosecareer had been mainly remarkable for a succession of sentimentalfriendship, innocuous and otherwise. 

During the past air months he had spent an infinite deal of leisure ina pastime whose every move and countermove he knew by heart, and forthe first time in eighteen years he had found himself out of hisreckoning. 

An element little known to him had upset the balance of power. He wasbeginning to be aware that, for all his unquenchable self-assurance, hehad never for one moment felt sure of this woman, whose companionshipwas so accessible, and whose inner self stood always just out of reach, airy, impregnable, and by a natural sequence, the more entirelydesirable. It had taken Garth some months to realise the truth: and onthis morning of golden promise he decided that Quita Maurice must bemade to realise it also. 

Quita herself, meeting the eloquence of his eyes with that frank lookof hers which had been largely responsible for the unprecedented turnof affairs, was vainly trying to repress a mischievous enjoyment of thefact that her companion was patently out of his element; that hisdrawing-room attitudes and demeanour struck an almost ludicrous note ofdiscord with the untamed majesty of his surroundings. 

Face, figure, and point-device attire, culminating in a buttonhole offreshly picked violets, stamped him as a man mentally and physicallyaddicted to the levels of life; a soldier of carpet conquests andball-room achievements. A brow not ill-formed, and a bold pair ofeyes, more green than brown, suggested some measure of cultivatedintelligence, without which Quita could not have endured hiscompanionship for many hours together. But the proportions of histhick-set figure, and a certain amplitude of chin and jaw, bewrayedhim; classed him indubitably with the type for whom comfort and leisureare the first and last words of life. The fact that he had ascended amatter of fifteen hundred feet before daybreak, and that with no morethan the mildest sense of martyrdom, was proof conclusive that thebalance of power had been very completely upset; and it is quite inkeeping with the delicate irony of things that the one woman who hadsucceeded in upsetting it was, at that moment, dissecting him with themerciless accuracy of the artist. 

"Poor man!" she remarked, sympathetically. "I'm afraid I have beentreating you rather mercilessly; and you don't look particularly happysitting on that deodar, either! I suppose I may consider it somethingof a triumph to have dragged a high priest of the arm-chairunprotesting up to the heights at this unearthly hour of the morning?"

"A triumph exclusively your own, " he answered, with lingering emphasis. "No other woman in the world could have achieved as much. "

Quita glanced at him quizzically. 

"I honestly wonder, " she said slowly, "if you could reckon up at randomhow many times you have said that sort of thing before. "

Garth reddened visibly; less at the justice of the retort than at thehumiliation of being put out of countenance by a woman from whom hedesired no less a gift than the gift of herself. 

"Well, I never meant it fair and square before, " he declared stoutly. Whereat, to his consternation, she laughed outright. 

"You seem to have a high opinion of my powers of credulity! That istoo big a compliment for me to digest without salt! But I think wehave talked nonsense enough for one while, and it's growing lighterevery minute. Are you coming on? Or would you sooner sit there inpeace while I push up to the top?"

The suggestion brought him to his feet. 

"No, by no means. When I set out to do a thing, I go through with it. "

"Rally your forces, then, for one more spurt of climbing. Time isprecious. Can you really manage this formidable boulder, or would youlike a hand up?"

She laughingly flung out her free left hand; and the mockery in herclear voice fired the man to make good his opportunity. He took promptpossession of the proffered hand, crushing it in his with unnecessaryforce, but made no attempt to scale the rock; while she, instantlyperceiving his manoeuvre, sprang down to his side and freed herselfwith imperious decision. Then she turned upon him, her head held high, a spark of genuine scorn in her eyes; and he realised that he wasdealing with no mere coquette, whose elusiveness might be taken as aninverted form of encouragement, but with a woman of character andspirit. 

"Major Garth, " she said in a tone of quietness more cutting than anger, "when I pay a man the compliment of going out alone with him, I take itfor granted that he is in the habit of behaving like a gentleman. Ishould be sorry to find myself mistaken in your case. "

Without giving him time to answer, she leapt lightly on to her desertedrock, leaving him to follow, if he chose. 

And he did choose. For her scorn, while it stung his vanity to thequick, fired his lukewarm blood with a lust of conquest far removedfrom his usual cool-headed assurance at the critical moment. He seemeddestined to experience more than one new sensation this morning; andnew sensations rarely came amiss to this epicure of the emotions. 

Being quite incapable of emulating his companion's chamois method ofcutting corners, and striking out a direct line for the summit, he didnot succeed in coming up with her till the arduous feat wasaccomplished, --the Pisgah height attained. Here he found herestablished on a slab of granite, hands loosely clasped over her knee, helmet tilted a little backward, forming a halo round her head andface. He arrived in a very unheroic state of breathlessness, and shegreeted him with a frankly forgiving smile. 

"That last bit came rather hard on you, I'm afraid. But surely allthis makes ample amends. "

She included in a wide sweep of her arm the superb panorama of hill andvalley and far-stretching plain, robed in a haze of its own tiercebreath, through which a silver network of rivers could be faintlydiscerned in the crescent light. Uprising from this blue interminabledistance, the first crumplings of the foothills showed like purplevelvet, and from these again the giant Himalayas--the "home of thegreater gods"--sprang aloft, in a medley of lovely lines and hues, tillthey reached the uttermost north where the hoar head of Nanga Parbatsoared twenty-five thousand feet into the blue. 

Quita motioned her companion to another rock, a little distance behindher own. 

"Sit down there, and recover your lost breath, " she commanded, gently. "I would rather not talk for the present, if you don't mind. It wouldjar somehow. I daresay you understand what I mean. "

He was many leagues removed from understanding: but he obeyed insilence, wondering at himself, no less than at her. And straightwayQuita forgot all about him, in the mere rapture of looking, and offeeling in every fibre the incommunicable thrill of dawn. 

A passionate nobility, freedom, and power breathed from the wide scene. Already a pearly glimmer pulsed along the east; already the mountainswere awake and aware. Peak beyond peak, range beyond range, a shadowypageant of purple and grey, they swept upwards to the far horizon, where the still wonder of the snows shone pale and pure against thedovelike tones of the sky. Away across the valley, where night stillbrooded, Kalatope ridge, serrated and majestic of outline, made amassive incident of shadow amid the tenderer tints around. The greathushed world seemed holding its breath in expectation of a miracle--theunconsidered miracle of dawn. 

A Himalayan dawn is brief, as it is beautiful. One after one, thesnow-peaks passed from the pallor of death to the glow of life. Then, sudden as an inspiration, the full splendour of morning broke, sublimeas the eternity from which it came. Rapier-like shafts of lightpierced the purple lengths of shadows that engulfed the valley. Threading their way through fir and deodar and pine, they flung alltheir radiant length across a rock-studded carpet of fir-needles andmoss, and rested, like a caress, upon Quita's face and figure. 

At last, with a long breath of satisfaction, she forced her sun-dazzledeyes and mind back to earth; only to discover that Garth had risen andwas standing at her side. The man had seen and studied her in manymoods. But never in one so exalted, so self-forgetful, as the present;and to the varied new experiences of the morning was added a wholesomesense of his own unworthiness to lay a hand upon her. In thatillumined moment he was vouchsafed a glimpse into the temple of Love; atemple he had desecrated and defiled time and again; whose holy ofholies he had never entered, nor ever could. 

"Does it really mean as much as all that to you?" he asked, stillwatching her, with unusual concentration. 

She nodded, and a soft light gleamed in her eyes. "Yes--as much asthat, and more--infinitely more. One's cramped mind and heart seem toneed expanding to take it all in. "

Garth's smile lacked its habitual touch of cynicism. 

"I am afraid even sunrise on Dynkund in your company has no power tolift me to such flights of ecstasy. "

"I never supposed it had, you poor fellow! I wouldn't change soulswith you for half a kingdom. Nearly every day of my life I thank thegoodness and the grace that dowered me with the spirit of an artist. Think what a heritage it is to be eternally interested in a world fullof people who seem to be eternally bored!"

"I suppose you include me in that noble army of martyrs?"

"Decidedly. It is one of your worst faults. "

"At least I never commit it in your presence. "

She laughed, and lifted her shoulders. 

"At least you know how to flatter a woman! But, for goodness' sake, don't let's talk trivialities in the face of these stupendousmountains. "

"And why not? In my opinion, the trivialities of a human being areworth more than the grandeur of a mountain, any day. But, seriously, Miss Maurice--if you can be serious with me for five minutes--does allthis, and the Art in which you live and breathe, so satisfy you thatyou feel no need for the far better things a man might have to offeryou?"

She frowned, and looked with sudden intentness at a distant, abject inthe valley. 

"Yes--seriously--it does. What is more, it seems to me that most menset too high a value on what they have to offer a woman, and that agood many of us are better off without it. "

Garth set his teeth, and did not answer at once. That his firstgenuine attempt at a proposal of marriage should be thus cavalierlynipped in the bud was disconcerting, to say the least of it. 

"But not you--of all women, " he protested, incredulously. "Are youquite sure you understand what I mean? Won't you give me a chance toexplain----?"

Her low laughter maddened him. 

"Oh, no--please have mercy on me! Explanations are the root of allevil! If only people had not such a passion for explaining themselves, there would be fifty per cent fewer misunderstandings in the world. Don't you know the delightful story of a zealous mother reading theBible to her boy, and explaining profusely to bring it within the scopeof his small mind, and when she asked him, anxiously, 'Are you quitesure you understand it all, darling?' he answered, with the heavenlyfrankness of childhood, 'Yes, beautifully, mummy--except when youexplain. ' That's my feeling exactly; so we'll skip the explanations, if you don't mind. "

He stifled an oath, and flung his half-smoked cigar down the khud. 

"You're enough to drive a sane man distracted!" he declared hotly, andwas not a little surprised at his own vehemence. 

"No, no! That's exaggeration, I assure you. The strong wine of themorning has got into your head. Do be reasonable now, and keeppersonalities at arm's length. I detest them. "

He moved away for a space; then, turning on his heel, came back again. 

"At least you don't object to my companionship?" he said, ignoring herrequest. 

"Of course not, so long as it amuses you to bestow it upon me. "

"Amuses me! God in heaven, what makes you so hopelessly detached?"

"Some radical defect in me, I suppose. The Pagan strain, perhaps, thatcomes out so strong in Michael. I believe I am incapable of _lesgrandes passions_. But that does not prevent me from being a goodfriend, and a constant one, as you will find, if you care to test me inthat capacity. Now you may sit down here, " she patted her slab of rockinvitingly, "and discourse about anything you please, except myself. Egoist though I am, I have had enough of the subject for to-day!"

And Garth--the man of surface emotions and ready tongue--found nothingto say in answer to this kindly but inexorable dismissal of hisunspoken suit. He had no choice but to accept the inevitable, and theproffered seat. But the permission to discourse about anything hepleased left him dumb, and it was Quita herself who guided their talkinto a less personal channel. 

"Have you had any new arrivals at the Strawberry Bank lately?" sheasked, conversationally; and the question was more relevant to thetabooed topic than Garth was likely to guess. He lived close to thehotel, and dined there when he felt convivially disposed. 

"Yes; two new fellows came up this week. A doctor from Mooltan and aGunner from 'Dera Dismal, '--the Thibet man, --Lenox, who seems to bemaking a reputation of sorts. But he looks a wreck. Smokes like achimney; and is apparently working himself to death; a thankless formof folly. "

"Perhaps. Yet India needs a few unsparing workers--like Captain Lenox. "

She spoke with studied indifference; but her fingers were busyuprooting a patch of moss. 

"Oh yes, India has a healthy appetite for unsparing workers! She is agrasping harridan, who demands all and offers nothing. She devours thelives of men who are foolish enough to lose their hearts to her, andwrecks their bodies by way of thanks. "

Quita's lips lifted in the merest shadow of a smile. "Aren't you alittle ungrateful to her? She has been fairly merciful to you!"

"I have never given her the ghost of a chance to be otherwise! I don'tbelieve in overwork, plus the Indian climate. More men kill themselvesby a happy mixture of both than the importance of their achievementsjustifies. I was chaffing Lenox only last night about his leaningtowards that unrecognised form of suicide; and all the answer I got wasthat a man might die of a more degrading disease. You never by anychance get a rise out of old Lenox!"

"Do you know him well?"

"As well as it's possible to know a fellow who lives with all hisshutters up. And in any case an anchorite, and a woman-hater, wouldnever be much in my line. The symptoms appear to have developed in thelast few years. Not without reason, as I happen to know. "

"_What_ do you happen to know?"

The question came almost in a whisper; but Garth, who had all a woman'sweakness for other people's affairs, was too intent upon his ill-gottenscrap of gossip to observe his companion's slight change of manner. 

"Why, that it's simply a case of _cherchez la femme_, as usual, " heanswered, lightly. "I believe it's a fact that he went so far as tomarry one of these women he affects to despise, when he was on leavefive years ago. "

Quita started, and bit her lips. "What reason can you have forbelieving anything . . . So improbable?"

"My dear lady, marriage is never improbable. You women have a knack oftripping up the most unlikely subjects! In this case, I had thedetails from an old friend of mine. She happened to be stopping at thesame hotel as Lenox at Zermatt. Then one morning he disappeared; and, as she had taken rather a fancy to him, she tried to find out what hadbecome of him. After a good deal of questioning, it transpired that hehad been seen coming out of the English church with a lady; and furtherinquiry revealed the fact that an officer named Lenox had been quietlymarried there the day before. Naturally, she scented a romance, andwas keen to know more. But he seemed to have vanished outright. Thenten days later she met him on the station platform, travelling alone, and obviously down on his luck. He told her he was off to join hisbattery in India: nothing more. Problem: What, in the name of mystery, had he done with the lady?"

At that Quita rose abruptly, her cheeks on fire, her whole frame tensewith suppressed agitation. 

"Oh, stop--stop. I can't stand any more!" she protested, in asmothered voice; and at once Garth was beside her, contrite and amazed. 

"Miss Maurice--what have I said to upset you so?"

"It's not your fault. You couldn't help it, " she answered, withoutlooking up. "But--you were telling me my own story!"

"Good Lord! Then--it was _you_?"

"Don't say any more, please. I never meant to speak; only--one had tostop you--somehow. It's time we went back to the others now. I amsure you must be wanting your breakfast. And remember"--she faced himat last, with brave deliberation--"I trust you, as a gentleman, neverto speak of this again--to me, or to any one else. "

And Garth bowed his head, and followed her, in a bewildered silence. 

CHAPTER V. 

"He that getteth a wife beginneth a possession; a help like untohimself, and a pillar of rest. "--_Ecclesiasticus_. 

Eldred Lenox stood alone in the Desmonds' diminutive drawing-room, patiently impatient for companionship more responsive than that of canechairs and tables, pictures and a piano. Yet the room itself, with itsatmosphere of peace and refinement, gave him a foretaste of therestfuluess that made Honor Desmond's companionship a growing necessityto this man, whose heart and brain were in a state of civil war. Itwas filled with afternoon sunlight, with the faint, clean fragrance ofviolets, wild roses, and maiden-hair fern, and its emptiness wasinformed and pervaded by countless suggestions of a woman's presence; awoman versed in that finest of all fine arts, the beautifying of dailylife. 

In this era of hotels, clubs, and motors, of days spent in sowing hurryand reaping shattered nerves, the type is growing rarer, and it will bean ill day for England's husbands and sons, nay, for her supremacyamong nations, if it should ever become extinct. For it is noover-statement, but simple fact, that the women who follow, soon orlate, in the track of her victorious arms, women of Honor Desmond'scalibre--home-loving, home-making, skilled in the lore of heart andspirit--have done fully as much to establish, strengthen, and settleher scattered Empire as shot, or steel, or the doubtful machinations ofdiplomacy. 

A half-acknowledged conviction of this truth was undermining Eldred'sskin-deep cynicism; and it did not tend to alleviate his renewed senseof loss. A week had passed since his astounding experience on theKajiar Road; a week in which the hours of sleep had been a morenegligible quantity than usual; in which he had fought squarely againstan imperative need to escape from the haunting consciousness of hiswife's presence, and had been squarely beaten. His present need to seeand speak with Honor Desmond was an ultimate confession of that defeat. 

On reaching the bungalow, he was told that the Mem-sahib bad gone outwith the Chota Sahib, but would doubtless be back before long, and haddecided to await her return. During his ride with her that morning, hehad not been able to bring himself to speak. But this time he intendedto go through with the ordeal. He felt too restless to sit down; andshe did not keep him waiting long. 

Footsteps and low voices, punctuated with silver laughter, heralded hercoming, and a few minutes later she entered, carrying a pocket editionof herself, who clung about her neck, and pressed a cool rose-petalcheek against her own. 

Lenox had described her as a magnificent woman. A Scot may generallybe trusted not to overstate his facts; and certainly Honor Desmond, inthose radiant early days of marriage, deserved no less an adjective. Height, and a buoyant stateliness of bearing, lent a regal quality toher beauty. Her grey-blue eyes under very level brows were the eyes ofa woman dwelling in the heart of life, not merely in its outskirts andpleasure-grounds. 

She expressed no surprise at seeing Lenox again so soon. Come when hemight, his presence was accepted as a matter of course; the surest wayto put a man at his ease. 

"So sorry I kept you waiting, " she said simply, and the hand she gavehim was at once soft and strong, --an epitome of the woman. "Theo waslunching out with Colonel Mayhew--they are both very full of that bookof his on the Hill Tribes--and I have been devoting most of my time tothis very exacting person!"

Lenox caressed the child's red-gold hair with a cautious reverent hand, and a contraction of envy at his heart. 

"What a beautiful little chap he is! Begins to look an out-and-outMeredith already. Desmond must be tremendously proud of him. "

She smiled and pressed him closer. 

"He is; and I'm nearly as bad! One son, three fools, you know! Poorlittle Paul, it's not fair to call him names when he can't hit back. "

"You called him after Wyndham?"

"Yes. They're like brothers, those two. Now let me get rid of him, and we'll have a quiet talk till Theo comes back. Sit down and smoke, please. "

He complied; and she, returning, established herself beside herwork-table, and took up an elaborate bit of smocking without questionor remark. 

His trouble and stress of mind were very evident to her; but she wasone of those rare women who are chary of questions--who, for all theirdesire to help and serve, never approach too near, or say the word toomuch, which was, perhaps, one reason why men found her so restful, andinstinctively talked to her about themselves. 

But Lenox was long in beginning. 

By imperceptible degrees, this unsought gift of friendship was meltingthe morsel of ice at his heart; was reviving in him, against his will, that keen appreciation of a cultivated woman's sympathy andcompanionship, which, among finely tempered men, is as potent a factorin the shaping of destinies as passion, or hot-headed emotion. 

For a while he permitted himself the bitter-sweet satisfaction ofmerely watching her where she sat, in a shaft of sunlight, that struckgolden gleams through the burnished abundance of her hair; of notingthe grace and dignity of her pose, and speculating as to the nature ofher thoughts. His wife's reckless impulse on that fateful Septemberday was bringing him now within measurable distance of a very humandanger. The deep, passionate heart of him, crushed and stifled duringthe past five years, was in no safe state to be brought into contactwith a lighted match. But of this danger he was, by his very nature, sublimely unaware. 

Finally he took the short pipe from his lips and spoke. 

"Of course you know I have something definite to say, or I shouldhardly have the cheek to inflict myself on you twice in the twenty-fourhours. "

She looked up and smiled. "You're evidently in one of your bad moods, or you would not vex me by putting it like that. "

"Sorry to vex you, but I _am_ in a bad mood; have been for the lastweek; so you must make allowances, I can't sleep, and a restless devilinside me won't let me settle to steady work. Nerves, I suppose. Idon't look a likely subject, do I? But they give me a deal of troubleat times; and I came to say that I must go back on my arrangement withyou and Desmond and clear out of this before the end of the week. "

"Oh, but surely that would be a great pity; a great disappointment tous both. Is it really a case of 'must'?"

"I think so. "

"And you have only been here a fortnight! Isn't it rather early daysto give in?"

"Very early days--as the case must appear to you; and the evil of it isthat I have no power to make things clearer. Think me an overwroughtfool; a broken-backed corn-stalk, if you choose. It will hurt, ofcourse; but it can't be helped. "

He spoke with undisguised bitterness, and, laying down her work, shelooked at him straightly, a great compassion in her eyes. 

"You misunderstand the fundamentals of friendship if you can talk likethat, " she said gently. "It is rooted in reticence in respect foranother's individuality. Whatever you choose to do, you may be verysure that I shall neither doubt your good reasons, nor seek to knowthem. That is my idea of what it means to be a friend. "

"I stand rebuked, " he answered gravely, "and I'm not likely to forgetwhat you have said. "

"At the same time, " she added in a lighter tone, "one is only human!And I can't let you leave Dalhousie without a word of protest--even ifit is useless. " She hesitated. "May I speak straight?"

"As straight as you please. I should prefer it. "

"Well, I think that if it is a case of nerves, or--worry of any kind, nothing can be worse for you than your own society. Such amusement aswe can offer you up here may be frivolous and insignificant enough, but, believe me, it is far better for you just now than the mostsublime snowfields and glaciers at the back of Beyond! You know youare free to come here whenever you please. Theo enjoys having you; sodo I. And I'm sure it's good for you to fraternise with something morehuman than a mountain!"

He smiled, but did not answer at once; and suddenly she lifted herhead, her face all animation. 

"Look here, I have a notion--an inspired notion. Why should not youtwo get Colonel Mayhew's permission to go off on a week's shooting tripbeyond Chumba. Ten days if you like. Theo would love it. You wouldcome back to your writing like a giant refreshed. There now, isn'tthat a plan worth thinking over?"

Moved beyond his wont, Lenox leaned impulsively towards her. 

"My dear Mrs Desmond, your kindness overpowers me. But I really can'tsee that you and your husband are called upon to put yourselves outlike that, on my behalf. You are up here to enjoy your short holidaytogether; and you are rare good companions, as I know. What right haveI to monopolise him for ten days, and leave you alone? Why should youcare, after all, if I do go and knock myself to bits in the interior?"

"That question is unworthy of you, and doesn't deserve an answer, " shesaid on a note of gentle reproof. "Mine does. Will you do what I ask?"

"Since you ask it of me--yes. Always supposing that it suits Desmondto go. "

"Of course it will suit him. We will settle it when he comes in. "

He leaned back in his chair, and sighed. 

"You're amazingly good to me, Mrs Desmond; and I'm an ungrateful brute. Will you overlook that, and play me something warranted to soothejarred nerves, till your husband comes?"

"Of course I will, gladly. Only you mustn't expect real music from ahireling!"

She chose one of Beethoven's most tenderly gracious Allegrettos, andthe soul of the hireling responded creditably to the magic of her touch. 

But before she had played many bars a clatter of hoofs announcedDesmond's return. He flung himself from the saddle, cleared theverandah steps at a bound, and entered the room:--a man of magneticvitality, with a temperament like a clear flame; a typical officer ofthat isolated force to whose gallantry and unwearied devotion to dutyIndia owes more than she is apt to acknowledge, or, possibly, toperceive. He nodded a welcome to Lenox, signed to him to remainseated, and going straight to the piano laid a hand on his wife'sshoulder. 

"Don't stop. Finish your piece, " he said, as she smiled up at him; andhe did not remove his hand, but remained standing there, in simplesatisfaction at having got back to her. 

Now and again, at very rare intervals, Nature seems to select afavoured man and woman to uphold the torch of the ideal, lest it bereduced to sparks and smoke, to refute the cynic and the pessimist; tohearten a world nauseated and discouraged by the eternal tragi-comedyof marriage, with the spectacle of a human relationship of unsulliedbeauty: a relationship that passes, by imperceptible degrees, from thefirst antiphony of passionate hearts to a deep deliberate bliss, "durable from the daily dust of life. "

Desmond's first marriage had brought him no such revelation of thehidden mysteries of union; no companionship worthy of the name; and thehappiness that comes late, on the heels of conflict and pain, takes amore conscious grip on the heart, is more firmly held to, morejealously guarded, than that which meets us on the threshold, and isaccepted as part of the natural order of things. Blest with vivacity, courage, and an ardent zest for Frontier soldiering, Desmond had rarelyfound life other than very good; but he had only proven the fullmeasure of its goodness since his marriage with Honor Meredith. Andthe mouths brought increasing reliance on her comradeship; increasinginsight into the depths and delicacies of a passion that was almostgenius. His need of her was deeper now than it had been two years ago, when he had believed himself at the summit of desire. For a great loveis like a great mountain-range. Each height scaled reveals fartherheights beyond. Attainment is no part of our programme here; and theremay well be truth in the axiom that "to travel hopefully is better thanto arrive. "

But Eldred Lenox, tangled in the twofold cords of temperament andcircumstance, was denied even the privilege of travelling hopefully, and at moments like the present he suffered the additional torment oflooking into happiness through another man's eyes. It was futile toreiterate the obvious drawbacks of marriage for an ambitious man, standing on the threshold of a coveted career. These distractingDesmonds cheerfully and unconsciously refuted them all! But heaccepted the thorns of the situation as toll paid for the privilege ofan intimacy he would on no account have forgone, and endured them withthe grim stoicism that was his. 

The Allegretto ended, Honour swung round on her stool, and set forthher Chumba project without reference to Eldred's threatened departure. Desmond laughingly professed himself ready to obey orders, withinreasonable limits; and it was finally decided that he should write atonce to Colonel Mayhew, Resident of the native State in whichDalhousie's hills are situated, and whose capital lies in a cup-shapedvalley eighteen miles below the English station. 

Thereupon Lenox rose to take his leave; but on the threshold he paused, as though an afterthought had occurred to him. 

"Next time you happen to go out calling, Mrs Desmond, " he said, withstudied carelessness, "you might like to look up a Miss Maurice and herbrother. They've been here all the winter; and are living on the topof Bakrotas. I met them--some years ago, in Switzerland. Artists, outhere for painting purposes--and rather out of the common run. Youmight find them interesting. "

"They sound as if they would be! Thank you for letting me know oftheir existence. I'll amuse myself by exploiting them while you twoare away. "

But Lenox had no wish to expatiate upon the subject, and with amuttered disclaimer he was gone. 

CHAPTER VI. 

 "I will but say what mere friends say-- Or only a thought stronger. I will hold your hand as long as all may-- Or--no very little longer. " --Browning. 

"No, I don't like her, and I don't believe I ever shall. One cannotdeny that she is beautiful, charming, complete; too complete for mytaste. _Cela me géne_. I know no other way to express it. "

Quita Maurice balanced herself on the railing of her matchbox verandah, and gazed critically at the corner where the last of Honor Desmond's_jhampannis_ had not long since disappeared from view. Garth, theinevitable, stood close beside her, faultlessly equipped as always, even to the gold-tipped cigarette, and the violets that blossomedperennially in his coat. He grew them in pots expressly for thepurpose; and his bearer set them in a wine-glass on his breakfast-tableevery morning. 

Quita's verdict on her visitor moved him to a smile of half-cynicalamusement. He enjoyed her occasional unabashed lapses into the eternalfeminine. 

"I'm with you there, " he answered, heartily. "The worst fault a humanbeing can commit is to be faultless. Poor Mrs Desmond! She will haveto subsist without our admiration. "

"No need to waste pity on her, _mon ami_. I am convinced that she getsfar more admiration than is good for her as it is. She has only beenmarried a little over two years, I believe, and it is safe to presumethat her husband idolises her shadow. She is the sort of woman men puton a pedestal, and worship kneeling; and women mostly detest, because, in their secret hearts, they would like to be up there too! PersonallyI have no use for pedestals. I am content to be _bon camarade_! Asfor that sublime Desmond woman, I feel morally certain that she nevercommits an indiscretion, or has a knot in her shoe-lace, or loses herscissors!"

"Are you peculiarly lenient towards those three failings?"

"I am quite culpably lenient towards the whole tribe of human failings. They are the salt of life. I have never really understood thatincessant harping on the mystery of pain and sin. The question, Whyshould they be allowed to exist? seems to me simply fatuous. No worldworth living in could have been created without them. They are thebackbone of all drama; and I love drama inordinately. They put theiron into men's souls, and the grit into their characters. Think whata nauseating crew of sentimentalists we should be, 'If all had love, as every nest hath eggs, And every head of maize her feathery cap. '

I, for one, should beg to be excused from spending three-score yearsand ten on a planet full of sugar-plums and kisses!"

She left her perch on the railings, and stood erect, in an unconsciousattitude of defiance; and Garth watched her speculatively throughnarrowed lids. He was wondering whether Mrs Desmond's remark that shehad persuaded Captain Lenox to go shooting beyond Chumba, instead ofdeserting Dalhousie for the interior, might not be accountable for thisunusual burst of eloquence. 

"I had no notion that you went in for studying big questions of thatkind, " he remarked, with an amused air of interest. 

"Studying them! But no! What call is there to study them? I have myears and eyes, and my priceless intuitions. It is enough. An artistwill learn more about life and character with the help of those three, than all the _savants_ in creation could imbibe from a hecatomb ofbooks. Michel--where are you? What has been keeping you so quietsince Mrs Desmond's departure?"

Michael, who promptly appeared on the threshold, held up a largedrawing-block for his sister's inspection. 

"_Voilŕ donc_! _Que dis-tu_? Is it not to the life?"

The picture was a rapid, delicate pastel study of Honor Desmond, presenting her, as Michael had said, "to the life. " The broad brow, the short straight nose, the strength and tenderness of the mouth andchin, the smile that hovered like a light in her serious eyes; everydetail was faultlessly rendered. But Quita's cry of surprise expressedannoyance rather than admiration. 

"What possessed you to do _that_?" she asked, sharply. "It is a livinglikeness--yes. Better send it to her friend, Captain Lenox. He wouldgive you a hundred and fifty rupees for it like a shot. "

The instant the words were out she tingled with mortification at havingspoken them in Garth's presence. But he assumed a critical interest inthe picture, and Michael, in the first flush of achievement, had eyesand thoughts for nothing else. 

"A hundred and fifty? _Parbleu, non_!" he answered, hotly. "It is apossession, a triumph. I do not part with it for money. All the whileshe talked to you, I never took my eyes from her face, and I struckwhile the iron was hot. _Mon Dieu, mais die est superbe_! _C'est unedéesse veritable_! _Rien non plus_!"

In ecstatic moments Michael deserted English altogether for the naturallanguage of the emotions; and Quita flashed a glance of amusement atGarth. 

"The pedestal already, you see!"

But Michael, deaf or unheeding, continued his paean of praise. 

"But the head alone is not enough. _Il faut le tout ensemble_. _Çasera magnifique_. Now at last I have the centre figure for my greatpicture--Mater Triumphans. In a day or two I call on her. I ask herpermission to immortalise her and myself in one achievement. No womanin her senses could refuse so flattering a request; and her lips, hereyes, betray that, goddess or not, she is before all things a woman. "

"But, my good Michel, " Quita interposed, with a deliberate lightness, "ride your enthusiasm on the curb, I beg of you. Isn't one goddess ata time enough to fill your expansive heart? I warn you that if you aregoing to disgrace me by ostentatiously falling in love with this MrsDesmond, I shall give you up for good, and insist on a legalseparation! Now, I am tired of idling, and it's high time I went backto my picture. " She held out a hand to Garth. "_Ŕ demain_, " she said, with a gracious smile of dismissal. "But not till tea-time, please. Ihave a certain amount of work to get through every day if _you_ havenot!"

Garth's reply was conveyed to a lingering pressure of her hand. He wasa past master in this discreet method of expressing the inexpressible;and he had the satisfaction of seeing the colour deepen in her cheeks, as she released herself hastily, and passed on into the house. 

During a long ride homeward, Garth found time for much interestedspeculation on the possible issue of events. The situation appearedsufficiently incomprehensible to afford scope for dramaticdevelopments; and he shared to the full Quita's taste for drama, provided always that it did not deprive him of sleep, or render himpersonally uncomfortable. He shared also her magnanimous attitudetowards human shortcomings; frankly acknowledging his own, andskilfully utilising those of other men--and women. But bad men are asoften tripped up by the unquenchable spark of good in human nature asgood men are by the equally unquenchable spark of evil; and James Garthwas not altogether devoid of the little leaven that leavens the wholelump. There were even moments--and the present was one--when itasserted itself to the detriment of his cool-headed schemes. Generallyspeaking, a husband in the background in no way disturbed hisaccommodating code of morals. But scruples, hitherto unknown, seemedset like a hedge of defence about this girl, who was, in every respect, so very much a woman. 

For all her love of dangerous ground, her airy scorn of conventions, she had a knack of compelling some measure of uprightness, even from sounpromising a subject as James Garth. Thus, bone-bred gossip though hewas, his silence in respect of her astounding revelation was assured. Her words, "I trust you, as a gentleman, " had quickened that good grainin him, which is the saving grace of us all. Also the knowledge itselfhurt him more than he could have believed. It seriously upset hisequanimity for no less than a week; not indeed to the extent ofdamaging his appetite, or his sleep, but enough to make her society adistraction more bitter than sweet; enough to drive him into dining atthe Strawberry Bank Hotel, though the cuisine of that mixedestablishment compared very unfavourably with his own. 

Here he naturally met Lenox, and the meeting reawakened his consumingcuriosity; awakened also those primitive savage instincts which nosurface civilisation will ever annihilate while the world holds onewoman and two men. And how should it be accounted theft to rob a manof that which, to all appearance, he neither possessed nor desired torecapture?

In twenty years of philandering he had never experienced so keen adesire for conquest; and if this inexplicable husband chose to leavehis wife in an equivocal position, he must be prepared to accept theconsequences, which are, in general, the last things that any averageman is prepared to accept. Shrewdness and vanity alike convinced Garththat Quita's attitude on Dynkund, viewed in the light of her subsequentdisclosure, counted for nothing; while the fact that for six months shehad readily accepted his companionship counted for much. Her finesense of honour had naturally compelled her to "head him off" dangerousground. But he consoled himself with the reflection that a woman'ssense of honour is rarely her strongest point. Pit her heart againstit, and the outcome is merely a question of time. A conviction foundedon his own complicated past!

In his esteem, then, nothing stood between him and his desire but apoor crop of scruples, readily trampled under foot; and by a finestroke of irony Lenox himself completed the trampling process. He, whorarely took an active part in the random, unedifying talk congenial toafter-dinner "pegs" and cigars, had one night been moved to administeradvice to a rapturous subaltern, in the shape of a few trenchantcynicisms in respect of women and marriage, bidding him not be foolenough to run his misguided head into the noose; and the subaltern hadcollapsed like a pricked air-ball. But Garth, to his own surprise, retorted with no little warmth; and Lenox, turning in his chair, lookedat him deliberately--a glint of steel in his eyes. 

"I couldn't presume to cross swords with you, Major, " he remarked, on aquiet note of contempt. "Your experience is as extensive as my own islimited; and you have the good luck to be popular. I have not. Butthat is simply a question of _métier_. Yours is to flatter women, evenbehind their backs; whilst I am blockhead enough to speak the truthabout them, even to their faces. And the last thing a normal womanwants from any man is--the truth. "

From that moment Garth had hardened his heart. And now--a weeklater--as he rode down from the Crow's Nest, he chuckled to himselfover the satisfactory way in which Lenox was playing into his hands byadopting an attitude that would plainly act as a foil to his owndeferentially persistent courtship; a metaphorical walking round thewalls of Jericho, that must end in capitulation, soon or late. 

From his point of view, Quita's unique position of personal freedom, coupled with legal bondage, added a distinct flavour to the wholeaffair: and so well pleased was he with the aspect of things ingeneral, that, before reaching Potrain, he headed his pony up anothercorkscrew path, that climbed to another doll's house bungalow. Here hespent a couple of hours, lounging in the drawing-room of one of thelesser lights in his firmament, flattering her by a delicately conveyedimpression that he found her the only woman in the station worthtalking to. And so, home to his own well-appointed house, where, twohours after an irreproachable dinner, he slept the sleep of the manwhose conscience has been trained not to make inconvenient remarks. 

CHAPTER VII. 

 "God uses us to help each other so, Lending our lives out. " --Browning. 

Before May was out Honor met her unpromising acquaintance severaltimes, by chance. But nothing beyond formal greetings passed betweenthem. Twice she happened to be riding alone with Lenox; the thirdtime, her husband was with them: and on every occasion Quita'scompanion was James Garth, --the only one among them all who enjoyed thesituation. Quita herself found a perverse satisfaction, unworthy ofher best moments, in thus emphasising her indifference to her husband'spresence; ignoring, with characteristic heedlessness, the fact that atwo-edged weapon is an ill thing to handle: and Lenox, accepting herunspoken intimation _au pied de la lettre_, steeled himself tohalf-cynical, half-stoical endurance. 

He had returned heartened, and fortified by a week of stirring sport, and by closer contact with a personality wholesome and invigorating asa hill wind; a sympathy of the practical order, that found expressionin matter-of-fact service and good fellowship, rather than in speech. He had given up all thought of leaving the station; had decided to sethis teeth, and go through with his ordeal, sooner than disappoint thesenew-found friends, who seemed already to have become a part of hislife. Such rapid intimacies are a distinctive feature of a countrywhere a guest may come for a night, and stay for a month; where allwhite men are brothers, in the widest sense of the word. 

And Eldred Lenox did not hold with half measures. Since he stood hisground in order to please the Desmonds, he held himself ready to fallin with any joint plans they might choose to make. Thus, he agreed toshare in their arrangements for the June camp, at Kajiar, --a naturalglade hid in the heart of Kalatope Forest: and even accepted, withoutdemur, Colonel Mayhew's proposal to preface the 'week' with a two days'house-party at the Chumba Residency;--a picturesque house, whose gardenof lawns, and roses, and English trees falls sheer to the eddying riverbelow. The two sportsmen had spent a couple of days here on their wayback, the Resident being down in Chumba on State business; and hissuggestion had been the natural outcome of Desmond's keen interest inthe book which was his hobby of the moment. 

"I must be down here then, " he explained, "for the _Minjla Mčla_, asuperstitious ceremony by which we test the luck of the State for thecoming year. An unfortunate buffalo is flung into the Ravee, justabove the rapids; and if he succumbs, or scrambles out on the far side, the gods will not fail us. But if he lands on the town bank, theywon't trouble their heads about us till next June. Naturally we do ourbest to prevent such a catastrophe, in spite of our conviction that thematter is settled by the will of the gods! As far as I know, theceremony is peculiar to Chumba; and this would be a good chance for youto see it, if you don't mind a trifle of heat, and if your wife wouldcare to come too, so much the better. "

"She'll come like a shot, thanks, " Desmond answered heartily. 

"Good!--We'll get up a native dinner at the Palace in honour of theoccasion. My little girl has set her heart on the plan, rather to mywife's dismay. The Maurices want to come too; and we may have toinclude Garth, on her account; though I confess I wanted her formyself! She's worth talking to, that girl. There's a touch of geniusin her composition, and a touch of the folly that's apt to go alongwith it; or she would never give the gossips a chance to couple hername with Garth's. If he is in earnest, so much the worse for her. --Wemay count on you, Lenox, I hope?" he added, turning to the impassiveman at his side, whom he had unwittingly smitten between the joints ofhis harness. 

Lenox's muttered assent was a trifle indistinct, owing to the thickpipe-stem between his teeth, and rising deliberately, he passed out ofthe smoking-room into the wistaria-shadowed verandah, where theturbulent voice of the river seemed to echo his own mood. It was wellfor himself, and for James Garth also, that he ran no risk of meetingthe man at that moment. 

The thought of that first fortnight in June unnerved him. For ColonelMayhew's words had done more than turn the knife in an open wound. Lenox was blest, or curst, with that most pitiless of mentors, a Scotchconscience. Whatever Quita's failings, or her attitude to himself, there could be no shelving the fact that he was her husband:--theguardian of her good name, the one man on earth who could claim theright to criticise her conduct. Her probable repudiation both of hiscriticism, and his right to offer it, did not, in his view, justify himin standing aloof, if need for speech should arise. Possibly passion, smouldering at the heart of duty, urged him towards the desperateexperiment. But if so, he would not admit it, even to himself. Hemerely decided--with an access of fastidious disgust at the wholesituation--to accept this fate-sent opportunity for judging how far herbehaviour warranted Colonel Mayhew's kindly concern. For he knewenough of Garth and his methods to feel certain that, in his case, tocovet an invitation was to procure it. 

After all, he reflected bitterly, a closer acquaintance with factsmight cure him of an infatuation against which pride and inheritedinstinct had rebelled ill vain: and so intricate are the mazes ofself-deception, that he firmly believed in his own desire to be cured. 

It was, no doubt, solely in pursuance of this purpose that, a few dayslater, he added his initials, with a wry face of resignation, to asubscription list, proposing that the bachelors of the station shouldgive a ball on the third of June. He had not seen the inside of aballroom for years: but since the season seemed marked for strangeexperiences, this one might as well be included with the rest. And inthe meantime, this inconsistent misogynist slept little, smokedinordinately, and spent the greater part of his leisure at TerahCottage. Perhaps this also was part of the cure!

Desmond noted the fact, not without an occasional spark of annoyance. For all his magnanimity, the man was masculine to the core;hot-blooded, and still very much a lover at heart. But pride and aboundless trust in the woman he had won had withheld him as yet fromserious comment. 

Lenox dined with them on the night of the dance; and came armed withprogrammes, at Honor's request. 

"Are you going to give me my share before we start?" he asked, as theyshook hands. 

"If I do, will you try to dance?"

He laughed abruptly. "Not I. It would be a sight to make angels weep!I shall take you right away from the whole thing, and talk toyou--that's all. Is that good enough?"

"Quite good enough!"

He scanned an open programme with perplexed interest, as though it werean Egyptian hieroglyph. 

"How long do each of these things last?" he asked, with evidentamusement. 

"About twelve minutes, with the pause. "

"What's the good of twelve minutes? Can't I have them in batches, three at a time. Or would that be going quite out of bounds?"

Honor laughed. . . . "I'm afraid so! Though it would be far nicer. But I will give you one 'batch, ' and two isolated ones; and that's agenerous allowance, I assure you. "

"Thanks. --I suppose Desmond takes you in to supper?"

"Yes. It's a standing engagement! Why don't you ask Miss Maurice?"There was a moment of silence. 

"We are not intimate enough for that, " he answered, with a badimitation of unconcern; and Honor wondered, as she had done before now, wherein lay the key to a curiosity-provoking situation. But just thenDesmond joined them; and no more was said. 

The moment they entered the ballroom Lenox was aware of his wife, --thefocal point in a circle of men, distributing her favours with a smilingimpartiality that was, in itself, a delicate form of coquetry, whileGarth stood sentinel beside her, with an unmistakable suggestion of 'NoThoroughfare, ' which he could assume to a nicety; and which Lenox notedwith a curse at the restrictions imposed upon civilised man. 

But a second glance at Quita crowded all else out of his mind. It washis first sight of her in full evening dress, and he stood spellboundby the radiant quality of her charm: a charm that triumphed over minorimperfections of feature and form; a mental and spiritual vitality thathad deepened rather than diminished with the years. Her dress, likeeverything about her, was an instinctive expression of herself: thoughLenox, while appreciating its harmony, could not have defined it in setterms. He knew that it was of velvet; that it sheathed her roundedslenderness as a rind sheathes its fruit; that the light and shade onits surface, as she moved, reminded him of willows in a wind; that, from shoulder to hem, the eye was nowhere checked, the simplicity ofoutline nowhere marred by objectless incidents of adornment. He notedalso that its indefinite colour was repeated in a row of aquamarines, that glistened like drops of sea-water at her throat. 

A light touch on his arm recalled him to outward things. 

"Captain Lenox, where are your manners?" Honor Desmond remonstrated, with laughter in her eyes. "The Mayhews have just gone past, and youlooked straight through them! Is that the way you welcome your guests?"

He muttered an incoherent apology, and fervently hoped that she had notobserved the direction of his gaze. A vain hope, seeing that she was awoman!

"Better get safe into the card-room before I do anything worse!" headded uneasily. "I'll be back for number five. Trust me not toforget. "

As he crossed the barn of a room, --lavishly draped with bazaar bunting, and starred with radiating bayonets, --his eyes lighted on KennethMalcolm, the Engineer subaltern, whose current of courtship had beenchecked by Maurice's arrival on the scene:--a boy of stalwart build;his straight features and well-poised head justifying the sobriquet ofApollo, bestowed upon him by an effusive admirer, whose sole reward hadbeen a cordial detestation. He leaned against the wall, absentlytwirling the cord of his programme; his attention centred on a cornerof the room, where Elsie Mayhew--an incarnate moonbeam of a girl--wascritically examining the pattern on her fan, while Maurice possessedhimself of her programme, and sprinkled it liberally with the letter M. In the boy's bottled-up resentment Lenox saw a reflection of his own;and the fact moved him to scorn rather than sympathy. 

"Damned idiots, both of us!" he reflected savagely. "A couple of dogswhose bones have been confiscated, and we haven't even the pluck tosnarl. "

The opening valse struck up as he reached the cardroom. Withoutlooking directly at his wife, he saw Garth's arm encircle her waist, saw him hold her thus, for an appreciable moment, before starting; andsat down to the whist table with murder in his heart. 

At number five he re-entered the ballroom to claim Honor Desmond forhis 'batch' of dances, and to take her, as he had said, right away fromit all. She found him little inclined for talk; yet none the lessquick to appreciate her understanding of his mood. 

"Thank you for bearing with me, " he said, as they parted in one of themany doorways opening on to the long verandah. "I won't come in. I amin the humour for the profound philosophies of tobacco and the stars. "

"Better companions than a mere woman!" she answered, smiling into thegravity of his eyes. "Don't deny it. I have no taste for lip service. "

"Nor I the smallest gift for it. Still, truth is truth; and a gooddeal depends on the quality of--the mere woman. "

She vouchsafed him the stateliest shadow of a curtsey. 

"I believe I shall end in converting you, after all! Number twelve. Don't forget. "

And turning from him she saw that her husband stood a few paces off, watching them with a thoughtful scrutiny that caught at her heart. Gliding across the polished floor, she slipped a hand under his elbow, and leaned close to him. 

"Darling, " she whispered, "I am so glad this is ours. " Without a word, he put his arm round her, and swept her into the crowd. 

For a while Lenox followed them with his eyes, as they circled smoothlyin and out among the dancers, as notable a couple as the roomcontained. Then he raked the shifting crowd for Quita's grey-greenfigure, --in vain. Neither she nor Garth was to be seen. It neededsmall perspicacity to locate them: and grinding his teeth Lenox wentout again into a night jewelled with the unnumbered bonfires of theuniverse. Striking a match, he lit his pipe, in defiance of theknowledge that for the past few weeks he had been persistentlyoverstepping his self-imposed allowance, and fell to pacing the railedpath outside the building. 

Was it altogether his own fault, he wondered bitterly, that he stoodthus, cut off from the core of life, breaking his teeth upon the husksof it, and making believe that they satisfied his hunger? In thetragedies resulting from 'the ill-judged execution of the well-judgedplan of things, ' that question flung, again and again into the'derisive silence of eternity, ' mocks the soul with echo's answer. Where lies the blame? Where, indeed? For all his vaunted supremacyman is not always master of his fate. Circumstance, heredity, thedespicable trifle, the inexpert finger, which a certain type of humanis so zealous to thrust into an alien life, compass him about with acloud of witnesses to his own impotence. 

With which conclusion, softened by the kindly influence of druggedtobacco, Lenox knocked the ashes out of his pipe; and decided thatsince he was here to observe his wife and Garth, and to cure himself ofan undignified infatuation, it would be well to return to the ballroomtill number twelve. 

But as he moved forward a low laugh, near at hand, chained him to thespot. Then Quita emerged from a patch of shadow, closely followed byGarth. She tilted her chin, and flung a smiling threat at him over hershoulder. 

"If you can't be more reasonable, I shall cancel your remaining dancesand give them to the Riley boy. " Which announcement brought himswiftly to her side; and Lenox failed to catch his murmured reply. They passed on without perceiving him; and he followed . . . Merelyfrom a sense of duty!

At one of the open doorways, that flung panels of light across theverandah, they paused; and he paused also, a few paces off. Thecouples within were forming themselves into ordered squares. 

"Lancers, " she said, in a tone of distaste. 

"Are you dancing them?" he asked. 

"No. "

"Come and sit out again, then; and I'll be as reasonable as you please. "

She glanced quickly round the room, as if in search of something. 

"Very well, " she said: and turning on the threshold, came face to facewith her husband. 

With a scarcely perceptible start, she acknowledged his grave bow ofrecognition, and drew back to let him pass. But he remained closeenough to catch what followed. 

"I'd rather dance than sit out, after all, " she announced, with a briskchange of manner. 

"But, dear lady, . . . Why?"

She laughed. "What a question! I thought you pretended to knowsomething about women? I claim the divine right of whim. _Voilŕ, tout_! One can't spend the evening in explanation. The spirit movesme to romp. It's infinitely more wholesome than mooning under thestars. All we want now is a cheery _vis-ŕ-vis_. Ah . . . There'sMichel. The very man!"

She signalled across the room with her fan, and Michael came skiddingand slithering towards her, a delighted girl clinging to his arm:--agirl in the glamour of her first season, a-thrill to her white kidfinger-tips because these rested on the sleeve of a living artist, whohad already paid her one or two chivalry-coated compliments. 

"Now why the deuce did she weather-cock round like that?" Lenoxwondered, floundering in the quicksands of masculine ignorance. 

But no answer suggested itself; because this woman, who was his, andyet not his, --this woman, with her many-hued personality, rich insubtle contradictions--was a sealed book to him, and seemed like toremain so. And what, after all, are the hearts that beat closest toour own but sealed books, which we open from time to time, at random;too often at the wrong page? But a ballroom is no fit place forabstract meditation. The lust of eye and ear, the pride of life, challenge the sense at every turn, till mere thought seems a mightybloodless affair. 

Lenox moved back to the doorway, leaned against the woodwork, andfolding his arms, surveyed the scene before him with the apatheticinterest of the large and mystified. The long room was crowded withjumbled atoms of colour, like a damaged kaleidoscope; with talk andlaughter; with the whisper of sweeping skirts, and the clink of spurs. Then the first provocative bars set every foot in motion; and thekaleidoscope effect was complete. 

Lenox, --towering isolated, amid a world of light-hearted couples, --wasaware that beneath his surface indifference there lurked a certainshamefaced envy of these bewildering mortals who could shuffle off theyears, and revert, unabashed, to the entrancing follies of childhood;and who could yet, in lucid intervals, grapple undismayed withintricacies of Indian legislation, lead a forlorn hope, love and sufferand die, if need be, with a stiff lip, and an obstinate faith in 'theultimate decency of things. ' For of a truth, the earth holds no morefantastic farrago of folly and heroism than your average human being;and musing on these things, Lenox decided that there must have beensome radical flaw in his own education. 

Not twenty feet away, the General himself--the host-in-chief of theevening--condemned, despite increasing years and girth, to the Etonjacket of boyhood, pranced and glided with elaborate precision, andtook every opportunity of twirling plump little Mrs Mayhew almost offher feet. Both laughed inordinately at each repetition of the mildjoke: and if the C. B. Blazing on the General's mess-jacket, and thelittle lady's full-grown daughter contrasted oddly with their passingdisplay of childishness, both were serenely blind to the fact. 

But among a hundred dancers, not one plunged more whole-heartedly intothe folly of the moment than Quita. She had stationed herself oppositethe door where Lenox stood, and the very spirit of devilry seemed tohave entered into her, driving her to italicise every trait in herselfthat must needs grate on his fastidiousness where a woman's conduct wasconcerned. Her effervescent gaiety dominated the 'set, ' which speedilydegenerated into a romp till, in the third figure, an incident occurredwhich partially brought her to her senses. 

The room reeled and hummed with spinning circles, like livingKatherine-wheels, when Quita, --losing her precarious hold upon herpartner's coat-sleeve, and flying outward, by a natural impetus thatmust have sent her crashing against the woodwork of the door, --foundherself caught, and steadied by her husband's hands at her waist. Fora lightning instant he held her thus--breathless and throbbing, like abird prisoned in his grasp: then he straightened himself, and let fallhis empty hands. 

"I am sorry, " he muttered, barely looking at her. "But I was afraidyou might hurt yourself. "

"Thank you. It was very stupid of me. "

She left him hurriedly, red-hot vexation tingling in her cheeks: andwhen next the Katherine-wheels spun about, she remained stationary, smiling and waving her hand in answer to repeated invitations to "comeon. "

Lenox remained stationary also, though the whole scene had suddenlybecome hateful to him: for that moment of contact, and the rush ofcolour to his wife's face, had roused him to the need for immediateaction. Thus, when a final mad galop scattered the coherent atoms ofthe kaleidoscope, he intercepted Quita and her partner, as they hurriedout to secure a favourite nook. 

But the polite formula of the ballroom did not spring readily to hislips. 

"Have you a spare dance to give me?" he asked bluntly. "Since youevidently don't object to sitting out. "

His tone had in it more of demand than of request, an effect heightenedby his deliberate omission of her name; and against his will annoyancelurked in the last words. But some men have a positive talent forstanding in their own light. 

For a second or two her eyes challenged his in mute amazement. Eachseemed trying to read the other's thought. But pride darkens insight:and at the critical moment a slight movement of the arm she heldreminded her of Garth's glimpse behind the scenes. She pulled herselftogether, and made an obvious feint of consulting her programme. 

"If you really wanted one, you should have spoken earlier, " she rebukedhim lightly. "I'm afraid I haven't so much as half an extra to offeryou now. "

He accepted his dismissal with a curt bow of acknowledgment. 

"Thought I wanted to make love to her, no doubt, " he reflectedsavagely, as he moved away. And she passed on into the verandah, wondering . . . Wondering why he had wanted that dance, and whether shewould have thrown some one over for him, but for Garth's opportunereminder at her elbow. 

On the opening of the next dance, Lenox sought and found Honor Desmond, silently offered his arm, and led her through the verandah out into thestarshine, --which is a reality in India, on moonless nights. 

"What a thundering relief it is to get away from it all!" he said atlength. "Would it bother you to stroll a little way up the hill? Weshall be crowded out here, in no time; and I must have another pipe. "

"Let's stroll then, by all means. I should enjoy it; and you know howI love tobacco. I saw you looking on at that dance; and I ratherenvied you. I often wish I could set aside a few dances just forlooking on, without having to make talk for any one. People interestme so passionately; always have done, since I can remember. "

"Even Button Quails, and black-hearted woman-haters?"

"Yes. Especially the woman-haters; because they need converting!"

"And are unconvertible, " Lenox declared with a laugh. "But don't youever get sickened with the deadly sameness of the whole tribe ofus, --grinding ourselves to dust in the eternal treadmill of hatred andlove, hope and despair? Every conceivable human complication has beenrepeated _ad nauseam_ since Adam made a fool of himself in the gardenof Eden. "

"And through all that endless sameness, no two men and women have everbehaved twice alike! That's where the interest comes in, don't yousee? To-night, for instance, Miss Maurice and that pretty child ElsieMayhew are both wasting their sweetness on men quite unworthy of them;but each is doing the same thing in a fashion so entirely her own, thatit is not like looking on at the same play at all. I am speciallyconcerned over the Mayhew muddle, for I believe that handsome Engineerboy is capable of breaking his heart in earnest because Elsie has losthers _pro tem. _, --engaging little goose that she is. Really Isometimes think that the man and woman puzzle is just an endless gameof cross questions and crooked answers!"

Lenox laughed again, harshly. 

"That's a straight shot!" he said. "It's a mad world; and the maddestcreature in it is the man who stakes his happiness on the state of awoman's heart. "

Honor slipped her hand from his arm. 

"Really, Captain Lenox, " she protested, half-laughing, half in earnest, "that remark almost amounts to an insult! What do you suppose Theowould say if he heard you?"

"Wouldn't stop to pick his language, " Lenox answered with a twistedsmile. "But his testimony counts for nothing. He has found the onewoman among a thousand, that even Solomon failed to find; and the Lordknows he didn't judge them from hearsay!"

The sincerity underlying his bluntness brought the blood to Honor'scheeks. "Theo has simply found--a woman who loves him, " she answeredsoftly. "A discovery most men can make if they choose; even rankheretics like you! Will you forgive me, I wonder, if I say that Ibelieve the thing you really need, though you may not guess it, is . . . A woman in your life?"

Lenox did not answer: and they walked on for a time in silence. 

"Have I vexed you?" Honor asked at length. 

"No. You touched an exposed nerve. That was all. And I should likeyou to know the truth now; or at least part of it. --Five years ago Idid take . . . A woman into my life, as you put it; and I have neverknown real peace or comfort since. "

Honor started, and turned upon him a face of incredulity. 

"Captain Lenox! Do you mean--have you actually--been married?"

"I actually am married, in the eyes of the law, at least. What's more, my wife is here, in Dalhousie, in that cursed ballroom, --with neithermy name nor my ring to protect her--playing the fool for the amusementor perdition of another chap. You spoke of her a minute ago. I needhardly say more, need I?"

"No, no. I understand it all now, " she murmured, deeply moved. "Thenthat was why you wanted to go away last month?"

"Yes. "

"And I stupidly made things harder, in my blind zeal to help you?"

"No, indeed. You simply convinced me, without suspecting it, that itwould be cowardly to bolt at sight. Besides, it would have amounted toan open confession that--one cared. "

"And don't you--care?"

Lenox clenched his teeth upon an inarticulate sound; and his ambermouthpiece snapped like a stick of sealing-wax. He took the pipe fromhis mouth; eyed it ruefully, and slipped it into his breast-pocket. 

"A good friend gone, " he muttered. "And all on account of a woman whodoesn't care a snap of the fingers whether one is alive or dead. "

"In my opinion that remains to be proved. "

"Does it? Isn't her conduct with that confounded ladykiller proofenough to convince you?"

"No. "

"Well, then, look here. Ten minutes ago I went so far as to ask herfor a dance. She gave me the snub direct: and she'll not get a chanceto refuse another request of mine--that's certain. "

Honor's lips lifted at the corners. 

"I wonder what tone of voice you asked her in?" was all she said. 

"Quite the wrong one, no doubt. I was in no humour for going on myknees. But she knew right enough that I wouldn't have risked refusal, unless I was very keen on the dance. "

"All the same, you _will_ give her another chance. You must. No actof folly on her part can make it right for you to leave her in such afalse position. "

"The position was her own choice, --not mine. "

"One could guess as much. Yet the fact remains that she is--yours, tomake or mar: and it seems to me no less than your duty to pocket yourpride, and save her from her own foolishness in spite of herself. "

Lenox drew an audible breath, like a man in pain. 

"You do know how to hit between the eyes, " he said very low. "But--Ihave suffered enough at her hands. "

"And has she suffered nothing--at yours?"

Honor's voice was scarcely louder than his own, and her pulses throbbedat her own daring. Lenox stood stock-still, and looked at her. 

"Upon . . My . . Soul, " he said slowly, "you are a stunning woman!I . . . "

"Please don't think I meant you to answer such a question, " she brokein hurriedly, with flaming cheeks. 

"Of course not. You meant it as a reminder that there are two sides toevery question. "

"Yes. How nice of you to understand! I have no shadow of right totake you to task. But when the fate of two lives seems hanging on athread, one dare not keep silence. --Now, I think we ought to turn back. And I wonder if you would mind telling me a little about your wife, "she added, with diplomatic intent to prolong his softened mood. "Sheis so charming; so individual. But I haven't been able to get at herat all. She seems almost to dislike me; and I am just beginning toguess why. "

"Nonsense . . . Nonsense, " he protested brusquely. "You are entirelymistaken. "

"That also remains to be proved!"

They retraced their steps down the rough path that descends from theMall to the Assembly Rooms, walking very slowly, as people do whenabsorbed. Honor, with all a woman's skill, imparted a flavour ofreminiscence to their talk; and no man with a spark of love in hisheart can hold out, for long, against the magic suggestiveness ofmemory. For all his guarded indifference of manner, she felt the icemelting under her touch: and the passionate human interest, of whichshe had already spoken, held her, to exclusion of such minortrivialities as possibly distracted partners. For this woman, thehuman note, --be it never so untuneful--surpassed the sublimest musicplucked from the heart of wood or wire. 

Arrived on the gravel ledge outside the building, they paused in ashaft of light, still intent on their subject; till the inspiritingrhythm of a polka shattered the stillness, and Honor, turning hastily, caught sight of an erect figure in the doorway behind her. 

"There's Theo. He seems to be looking for me, " she said. "Why, wemust have talked through two dances. Come. "

But at the foot of the verandah steps Lenox held out his hand. 

"The evening is ended for me. I am going straight home, to think overall you have said. I'll be round by ten to-morrow. Good-night--andthank you. "

He italicised the last words by a vigorous hand-clasp; and a momentlater she stood in the doorway, confronting her husband. A glance athis face put her laughing apology to flight. 

"I tell you what it is, Honor, " he broke out hotly, "you're going toofar altogether. Here has Maurice been letting half Dalhousie know thathe couldn't find you anywhere; and the last dance--was mine. Heavenknows where you buried yourselves. I didn't attempt to look. Lenoxhas no business to monopolise you in this way. Woman-hater, indeed!"

"It was not _his_ fault, " she flashed out, in an impulse more generousthan wise: but her blood was as quick to take fire as his own. 

"Then it was yours, which is fifty times worse. "

Honor lifted her head with a superb dignity of gesture. 

"As you please, " she said quietly. "It is useless to attemptexplanation here, or anywhere, till you are more . . Like yourself. "

Returning couples were by now besieging the doorway; and she passed oninto the ballroom, her head still high, her lips compressed, lestothers should note their tendency to quiver. A woman who loves the manof her choice with every fibre of her being does not readily forget, though she may forgive, his first rough words to her. 

Honor was claimed at once by Kenneth Malcolm, a favourite partner, boythough he was. But the keen edge of her interest was blunted. Shewanted one thing only to be alone with Theo; to set his mind at rest:and those 'separated selves, ' who drew her like nothing else on earth, became of a sudden mere voluble obstructions between herself and herdesire. 

Half an hour later she came up to him, where he stood, laughing andtalking in a group of men. 

"I am tired, Theo, " she said in a low tone. "Mr Maurice is getting mydandy for me. But don't come away if you'd rather stop on. "

Their eyes locked for an instant. 

"Is that likely?" he asked, a gleam in his own. 

"I don't know. "

"You do know. Look sharp and get your things on. "

Michael Maurice did not hurry himself over the congenial task ofsettling his _déesse véritable_ among the cushions of her dandy, --ahybrid conveyance, half canoe, half cane lounge, slung from theshoulders of four men, by an ingenious arrangement of straps and crosspoles. Closer acquaintance had deepened his admiration: but a namelesssomething in her manner warned him that it must not be expressed in hisusual promiscuous fashion. She had refused, very sweetly butdecisively, the honour of appearing in his great picture. But Desmondhad succumbed to the temptation of procuring a portrait of her and'little Paul. ' "At the worst, I can sell a pony to pay for it, " he hadsaid, in answer to her remonstrance. "And I shall think it cheap atthe price!"

And now, as the dandy-bearers turned to mount the ascent, he came tohis wife's side. She had drawn off her gloves, and one hand rested onthe woodwork of her canoe. He covered it with his own, walking by herthus, for a few steps, in silence: and it was enough. 

"Mount now, " she commanded him softly. "And let's hurry home, I'veever so much to tell you. "

He obeyed: and they journeyed upward to familiar music of hoof-beats, and the murmur of _jhampannies_, wrapt about by the magic of a night sostill that all the winds seemed to have gone round with the sun to theother side of the world. 

A tray set with glass and silver awaited them in the drawing-room. 

Honor, entering first, slipped the long cloak from her shoulders with asatisfied sigh, a sense of passing from the unreal to the real, whichshe often experienced on returning from a dance: and underlying all, aprofound pity for the lone and ill-mated women, in a world of oddmentsand misfits, who have never felt the thrill of such home-comings asthis of hers to-night. Then she swept round, and fronted herhusband:--a gleaming figure, like a statue cut in ivory; no colouranywhere, save the living tints of her face and eyes and hair. 

"Well?" she laughed, on a low clear note of happiness. "I hope you areproperly ashamed of yourself!"

But before the words were out, he had her in his arms; and for asupreme moment the great illusion was theirs that they were not two, but one, as the Book decrees. 

Then she pushed him gently into a chair, and kneeling beside him drewhis arm around her, resting her head against his in a fashioninexpressibly tender. The natural dignity that was hers set a highvalue on such sweet familiarities: and if Desmond submitted to them insilence, it was because the man in him was too deeply moved for speech. 

Then she told him, at some length, all that she had gleaned of the pastand present relations between Lenox and his wife. 

"Now, do you see how I came to lose sight of everything for the timebeing?" she concluded, smiling up at him. "So far as I can gather, things seem to be at a deadlock, unless one can persuade him to takethe first step forward. "

"And you want to play Providence, as usual? Is that it?"

"Don't laugh at me, Theo! I am in earnest. I would gladly move heavenand earth to put things straight between them. "

"But this seems a case of moving a Scot. A far tougher job, I can tellyou!"

"Well, I think I moved him a little to-night; and he is coming roundto-morrow for a ride. " Desmond frowned; and she made haste to add;"Now that is just where I must have your co-operation, Theo, or I cando nothing. I want you to trust me, and give me a free hand for thesenext few weeks. Will you, . . Please?"

"Does that mean I am to let you be about with Lenox as much as youchoose?"

"Probably not more than I have been so far. I only want to be surethat whatever I do you won't speak to me again as you did to-night. "

She felt the muscles of his arm tighten. 

"I think you may feel sure of that much, " he said. "But you are askinga very hard thing of me, Honor. Lenox is a thorough good chap; and Idon't want to be driven into disliking him. It isn't as if I were asaint, like Paul. I'm just a man, and a grasping one at that! What'smore, I am very jealous for you; and I have the right to be. Societydoesn't recognise philanthropic motives. It takes you and your acts attheir face value . . . "

"I know, I know, "--she straightened herself impulsively; her handsclasped, her bare arms laid across his knees. "And I'll be ever socircumspect, dearest, I promise you. But oh, Theo, . . . Don't youunderstand? It is just because we are so blessedly happy, you and I, that the thought of what those two foolish people are missing troublesme so sorely. "

Such an appeal was irresistible. They had lived deeply enough, thesetwo, to know the real importance of happiness. 

"Bless your big heart, " he answered warmly. "I understand rightenough. By all means help 'em if you can. I'll not baulk you. Butit's a delicate task; and I don't quite see how you are going to setabout it. "

"Nor do I, --yet. One can only trust to intuition, and the inspirationof the moment. From the little he said, it seems that the first moveought to come from her: and possibly my intimacy with him may help tobring her to her senses. Everything depends, of course, on how muchshe cares. That's still an unknown quantity. But she dislikes mealready; which is a promising sign!--Now I am going to fill your pipe, and pour you out a peg; and we'll enjoy ourselves till it's time forsecond supper!"

It is just such quiet hours of heart-to-heart intimacy that constitutetrue marriage. For in these uneventful moments links are forged andsoldered strong enough to resist the buffeting of storms, or thedeadlier, corrosive influence of those minor miseries which poison thevery core of life. 

A handful of stars--visible through the open glass door into theverandah--had began to pale, when Desmond lifted his wife to her feet, and blew out the lamp. In the profound stillness their footsteps andlow laughter sounded up the wooden stairs. Then a door shut somewherein the house, and the night absorbed them into herself. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

 "Ce n'est pas le mort qui separe le plus les individus. " --De Coulevain. 

And what of Lenox, after Honor Desmond's sympathetic exertions on hisbehalf?

He went straight from her side to the cloak-room; and thence slowlyback to his unhomelike rooms at the hotel; a dark solitary figure, withbent head, and a heart full of tumultuous hopes and fears. The eventsof the evening had stirred him as he had not been stirred since thoseearly days of torment, of undignified oscillation between yearning anddespair: and now, at last, love unsteadied for the first time thefoundations of his pride; brought home to him the cardinal truth thatall the beauty and terror of life spring from the inexorable law ofduality that links man and woman, act and consequence, with the samepassionless unconcern. 

All the way up the hill, this man--who loved night and hermanifestations as most men love the morning--had no thought to sparefor the splendour of the heavens or the shrouded majesty of earth, soabsorbed was he in framing and rejecting possible letters to his wife, who, for all he knew, had already half-lost her heart to another man. 

The small sitting-room where Brutus, the faithful, awaited his coming, was more or less a replica of his larger one at Dera Ishmael: thechronically disordered table, books, pipes, sketches, his inseparablefriends, the bull terrier, and the brown tobacco-jar. All these, thefamiliars of his lonely hours, gave him silent greeting as he crossedthe threshold. But for once his spirit failed to respond. Thewitchery of his wife's lips and eyes; the distracting music of herlaughter; that one poignant moment of contact with her living, palpitating self, and Honor Desmond's belief in an undreamed-ofpossibility, had kindled the man's repressed passion as a lighted matchkindles dry powder; had revived in him the common human need, whichneither ambition nor work, however absorbing, has yet been known tosatisfy. 

"My God, " he thought. "If I believed I had a ghost of a chance to gethold of her again, I'd go back to that infernal ballroom this minute!"

He turned, as if to carry out his resolve: but at the last, shut downthe flood-gates of emotion, fell back on years of self-discipline, andtold his heart he was a fool. He had yet to learn that there is afolly worth more than all the wisdom of philosophers, the folly of aman who loves a woman better than his own soul. 

Going over to the table, he turned up the lamp, acknowledged theponderous jubilations of Brutus, and took the damaged pipe out of hispocket. Then he stood looking at it thoughtfully, as it lay in thepalm of his hand; an eloquent testimony to that which had been starved, denied, trampled upon for years, --with this result! Smilinghalf-scornfully at his new-found sentimentalism, he put the pieces intoan empty cigarette tin, and thrust it into the top drawer of his table. As he did so, a strange thought invaded his mind. Some day, perhaps, he would show it to her; and how delightfully she would laugh at himfor his pardonable foolishness!

But in the meantime the wooing and winning of her still remained to beachieved; a unique position for a husband!

Absorbed in thoughts evoked by the bare possibility of success, Lenoxmechanically drew out his empty tobacco-pouch, opened the jar, andthrust a hand into its capacious depths. 

Then he started; and two lines of vexation furrowed his forehead. Forhis fingers, descending in search of the good brown leaf, that was moreto him than meat and drink, encountered only a chill hardness, --thebottom of the jar. 

He had not emptied it when filling his pouch that morning; and beingmuch preoccupied had not even noticed how little was left. Evidently, during his absence, a hotel servant had helped himself to the remaininghandful, and a clear ten days must elapse before the arrival of a freshconsignment from home. 

He gathered up the remaining scraps, and gazed at them blankly. Hisconsignments were carefully timed to overlap one another. By rightsthe jar should have contained quite a fortnight's supply of his elixirvitae: and it took him one or two seconds to grasp the fullsignificance of that which had befallen him. 

"Great Heaven! I must have been overdoing it like blazes this lastmonth, " he reflected grimly, "And how about the next ten days?"

He stood aghast before that simple question, and its obvious answer. It was as if the earth has opened under his feet; as if he had suddenlydiscovered that only a thin crust intervened between himself and thecrater of a volcano. And he had travelled hitherward blindly; goadedby the threefold necessity to work, and sleep, and forget. Thus, stealthily, inexorably, a habit creeps upon a man; enclosing him meshby mesh in a network imponderable as spun silk, tenacious as steelwire. A sudden movement, a break in the hypnotic influence of routine, and he wakes to find himself prisoned in a web of his own weaving. 

Lenox pushed aside the jar impatiently, as though it were in some wayto blame; and sank into his chair, head bent, legs outstretched; thepicture of defeat. All his thoughts and hopes crashed about him inruins: and Lenox, contemplating the fragments with a numb acquiescencefar removed from resignation, saw only the old maddening irony at work;saw himself, standing yet again, on the threshold of an Eden locked andbarred against him; felt in every nerve the grip of the pitiless fact, and asked himself fiercely; "What next?"

Gradually thought penetrated the dull ache of rebellion; and Memory, that capricious handmaid of the brain, unearthed from the rubbish-heapof things forgotten, an incident of early days. 

He recalled how, on a certain night, after the confiscation of theircandles, and a stern injunction from old Ailie to speak "nae word" tillmorning, his elder brother--greatly daring--had invaded his bed, andwith lips set close to his ear had startled and thrilled him with thefollowing announcement:--

"Listen, Eldred, --what do you think? I've found out at last why UncleJock won't tell about grandfather, and why there's an empty place inthe big album where he ought to be. Ailie told me. I bothered her, and bothered her, till she said I should hear it for a warning; and Ithink you ought to hear it for a warning too. She says grandfatherserved the East India Company for forty years. He was a grand soldier, and a sportsman; a great tall man, like you will be. Ailie says you'have his face. ' But he went to hell"--this in an awestruckwhisper--"through eating too much opium, like some of the natives doout there. I wonder if it's nice stuff to eat; don't you?"

To the boy of ten, listening with rapt interest, his grandfather'sbacksliding had sounded only a few degrees more heinous thangormandising at Christmas; and since Ailie had proved obdurate whenpressed, and even bribed for further information, the spark ofcuriosity had died out for lack of fuel. But to the man offive-and-thirty, racked with reawakened passion, and with a restlessirritability, whose significance could no longer be ignored, the memoryof his brother's whispered revelation flashed like a lightning-streakacross his present dilemma; leaving him in the grasp of those invisibleforces that are the true masters of destiny; that must either break orbe broken by man's individual spirit and will. For some of us thestruggle is conscious; for some unconscious; for others it never arisesat all: because only the touchstone of circumstance can evoke any oneof those past lives whereof each single life is so mysteriously compact. 

For Eldred Lenox, imbued with his uncle's iron creed, the fight would, of necessity, be conscious and unremitting. But he had no heart tobegin it yet. He felt as a man may feel who is suddenly struck blind. Thought, movement, life itself, seemed paralysed by a fear unnameable, and new; the fear of that other self, who is the arch-enemy of us all. 

One certainty alone stood out, like a black headland from a sea ofmist; all immediate hope of ratifying his marriage was at an end. There spoke his tyrannical conscience with disconcerting directness:and Lenox had never acquired the art of disguising plain fact in agarment of high-sounding words. He told himself straightly that noright-minded man could deliberately risk handing down to others such aheritage of struggle and possible failure as was his. Yet, in the samebreath, the Devil whispered a plausible reminder that men as good as hehad taken the risk time after time; that De Quincey himself hadfollowed passion's dictates seemingly without a twinge ofself-reproach. But Lenox was too single-minded to take shelter behindthe failures of others. For him the principle was all. For him allthought of marriage must be set aside, at least, until he knew forcertain how completely the subtle poison had entered into his blood. 

"Thank God she didn't give me the chance I wanted!" he breathed in allsincerity: and flinging himself back in his chair, he lay open-eyed andstill, while night slipped silently on toward morning. 

Brutus made one or two attempts to attract his master's attention bymeans of a moist nose and an urgent paw; and failing, returnedphilosophically to the hearth-rug. 

The lamp burned low, and lower, till the room reeked with fumes ofkerosene. This minor discomfort roused Lenox. He lit two candles, blew out the lamp, and throwing aside his mess jacket, yawned andstretched himself extensively. By this time one craving outweighed allothers. Every nerve in him ached for the respite of sleep; and his onechance lay in succumbing to mental or physical exhaustion. 

He sat down to the table, and took up his pen, determined to write tillit dropped from his fingers. But here also defeat confronted him. Foralthough his subconscious brain was discomfortably alert and voluble, ordered consecutive thought refused to come at his bidding. 

He gave it up at length for the simpler expedient of pacing to and froin the measured mechanical fashion most conducive to weariness of mindand body. But though weariness came in due course, and the weight ofall time hung heavy on his eyelids, sleep held pitilessly aloof fromhis brain. 

For the greater part of two hours the man held out. Then his facehardened; and he turned deliberately to a combined book-shell andcupboard that hung on the wall. From the cupboard he took a darkslender bottle labelled chlorodyne; and seating it on the table, fetched a glass and water-bottle from the bedroom. 

That done, he poured himself out a dose far exceeding the normalallowance, and diluted it with the least admissible amount of water. 

He drank the mixture slowly, savouring its sweetness and warmth; itsuncanny power to soothe and bless. But as he set down the glassrevulsion took hold of him; and on the heels of revulsion cameself-scorn. This last roused him like the prick of a spur: for to menof Eldred Lenox's calibre, self-respect is the oxygen of the soul. Thespirit of his grandfather had "scored a point" to-night. But such anachievement must not be risked again. 

With the same deliberation that had marked all his former movements, Lenox picked up the bottle, emptied its sluggish contents down one ofthose primitive sluices that are to be found in every Indian bungalow, and returned, still absently holding it between his finger and thumb. A confession of weakness: there is no denying it. But let him who hasnot yet found the devil's chink in his own defences cast the stone. Head, heart, or heel--there is a weak spot in the strongest. Not evenAchilles' self was plunged wholesale into the waters of immunity. 

Quite suddenly Lenox realised that he was still holding the bottle: andfor some unfathomable reason the trivial detail acted as a fuse thatfires the magazine. For the first time that night, unreasoning angermastered him: anger against himself; against the whole tragi-comicalscheme of things: against the man whose dead sins he was called upon toexpiate in his own living flesh. 

A curse forced its way between his teeth; and he flung the unoffendingscrap of glass into the open hearth, where it clinked and shivered intoa hundred splinters, filling the room with the strong sickly odour ofthe drug. 

Then he went back again to the long chair; limbs and brain weightedwith a luxury of weariness. Shattered hope; a life-and-death struggleahead:--the words held no meaning for him now. His lids fell. Thebalm of Nirvana shrouded his senses, blotting out thought, as seamists, rolling landward, obliterate all things. 

The June morning broke in one sheet of gold. Creeping in through theinterstices of lowered "chicks, " it emphasised the untidy, up-all-nightaspect of the room; the sharp lines, pencilled by pain and struggle, onthe sleeper's face, where he lay full length, in shirt-sleeves andscarlet waistcoat, unhooked and flung open before weariness overpoweredhim. 

A deep sound, persistently repeated, at last invaded and dispelled thedrugged torpor of his brain: the voice of Zyarulla murmuring:"Sahib--Sahib, " with the regularity of a minute-gun. 

Lenox stirred, yawned, and looked blankly about him, as though he hadwaked in another world. Then remembrance sprang at him, like a wildthing upon its prey: and his lids fell again heavily. In that firstmoment of consciousness he understood why men of proven honour andcourage have been known to take liberties with the laws of life anddeath. 

Zyarulla, entering soundlessly, set down the _chota hassri_ on a smalltable at his master's elbow without betraying his surprise and concernby so much as the flicker of an eyelash. For not even your immaculatefamily butler can excel, in dignity and true reserve, a bearer of theold school, whose Sahib stands only second to his God, and who wouldalmost as soon think of defiling his caste as of entering another man'sservice. We have educated the grand old ideal of service out of ourown land; and we are fast educating it out of India also: though itremains an open question whether the good wrought by over-civilisationcan honestly be said to counterbalance the evil. A question fewAnglo-Indians will be found to answer in the affirmative. 

Lenox poured out his tea, and drank it thirstily. But the firstmouthful of toast was enough for him. He pushed the plate away; andhis hand went out instinctively to the pipe Zyarulla, had laid besideit. 

"Damn!" he muttered between his teeth, almost flinging it from him; andat that instant the door opened. 

"_Desmin, Sahib argya_, " [1] the Pathan announced; and with a startledsound, Lenox got upon his feet, and began fastening his waistcoat. 

"Good morning, " he said quietly. "Made a night of it, as you see; andoverslept myself. "

But beneath his quiet he was acutely aware of the contrast between hisown dishevelled aspect, and Desmond's unobtrusive neatness andfreshness. 

"Hope I don't intrude, " the latter apologised, smiling: but his keeneyes searched the other's face, and read tragedy there. "As you hadn'tturned up by ten-thirty, my wife was afraid something might have gonewrong. So I came over to set her mind at rest!"

"Your wife? Why, of course! And I promised to be round byten--ill-mannered cur that I am!" He sank wearily into his chair. "Truth is, " he added in a changed tone, "I couldn't get a wink of sleeptill near dawn; and then it came down on me like a sledge-hammer. Youknow the sort of thing. "

Desmond nodded, and took a seat on the edge of the table. 

"Are you often given that way?" he asked with seeming unconcern. 

"Now and again. "

"Ever been really bad with it?"

"Pretty bad. Why d'you ask?"

"Because from the looks of you, I should say it was wearing your nervesto fiddle-strings. Ever take anything for it?"

Lenox frowned; and Desmond made haste to add: "No call, of course, toanswer a question of that sort. But you look downright ill; and it'sunwise to let that kind of thing become a habit. "

"Damned unwise!" Lenox answered, with a smile that did not lift theshadow from his eyes. "As I know to my cost. The thing has been ahabit with me for longer than I care to reckon. "

Desmond raised his eyebrows. He had noticed the fragments in thefender: the faint suggestion of chlorodyne that still clung in the air. 

"My dear Lenox, I am sorry for that. And--the remedy? You must havetried something before now?"

"Yes. Drugged tobacco:--opium, a good strong mixture, " the otheranswered bluntly. "You may as well have it straight. You're anunderstanding fellow; and no Pharisee. "

Then, in a few clipped sentences, he stated the bald facts of the case, culminating in his discovery of the previous night. He leaned forwardin speaking; elbows on knees; eyes averted from the other's face. 

"You see, it's in the blood, --that's the hell of it all, " he concludedfiercely. "This morning, when I'd had my fill of thinking things out, I took a stiff dose of chlorodyne. Smashed the bottle afterwards, indisgust. But where's the use? The dice are loaded: and no doubt onewill be driven back to it again, sooner or later. "

Words and tone betrayed the dread note of fatalism--the moral microbeof the East. But men of Theo Desmond's calibre rarely succumb to itsparalysing influence. 

"Look here, Lenox, "--he spoke almost brusquely, --"you must get quit ofthat notion. No man worth his salt goes to meet failure half-way. Igrant you're on the edge of an ugly pit, and if you insist on peeringinto it, your chance is gone. All you have to do is to shut your eyes, and hang to the reins like the very deuce; if it's only for the sakeof--your wife. Honor told me about her, " he added, with moregentleness. 

But Lenox threw up his head impatiently. "My wife?" he repeated on anote of concentrated bitterness. "The greatest kindness I could do herwould be to plunge wholesale into the pit, and give her back thefreedom she wants. A man with a taint in his blood has no business tobeget children foredoomed to fight--and lose. "

"My good chap, " Desmond broke in hotly. "I'll never believe that anyliving soul is foredoomed to lose. The chance of a fight, no matterhow heavy the odds, includes the chance of victory. And even if thingsdo look a bit hopeless for a time, our orders are plain and straight;'No surrender. '"

Lenox searched his face. 

"Ever been through the fire yourself?"

Desmond nodded. 

"I suppose moat of us have to go through hell once or twice, " he saidquietly. "And I know how it feels to wish that some one would lock upmy revolver. "

For answer Lenox got up and paced the room, head down; hands plungeddeep into trouser-pockets; lost, by now, to all sense of hisincongruous appearance. 

The other watched him thoughtfully. Then his hand went to hisbreast-pocket, and drew out a leather case. A man proffers tobacco toa friend in trouble as instinctively as a woman proffers a caress. 

"Have a cheroot?" he said, holding them out: and Lenox checked hispacing. 

"Thanks, --no. I've no taste for 'em. Never had. "

"Better cultivate it, then. These are A1 Havannahs. A passingextravagance. Good to begin upon. I'd drop pipes for a time, if Iwere you. When it comes to breaking a habit, association is the devil. And whatever happens, don't let this heredity bogey get the upper handof you. The taint you speak of is no more, as yet, than inheritedtendency: and this accident--if you believe in accident, I don't--givesyou the chance of killing the snake in the egg. Now light up, there'sa good chap; just to keep me company. "

Lenox helped himself with a wry face; lit the cigar, and continued hiswalk. The iron had bitten into his soul: and, at the moment, he wasincapable of gratitude. Bit by bit brain and body were adjustingthemselves to the new outlook, the new demands enforced upon them; andthe process was not a pleasant one. 

Suddenly he drew up, and faced his companion. 

"You can leave me out of the reckoning now for Chumba and Kajiar, " hesaid abruptly. "I'm in no mood for that sort of foolery. I'll stayhere and grind at this book of mine instead. You must excuse me to MrsDesmond; and tell her just as much of the truth as you think fit. "

But before he had finished speaking, Desmond was on his feet, decisionin every line of him. 

"Not if I know it, my dear fellow! You won't get a stroke of work donejust at present; and 'that sort of foolery, ' as you call it, will doyou all the good in the world. Your best chance is to get rightoutside yourself; and we'll make it our business to keep youthere--Honor and I. "

At that Lenox turned huskily away; and his broken attempt at a laughwas not good to hear. 

"Damn it all, man, why don't you leave me alone, to go to the devil inmy own way? What can it matter to you, or to any one, whether I breakmyself in pieces, or am merely broken on the wheel?"

Desmond's quick ear detected emotion beneath the ungraciousness ofspeech and tone; and following him, he laid a hand on his shoulder, afriendly liberty to which Lenox was little accustomed. 

"Come along home with me, " he said quietly. "Stay for tiffin, and talkit all out with my wife. She'll be able to answer you far better thanI can. Nothing like a woman's sympathy to put a dash of conceit backinto a man. Will you follow on? Or shall I wait while you change?"

For an instant Lenox stood silent; then, greatly to his own surprise, he held out his hand. 

"I'll be ready in ten minutes, " was all he said. 

An hour later, Desmond rode away from Terah Cottage, leaving Lenox andhis wife alone together. He had promised to give her what help hecould in the delicate task she had set her heart upon: and he belongedto the satisfactory type of man who may be counted upon for goodmeasure, pressed down, and running over. 

[1] Has come. 

BOOK II. -JUST IMPEDIMENT. 

CHAPTER IX. 

 "So many men; so many loves. " --M. O. Willcocks. 

A dinner of native dishes served on leaves--to each guest his ownportion on his own leaf--eaten picnic-fashion on a Kashmir carpet inthe presence of twelve regally reproachful chairs, is a form ofentertainment only to be met with in India; and when, to theseincongruities, is added the crowning one that the host may not defilehimself by sharing the meal with his guests, you have a situationtypical of the land where all things are possible. 

Prompted by Colonel Mayhew, the Chumba Rajah, a shy taciturn boy ofsixteen, had despatched a formal invitation, hoping that the Residencyparty would honour him with their company at the Palace on the eveningof their arrival from Dalhousie; though in truth he wished themanywhere else in the world; and Colonel Mayhew, who was by no means tooold to enjoy a spasmodic daylight flirtation with a woman of Quita'sintelligence, had devised the native menu mainly for her delectation. 

A large sheet, promoted to the rank of tablecloth, covered the carpet, while ten cushions apologised for the absence of chairs. A bowl ofroses, rigidly arranged in alternate lines of flower and fern, filledthe room with fragrance. In front of each guest a snowy dome of rice, ringed about with a strange assortment of curries, gleamed on a silversalver. A quaint array of flat baskets held fragments of roast chickenand kid; unleavened cakes of a peculiarly greasy nature did duty forbread; and the only concessions to civilisation were knives and forks, table-napkins, and champagne. 

"Why shouldn't we have the courage of our barbarism, and do withoutknives and forks as well?" Quita had suggested airily, at the outset;and a faint look of horror convulsed Mrs Mayhew's bird-like face. 

Her husband saw it, and came promptly to her aid. 

"No forks, no champagne!" he retorted, laughing; and Quita picked upher fork straightway. 

"Hobson's choice!" she said, in a tone of mock resignation. "It wouldbe sheer brutality to deprive six men of champagne!"

She was sitting now on a cushion, at the Resident's right hand, feettucked away under her skirts, and a napkin laid across her knee. Onthis she had set a leaf piled with saffron-tinted rice, which she wasexploring eagerly for incidental sultanas and yellow lumps of sugar, exchanging bulletins, from time to time, with Desmond, who had takenher in to dinner, and in whom she speedily recognised a morning qualityof mind that matched her own. 

Lenox, sitting opposite between Honor and Elsie, acutely aware that hislegs were too long for the occasion, almost forgot the torment of thepast week in looking and listening, and wondering how he had everattained even a passing hold upon a spirit so lightly poised, socompact of volatile essences, that he shrank, almost with awe, from thebare thought of subjecting her uncaptured loveliness to the pains andpenalties of marriage. He sat for the most part in silence; content tolet the ripple of her voice and laughter play over him like water overparched earth. Her voice had drawn him irresistibly from the first. It was a thing of exquisite modulations. It thrilled like a caress. Its clear, cool tones, pure from passion, intoxicated him like therarefied atmosphere of the heights. Once or twice she flung him aquestion or a remark, as if compelling him to be aware of herexistence. He answered her with grave politeness, and an occasionaldirect look, before which her eyes fell, as if dazzled by a helio-flashfrom the man's inner fire. 

All these things Honor Desmond noted; and, by the searchlight of herwomanhood, discerned more than Quita herself had yet realised. 

Garth, from his uncoveted post of honour at Mrs Mayhew's left hand, noted them also; but with less of understanding. Stung to irritationby a sense of vague happenings in which he counted for nothing, and bythe fact that Quita was evidently enjoying herself far more than theoccasion seemed to warrant, he was in no mood to do justice to thesupreme event of the day--his dinner. Strange foods, too, were anabomination to his clockwork order of mind; and when, in addition, hefound himself condemned to eat them sitting cross-legged on the ground, a leaf balanced precariously on one knee, he began to entertain gravedoubts as to the comparative values of the game and the candle. 

He quite resented the manifest contentment of Elsie Mayhew and herpartner, who sat facing him, absorbed in the low-toned talk ofincipient lovers, blind and deaf to the insignificant doings aroundthem. Nor was he greatly blest in his left-hand partner, Bathurst, theRajah's tutor--a clean-limbed athlete of the two-adjective genus, whodiscoursed complacently of "bags, " "mounts, " and handicaps; the stapletopics of his kind. And while the stream of words flowed on, uncheckedby his flagrant inattention, Garth's ears were tantalised by snatchesof talk from the lively end of the table, where Desmond and Quita werebehaving like two children; by the silver quality of her laughter thatwhipped his senses, while it lulled his conscience like a narcotic, andset him devising a moonlight stroll with her later on, in the Palacecourtyard, by way of compensation for present martyrdom endured on heraccount. For since the night of the dance she had been so uniformlygracious, that he was beginning to regard his rebuff on Dynkund aslittle more than a delicate prelude to surrender after all. 

Such absorbing reflections made him so neglectful of his hostess, thatthe little lady's spasmodic efforts to enliven him with spiced snippetsof gossip--more than one item of which had emanated fromhimself--fizzled out dismally, long before the meal was over; and itwas with an audible sigh of relief that she glanced across at MrsDesmond, and got upon her feet with as much dignity as a cushion, aplump figure, and cramped limbs would allow. 

"What? You do not desert us?" Quita asked, as Desmond offered her hisarm. 

"No--I do not desert you!" He spoke lightly, but significance lurkedin his tone. "The Rajah and his suite are waiting to receive us in theDurbar Hall, and unless you object to my cigar, or send me to theright-about, I claim you as my prisoner of war for the evening!"

"_Ŕ la bonheur_! Smoke as much as you please. You will not need totie a thread round my ankle, I promise you. Why didn't I get to knowyou sooner?"

"Perhaps because you discovered metal more attractive?"

The light thrust drew blood. She flushed, and laughed uneasily. 

"A palpable hit! I might retaliate with a coal of fire in the shape ofa compliment. But you don't deserve it. Anyway, let's make up forlost time now. I have a feeling that we shall be good friends, only . . . . "

"Only--what?"

"Mrs Desmond may disapprove of me. "

"You'd not say that if you knew her better, " he answered, warmly. "Sheisn't one of your good women who make a hobby of disapproval. "

"That's a mercy! It is the pet vice of the virtuous; and Mrs Mayhewdeals in it largely. No doubt it keeps her happy, and makes her feelsuperior; and I wouldn't rob my worst enemy of such a heavenlysensation! I'm sorry for her to-night, though. She hates nativesalmost as much as Colonel Mayhew loves them; and I'm afraid she's notenvying herself; nor will poor Elsie, if Captain Lenox makes _her_ aprisoner of war for the evening! He hardly vouchsafed her half a dozenwords through dinner. "

"Lenox is no conversationalist, " Desmond answered, looking straightbefore him. "But he is a splendid fellow--worth fifty of yourdrawing-room acrobats. "

"You like him so much, then?"

"I do more than that. I admire him. "

"You are an enthusiast!"

The shadow of change in her tone did not escape him. 

"Is that also one of the vices you detest?"

"But, no! I gave you credit for more discernment. Enthusiasts andidealists are the salt of the earth. That's why I want to know more of_you_. There! In spite of myself I have crowned you with a coal offire after all! Now, please introduce me to our resplendent RajahSahib. I am going to make him talk. Colonel Mayhew has dared me tosucceed!"

They entered the Durbar Hall as she spoke--a long room overloaded withgilt furniture, gilt-framed mirrors, and the inevitable chandeliers andmusical boxes that are the insignia of semi-civilised opulencethroughout India. No self-respecting Maharajah, or Rana, or Nawabwould dream of living in a Palace devoid of either. 

Rajah Govind Singh and his four companions stood together by amarble-topped table, laughing and whispering over a book filled withphotographs of music-hall celebrities, while beside it a spuriousalbum, whose heart was a musical box, tinkled an age-old air from "LesCloches" with maddening precision. At the far end of the room a nativeconjurer had established himself, and was already performingindefatigably for the benefit of no one in particular. 

The group by the table showed a medley of colour quite in keeping withthe flash and glitter of the whole. Over spotless shirts and trousersthe boys wore brilliant silk _chogas_[1] cunningly patterned with goldwire, and surmounted by turbans of palest primrose, orange, and green. But Govind Singh, by divine right of Rajahdom, eclipsed the rest. Beneath his scarlet coat gleamed a waistcoat of woven gold, and thejewelled buckle of his Rajput _chuprass_. [2] Three strings of pearlsformed a close collar at his throat, and in front of his sea-greenturban a heron's plume sprang from a cluster of brilliants. The facesof all were no darker than ripe wheat; for your high-caste hill-mannever takes colour, like his brother of the plains. 

They had long since eaten their own simple dinner, in the scantiestclothing, and in a solemn silence, squatting on a bare mud floor. Forto the Hindu a meal is a sacred ceremony, and the Sahib's idiosyncrasyfor making merry over his food can only be accepted as part and parcelof his bewildering lack of sense and dignity in regard to the conductof life. 

During a long minority this boy had been zealously inoculated withWestern knowledge and Western points of view; and with the deceptivepliancy of the Oriental he had smilingly submitted to the process. Butdeep down in the unplumbed heart of him he waited for the good day whenhe would be rid of these well-meaning interlopers, --tireless as theirown fire-carriages, --who troubled the still waters of life and talkedso vigorously about nothing in particular; when he would be free toforget cricket and polo and futile efforts to cleanse the State fromintrigue; free to sit down in peace and grow fat, unhindered by thesenseless machinations of the outer world. 

And in the heart of Govind Singh you have a fair epitome of the greatheart of India herself: aloof, long-suffering, illogical to a degreeinconceivable by Western minds; ready to lavish deep-hearted devotionupon individual Nicholsons and Lawrences when they come her way; yet, for all her surface submission and progress, not an inch nearer toracial sympathy, or to the inner significance of English life andcharacter than she was fifty years ago. 

But, in the meanwhile, our concern is with a minor Maharajah, and hispassion for musical boxes. 

At the Resident's approach, the laughter and whispering ceased; and thefour boys endured with impassive politeness the mysterious rite ofintroduction. The tinkling album gave Quita her cue. She insisted onhearing its entire repertoire, which was mercifully limited; and hernatural ease of manner, her knack of plunging whole-heartedly into thesubject of the moment, soon put Govind Singh's shyness to flight. Hedeserted monosyllables for clipped, hurried sentences, jerked out withan odd mixture of nervousness and self-satisfaction. Quita flashed asmile at Desmond, who stood sentry at her elbow, in seeming ignoranceof the fact that Garth was making tentative attempts to usurp his place. 

"You must show me some of the others, Rajah Sahib, " she declared, asthe complacent album clicked into silence, "and when I go home toEngland I will hunt you up a new kind to add to your collection!"

The boy's eyes lost their look of lazy indifference; a gleam of superbteeth illumined his face. 

"An upright grand is the last trifling addition to it, Miss Maurice, "Colonel Mayhew informed her, "but the Rajah was a little disappointedwhen he found that it couldn't be set going by the turning of a key. "

"I am liking the big noise--the big _tamasha_, " the young monarchexplained in all gravity. "And I think that one is too much price fora box that will do nothing unless somebody knows to make it speak. "

"Mrs Desmond can make it speak for you, Rajah Sahib, " Colonel Mayhewsuggested; and the boy turned upon her with shy eagerness. 

"Can you really do a tune?" he asked. 

"Several tunes!" she answered, smiling. "A big noise, if you like. "

"Oh, that is very good business. Thanks awfully. "

He spoke the slang phrases, picked up from Bathurst, with mechanicalprecision; and Honor, still smiling, went over to the piano--aflamboyant instrument of rosewood and gold. After a second ofhesitation Lenox followed, opened it for her, and resting a hand on thegilt back of her chair, bent down to speak to her before she began toplay. The suggestion of intimacy in his attitude was not lost onQuita, who saw it all, without glancing in their direction. Her lipstightened; and she started slightly when Desmond spoke to her. 

"Will you go round the musical boxes with me?" he asked, in anundertone that bordered on tenderness. For he saw that something inher suffered, whether it were pride or love. 

"But yes--by all means, " she answered, with a lift of her head whichsuggested to Desmond a jerk on the curb-chain. In moving off togetherthey passed close to Garth. But Quita, who was abstractedly openingand closing her fan, did not seem aware of his presence; and he stoodlooking after them--nonplussed and inwardly blaspheming. He did nothold the key to this new phase of the situation. 

Mrs Mayhew--noting his detachment from the Palace group, and quiteneedlessly alarmed lest politeness should impel him to return toher--sought out a strategic seat near the piano; though in truth HonorDesmond's masterly rendering of Chopin's heroic polonaise was, for her, no more than a complicated tumult of sound without sense, and her wraptexpression resulted from the fact that she was debating whether her_durzi_ could possibly reproduce at sight the subtle simplicity of MrsDesmond's evening gown. For she had sons growing up at home--thisinsignificant woman, whose plump proportions and bird-like eyes hadearned her the nickname of "the Button Quail"; and even a goodappointment did not annul the vagaries of the rupee, which was behavingpeculiarly ill just then. In the intervals of imaginary dressmaking, she was enjoying shrewd speculations as to the nature and extent of thebudding "affair" between the two at the piano; for her small mind clungtenaciously to the Noah's Ark view of life. Also it seemed thatElsie's own "little affair" was assuming quite a promising aspect. Personally, she disliked the man, but his talent was undeniable. Shesupposed he must be making money by it; and he was quite clearly makinga right-of-way into her daughter's heart. 

They had drifted apart from the rest without need of spoken suggestion;and now, under cover of Honor's music, which produced a tendency togravitate towards the piano, the man grew bolder. 

"There is moonlight out in the courtyard, " he said, very low; and hetried, without success, to look into her eyes. "_Que dítes-vous_?Shall we go?"

She did not answer at once. A new spirit of boldness was awake in her, urging her to take hold of her golden hour with both hands, nothingdoubting. But the man, even when he charmed her most, failed toinspire her trust. And while she stood hesitating, his gaze never lefther face. 

"Are you thinking it would scandalise _la petite mčre_?"

"It might. She is easily scandalised!"

"But you would like to come?"

"Yes--I would like to come. "

"_Eh bien_--that is enough. "

"Is it?"

She looked up at him now with those great, truthful eyes of hers, whichhe found oddly disconcerting at times. 

"Enough for me, at all events!" he answered boldly. "Come!"

And she came. 

The flagged quadrangle, walled in with darkness and worn with the treadof numberless women's feet, showed silver-grey in the light of a moonnearing the full; and above it, in a square patch of sky, starssparkled with a veiled radiance like diamonds caught in a film ofgossamer. As Elsie emerged from the shadow of the verandah, she had asense of stepping into an unreal world, and the Palace walls, shuttingout the familiar contours of earth, strengthened the illusion. Thenight seemed the accomplice of her mood, in league with her ownexquisite sensibility; a night created for sheltering tenderness. 

Michael Maurice, divining her sensations with the uncanny accuracy ofhis type, pressed a little closer to her as they walked, so that nowand again, as if by chance, his arm brushed her own, and each contactquickened her happy commotion of heart and pulse. They came upon arough stone bench, and he paused. 

"It is pleasanter to sit, _n'est-ce pas_?"

"Yes. But we mustn't sit long. "

"Mustn't we? How does one measure time on such a night as this? Bythe beating of hearts, or by the pulsations of stars?"

She laughed softly. 

"How foolish you are!"

"It is good to be foolish at the right time, and with the right person!Wisdom is the death's-head at the feast of life. But we are going toshut her outside the door for a whole week--you and I. "

The strangely sweet magic of those linked pronouns stirred Elsie asnever before; though the sound of them had pleased her once, not alittle, on the lips of Kenneth Malcolm. Bud she answered lightly, aswomen will, when they feel barriers giving way. 

"I never knew I had agreed to anything so desperate!"

He had laid his arm along the back of the seat; so that his hand waswithin an inch of her shoulder. He moved it closer. 

"You have done more than that without knowing it--_petite amie_, " hesaid, yielding himself, as always, to the witchery of the moment. "Itis your doing that I have achieved an inspired picture. It is yourdoing that I want this week in Arcadia to be an idyll we shall neitherof us forget--an idyll of sunlight, moonshine, and blessed freedom from_les convenances_. No past--no future--only the present; and in it twospirits tuned to one key. That is the secret of perfect enjoyment. "

She shook her head. 

"I don't quite understand. It sounds too fantastic. The past and thefuture are there always. One can't get rid of them. "

"But one can shut the door on them when they threaten to disturb thepresent, which is the great reality after all. "

"Can one? You seem to have a talent for shutting doors!"

"A convenient talent; worth cultivating! You may take my word for it. "

Something in the statement or its manner of utterance jarred, ever soslightly, --threatened to break the charm that held her. 

"Dangerously convenient, " she murmured, in gentle reproof. 

"Little Puritan! What a narrow track you walk upon. Hardly room on itfor two abreast. Is there?"

The last words were almost a whisper. He pressed nearer, bringing hisface close to hers. At the same moment she felt a light touch on hershoulder, and drawing back to escape the disturbing eloquence of hiseyes, she discovered the presence of his encircling arm. The discoverybrought her to her feet--flushed, palpitating, aquiver with anger atthis first shadow of insult to her maidenhood. 

"Will you take me in again, please?" she said quietly, and the requestsavoured of command. For her gentle nature was founded on a rock; anda very little below the unresisting surface one came upon adamant, pureand simple. But the unabashed Frenchman caught one of her hands, andcrushed it against his lips. 

"_Petite amie_--forgive me! I was overbold. I am not fit to touch thehem of your dress. But one is only flesh and blood; and you . . . Sayyou are not angry with me, in your heart . . . . "

She drew her hand away decisively; and with unconscious cruelty rubbedthe back of it against her dress, as if to remove a stain. 

"I am angry--I have a right to be angry, " she answered in the sametoneless voice. "And if you will not come in with me, I shall goalone. "

He rose then; and they crossed the enchanted courtyard together--aclear foot of space between them. 

The brilliance of the Durbar Hall smote the girl painfully. It was asthough the light had power to penetrate and reveal her hiddenperturbation. Without looking up, she felt her mother's eyes upon her;and the wild-rose tint of her cheeks deepened under their scrutiny. But she avoided meeting them, and, going straight to her father, slipped a small hand under his arm. She felt indefinably in need ofprotection, not only from the man, whose kiss had moved her more thanhe guessed, but from herself, and the new emotions quickening at herheart; and in all times of trouble she turned spontaneously to herfather. He was the true parent of her spirit; and, but for thematter-of-fact, half-condescending devotion of three boys at home, MrsMayhew might, at times, have felt left out in the cold. 

"Enjoying yourself, little girl?" the father asked, smiling down at her. 

"Yes, of course, dear--ever so much, " she replied, with braveuntruthfulness; and the lie must have been forgiven her in heaven. 

But the veil of enchantment was rent; and no needle of earth has everbeen ground fine enough to draw its frayed edges together. 

[1] Long loose coats. 

[2] Cross-belt. 

CHAPTER X. 

 "Woman, I grope to find you; but I cannot, O, is there no way to you, and no path, -- No winding path!" --S. Phillips. 

And the good folk of Chumba, --men, women, and children, --were earlyastir on this June day, in whose fiery lap lay hid the luck of theState for the coming year. 

The stone streets of the little town, so steep as to be cut out, hereand there, into a rough semblance of steps, were alive with quicklymoving figures, in holiday attire: which, in the East, is a trueoutward and visible sign of its wearer's inward and spiritual sense offestivity. 

Open shop fronts and quaintly carven balconies were noisy with shrillvoices. Every self-respecting house was plastered with fresh mud;every window and doorway garlanded with marigold and jasmine buds;every brain, absorbed in the paramount speculation, as to how thesacrificial buffalo would behave. 

At three o'clock, under a blazing sun, the Rajah set out, enthroned onhis State elephant, whose silver howdah and gala trappings formed afitting pedestal for the red and gold magnificence of the young princehimself. Two ropes of pearls hung down to his waist: a huge uncutemerald made a vivid incident of green upon his gilded chest: and thediamond aigrette, surmounting his turban of palest green muslin, flashed and quivered in the sunshine, like living fire. The Resident, in immaculate grey suit and tall white helmet, sat beside him in theawkwardly swaying howdah with an admirable air of comfort andunconcern; and their triumphal progress was enlivened by the brazencheerfulness of trumpets and trombones, the melancholy squeal ofbagpipes, and the ear-piercing shriek of native instruments; while, through all, and above all, and under all, the throbbing of innumerabletom-toms suggested the heart-beats of the mighty crowd made audible. 

Journeying thus, along the unshadowed road that overhangs the river, they came at length to the promontory itself. Here, beneath the hugeState _shamianah_, gaily coloured Kashmir rugs were spread, for GovindSingh and his court: while curtained enclosures, set at duly decorousdistance, concealed the women-folk, who had been conveyed thither underclose cover much earlier in the day. 

Through the surging chattering crowd, --which fell back right and leftbefore their quietly determined advance, --the Residency party madetheir way in to the partial shade of the _shamianah_, wherein chairshad been set for the English guests; four on either side of the Palacegroup. 

It was a very dignified Elsie who slid to the ground before Mauricecould get to her, and carefully avoided his reproachful gaze. But hefollowed her into the tent, and took his seat beside her unrebuked. The trifling incident of the night before had increased not merely hercharm but her value in his eyes. If this were not the 'real thing, ' hereflected, in a virtuous glow of self-approval, then surely there couldbe no reality on earth. 

At this moment he became aware that Garth and Mrs Desmond wereestablished in the two neighbouring chairs. His surprise at thisunexpected conjunction showed so plainly in his face that Honor, meeting his glance, responded with dimplings of sheer enjoyment beforedevoting herself to the entertainment of her victim. 

Desmond, in pursuance of a policy which at least saved Lenox from thesharpest sting of all, had managed to ride close behind Quita andGarth; and being nimbler in dismounting than the older man, hadsuccessfully usurped his privilege of lifting her from the saddle. Sheherself, though not a little puzzled as to the meaning of it all, wasbeginning to relish the humour of the game; and as Desmond escorted herinto the tent, she turned upon him a smile of unabashed amusement. 

"This is flattering! I appear to have made a conquest of _Monsieur leCapitaine_!"

"And for once appearances are not deceitful, " he capped her straight. 

"How enchantingly direct you are! But at this rate Mrs Desmond really_will_ disapprove. . . "

"No fear! Mrs Desmond is enjoying it quite as much as I am!"

She divined a hidden meaning in his words: but merely lifted hereyebrows and shoulders in characteristic fashion. 

"Well--it she doesn't object, I am sure I don't!"

"Nor I, by any means. . . . Come this way. "

He led her across the tent, having noted and admired his wife's skilfulbit of strategy: and Lenox instinctively took the same direction. 

Quita chose the chair farthest from the Palace group; and in a fewmoments, she knew that her husband was standing close behind her. Itwas the first time he had deliberately approached her since theirencounter at the ball: and the silent tribute, so characteristic of theman, elated her with a renewed sense of power over a personalityimmeasurably stronger than her own. It was like bringing down big gameafter the mild diversion of shooting pheasants. But he had spent thewhole morning in the verandah with Honor Desmond; and the remembrancestill rankled. Upset her equanimity as he might, the spirit ofsurrender was still far from her. 

At his approach Desmond made a slight movement, as if to rise; but theother shook his head. It was enough to be thus close to her, to feelthat speech was possible, yet not compulsory. All of which Desmond wasquick to understand. 

"Look, . . Look . . . " Quita whispered suddenly, leaning towards him. "They are forcing that poor brute to the edge. He has been in before. Colonel Mayhew told me. He knows; . . . He is afraid. Oh, _mon Dieu_, how horrible! . . . He is over!"

A mighty shout from the assembled thousands, who stood ten and twentydeep along the banks, confirmed her words. The shuddering victim hadbeen forced over the ten-foot drop; and for a few breathless moments, was lost in the green swirling water. A second shout, --unanimous, asfrom one Gargantuan throat, --heralded the reappearance of the flatblack head, with its dilated nostrils held well above the blindingwreaths of foam. Tossed mercilessly from boulder to boulder, the stoutswimmer neared the first big rapid; and a moment later was swept, anunresisting log, into its treacherous clutches. Out of it he plunged, still swimming valiantly; and, despite the opposing force of thecurrent, made a bold dash for one of the few possible landings on thetown bank. But the people, foreseeing the attempt from longexperience, were gathered at this particular danger-point inoverwhelming numbers; with the result that the unhappy beast was fairlyhustled back into the boiling stream. 

Here the second rapid claimed him; and excitement became intense; forthe fate of a year hung trembling in the balance. There was noshouting now; but a breathless expectant silence. Only theriver, --full of sound and fury, --babbled unceasingly to the majesticsky. 

The moment of uncertainty was short as it was tense. Once more thebrave black head appeared, a blot on the foam-flecked surface, nolonger battling, with dilated nostrils, against fearful odds; but lyingsideways, inert . . . Lifeless; . . . And a prolonged outburst ofshouting, clapping, and huzzaing informed the echoing hills that thegreat spirit of rivers and streams had accepted the sacrifice; that theluck of the State was established for twelve good months to come. 

"Poor beast, poor plucky beast!" Quita murmured rebelliously. Hersympathies had been strangely stirred; and an unbidden moisture cloudedher eyes. In that hapless drowned buffalo she beheld, not a mere deadanimal, but one victim the more to the eternal law of sacrifice;--thelaw that makes one man's suffering the price of another man'sgain;--the law that lies at the root of half the tragedy of the world. "How happy they all are!" she went on. "That Rajah boy is delighted. They have no imaginations these people. So much the better for them!"

By now the _shamianah_ hummed with talk and laughter and congratulationon the outcome of the _Mčla_. Every one had risen; and Desmond turnedwith the rest to add his quota to the polite speeches that were theorder of the moment. 

But Quita, still intent upon the stirring scene without, moved forwarda little space to obtain a better view of the river and the crowd. Lenox followed her; and with a start she became aware that he wasstanding almost at her elbow; though still a little behind her, so thatshe must turn if she wanted to see his face. 

"Are you wishing you could put some of that on canvas?" he asked in avoice that he vainly strove to render natural. 

"Yes. It would be such a triumphant riot of colour. But I'm afraid itwould look crude and impossible in any frame except the frame of anIndian sky. "

She did not turn in speaking; but the softness of her voice soothed hischafed spirit like a benediction, and robbed him for the moment of allpower to reply. 

"I was really trying to stamp it all on my memory, " she went on after apause. "It is a sight one doesn't see twice in a lifetime. Just for afew seconds it was terrible. But I would not have missed it for theworld. "

"Nor I. Now that I am here, I feel grateful to the Desmonds forpersuading me to come. "

"Did they have to drag you here by main force?"

"Not quite! I thought I had better stay and grind at my book; that wasall. But they wouldn't hear of it. "

"Do you always obey their orders implicitly?" There was veiled scornin her tone, and a new warmth in his as he replied:

"I would do any mortal thing they asked me to, within reason. In allmy life no two people have been so good to me. "

"You evidently admire _her_ very much. " The stress on the pronoun wastoo delicate to catch his notice. 

"I do, immensely. How could any man in his senses do otherwise? Or, for that matter, any woman either? I hoped--I thought--you would havebeen good friends with her. "

He spoke his honest enthusiasm in the simple desire that she shouldshare it. But her nerves were still strung to concert pitch, and hehad struck the wrong note. 

"You thought her many virtues might have an improving effect on me, Isuppose?"

The acorn was no longer veiled: and he winced under it. 

"No: only is occurred to me that the two . . . . Best women I have everknown might reasonably have a good deal in common. "

"It is kind of you to couple me with her. I am flattered, I assureyou!--But, personally, I prefer something lees exalted, something morehuman, more fallible. . . . "

"Perhaps that explains your predilection for Garth?" he broke inabruptly, pricked to resentment by her persistent note of mockery. 

"I am not aware that my friendship with Major Garth requires any sortof explanation. "

She was rigid now--face, voice, figure: his golden opportunity gonepast recall. Men pay as dearly for sins of ignorance as for the baserkinds of trespass: and the man who does not understand women is almostworse, in their esteem, that the man who treats them ill. 

"Is it wise--for your own sake . . . To be so careless of your goodname?" he persisted desperately; goaded by the knowledge that he wouldnot soon get speech of her again. 

"Possibly not. But I don't feel called upon to retire into a convent, or to advertise the fact that I am not . . . 'on the market. ' Nor do Ichoose to have my conduct called in question by any man living. "

She faced him now;--defiant, a bright spot on either cheek. 

And before he knew how to answer her, Colonel Mayhew was upon them, overflowing with cheerful raillery, and radiantly unaware that he hadstepped into a powder magazine. 

Long before the returning procession reached the Residency, Quita hadrepented of her little-minded display of irritation, consoling herselfwith the resolve that she would atone for it next time; whereas Lenoxhad decided that for once Honor Desmond's intuition was at fault: thatit needed no 'bogey of heredity' to widen the impassable gulf dividinghim from his wife. 

CHAPTER XI. 

 "O all that in me wanders, and is wild, Gathers into one wave, and breaks on thee. " --Phillips. 

In the deep heart of Kalatope Forest, where the trees fall apart as if byunanimous consent, the natural glade of Kajiar lies like a giant emeraldunder a turquoise sky. Peace broods over this sanctuary of Nature'smaking, dove-like, with folded wings. No lightest echo of the world'sturmoil and strife disturbs the stillness. Only at dawn and dusk, thethin note of the temple bell, the chanting of priests, and the unearthlyminor wail of conches, announce the downsitting and uprising of thelittle stone image of godhead, housed in a picturesque temple thatnestles among low trees, beside the Holy Lake, at the southern end of theglade. 

For Hindus are the most devout Nature-worshippers on the face of theearth. To them, beauty of place translates itself as God's direct cry tothe soul; and in the isolated glade of Kajiar, with its sweep of shelvingturf, its encircling pines and deodars, and its towering snow-peaksstanding sentinel in the north, --deity reigns supreme; deity and thegreat grey ape of the Himalayas. 

Only for one week in the year does Kajiar spring full-fledged into aplace of human significance. From Dalhousie, on the one hand, and fromChumba on the other, a light-hearted crowd of revellers profanes thequiet of earth and sky. On the outskirts of the forest tents spring up, like mushrooms, in a night; the devotional voices of the temple aredrowned in the clamour of bugles, the throb of racing hoofs, thechallenging gaiety of the band, and the heart-stirring wail of the RoyalChumba Pipers; wiry hill-men, in kilts and tartans;--the pride of theyoung Rajah's heart. 

The 'Kajiar week' is the central event of Dalhousie's season:--anArcadian revel of perfumed shadow, and sun-warmed earth; a carnival ofcamp-life; ushering in the gloom of the Great Rains;--the triple tyrannyof mist, mildew, and mackintoshes. And early on the morning after the_Mčla_, --while the breath of night still lingered in gorges and ravines, and in shadowed patches of the ascending path, a mixed procession of menand horses, shuffling mules, and trotting coolies wound, snake-like, outof the Chumba valley towards Kalatope Forest and the emerald glade. 

All the Rajah's party was mounted, save Mrs Mayhew and the medicalmissionary's wife, who preferred the leisurely ease of their dandies: andin the van of the procession, a hundred yards and more in advance of it, Quita rode with James Garth. 

Her husband's bearing throughout the previous evening had convinced herthat their passage of arms in the _shamianah_ had killed the buddingpossibility of a better understanding between them: and the fact that shewas to blame, did not make the knowledge easier to bear. For she knewnow--knew consciously--that she craved the love and admiration of thisbig silent husband of hers, as she had never yet craved anything in earthor heaven: that his mere presence disturbed every fibre of her in afashion she had hitherto believed impossible; that his aloofness drew andheld her, as no other man's ardour had ever done. These two days ofcloser contact, of hearing his voice, of watching, without seeming towatch, the familiar movements of his face and figure, had waked toconscious life germs that had long lain at her heart, quickening indarkness. 

But pride was a stubborn element in her. Where she gave greatly, shedemanded greatly. The fact that he had taken her to task bred asuspicion that she had been sought out for that purpose, not because hecould no longer keep away: and his evident determination to give her nochance of retrieving the damage done in a moment of irritation, broughther near to defiance, --the danger-point of her nature. Hence renewedencouragement of Garth, with intent to italicise her Declaration ofIndependence; and with a half-acknowledged hope that Lenox might begoaded by jealousy to renewed remonstrance. 

And Garth, --who was used to the bestowal, rather than the receipt offavours, --accepted this woman's encouragement as gratefully as anenamoured subaltern. Desmond's recent tactics had but served to convincehim that the walls of Jericho must be carried by assault. Whatever theoutcome, the thrill of conquest must at least be his. 

The six-foot roadway up to Kajiar gave him ample excuse for ridingneedlessly close to his companion; and he inclined himself closer intalking, thus giving a provocative flavour to ordinary speech. 

"I think, in common fairness, it is my turn for an innings again, --don'tyou?"

She laughed, and lifted her shoulders, evading direct reply. 

"Does that mean that you care nothing, one way or other?" There wassmothered passion in his tone. 

"And if it does? What then?"

"Gad! How coolly you stab a poor devil, whose worst sin is that he isin----" But before the word was out, she checked him sharply. 

"Major Garth!--How _dare_ you?"

Her white-hot anger seared both his vanity and his heart. But he hadcourage of a sort: and he stood his ground. 

"A man in my case will dare anything. Besides, you have insight enoughto have known it these many weeks; and why should the plain statementanger you, when evidently the plain fact does not?--Tell me that. "

The question smote her to silence. For she could not tell him: neithercould she answer hotly and break with him for good. Throughout thecoming week, at least, their intimacy must remain intact; and beyond ither mind refused to look. She saw herself caught in a tangle of her ownmaking: a hot wave of vexation at her helplessness, at her cruelly falseposition, fired her face from chin to brow. 

But Garth, noting the phenomenon, interpreted it otherwise. 

"You find my riddle unanswerable?" he questioned almost tenderly: and wasmet by a lightning-flash of denial. 

"No. By no means! The answer is simple enough. Unhappily you cannotwipe out--the fact. But you can avoid expressing it: and youmust, --unless you are prepared to lose everything. "

"By Jove, no!--I keep what I have gained, --at any price. And at leastyour proffer of friendship gives me better right to monopolise you thanthat chap Desmond can lay claim to. But he appears to be privileged. "

"He is privileged. "

"How so?"

"Simply by being the right sort of man. "

Garth scrutinised her keenly. 

"And a V. C. Into the bargain--eh? I don't mind betting that's half theattraction. Just a showy bit of pluck, dashed off at a hot-headedmoment--and you women turn a man into a god on the strength of it! Thefellow got his chance, and took it--that's all. "

It is of the nature of small minds to disparage great ones; and ingeneral Quita would have dismissed the matter with a light retort. Butin her present mood, the man's petty personalities jarred more thanusual. "I think we won't discuss Captain Desmond, " she said withoutlooking round. "To pick holes in a man of that quality only seems toaccentuate one's own littleness. "

"Yours--or mine?"

"Both. "

"By Jove--but you're frank!"

"Have you ever known me otherwise?"

"Can't say I have. --But I'm hanged if I know what's come to you theselast two days! Except that you are always far too alluring for my peaceof mind, you hardly seem like the same woman. "

The truth of his assertion wrenched her back to a lighter mood. 

"What an alarming accusation! Is any healthily intelligent andprogressive human being ever the same for many weeks together?Change--readjustment--is the keynote of life; the very breath of it. When you can accuse me of _not_ changing I shall know that I have falleninto the sere and withered leaf past redemption. And now that I haveexpiated myself--(probably to your more complete confusion!)--we'll havea short canter to blow away cobwebs. The road is rather less breakneckjust here. "

A flick of the whip sent Yorick forward at a bound; and Garth--stiflingunheroic qualms--could not choose but follow her daring lead. 

Throughout the remaining eight miles neither her tongue nor her spiritflagged; and for the man at least the journey's end came too soon. 

It was a transformed Kajiar that basked in the full glory of noon, asthey emerged from the forest, and drew rein on the high ground behind thelittle wooden rest-house, to enjoy a few moments' survey of the brilliantscene. 

At the far end, around the Rajah's private chalet, the native camp wasfast springing into life. While, down in the northern hollow, wherewhite tents clustered thickest, lay the big general camp; the core of allthings social and frivolous. 

Hurdles, water jumps, and a long tent pavilion had changed the centre ofthe glade into a racecourse, where subalterns, undaunted by a blazingsun, were practising ponies for forthcoming gymkhanas. Goal-posts werealready fixed for the great yearly football match between Chumba andDalhousie; in which contest victory was by no means always to the West, since Jeff Bathurst, a famous performer, trained and captained the Chumbateam: and in another part of the green, three wooden sign-posts ofunequal height gave promise of tilting matches to come. 

Couples and groups, in the lightest of muslins and flannels, saunteredidly in the scented shadow of the pines; or lounged, smoking and talking, on the warm green earth. 

The appeal of the whole was to a spirit of enjoyment pure and simple, tothe casting aside of care and thought; a passing respite from the shadowof the future: and Quita's native zest for happiness urged her to instantresponse. 

 "Unborn To-morrow, and dead Yesterday, Why fret about them, if To-day be sweet, "

she quoted softly. "That is clearly the motto of the week; and it looksas if every one intended to live up to it, --conscientiously. "

Garth saw his advantage and pressed it home. 

"You and I among the number, eh? At least we understand one another, which is more than most of those philandering couples do. Why shouldn'twe make the most of our seven golden days and leave next week to lookafter itself?"

"Why not, indeed?"

She spoke absently; her eyes resting on the snow-peak in the north. Theanswer lay too deep down for utterance. But Garth took her enigmaticalecho for acquiescence, and laid his plans accordingly. 

Nor were these two the only pair who arrived at Garth's philosophicalconclusion. Life was fulfilled, for the nonce, with laughter andleisure; with the unchanging, passion-breathing blue and gold of aHimalayan June; and on all sides the charmed circle of pines and deodarsshut them off from the forgotten world and 'them that dwell therein. '

Atmosphere, circumstance, and her own half-awakened heart conspired withMichael Maurice to draw Elsie down, by slow and delicious degrees, fromthe small pedestal whereon she had taken refuge since the night of thePalace dinner; till all unaware, she acceded to his fantastic notion ofshutting the door upon Wisdom. Nor was it long before those whose profitand pleasure it is to make capital out of their neighbours' doings hadassured themselves and each other that the 'week' would be responsiblefor two engagements at least. 

Such talk did not readily reach Lenox's ears. But Kenneth Malcolm, whoseaspirations were no secret to the busily idle world around him, wasspeedily enlightened: and there could be neither peace nor rest for himtill he had confirmation or denial from Elsie's lips. 

Six months earlier he had pleaded his cause with such halting eloquenceas he could command; and the girl's refusal had been qualified by aconfession that at least she preferred him to any other man of heracquaintance. On the strength of this admission the boy had simply stoodaside and waited: hoping, as only the young can hope, because the fervourof their desire renders the possibility of non-fulfilment unthinkable. Then Maurice had entered the field, carrying all before him, with theinimitable assurance that was his; and by now Kenneth had reached theagony-point in a painful, if educative experience. Standing aside was nolonger endurable. By some means he must secure Elsie, if only for tenminutes, and discover the truth. 

"And a man need only look into her eyes for that, " he decided, with athrob of troubled anticipation. 

His opportunity came on the third day of the 'week. ' The great footballmatch between East and West was progressing vigorously to the tune ofshouts and cheers. Maurice, who had small taste for sport, had gonesketching with his sister at her urgent request; and as Elsie settledherself, with a book, on a slope of hot pine-needles, she was surprisedand startled to see Kenneth Malcolm approaching her. 

"May I sit here for a little?" he asked. "I have hardly had two wordswith you since you came back from Chumba. I suppose you enjoyed it alltremendously?"

"Oh yes. It was delightful. Do sit down. "

The restraint of his manner was infectious, as restraint is apt to be;and she was hampered by a prescience of things to come. 

"I was awfully keen to go too, " he said, as he obeyed her. "But perhapsit's just as well that I didn't get the chance, judging from . . . Fromwhat I hear. "

"You shouldn't judge from what you hear, " she murmured. 

"Shouldn't I? But unluckily it fits in with . . . What I see. MissMayhew . . . " he pressed forward, his eyes searching her face, devoutworship in the sincere blue depths of them. "Will you be angry with me, if I ask you a straight question?"

She shook her head. 

"And will you give me a straight answer?"

"If I can. "

"Is it true that you are likely to . . . Marry Maurice?"

"Not that I know of. " He took a great breath, like a condemned man whohears his reprieve. 

"Then, may I still believe . . . What you told me at Lahore?"

Her answer seemed an eternity in coming; for a plain 'yes' or 'no' wereequally far from the truth. This boy of four-and-twenty gave her therestful sense of reliance and reserve force that she so missed inMaurice. But there was no art, no thrill in his love-making. It wasdirect and simple as himself. He never struck a chord of emotion andleft it quivering, as Maurice had done many times. 

"May I?"--he persisted gently. 

"I still think you are . . . The best man I know, " she admitted, withoutlooking at him; and he flushed to the roots of his hair. 

"But not the one you--care for most? It's that that matters, you know. "

"Oh, I can't tell--truly I can't, " she pleaded distressfully. 

"Then I must just go on waiting. "

"I wish you wouldn't even do that. "

"I can only prevent it by putting a bullet through my head. "

The quiet finality of his tone was more convincing than volumes ofprotestations; and she shuddered. 

"Don't say such things, please. --You hurt me. "

"I wouldn't do that for a kingdom. But it's the truth. --I go down on thefifteenth, you know. "

"Yes. --I'm sorry. "

"Are you? Then why--oh, I don't understand you!" he broke off in despair. 

"I'm not sure that I understand myself--yet. It takes time, I suppose. "

"Not when the right chap turns up, I fancy. But I'll give you as muchtime as you want. I have a year's leave due. Shall I take it, and gohome?"

She looked rueful. 

"A year is a long time. But perhaps that would be best. You mightfind--some one else there, who understood herself better. "

"That's out of the question, " he answered almost harshly. 

"But at all events, --I'll go. "

A prolonged silence followed this statement: and when he spoke again, itwas of other things. Elsie followed suit: but the result was notbrilliant. She endured the strain as long as she could; then inventingan excuse, she left him; though, to her surprise, it hurt her more thanshe could have believed a week ago. 

That afternoon, during the progress of a hybrid gymkhana, --ranging fromsteeplechasing to obstacle races for men and natives, --the first whisperof current gossip reached Lenox's ears. 

Standing behind a restless row of hats and parasols, he was watching withsome interest the preliminary canter of a horse he had backed heavily, when Garth and Quita, deep in animated talk, passed across the line ofchairs, and a woman close to Lenox turned to her neighbour. 

"That match is a certainty, Mrs Mayhew. Say what you like. I'm sure ofit. I only wonder it hasn't been given out before now. "

Mrs Mayhew shifted her parasol and inspected the retreating pair throughher gold-rimmed pince-nez, as though, by examining their shoulder-blades, she could determine the exact state of their hearts. 

"I don't quite know _what_ to think, " she remarked with judicialemphasis. "I don't believe anything is a certainty where Major Garth isconcerned. But if they are not engaged they _ought_ to be! I don't likethat girl, though. She is much too independent for my taste; andengagement or no, she probably lets Major Garth make love to her. Hewould never have stuck to her for six months otherwise. "

On the last words Lenox started as it a cold finger-tip had touched hisheart. Such a thought had never occurred to him: and he could havemurdered, without compunction, the small self-satisfied woman who hadlodged the poisoned shaft in his mind. 

Turning on his heel, he made straight for his tent, where a litteredcamp-table gave proof that the art of taking a holiday could not bereckoned among his accomplishments. Then he sat down by it and bowed hishead upon his hands. To doubt his wife's integrity was rank insult. Yethe knew Garth's evil reputation; knew also that the suggestion wouldcling to his memory like a limpet, and torture him in the endless hoursof wakefulness from which there was now no way of escape. 

Enforced abstinence from tobacco and stimulants had told severely uponhis nerves, appetite, and health; and a foretaste of the sleepless nightahead of him tempted him to regret his hasty destruction of the bottle ofchlorodyne, which had not been replaced. 

Till dusk he worked without intermission; and, as if by a fiendish nicetyof calculation, the evening mail-bag, --brought out by runner fromDalhousie, --contained the coveted parcel of tobacco, whose arrival he hadalternately craved and dreaded throughout the past ten days. 

Zyarulla set it before him with manifest satisfaction. 

"Now will my Sahib taste comfort and peace again, " he muttered into thedepths of his beard, and having cut the strings of the parcel, discreetlywithdrew. 

For a while Lenox merely grasped his recovered treasure, feasting hissoul upon the knowledge that here, within the space of one small cube, lay the promise of sleep, peace of mind, oblivion. Then, with unsteadyhands, he opened the tin: took from his pocket a briar of great age andgreater virtue; filled it; lighted it; and drew in the first mouthful ofaromatic fragrance, with such rapture of refreshment as a man, parchedwith fever, drains a glass held to his lips. 

A great peace enfolded him: and no thought of resistance arose to breakthe enchantment. For the 'mighty and subtle' drug kills with kindness. Coming to a tormented man in the guise of an angel of peace, it lureshim, lulls him, and wraps him about with false contentment beforeplunging him into the pit. 

While the holiday folk trooped into the long mess-tent, laughing orlamenting over the afternoon's vicissitudes, Lenox sat at his table inshirt and trousers, his pen devouring the loose sheets before him. Hebade Zyarulla bring him meat, bread, and a cup of coffee, and denyadmittance even to 'Desmond Sahib' himself. And throughout the night heworked, and smoked, and finally slept as he had not slept since theBachelors' Ball. 

Before dawn he was up, and out: a gun on his shoulder, field-glassesslung across his back. He had given orders for a party of beaters to berequisitioned, in his name, from the Rajah's camp; and Zyarulla could betrusted to see to it that he should not starve. All day he tramped andclimbed, shot and sketched, to his huge satisfaction; and returning atdusk, repeated his programme of the night before. 

His departure without a word of explanation had roused Desmond's anxiety. He suspected a fresh supply of tobacco; and this sudden invisibilityconfirmed his worst fears. He spoke of them to his wife after breakfast:and for all her radiant hopefulness of heart, she had small consolationto offer him. 

The 'week's' events had disappointed her grievously; for the deadlockbetween man and wife seemed complete. 

"Truly, Theo, I don't know what to make of them both, " she concludeddesperately. "They are the most perverse couple that were ever invented. Benedick and Beatrice were turtle-doves by comparison! After this week Ishall give them up in despair. "

"Poor darling! They ought to mend their ways, if only out ofconsideration for you! Come on now and comfort your soul with tilting. I want you to carry all before you in the tournament. "

"Do you indeed!" she answered, laughing. "But I shan't hit a single ringto-day. This distracting muddle is getting on my nerves!"

And if Honor Desmond found the strain of sympathetic anxiety ill toendure, what of Quita, whose life's happiness hung upon the issue?

For her the Kajiar Camp, despite its light-comedy atmosphere, had proveda nightmare of surface hilarity, broken rest, and growing distaste forthe man whose name she had permitted to be coupled with her own:--all tono purpose, it seemed, save to inflate his self-satisfaction, and fortifyhis intention, now too clearly manifest, of hindering to the utmost herreunion with her husband. 

Moreover, her self-imposed attitude became increasingly hard to maintain. A flash of defiance is one thing; but sustained defiance, when the hearthas unblushingly gone over to the enemy, puts a severe strain upon thenerves. 

And what was to be the outcome?

The question stabbed her in the small hours, when ugly possibilities loomlarge, like figures seen through mist. So strongly had this late lovesmitten her, that she had been capable of strangling pride, and takingthe initiative, had Lenox's bearing given her the smallest hope ofsuccess. But unsought surrender, plus the mortification of failure, wasmore than she felt prepared to risk, even for a chance of winning the oneman in all the world:--the man who could at least belong to no otherwoman, she assured herself with a throb of satisfaction. Thus thereseemed no choice left but to go blindly forward along the line of leastresistance. 

Lenox's non-appearance on Wednesday evening had startled her into fullerknowledge of her dependence on his mere presence to maintain even amimicry of good spirits; and she heaped contempt upon her own headaccordingly. Nevertheless she escaped at an early hour; and lay awakehalf the night tormenting herself with unanswerable problems. 

When breakfast brought no sign of him, she concluded that he must havereturned to Dalhousie in disgust: and the conclusion brought her near tothe end of her tether. She took refuge in her tent, and, for the firsttime in many years, sobbed shamelessly, till her eyelids smarted, and herhead throbbed and burned. After that she felt better, and herunquenchable courage revived. There is much virtue in yourthunder-shower at the psychological moment! She got upon her feet atlast; hands pressed against pulsing temples, swaying a little, like awillow that the storm had shaken. But cold water, eau-de-cologne, andthe stinging tonic of self-scorn, soon restored her to a semblance of hernormal aspect: and by lunch-time she was out again in the mockingsunshine, swept unresisting back into the light-hearted whirl of things. 

At tiffin, to her intense relief, Theo Desmond took the empty chair nexther own. He had missed her during the morning: and a glance at her facesufficed to give him an inkling of the truth. All his heart went out toher; and he hastened to answer the question in her eyes. 

"Lenox went off at sunrise, for a day's shooting, " he remarkedconversationally, when they had exchanged greetings. 

She lifted her eyebrows. "Did he? Sensible man! I suppose he is tiredto death of our frivolous fooling. "

"That's rather severe! I can't let you run him down. The other thing'smore in his line, that's all; and it'll do him a power of good. Hesuffers cruelly from want of sleep, poor chap. --By the way, have youheard the latest suggestion for to-morrow?"

"No. I was--lying down this morning. What is it?"

"A burlesque polo match: ladies against men: the men to play onside-saddles by way of a mild handicap! Some of the older folk are a bithorrified at the notion. But I believe it'll come off; and they want meto captain the team. "

"You? One of the champions of the Punjaub! What impertinence! Shallyou?"

"Why, certainly. It will be rather a lark. "

"Well, then, I'll play too, if they'll have me. Will you ask them, please?"

He regarded her in frank astonishment. "Jove! I never thought of that. Are you in earnest?"

"But yes. In cut-throat earnest!" she answered, laughing. 

"Ever tried your hand at it?"

"Never, in all my days. I will this afternoon though, if you'll take mein hand for an hour or so. "

"With all the pleasure in life. You can ride Diamond, if you like. Heknows almost as much about the game as I do. "

Her eyes sparkled. 

"That gem of an Arab? May I, really? I always thought you were a man ina hundred; and now I know it! That's a bargain, then. Things have beendeadly insipid the last two days. But I have something to live for now!"

Garth received her announcement with open dismay. He suspected Desmond'sinfluence: and, in his zeal to dissuade her, ventured on a mild tone ofauthority, with disastrous results. 

"Well, I shan't have a comfortable moment till the thing is safely over, "he concluded unwisely: and she tossed an indignant head. 

"Am I such a despicable horseman?" she demanded haughtily. "CaptainDesmond doesn't find me so, I assure you. "

And indeed, after an hour of assiduous instruction, Desmond had franklyexpressed his approval both of her aptness and daring. 

When Lenox heard the news on Friday morning, he heartily wished he haddecided on a second day's shooting. 

Anxiety apart, the knowledge that the woman he loved could thus make apublic exhibition of herself for the amusement of a very mixed crowd, setthe fastidious, old-world temper of the man on edge. For all that he wasin his place, well before the appointed time: and from the first crack ofpolo-stick on ball his eyes never left his wife's flushed face andlightly swaying figure. 

The polo ground, occupying the centre of the glade, was ringed about by acrowd as varied and gay in colouring as a bed of mixed tulips in spring. Even the open tent, where the English spectators were gathered, showed aprevailing lightness and brightness of tint. On the farther side of thetent, the Depot band gave out a cheerful blare of sound; and a June sunbeamed complacently over all. 

For the first twenty minutes the serio-comic game went forward merrily:the women playing in desperate earnest; the men making broad farce out oftheir ludicrous handicap. 

Quita, who had elected to play Diamond first and fourth, was restrainedat the outset by the fact that she was handling a priceless pony. But, with the opening of the third _chukkur_, increasing self-confidence, coupled with the pace and keenness of Bathurst's 'Unlimited Loo, ' firedher venturesome spirit: and she flung herself heart and soul into theintoxication of the game; half hoping that some sudden crash and fallmight solve the problem of her life by the simple expedient of puttingout the light. 

More than once Desmond called out an unheeded warning. He saw that ponyand rider alike were in danger of losing their heads; and Lenox, leaningforward in an anguish of suspense, followed her every movement withconflicting fury and admiration. 

At last the _chukkur_ drew to an end. 

Away by the farthest goal-posts a fine parody of a scrimmage was inprogress, Desmond and Quita being 'on the ball. ' The advantage was hers;and she made haste to secure it. Rising in the saddle, she swung herstick for an ambitious back-handed stroke, missed the ball, and smote'Unlimited Loo, ' with the full force of her arm, high up on the offhind-leg. 

At this uncalled bolt from the blue, the sensitive animal, --who had neverin all his days been chastised by a polo stick for doing his simpleduty, --lost his head outright. His first bound snapped the curb chain;and taking the bit between his teeth he bolted across the green as if allthe fiends in hell were after him. In vain Quita sat back, and put herwhole light weight into her arms. Sheer terror had caught hold of him:and he headed blindly for the ring of natives, who broke away right andleft, with shrill cries that gave the finishing touch to his terror. 

And now no more than a stretch of shelving turf lay between him and theunfathomed lake. Towards it he fled at an undiminished pace: and Quita, sitting square and steady, with a rushing sound in her ears, foresaw thatin less than five minutes her mad hope might be terribly fulfilled. Forat the lake's edge the pony must needs swerve sharply, or come to a deadhalt: and in either case, at their present rate of speed, she would beflung violently out of the saddle. 

Desmond dared not follow, lest he make matters worse. 

Maurice sprang up from his seat in the pavilion, and stood transfixed, helpless. "_Nom de Dieu . . . Que faire? Elle va mourir!_" he mutteredwith shaking lips: and Elsie, child as she was, yearned over him with allthe tenderness and pity of inherent motherhood. 

Then the tall figure of Lenox broke away from the stunned crowd racingdiagonally across the clear stretch between the pony and the lake. 

The instant Quita missed her stroke he had risen to his feet; and hisintent now was to reach a given spot simultaneously with the pony, and bythe force of his added weight on the reins save the situation. 

A shout of approval went up from soldiers and natives; and 'UnlimitedLoo' fled faster. He passed the point Lenox was making for a barehand's-length out of reach: but two strides landed him on a treacherousstrip of thinly-crusted bog that encircles the lake, and he sank up tohis knees in semi-liquid mud. 

Quita, breathless and shaken, was jerked out of the saddle, and must havefallen, ignominiously, face downward in her Slough of Despond, but thatLenox, --reaching her in the nick of time--caught and crushed her in hisarms. 

"You're not hurt. Thank God, you're not hurt, " he whispered unsteadily. 

With a gasp of amazement that ended in a sob, she leaned her cheekagainst his coat; and the riotous music of their hearts seemed to fillthe universe. 

Then reality rushed in, and shattered the dream. For Garth, Maurice, andBathurst were hurrying towards them. 

Quita felt her husband stiffen, and lifted her head. 

"Thank you--thank you, " she said with a twisted smile. "I think I canstand on my feet now. "

In two strides he was clear of the mud, and had set her on firm earth. But she was still clinging to his arm when Garth came up, brimming withconcern. 

"I'm quite disappointingly all right, " she assured him hastily, stung bya keen sense that her catastrophe had fallen headlong from impendingtragedy to bathos. "Please bestow all your sympathy on Mr Bathurst, andUnlimited Loo!"

For a second Garth looked up at the man who stood beside her; but onlyfor a second. For in the Scotchman's eye hate gleamed like a nakedsword; and Garth had small taste for bared weapons of any kind. 

"_Ah, mon pauvre Michel_!" Quita exclaimed, in a quick rush oftenderness, as her brother half ran to her, white and panting, both handsoutstretched: and deserting Lenox, she flew to him, anathematising herown folly in a rapid flow of French. "Take me to my tent now, " sheconcluded, linking her arm in his. "I still feel idiotically shaky, andI am certainly no loss to my side!--Mr Bathurst"--she turned in Jeff'sdirection--"please forgive me. I promise I'll never ask you to lend me apolo pony again!"

Bathurst, --who had rescued his treasure, and was feeling him all overwith skilled hands, --shouted a cheery: "Don't mention it, Miss Maurice. Always glad to oblige a lady!"

And with a tired smile she turned back to Michael. 

"_Viens, mon cher_, " she said gently; and he led her away. 

Conscious of Garth's eyes on her face, she could not trust herself tolook again at Lenox, who had neither moved nor spoken since he set her ondry ground. But that one moment in his arms had solved her problem in afashion that she dreamed not of: a fashion that still seemed past belief. She knew now that she had never lost him; and her heart sang a JubilateDeo all the way to her tent. But she knew also that his pride equalledhers; that the first move was 'up to her'; and that now, at last, shemight make it without fear of rebuff. But how--how?

Ten minutes later Maurice left her prostrate, in the twilight of hertent;--eau de cologne on her temples, and a chaos of mixed emotions ather heart. 

CHAPTER XII. 

 "How the world seems made for each of us; How all we perceive and know in it Tends to some moment's product, --thus, When the soul declares itself; to wit, By its fruit: the thing it does. " --Browning. 

Quita lacked courage to appear again in public till the dinner buglesounded. Garth was her promised partner: and she found him awaitingher just outside her tent. 

"My turn now, dear lady, " he said, pressing her fingertips against hisside, as she took his proffered arm. "It has been a blank afternoonfor me; but in revenge, I mean to keep you all the evening. "

"You are presumptuous, as always!" she answered with admirablelightness. "Your claim ends with dessert. "

"Quite so. But you are generous; and I can trust the rest to you, since you know how much I want it. "

She smiled, as in duty bound. But to-night the man's facile gallantryrevolted her as it had never yet done. She wondered how she hadendured it these many months. 

The instant they entered the long tent her eyes sought and found thething they craved: though the sight of Lenox in his accustomed placebetween the Desmonds reawakened her smouldering jealousy of Honor, andgave the lie to her amazing instant of revelation. But once during themeal she encountered her husband's eyes. It was as if he had put out ahand and touched her; and her partner's veiled love-making became ameaningless murmur at her ear. Yet the surface of her brain travelledmechanically along the beaten track of dinner-table talk: and Garth, finding her gentler and more serious than her wont, deemed his hour oftriumph very near at hand. Direct encouragement, in the face of hishidden knowledge, had strengthened his conviction that for many weeksshe had been stifling her true feelings; that one touch at the rightmoment would suffice to lift the veil, to bring her at last into hisarms. Beyond that moment of mastery he did not choose to look. Forto-night passion had elbowed prudence out of the field. He had claimedher for the evening; and he anticipated great things from the next twohours under the stars. 

At these informal camp dinners men and women left the table together;only habitual card-players remaining behind to tempt fortune until thesmall hours. Quita's hope had been that Desmond might come to her aid. But he had made up a rubber of whist; and to her dismay, she saw Lenoxand Honor depart without him. Garth, who also noted their movements, carefully led her round to the far side of a blazing bonfire, piled tenfeet high on this last night of Arcadia; and with a suppressed sigh sheresigned herself to an evening of comic songs and personalities; anddecided that a headache must rescue her, if no other champion wereforthcoming. 

It was a clear night of stars. The moon had not yet risen; though aherald brightness gave news of her coming. No least whisper of windstirred the tree-tops. Sun-baked fir branches crackled and snappedlike fairy musketry; and many-hued flames, --rose and saffron, heliotrope and sea-green, --played hide-and-seek among them, flinginginverted shadows on faces nearest the blaze. 

Human beings break into song round a bonfire as naturally as birdsafter a shower of rain, and for those who see in such a fire no mereholocaust of dead twigs, but the Red Flower of the Jungle, the symboland spirit of wild life, this spontaneous minstrelsy has a charmpeculiarly its own. A charm of the simplest, certainly; for atcamp-fires the banjo reigns supreme; and the aptest songs are thosethat 'rip your very heartstrings out' and offer fine facilities foreffervescing between the verses. 

Already a remarkable assortment of these had challenged the winkingstars; and Quita was encouraging the requisite headache, while Garthcontemplated the suggestion of a stroll towards the lake, when MichaelMaurice came up to them. 

"Quita, _chérie_, they have sent me to ask if you will sing. I have myfiddle here for accompaniment. "

She hesitated. A rare shyness, born of the afternoon's fiasco, wasstill upon her. 

"Who sent you?" she asked, smiling up at him. 

"Colonel Mayhew, and several others. " He bent lower. "_Tu es tropfatiguée apres ce vilain polo_?"

"_Non, ce n'est pas ça . . . Mais . . . _"

"Do, Miss Maurice, please, do, " urged an enthusiastic young civilian onher left. "A woman's voice, especially yours, would be a rare treatafter our promiscuous shouting. "

And on her other side Garth, pressing closer, whispered his plea. 

"Don't disappoint me. It is ages since I last heard you sing. "

Without answering either, she touched her brother's arm. "Tune up, Michel, " she said low and hurriedly. "I have thought of a song. "

Garth murmured his thanks with unusual _empressement_. Her instantacquiescence had both moved and flattered him; and his hopes rode high. As a matter of fact, she had not even heard his request. She hadsimply obeyed an impulse, as in most crises of her life;--an impulse soperemptory that it seemed almost a command from Beyond. 

"What song is it to be?" Maurice asked, when the tuning process wascomplete. 

"Swinburne's 'Ask Nothing More. '"

He raised his eyebrows. "A man's song?"

"Yes. But you know I often sing it; and I want to . . . To-night. "

"_Qu'y a-t-il, petite soeur_?" he asked, for her manner puzzled him. 

"_Rien . . . Rien de tout_. Commence. "

And he played the soft chords, pregnant with pleading, that usher inthe song. 

A moment later, Lenox, leaning back in a canvas chair, sat upright, andtook the cigar from his lips. 

"A woman singing? Jove--it's Quita!" he added under his breath. Thenhe remained motionless, straining his eyes for a sight of her betweenthe dancing flames. 

Clear and unfaltering her voice soared into the night; and as the songswept on, through pleading to impassioned longing, the whole awakenedheart of her took fire from the poet's faultless phrases; till, in thelast verse, it spoke straightly and simply to her husband, as thoughthey two stood alone in the interstellar spaces of the universe. 

 "I who have love, and no more, Give you but love of you, sweet; He that hath more, let him give; He that hath wings let him soar. Mine is the heart at your feet . . . Here that must love you . . . Love you, to live!"

The last stupendous chords crashed into silence; and the fall of acharred twig sounded loud in the pause that followed. Then there camefrom the shadowy circle of listeners no clatter of hands and voices, but a low disjoined murmur;--the very attar of applause. 

But by that time Quita was making her way blindly through the outskirtsof the crowd into the blessed region of darkness and stars. 

For, as the last words left her lips, the full apprehension of her actand its possible consequences submerged her in a red-hot wave of shameand self-consciousness; and before Garth had recovered himselfsufficiently to rise and make the request that hovered on his lips, shewas gone. For a space he sat still, lost in an amazement that swelledto exultation as the conviction grew in him that at last, after longand laudable repression, her heart had spoken, indirectly, yetunmistakably; that now, scandal or no scandal, he must make heraltogether his. 

And while he sat stunned to inaction by the vital issues at stake, Quita hurried on toward the temple, with no purpose in her going saveto escape from the consciousness of human presence. She stood still atlength, and wrung her hands together. 

"Oh, but it was folly--worse than folly! He will only think orhateful, --theatrical. He will never understand. "

Yet if, by miraculous chance, he did understand . . . What then? Sheheld her breath and waited; till the night seemed alive with voicesthat laughed her to scorn. 

The new-risen moon hung low as if caught and tangled among thetree-tops of the forest that broke up her golden disc in fantasticfashion. Away there by the bonfire some one else was singing now; asong with a boisterous chorus. Her mad impulse had simply been addedto the mass of ineffectual things that form the groundwork of our raresuccesses. 

Suddenly she started, and raised her head. The sound she desired yetdreaded was close at hand. He was coming to her. He must haveunderstood. And because she needed all her courage to face him, shedid it at once; for nothing saps courage like hesitation. 

Then her heart stood still; a chill aura swept through her and sheshivered. The dark figure nearing her was not Lenox. It was Garth. 

But that all power of initiative seemed gone from her, she must haveturned and fled. Instead she stood her ground, without motion orspeech; and he, still misreading her, held out his arms. 

"Quita . . . Darling . . . " he began, his voice thick with passion. 

But her name on his lips roused her like a pistol-shot. 

"Go back . . . Please go back, " she cried imperatively. "I came awaybecause I wanted . . . To be alone. "

"But I thought . . . "

"I can't help what you thought! If you have any--respect for me atall, you will do what I ask. "

"Of course. Only I shall see you again to-night. I must. "

"No . . . No. Not to-night. "

"To-morrow then?"

But she had already left him; and for his part, he must needs returnthe way he came, --frustrated, yet not enlightened; cursing, in nomeasured terms, the unfathomable ways of women. No doubt she wasupset, unstrung by the knowledge of all that her confession implied;and woman-like, showed small regard for his consuming impatience topossess her. But to-morrow he would ride home with her. And afterthat--the Deluge!

Quita left alone again went forward with lagging feet, and a heartemptied of hope. Her own disappointment crowded out all thought ofGarth's unusual behaviour; till renewed steps behind her suggested theastonishing possibility that he had dared to disregard her request, andfollowed her, in spite of all. The suggestion roused not fear, butanger, and the militant spirit of independence that circumstances hadso fostered in her. 

She knew now that she hated him, as we only hate those whom we havewronged. It was intolerable that he should persecute her against herwish; and she swung round sharply, with words of pitiless truth on herlips. 

But the night seemed marked for the unexpected:--and now it was joyincredible that fettered her tongue and her feet, while her husbandhastened forward, his face clearly visible in the growing light. 

"I followed that fellow when he went after you, " he said bluntly, angersmouldering in his tone. "And I saw him leave you. Did you send himaway?"

"Yes. "

"Why?"

"I didn't want him. "

"Does that apply to me also?"

"No . . . Please stay. "

There fell a silence pregnant with things unutterable. Lenox camecloser. 

"What possessed you to sing that song, --in that way--Quita?"

It was the first time he had spoken her name, and she turned from him, pressing her fingers against flaming cheeks. 

"Oh, I am burnt up with shame! I feel as if I had told all of them. "

"Told them--what?"

"_Mon Dieu_! Will you compel me to say everything?"

She flung out both hands, and he caught and crushed them till shewinced under the pressure. Then, holding her at arm's-length, helooked searchingly into her eyes. 

And while they stood so--in this their first instant of real union, that dwarfed the years between to a watch in the night--each was awareof the other's answering heart; and in each, love burnt with soflame-like a quality that neither speech nor touch was needed to sealthe intimacy of contact. 

At length he drew her nearer. 

"Does it frighten you now when I look right into you?" he asked, an oddvibration in his voice. 

"No . . . No. I am only afraid you may not see deep enough. "

He drew a great breath. 

"Thank God for that. But tell me, --for I am still in the dark, --how onearth has such a miracle come to pass?"

Her low laugh had a ring of inexpressible content. 

"Dearest, and blindest! Did it never occur to you that you could nothave laid a surer trap to win me than by just keeping clear of me, andliving in . . . That Mrs Desmond's pocket?"

He shook his head, smiling down at her. Her old subtle charm with thisstrange new tenderness superadded, was working like an elixir in hisveins. 

"But what does the _how_ of it matter, after all?" she went on, leaningcloser, and speaking low and fervently. "Isn't it enough that I loveyou with all there is of me . . . Eldred; that I ask you to believe me, and to make me . . . Your very wife. There: you have compelled me tosay everything! Are you satisfied now?"

To such a question he could find no answer in words. But his silencewas cardinal. He put an arm round her, straining her close, and with asigh of sheer rapture she lifted her face to his. 

Their eyes met. Then their lips; and Eldred Lenox entered into aknowledge that he dreamed not of. The whole soul of his wife came tohim in that kiss; and for a long minute ecstacy held them. 

Then he released her, slowly . . . Reluctantly. 

"Shall we sit out here?" he said. "The whole camp will soon be asleep;but I can't let you go yet. "

She sank down, forthwith, upon the grassy slope, in which the fire of aJune sun still lingered; and clasping her hands about her knees, lookedup at him invitingly. By way of response he stretched himself fulllength, a little below her, resting on his elbow in such a position asafforded him a clear view of her profile, that gleamed, like a cameoagainst a background of deodars. 

"Smoke, " she said softly. 

"No. I think not. "

His tone had a touch of constraint, and a lone silence fell. 

The strange solitude about them was no stranger than the enchantment ofbeing alone in it together; and there was that in their hearts thatmade speech difficult. 

They sat looking northward toward the moonlit hollow where the stationcamp clustered close to the forest's edge. Behind the camp--a mass ofunbroken shadow--it climbed up and upward to the mystery of a sky, powdered with the gold-dust of faint stars, on which its jagged outlinewas printed black as ink. Beyond that again, one majesticsnow-peak, --like a stainless soul rising out of a tomb, --gleamed in thelight of an increasingly brilliant moon. The crowd round the bonfirehad crumbled into a hundred insignificant seeming units; and the fireitself, no longer aspiring to the stars, glowed like an angry eye inthe dusky face of the glade. 

Presently Quita spoke. 

"There is so endlessly much to say, that I don't know where to begin. And after all, I am utterly content just to feel that you are there;that I have really got you back at last. "

"You have had me, body and soul, these five years, " he answered simply. "It is I who have gained you, by some miracle of your womanhood that Ishall never fathom. "

"If you set it down to your own manhood, you might be nearer the mark. You are very much too humble, Eldred; and I love you for it, --alwaysdid. "

"Always?"

"I verily believe so. "

"Good God! I never misjudged you, did I? If you . . . Cared _then_, why ever did you leave me?"

"Because you gave me no time to take it in. But I am sure now that thegerm was there. I think your . . . Kisses must have waked it intolife. That was why they upset me so. And when I came back, I meantto . . . Oh why should we rake it all up again? It hurts too much. "

"But I must know everything now, Quita. You meant to tell me, --wasthat it?"

"Yes. Though I own it was rather late in the day. Then you sprang itupon me with that letter. I detest the man who wrote it, and I alwaysshall. There was just enough of truth in it, and in your bitterreproaches, to make me feel the hopelessness of lame explanations. Besides, your anger frightened me, though I didn't show it; and Isimply acted on a blind impulse to escape from the unknown thingsahead; to get back to the love and work I could understand. "

"My poor darling! What a blackguard I was to you!"

"Hush! You are not to say that. "

"I will. It's true. But . . . Didn't you care a great deal for theother chap?"

"I imagined I did. Girls can't always analyse new feelings of thatsort. I can see now that it was chiefly mental sympathy between us, onmy side at least. But I only discovered that when the real thingcame--in a flash. "

"When was that?" he asked on a note of eagerness. 

"One May morning on the Kajiar road! I knew then that I must havecared always, without guessing it. But your coolness roused my pride;and I vowed that if you had wiped me out of your heart, I would diesooner than let you suspect my discovery. Yet all the while I longedfor you to know it; and in the end, goaded by your blindness, and yourastonishing want of conceit, I break my pride into a hundred littlebits. _Ai-je été assez femme_?" she concluded with a whimsical smile. 

One of her hands lay on the grass beside him. He covered it with hisown. 

"And was the amazing discovery responsible for the Garth episode?" Histone had a hint of anxiety. 

"For the latter part of it, yes; though we have been friends all thewinter. He is at least moderately intelligent; and an intelligentegoist is always interesting. Besides, companionship is the breath oflife to me, you understand; and I seldom manage to make friends withwomen. "

"The other kind of friendship is an edged tool. "

"And therefore irresistible! It's like fencing with the buttons offthe foils. "

"You speak from much practical experience?"

"Yes. I have had my share of it. But please believe me, Eldred, "--shehesitated, --"I have been as loyal to you in word and deed, all theseyears, as if I had borne your name, and lived under your roof. Inspite of my weakness for edged tools, I have never let any man tell methat he loved me since you told me so yourself, in the dark ages. Andif a few have wanted to do so, I could hardly help that, could I?"

"No more than you could help breathing or sleeping, " he answered with aslow strong pressure of her hand. 

"I know I ought not to have let Major Garth see so much of me after Isaw how it was with him, but--since it's the whole truth to-night--Iconfess your aloofness hurt me so, that I wanted to see if I couldrouse you to a spark of feeling by hurting you back, and I chose theweapon readiest to my hand. "

"You struck deep with it. Does the knowledge give you anysatisfaction?"

"It fills my cup of shame to overflowing. Yet, --come to think ofthings, you did much the same without realising it. "

"Which makes a vast difference, surely?"

"Not to me, _mon ami_. It is only God who judges by the intention;possibly because He never suffers from the action. "

"Quita! That's irreverent!"

"Is it? I'm sorry if it sets your Scottish prickles on end! Areyou . . . A very religious man, Eldred?"

"I believe in God, " he answered simply. 

A short silence followed the statement. Then Quita spoke. 

"But you see, don't you, dear man, that I spoke truth. My pain wasnone the less sharp because you inflicted it unwittingly. It's one ofthe things people are apt to forget. "

"Your pain? Before God I never dreamed that any act of mine could giveyou a minute's uneasiness; though Mrs Desmond . . . "

"Don't begin about Mrs Desmond, please!" She drew her hand away with atouch of impatience. "She is everything that is perfect, of course. But I hate her; and I believe I always shall. "

Lenox turned on his elbow and looked up into her face. 

"My dear . . . I can't let you speak so of my best friend. We owe hereverything, you and I. You shall hear about it all one of these days. And apart from that, she is . . . "

"Yes, yes. I can see what she is, clearly enough. A superblybeautiful woman, outside and in, who possesses a good deal of influenceover you. I can be just to her, you see, if I am . . . Jealous. "

"Jealous? Nonsense. The word is an insult to her, and to me. "

She reddened under the reproof in his tone. 

"Forgive me. I didn't mean it so. I am only afraid that after closeintimacy with her you will find--your wife rather a poor thing bycomparison. Just the 'eternal feminine' with all an artist's egoism, and more than the full complement of faults. "

She spoke so simply, and with such transparent sincerity, that again heturned on her abruptly; his smouldering passion quickened to a flame. 

"Quita . . . You dear woman . . . If I could only make yourealise . . . !"

But long repression, and the knowledge that was poisoning his perfecthour, constrained him to reticence. He dared not let himself go. 

"I think I do realise . . . Now . . . " she whispered, stirred to thedepths by the repressed intensity of his tone. 

"Then don't belittle yourself any more. I forbid it. You understand?"

Again he heard the low laugh on which her soul seemed to ride. Then, leaning impulsively down to him, she put her bare arms round hisshoulders from behind, and rested her cheek upon his hair. 

The man held his breath, and remained very still, as if fearful lestword or movement should break the spell. After five years of unlovedloneliness, this first spontaneous caress from his wife, with itsdelicate suggestion of intimacy, seemed to break down invisiblebarriers and set new life coursing in his veins. 

"You forbid it?" she echoed, on a tremulous note of happiness. "Andyou have the right to. You, and no one else in all the world! Youlaughed at me in the old days--do you remember?--for clutching at myindependence. Well, I have had my surfeit of it now; and I amdesperately tired of standing alone . . . Darling. "

She paused before the unfamiliar word, unconsciously accentuating itseffect, and Lenox, taking her two hands in one of his own, kissed themfervently. The moment he dreaded was upon him, and in the face of herimpassioned tenderness he scarcely knew how to meet it. 

"You should not stand alone one minute longer, if I could have mywill, " he said in a repressed voice. 

She lifted her head and looked at him. 

"And why can't you have your will? What are we going to do about it, Eldred?"

"Nothing in a hurry, " he answered slowly. "We paid too dearly for thatlast time. "

"But, _mon cher_ . . . We have waited five whole years. "

"That is just the difficulty. Five years of overwork and bitterness ofspirit are not to be wiped out in a single hour; even such an hour asthis. The man you married had not gone through the fire, and beenbadly burned in the process. "

He paused. The irony of their reversed positions stung him to thequick, and she sat watching his face. The pallor of moonlightintensified its ruggedness, its deep indentations of cheek and brow. She began to be aware that the dropped stitches of life cannot alwaysbe picked up again at will; that there is no tyrant more pitiless thanthe Past; and a vague dread took hold of her, sealing her lips. 

"We have got to look facts in the face to-night, " Lenox went on withthe doggedness of his race. "I'm a poor hand at discussing myself. It's an unprofitable subject. But I can't let you rush headlong into areunion that may prove disastrous . . . For you. To-night's revelationhas astounded me. It isn't easy to get one's bearings all at once; butbefore we take any further irretrievable step I am bound, inconscience, to tell you how the land lies. When you--repudiated me, Iaccepted your decision as final. I never dreamed of your coming back;and I acted accordingly. I took to work as I might have taken todrink, if I had been made that way; with the natural result thatI . . . Smoked a great deal too much, and slept too little. I saw noearthly reason to husband my strength, or my life; and in consequence, I have gained something of a reputation for tackling dangerous anddifficult jobs. There's plenty more work of the kind ahead, with theforward policy in full swing; and one can't go back on all that hasbeen done. You see that, don't you?"

"Yes. But couldn't I ever go with you?"

He smiled. "I believe you have grit enough! But it would be unheardof. Besides . . . There is another trouble, and a very serious one, blocking the way. "

"You will tell me what it is?"

He did not answer at once. To blacken himself deliberately in the eyesof the woman he loves is no light ordeal for a man; and Lenox shrankfrom it with the peculiar sensitiveness of a nature at once humble andproud; the more so since to-night had brought home to him theheart-breaking truth that in "the devil's wedlock of evil and pain" onecan never suffer alone. 

But a great love had been given him, and a force stronger than his willimpelled him to speak truth, even at the cost of losing it. 

"Yes . . . I will tell you what it is, " he said slowly, lookingstraight before him. "You have the right to know. "

And in a few blunt words, unsoftened by excuse or justification, hetold her, not the fact only, but his dread of its far-reaching effect. 

"And it seems plain as daylight to me, " he added bitterly, "that a manso cursed has no right to multiply misery by taking a woman into hislife. That was the real reason why I kept clear of you latterly, andtried to thank God that you did not care. "

He could not trust himself to look round at her face, but he felt herlean close to him again. For the unobtrusive strength of the man stoodrevealed in his confession; and it is woman's second nature to admirestrength. 

"Eldred, . . . My husband, " she breathed, her voice breaking on theword. "How cruelly you must have suffered! And it was all _my_ fault. "

There spoke the woman!--intent upon the individual; blind--wilfully orotherwise--to the larger issues involved. 

"It was _not_ your fault, " he answered with smothered vehemence. "Andin any case, don't you see, it's no question of blame, but ofconsequences. And we dare not shut our eyes to them. For thisbusiness of marriage is a complicated affair. What's more, I believethe wrench of immediate separation, with the comparative freedom itinvolves, would come less hard on you in the long-run, than actualmarriage with a man of my stamp. --Oh, you would find me a sorry bargainall round, I assure you, " he concluded with a short, hard laugh. "Andyou will do well to think twice before you burn your boats for me!"

She slid lower down the slope, and laid one hand on his knee. 

"I don't choose to think twice; and I _have_ burnt my boats as it is!Besides . . . You will be strong to conquer your trouble, now you knowthat all my happiness depends upon it. " She paused for an appreciablemoment. "We seem to have changed places since that long-ago morning, Eldred. It is I who want--to begin now--on any terms. "

He put out his arm, and drew her very close to him. 

"Feckless as ever!" he chided without severity. "You dismissed me onan impulse; and now you would take me back again with the samestupendous disregard for results. It is very evident you need some oneto look after you, and teach you common-sense. "

"I have told you already _who_ it is that I need. Isn't that enough?"

The thrill in her low tone set all the man in him on fire. Theinfluence of the hour was strong upon him. 

"My God!" he muttered under his breath. "How can mere flesh and bloodhold out against you?"

"Must you hold out against me--even after what I said?"

She nestled nearer, and stray tendrils of hair softly brushed hischeek. His lips whitened, but he set them close. Her touch, theperfume of her passion, had their exalting effect on him. Her weaknesschallenged his strength. 

"Yes; I must, " he answered quietly. "For your sake, my dear, and formy own self-respect. I am fighting this thing, you understand, withevery weapon at my command. And until I see my way clear out on theother side, I will not--I dare not--take you back. Now come. It ishigh time you were asleep. We can't stay out here together all night. "

"We have every right to . . . If we choose, " she murmured, stillrebellious. 

"You forget, I am to teach you common-sense! There is to-morrow to bethought of, and your long ride back to Dalhousie. "

A small shiver ran through her. 

"I am afraid of to-morrow. I shall wake up and feel as if all this hadbeen a dream. When shall I see you again . . . Alone?"

"I will come up and call on you the day after!" he said, assuming adeliberate lightness in sheer self-defence. "Don't let me find Garththere, though; or I warn you I shall not be accountable for mybehaviour!"

He rose on the words, and lifted her to her feet. They descended theslope in silence, walking a little apart, as if accentuating the factthat their reunion in this June night of enchantment and faint starswas an incomplete thing after all. 

The moon was near her zenith; and, outside the formless dark of theforest, the great glade held her radiance as a goblet holds wine. Pastthe half-hidden temple of the holy lake they moved leisurely towardsthe cluster of tents that showed like a pallid excrescence at theforest's edge. To-night again, as on that earlier unforgettable day, they seemed the only living beings in a world of shadows and foldedwings; and the decree of separation, coming at such a moment, put asevere strain on their self-control. 

Fifty feet from Quita's tent they stood still. 

She held out her hands. He pressed them closely between his own, thatwere strangely cold, and lifted them to his lips. Then she swayedforward unsteadily; and in an instant her face was hidden against hisshoulder, her whole frame shaken with soundless sobs. 

A woman in tears sets even a case-hardened man at a disadvantage; andLenox, confronted with the phenomenon for the first time in his life, experienced a sense of helpless bewilderment, coupled with a vagueconviction of his own brutality in having brought this happy-heartedwife of his to such a pass. He could not guess that after a week ofceaseless tension, played out with no little fortitude, this moment ofunrestraint came as a pure relief to her overwrought nerves; a reliefthat verged upon ecstasy, since her husband's arm was round her, hishand mechanically stroking her hair. 

"Hold up, hold up, " he urged her gently. "This sort of thing willnever do. "

But control, once lost, is ill to regain. His words produced novisible affect, for in her momentary abandonment, she could not see hisface; or guess at the struggle that was enacting behind its curtain ofself-mastery. And now, to discomfiture was added an overpoweringtemptation to trample on all scruples of conscience; to take that whichwas his, without further let or hindrance; and put an end to theirdistracting situation once for all. 

"Quita, . . . My darling wife . . . !" he broke out desperately. "ForHeaven's sake pull yourself together. You are torturing me pastendurance. Do you suppose it is an easy thing . . . To let you go?"

She raised her head at that, compressing her lips to still their tremor. 

"Forgive me, . . . Dearest. It was stupid of me to make a fuss. Iwill go now; and I promise not to behave like this again. "

She deliberately drew his head down to her own; and they kissed, once. Then she left him, something hurriedly; and he stood transfixed lookingafter her, till the falling flap of the tent hid her from view. 

There could be no thought of sleep for Eldred Lenox that night. 

Till the moon slipped behind the pines, and the sentinel snow-peak inthe North caught, and flung back, the first glimmer of dawn, he pacedthe empty glade from end to end. His mouth and throat were parched. His every nerve clamoured for the accustomed narcotic. But pipe andtobacco-pouch reposed in his breast-pocket--untouched. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

 "Ah, Love, but a day, And the world has changed!" --Browning. 

An early return journey had been advocated by all experienced weatherprophets of the mushroom colony of Kajiar. The great monsoon wasalready rolling up from the coast-line, and at any moment might breakin thunder over the hills. 

By eight of the morning tent-poles were swaying and falling on allsides: and the wide glade that had slept in silver when Quita partedfrom her husband, was astir from end to end. From every corner camethe brisk insistent tapping of hammers on tent-pegs; the shrillneighing of ponies, and shriller chatter of coolies, bargaining forpayment in advance; repudiating loads a few ounces overweight, andtragically prophesying death on the road if the illegal incubus werenot removed. 

Peremptory bugle-notes rang out upon the air; and mounted Englishmen, galloping hither and thither, scattered commands right and left in aseries of deep-chested shouts. 

Striking camp, --breaking up! It is the key-note of Anglo-Indian life. The chord of change unchanging sounds unceasingly in travel-weary ears. 

But experience breeds proficiency; and the native servant is an adeptin the art of so oiling the wheels that his master shall accomplish hisappointed pilgrimage with the least possible damage to his much-triednervous system. 

Zyarulla, the indomitable, was a man of this order. In his opinion theSahib had no concern whatever with the minor details of the march: anopinion with which the Sahib in question had not the smallest desire toquarrel. And on this particular morning Lenox had little attention tospare even for the sorting and bestowal of his pricelessmanuscripts, --so impatient was he to verify the dream-like happeningsof the night; to look into his wife's eyes and feel the answeringpressure of her hand. Swallowing a hasty cup of tea and a banana whilehe dressed, he hastened out to the place of their parting seven hoursearlier. 

Afar off he caught sight of her, standing, in habit and _terai_, on theopen space where her tent had been, supervising the departure of herlast load of luggage, and listening patiently to tales of coolievillainy and extortion poured forth by her Kashmiri ayah, on a highnote of vituperation. 

He checked his advance for the pure pleasure of watching her from adistance: and when the ayah, --denouncing as she ran, --hurried off inthe wake of her refractory army, he went briskly forward and held outhis hand. 

She gave him her own without a word, and for a full minute of time theystood thus, hands and eyes inter-locked, oblivious of the noisy worldabout them, which, happily for them, was absorbed in matters of fargreater moment. 

"Can't I help you?" Lenox asked; and the simple question, with all thatit implied of his renewed right of service, thrilled her like a caress. 

"I wish you could. But I've got through most of it already. "

"That's bad luck. Maurice not much use on these occasions, I suppose?"

"Not the smallest use, bless him! He says I have more talent for itthan he! But call him Michael, _cher ami_, only to me. "

"Michael then, by all means--Quita. --You can't think what it is to meto be able to call you by your name again, " he added with suddenfervour. 

She laughed and blushed deliciously. 

"I noticed that you never called me by--the other one, " she said, looking intently at a distant tree. 

"Good Lord, no--I'd have bitten my tongue out sooner!"

He could not keep his eyes from her face; and as the blush died downits pallor smote him. 

"Did you sleep at all?" he asked abruptly. 

"Yes; for an hour or two. Did you?"

"Didn't even lie down. "

"Oh, _mon pauvre_----!"

"Hush!--Don't trouble your dear head about that, "

"But I must. It breaks my heart----"

He laughed. "That's worse than ever! You've got to keep your heartintact--for me. "

His eyes travelled from her face to her unadorned left hand. Hersfollowed them; and a half smile parted her lips. 

"Where d'you keep them?" he asked under his breath. 

Still smiling, she unfastened two buttons of her habit and vouchsafedhim a glimpse of gold and diamonds. "They live on a chain--in there, "she explained softly. 

"You have worn them, then, after a fashion?"

"Yes: since I learnt to love--my bondage!"

"Did you really never wish that I might be conveniently wiped out, evenin the early days?"

"No, never:--and I am thankful now that I _can_ say 'No' with perfecttruth. "

She drew in a long breath of ecstasy. The morning cheerfulness of theworld at large, the music of her own pulses, and of the man's voice, vibrant with things inexpressible, filled her with a very oppression ofhappiness. 

"Oh, Eldred, " she breathed. "It still feels like a dream. Let's talksheer prose just to make it feel real!--Are you and the Desmonds ridingback with Colonel and Miss Mayhew?"

"Yes. "

"So are we. "

"And Garth?"

"I suppose so. But I want _you_ to ride with me. Will you--darling?"

She added the entreaty of her eyes to the last word, and he hesitated. 

"It will look a little odd, and sudden, of course. But I don't see whyI shouldn't. "

"Nor do I. We can at least begin our courtship--can't we?--to preparepeople for what is to come! Besides--if it isn't you, it will be MajorGarth, and . . . I'm a little afraid of him after last night. "

"Why? What the devil did he do?"

"Nothing--nothing definite. He only spoke rather strangely before Isent him away; and I don't want to be alone with him, if I can help it. You see, he . . . He cares for me, Eldred; and I am afraid he thinksnow that I--care for him. Oh, I feel contemptuously wicked! But Ihave been rather desperate this week, all on account of you; and Ireally think it's your business to protect me from the consequences!"

"Of course it is my business, and my privilege to protect you, " heanswered fervently. Her confession of dependence was sweeter to himthan honey in the honeycomb. "But you gave me an almighty snubbing theother day when I made a clumsy attempt at it. "

"Make allowances, _mon cher_, and don't fail me now. "

"Fail you?" He flashed a reproachful glance at her. "I hope I maynever do that, while there's breath in my body! Trust me to be at yourright hand when we start. Mrs Desmond will have wit enough tocapture--your friend, if she sees that I want you. "

"Why? Does she know all about it?"

"Just the bare facts. I told her myself. "

"And he?"

"Certainly. They are one, those two, if ever man and woman achievedthe miracle. "

"Does that account for his flattering attentions to me since Chumba?"

"Quite possibly. "

"But that wasn't fair play! He is such a grand fellow; and I was soproud of my small conquest!"

Her lighter mood was even more irresistible than her seriousness hadbeen: but Lenox palled himself together. 

"Tell him so, and you'll make your conquest at once, if you've not madeit already! Hullo--there is the last breakfast bugle. Shall we go intogether? If I am doomed to fall in love with you, I may as well setabout it at once!"

Her answering look set a crown on him. 

"Ah, my dear, " she whispered. "In spite of all you said last night, Iam happy beyond words. "

"So am I, " he answered simply. "Come. "

From her own area of luggage-strewn ground, Honor Desmond, --carryinglittle Paul, whom she had insisted on bringing into camp, --looked afterthem as they went, her glad heart in her eyes; and Desmond, coming upfrom behind, took her lightly by the arm. 

"Well, old lady, " he asked. "Are you satisfied yet?"

"Abundantly. "

"And am I to get my wife back again as a reward for distinguishedservices rendered?"

"I imagine so!" she answered, laughing happily. "Unless you wouldrather keep your grievance!--Now go on to breakfast, darling; and I'llfollow when I have packed this priceless person into his dandy. Whatever happens, he and Parbutti must run no risk of getting drenched. "

Breakfast was half through before Garth sauntered into the mess-tent:and Honor, who had watched for his coming, felt an unbidden pang ofpity at sight of his blank face, when he beheld Quita sitting besideher husband, a bright spot of colour in either cheek, her eyesradiating a light that refused to be hidden under a bushel. 

The unexpected blow roused all the devil in him. Man of prudencethough he was, he could have murdered Lenox at that moment. But liferarely lends itself to melodrama: and instead he sat down at the farend of the table; and, for once in his life, ate a meal without beingaware of its quality. His brain was busy reviewing the events of theprevious day; putting two and two together, and trying not to see thatthey made four. A physical chill took him as he realised how narrowlyhe had escaped the ignominy of betraying the fact that he had countedon the consent of this proudest among women to the only proposalspossible in the circumstances. 

It was an awkward corner for James Garth; and in his chequeredexperience of awkward corners the _rôle_ of victim had rarely been his. Even the witness of his eyes did not carry conviction. By some meanshe must contrive to ride home with her, and learn from her lips the'wherefore' of this astonishing change of front. He reflected thatLenox had little _finesse_, and anticipated small trouble incircumventing him. 

But he reckoned without Honor Desmond, whose strategical skill came toher from a long line of distinguished soldiers, and whose sympathieshad been touched to the quick by the grave contentment in EldredLenox's eyes when they lingered on his wife's face and figure. 

Breakfast over, she accosted Garth straightway with a cheerful morninggreeting: and from that moment, to the time of their departure, shetook charge of him, gently yet irresistibly; keeping him well away fromQuita's neighbourhood; and so isolating him that he could not deserther without open rudeness: proceedings that at once mystified andflattered him, as Honor herself was delightedly aware. 

For a full hour the exodus of man and beast went noisily forward. ButColonel Mayhew's departure was delayed by his desire to see the Chumbacontingent well under weigh before leaving: and by the time heannounced his readiness to start, the last remaining units of the GreatCamp were out of sight, trotting briskly along the shadowed road thatwinds up through the forest to Bukrota Mall. 

"If we push along briskly we may get in with dry skins yet, " he said, scanning the sky, where a vanguard of tattered cloud trailed aimlesslyacross the blue. 

"And I was actually hoping we might get caught!" Quita confessed on amock note of apology. "It would make such a thrilling _finale_: and Idelight in your Indian storms. "

Colonel Mayhew laughed and shook his head. 

"When you have seen and heard as many of them as I have, Miss Maurice, you will simply find them 'demnition damp and disagreeable, ' likeMantalini's dead body! And even at the risk of disappointing you, Iintend to make a bolt for it. --Come on, my contingent!"

Lenox was at his wife's right hand, as he had promised: and Garth hadso far succumbed as to lift Mrs Desmond into her saddle. 

"You are a practised hand at it!" she said, smiling down upon hisobvious annoyance at the fate in store for him. "Why shouldn't you andI head the contingent? Some one must go first!"

There was nothing for it but to acquiesce; and to endure, as best hemight, the torment of Quita's clear tones close behind, alternatingwith her husband's bass; both voices pitched too low to be articulate, Desmond followed with Mayhew, while Maurice and Elsie, and thecustomary string of coolies, brought up the rear. 

For the first few miles splashes of sunlight gleamed and quivered onthe rough pathway, on red-pine stems, and moss-coated rocks. Butbefore half their journey was accomplished, it became evident that theywere not to escape the opening storm of the great monsoon. 

A shuddering wind set the dense pines above and below them swaying andmoaning, a sound of strange and infinite melancholy. The sunlight wentout like a snuffed candle; battalions of clouds, charged withelectricity, rolled silently northward, obliterating all things; and anochreous twilight settled down upon the forest. Save for thewhispering of wind-tossed trees, all Nature seemed hushed, expectant, holding her breath. 

The dusky stillness wrought upon the nerves of the riders, producing avague, discomfortable sense of foreboding. Talk grew fitful; and wasinstinctively carried on in lowered tones. 

"Push on a bit faster, Mrs Desmond. It would be as well to get outwhere the trees are thinner before the worst is upon us. "

Colonel Mayhew's voice had an anxious note. He had weathered theopening storm of many monsoons; but his daughter's presence wakened inhim a new fear of the thunderbolts of the gods. 

Even as he spoke, a phosphorescent gleam sped through the trees, like apassing soul; and a threatening growl rumbled up from the South. Itwas the prelude. Two minutes later, rocks, stems, branches, and theminutest fir-needles that flickered against the grey, showed likeink-strokes on tarnished silver as a forked flash, leaped, quivering, from the heart of a blue-black cloud. The report that followed, afterscarce five seconds of stillness, was smart, crisp, short as arevolver-shot; and long before a hundred peaks had made an end offlinging back the sound, a second flash and crash--in swiftersuccession--smote the eyes and ears of the riders, who now urged theirhorses to a canter, _saises_, coolies, and three devoted dogs pantingzealously behind them. 

Their hope was to gain shelter in the Government woodsheds, two milesahead, before the inevitable downpour came to drench their bodies andimpede their progress. But fate was in a merciless mood on that Junemorning. 

The third flash split up the sky as a stone splits a window pane. Pulsating streaks of fire, red, green, and blue, radiated in alldirections, half-blinding them with the brazen glare. And before itfaded, a crackling detonation seemed to rip the very heavens from margeto marge. 

As yet no rain had fallen: and for ten deafening minutes the littleparty rode in silence through an inferno of reiterate light and sound. Once or twice Quita glanced at her husband, cantering beside her, andwondered vaguely when she would hear him speak again; wondered, too, ather own matter-of-fact acceptance of that which a week ago had appearedimpossible. But the storm stunned heart and brain, as well as eye andear. Everything human, --life, death, love itself, --seemed trivial inface of this stupendous battle of the elements. Above them, and on allsides of them, the lightning leaped and darted, like a live thingseeking its prey. It was as if the sombre heavens were bringing forthbrood upon brood of fiery serpents, and greeting the birth of each withear-splitting peals of Titanic laughter. 

Then came the rain:--not in mere drops, but in a solid sheet of water, blinding, drenching, stupefying. At the same instant the fury of thestorm culminated in a blaze of white light that seemed to spring uponthem from all sides at once, with a shout as of fiends let loose; and, through the echoing after-roll of thunder, came a sharper, harshersound, --the death note of a mighty tree. 

Lenox and his wife faced one another involuntarily with startled looks. 

"How appalling!--What was it?" she asked between two breaths. 

"A pine struck somewhere up the _khud_. Not frightened, are you, lass?" he added with tender concern. "It's the very thing you wanted. You've got your thrilling finale with a vengeance!"

A clatter of breaking branches made him look up. "Great God!" hecried, on a note of alarm. "Back your pony sharp. It's coming down onthe top of us!"

And as she obeyed, with the swift instinct of fear, Desmond's voicereached him through the rush of the rain. 

"Look out for yourself, Lenox! She's safe enough. "

But before the words were out, the upper half of a great deodar crasheddown upon the narrow path, and a long branch struck the Galloway'sshoulder with tremendous force. For an instant Shaitan staggered underthe blow:--then horse, and man, and tree were hurled headlong down thesteep, rain-lashed ravine. 

A great cry broke from Quita: and in that cry, and the white, rigidrepression that followed it, Garth had his answer to the question hehad never asked. 

For the hundredth part of a second all seven sat paralysed by thehideous thing that had happened before their eyes, and by the hopelessnature of the drop down which Lenox had disappeared:--wiped out, asthough he had never been. 

Then Desmond's practical vigour asserted itself, and he sprang lightlyto the ground. 

"Here, take hold of the Demon, some one!"

And it was Quita who leant forward and grasped the bridle with a steadyhand. Her action gave him the chance he wanted of getting close enoughto speak a few words of encouragement in a hurried undertone. 

"Don't lose heart. It's an ugly drop. But he fell clear of the tree;and these _khuds_ are the most chancy things imaginable. I'm off afterhim, as fast as hands and feet can take me. "

Speech was beyond her; but she thanked him with her eyes. 

A moment later he was kneeling in the mud, rapidly unfastening bootsand gaiters; for one downward glance had convinced him that it would bea matter of climbing, and difficult climbing at that. 

By now Colonel Mayhew had dismounted also; and as Desmond stoodupright--in socks and breeches--and flung aside his dripping helmet, the older man drew him to the path's edge. 

"Look here, my dear chap, " he mid, when they were out of earshot of thegroup, who sat spellbound in the grip of tragedy, "are you justified inrunning a serious risk, probably--to no purpose? For I'm afraid poorLenox hasn't a ghost of a chance. You're a married man, remember; andit looks to me uncommonly like madness to attempt that _khud_ in suchweather. It'll be a case of holding on with your eyelids; and there'sa coolie track not far from here, that leads down to the valley. "

Desmond's month took the dogged line that his _sowars_ knew and loved;and a combatant light flashed in his eyes. 

"Your blood's cooler than mine, sir, " he answered quietly. "But I havea fairly steady head; and my wife would be the last person in the worldto hold me back, thank God. In such cases five or ten minutes may meanjust the difference between life . . . And death. If you will gettogether some sort of a stretcher--a good strong one--and come onpost-haste down the coolie track, I'll be grateful. I suppose wehaven't a drop of brandy among us?--bad luck to it!"

"There's a provision _kilter_ on one of the coolies. Shall we have itturned out, on the chance?"

"Good Lord, yes. Get it done at once, please. " Then he turned toGarth. "I say, Major, gallop on, will you, and catch up Dr O'Malley. I saw him start with the last contingent. They can't be more than twomiles ahead. "

And as Garth obeyed the peremptory request, the devil himself must havewhispered to his heart the despicable suggestion that possibly Fate hadstruck a blow in his favour after all. 

Colonel Mayhew, meanwhile, rummaging feverishly in the depths of the_kilter_ with scant hope of success, bestrewed the wet earth on allsides of him with canned fruits, sardines, greasy jharrons, andcrumpled wads of newspaper: till at length, like Hope out of Pandora'scasket, there came forth from an unsuspicious-looking bundle of clotheshalf a bottle of brandy, stowed carefully away by the kitmutgar, forprivate ends best known to himself. 

Desmond, who stood by fuming with impatience to be gone, laid eagerhands on it. 

"Lord, what a miracle! Pity there's no flask handy, " he muttered, buttoning his coat, and thrusting the unwieldly impediment into aside-pocket. Then, catching sight of a horn tumbler among the_débris_, he picked it up, and drew out the bottle. 

"Better leave you some for the women, --if you can get 'em to drink itdiluted with a trifle of rain!--There now, I'm off. For God's sake, Colonel, look sharp after me. "

Without waiting for an answer, he swung round on his heel, and for thefirst time looked at his wife, whose eyes had never left him since hesprang from the saddle. Now, as his own challenged them, they gave himin full the approval he craved; and, for the space of a few seconds, their spirits clung together in an embrace more intimate than anycommunion of the lips. 

Then Theo Desmond wrenched himself away. 

Stepping deliberately backward, over a short, sheer drop, he lethimself down by his hands on to a tumbled mass of boulders, and beganhis perilous descent in earnest. Whereupon Brutus, --who stood at the_khud's_ edge peering into space, ears and tail dumbly demandingexplanation, --lunged forward, as if to follow so practical a lead; andonly Colonel Mayhew's prompt clutch at his collar saved him fromjoining the master who had so basely deserted him. Both he andDesmond's distracted Aberdeen were handed over to a _sais_; and aftermuch ineffectual choking and gurgling, subsided into apathetic despair. 

Already half a dozen natives were busy devising an impromptu stretcherfrom fir branches, ropes, and strips of coolie blanket, --drenched andevil-smelling, yet acceptable enough; while Quita sat watching itsconstruction in a dazed stillness; her eyes dry and wide; her artist'sbrain picturing too vividly that which lay awaiting it down there inthe pitiless rain, that seemed to add a refinement of cruelty to thehorse-play of lightning and thunder. 

But Colonel Mayhew, unaware of the morning's double tragedy, had eyesonly for his daughter; and, in his first free moment, hurried to herside. She had hidden her face, and was crying softly, to Michael'sopen dismay. Once or twice he had even laid a hand on her, unheeded, and unrebuked. But her father's touch roused her, and she tookconvulsive hold of him. She was still little more than a child; andthis was her first face-to-face encounter with the brutality of God'suniverse. 

"Don't upset yourself, girlie, " he said kindly. "The damage may beless than we think for. I must stay here and help; but you must be agood child, and ride on at once. You'll see her safe home for me, won't you, Maurice?"

Michael acquiesced eagerly. Unrelieved tragedy upset his nerves. Helonged to escape from the consciousness of Quita's dumb despair; andwhen Elsie had been induced to swallow a drop of brandy that would nothave warmed a sparrow, they rode off briskly through the sullendownpour. 

With a breath of relief, Colonel Mayhew went up to Honor Desmond, whohad just dismounted. 

"What's that for?" he asked anxiously. "You and Miss Maurice are goingon too, of course. "

Honor shook her head. 

"But you can do no earthly good by waiting. We may be an hour or morebefore we get up here again. It will be slow work, if . . . If Lenoxis alive;--and you will be drenched to the skin. "

"There are worse evils than that!" she answered with gentle immobility. "Don't trouble about me, please. I _must_ stay here till I know whathas happened; and I think Miss Maurice will wish to stay too. We shallcome to no harm. We women have nine lives, you know!"

"And if you will--you will. . . . I know that also! But at least takea nip to keep out the damp. Your husband gave me this at the lastmoment for the three of you. "

"How like him to think of it!" she murmured, smiling unsteadily. 

"Yes--it _was_ like him, "--and in the expansion of the moment thewarm-hearted Resident put a fatherly hand on her shoulder. "He's adeuced fine fellow, my dear, and he has found a wife that's worthy ofhim. "

Honor blushed rose-red, and took the proffered stimulant. 

"I'll give Miss Maurice some too, " she said. "Don't lose a second onour account, please. "

Thus urged, the good man hurried away; and Honor went straight toQuita, whose unnatural apathy cut her to the heart. 

"Miss Maurice, here's brandy, " she said softly. "Drink all of it, before I help you down. "

Quita emptied the tumbler; and Honor, grasping her waist with bothhands, lifted her out of the saddle. 

"How strong you are, " she said, in the toneless voice of asleep-walker. Then her frozen anguish melted suddenly and completely. For Honor Desmond, instead of releasing her, clasped her close, kissingher, with passionate tenderness, on cheeks and brows, like wet marble:and in the midst of her bewildered misery Quita realised dimly what itmight mean to possess a mother. 

"Theo and I know about it all, " Honor explained at length; and Quitanodded. The fact that she was crying her heart out on the shoulder ofher detested rival made the whole incident dreamlike to the verge ofstupefaction: and it was Honor who spoke again. 

"We'll just wait here together till they come back; and shut--the worstout of our thoughts. You have splendid courage, my dear, and I think Ilove nothing in the world more than courage. Sit down with me now onthis pile of fir-needles. It looks a little less saturated than therest of the world. "

Still keeping an arm round her, she drew her down unresisting to herside: and Quita, choking back the tears that had probably saved herbrain from after-effects of the shock, looked with awakened interest ather new-found friend. 

"I don't deserve that you should be so good to me, " she said, humourflashing through her pain like a watery sunbeam on a day of mist. "Ihave hated you, with all my heart, ever since I first saw you!"

At which confession Honor pressed her closer. "Bless you for tellingme!--I take it simply as the measure of--your love for him. "

"_Mon Dieu_, no! Not now, " she answered very low. 

"I am glad of that too. For I want very much to be good friends withCaptain Lenox's wife. "

On the last word a slow colour crept back into Quita's cheeks. 

"You mustn't speak of it--yet, to any one else. There aredifficulties--big difficulties . . . "

"I know;--but you may trust him to conquer them. One feels in him thesort of force that moves mountains. "

Again Quita nodded. "You seem to know everything, " she added, a lastspark flickering in the ashes of her jealousy. "And I suppose youblame _me_ for it all. "

"I am too ignorant of the facts to blame either of you. I only knowthat even if he wronged you in any way, he has been more thansufficiently punished. "

At that Quita's lips quivered, and the storm of her grief broke outafresh: while the greater storm overhead, having accomplished its evilwork, rolled rapidly northward, with the colossal unconcern of a giantwho crushes a beetle in his path; and the first stupendous downrush ofwater subsided into a melancholy drizzle of rain. 

In that endless hour of looking and waiting for those who seemed as ifthey had been blotted out for all time, Quita learned once and for allwhat manner of woman Honor Desmond was; learnt also something of theloyalty and reserve that had marked Eldred's intercourse with her whomhe had spoken of as his best friend. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

 "My undissuaded heart I hear Whisper courage in my ear. " --R. L. S. 

Down, --steadily, interminably down the face of that formidable ravine, Theo Desmond slid, and scrambled, and climbed; holding his mind rigidlyon the practical necessities of the moment, which were many anddisconcerting. His stockinged feet showed dull-red streaks and blotches, where sharp stones had cut them. His hands were grazed and torn byfutile clutchings at the surface of broken rocks: and the protruding neckof the brandy bottle had a trick of digging him playfully in the ribs:which made him swear. Impertinent raindrops chased each other down hischeeks and forehead; trickling into his eyes, and blinding him atcritical moments when he dared not release a hand to brush them away. The inch-by-inch progress to which he was condemned fretted the hastyspirit of the man; anxiety consumed him, and conspired with impatience tobeget a nightmare illusion that he had been battling with naked rock anddripping vegetation since the beginning of Time. 

Once, --for all the caution with which he crept backward anddownward, --his foot slipped, on the wet surface of a boulder; and, in thehope of avoiding a fall, he clutched at a small shrub, with one hand, shielding the aggressive brandy bottle with the other. But thetreacherous sapling yielded under his weight; and wrenching its rootsfrom the moist earth, he rolled over and over, knocking his head andchest violently against outlying peninsulars of rock. 

Both hands were requisitioned now, in a vain effort to check a descentthat had become too rapid for comfort or dignity: and before long, amusical clink, followed by a strong whiff of spirit, announced the fateof the brandy bottle. 

"Damn the thing!" he exclaimed in an access of helpless fury. Then afresh blow on his head whelmed anger and anxiety in sheer pain, and senthim rolling like a log into a kindly patch of undergrowth, which had, sofar, blocked his downward view. 

Here he lay awhile, half stunned, small runnels of water trickling fromhis clothing. But his vitality--never long in abeyance--soon reasserteditself. He sat up, and his hand went instinctively to his pocket. Drawing out the beheaded bottle, he was relieved to find that it stillheld a tablespoonful or more; and that his handkerchief was saturatedwith the precious fluid. He sucked a mouthful from it with keensatisfaction: then, using it for a wad, plugged up the bottle; andundaunted by bruises, dizziness, torn hands, and smarting feet, lost notime in starting afresh. 

For the time being, progress was simpler, and less hazardous: and, oncethrough the undergrowth, he came with disconcerting abruptness upon thatwhich he sought. 

Eight feet below him, on a merciful ledge of earth wide enough to checkthe fatal rebound into space, Eldred Lenox lay face downward, his leftarm crumpled under him; the other flung outward as if in a last desperateeffort to ward off the inevitable. Shaitan was nowhere to be seen. Thesheer drop beyond told his fate. 

Soldier as he was, and inured to the sight of death in its most barbarousaspect, Desmond's heart stood still as he looked down upon that powerfulfigure of manhood lying helpless and alone, pattered upon indifferentlyby the dripping heavens. 

Choosing a spot that promised a soft landing-place, Desmond dropped on tothe ledge; knelt beside the injured man; and speedily assured himselfthat life was not extinct. Unconsciousness was due to a wound on theback of his head, from which blood still trickled sluggishly through thethick black hair. The arm crumpled under him was broken below the elbow. Very gently, as though he were a child asleep, Desmond turned him on tohis back. His eyes showed fixed and glazed between half-open lids, and adeep scratch disfigured his cheek. Pillowing the inert head on one arm, Desmond applied the spirit to his lips again and again, a few drops at atime: till the lids lifted heavily, and life returned with a slowshuddering breath. 

Desmond bent down to him eagerly. 

"Not going out this journey, Lenox, old chap. "

But no answering gleam rewarded him; no movement of limb or feature. Only the lids fell again; and Desmond knew that this was no fainting fit, but collapse from probable damage to the brain. 

After applying more brandy to the lips and temples without result, heremoved his Norfolk coat--still warm and dry within--and with the help oftwo fir boughs contrived to shelter Lenox's head and chest from thechilling downpour. Then he set to work on the broken arm. The samefir, --springing sturdily from a cleft in the rock below, --provided asplint; and with two handkerchiefs (he had wrung the last drop ofrain-diluted brandy from his own) he tied the injured limb skilfully andsecurely into place. That done, there remained nothing but to wait:--thehardest task that can be assigned to a man of action. 

And to wait sitting was beyond him. Steady pacing in the cramped spaceavailable helped to deaden thought and promote warmth, --for by now hissoaked shirt-sleeves clung to his arms. 

He kept it up doggedly till approaching footsteps brought his damp vigilto an end; and Colonel Mayhew stepped on to the ledge. 

"Alive?" he asked, glancing at the prostrate figure, and Desmond nodded. 

"Can't get him round, though. Concussion, I'm afraid. A nasty wound onhis head, and one arm fractured. But for that strip of undergrowth, hewould have been done for. Hope to God that lazy beggar Garth hurried upafter O'Malley. We won't wait here, though. --Come on, _coolie-log_. "[Transcriber's note: The "o" in "_log_" is the Unicode "o-macron", U+014D. ]

Colonel Mayhew going forward to lend a hand, glanced over the precipitousdrop on his right, and turned hastily away again. That which had beenShaitan was visible below; and it was not pleasant to look at. 

"Lenox'll be cut up about that, " he muttered as they lifted himcautiously on to the reeking strip of blanket. 

It was a dreary journey up that corkscrew footpath, inch-deep in runningwater, that led to the ordinary levels of life. Desmond kept his post byLenox's head and shoulders, sheltering him still with the discarded coat, and clinging to the track's edge with supple, stockinged feet. But therewas no preventing jars and jolts arising from broken ground, and thedifficulty of carrying a litter at an almost impossible angle. Half-wayup they caught sight of Dr O'Malley, --a Pickwickian figure of a man, booted and spurred, --skipping, stumbling, and slithering towards them ina fashion ludicrous enough to bring a flicker of mirth into Desmond'seyes. 

They drew up when, at length, he bore down upon them with a rush ofexpletives by way of sympathy: for he was good-hearted and a ready man ofhis tongue, if not a brilliant unit of his profession. His rapidexamination of Lenox ended in praise of Desmond's amateur bit of surgery, and a confirmation of his verdict--concussion of the brain. 

"An' there's no telling yet, of course, if it's slight or serious. Butbegad be must have had a nasty tumble. Devilish lucky to get off withhis life, --that's a fact. What's the nearest bungalow we can get himinto? 'Tis a good eight miles to the hospital; and the sooner he's outof this d--d watering-can business the better chance for him. "

Desmond turned to Colonel Mayhew. 

"How about the Forest bungalow, sir? Only a couple of miles on, isn'tit? Brodie must be there now; and he's the right sort, if he is a bit ofan anchorite. "

"Why, of course. The very thing. He's something of an experimentalisttoo. Keeps up a small pharmacy in one of his outhouses. He'll make roomfor Lenox like a shot. "

"And for me too, I hope. I'm game to sleep anywhere. But I won't leaveLenox till he's fit to go into Dalhousie. "

Colonel Mayhew nodded approval; and the dismal procession set out again;O'Malley enlivening its progress with highly-coloured reminiscences of_khud_ accidents he had known, and with incidental attempts at jocularitythat fizzled out like damp fireworks. It was all meant kindly enough. But Desmond was thinking of both man and wife as he had seen them greetone another that morning; and an atmosphere of pseudo-hilarity jarred hisnerves like a discord in music. For the man possessed that mingling offortitude and delicacy of feeling, which stands revealed in the lives ofso many famous fighters, and may well be termed the hall-mark of heroism. 

In due time they came upon the two women, still sitting--drenched andpatient--on their bank of soaked fir-needles; and Desmond hurried forwardto get in a word or two with Quita unobserved. At sight ofhim--coatless, mud-bespattered, with torn clothes, and blood-stained faceand hands--Honor could not repress a small sound of dismay. But Quitasaw in his eyes the one thing she wanted; and may surely be forgiven ifshe paid small heed to his plight. Her face fell at the details of thedamage done. 

"Mayn't I just have a sight of him as he passes us?" she pleaded. 

"Better not, " he answered kindly, "You have an artist's brain, remember;and I want you to sleep a little to-night. Trust me to do every mortalthing I can for him. Honor will see you home, and I'll send a runner inwith news this evening. We'll pull him through between us, --never fear. "

She tried to speak her thanks; but failing, put out a hand impulsively tospeak for her; and his enfolding grasp made her feel less lonely, lessdesperate than she had felt since the awful moment when her husbandvanished into space. The fact that he was in Desmond's hands seemed aguarantee that all would go well with him. There was no logic in theconclusion; and she knew it. But logic has little to do with conviction:and many who came to know Desmond fell into this same trick of dependingon him to win through the thing to which he set his band. Yet hisoptimism had no affinity with the cheap school of philosophy, that nursesa pleasant mind without reference to disconcerting facts. It was theoutcome of that supreme faith in an Ultimate Best, working undismayedthrough failure and pain, which lies at the root of all humanachievement: and it was, in consequence, singularly infectious andconvincing. 

Quita's impressionable spirit readily caught a reflection from its rays:and hope revived sent a glow through all her chilled body. 

"Take a stiff whisky toddy the minute you get in, " he commanded, whilelifting her into the saddle. "And try to remember that over-anxietywon't mend matters. It will only exhaust your strength. I'll come inand see you whenever I can. Ride on at once, " he added hastily, for thestretcher, with its pitiful burden, was close upon them. "We'll catchyou up. "

She obeyed with a childlike docility that touched him to the heart, andhe turned quickly to his wife. 

"Come on, you dear, drenched woman. You've no business to be here atall; and we mustn't keep 'em waiting. "

"But Theo, . . . Your feet!" she murmured distressfully. "Are they quitecut to bits?"

"No--not quite. " He glanced whimsically down at his dishevelled figure. "Lord, what a scarecrow I must be! Aren't you half-ashamed of owning me?"

"Well--naturally!" she answered, beaming upon him as she set her foot inthe hollow of his hand. "I shall see something of you, --shan't I?"

"Trust me for that. See all you can of her too. She's as plucky as theymake 'em: but she may need it all and more, before we're through withthis, poor little soul. "

He mounted, and rode with them as far as the woodsheds, where the menbranched off to the Forest bungalow, leaving the two women to ride onalone: and, in obedience to Desmond's parting injunction, they kept up asteady canter most of the way. 

CHAPTER XV. 

 "How the light light love, he has wings to fly At suspicion of a bond. " --Browning. 

The rugged peak of Bakrota was enveloped in a grey winding-sheet, impenetrable, all-pervading; a dense mass of vapour ceaselessly rollingonward, yet never rolling past. It was as if the mountain had becomeentangled in the folds of a giant's robe. 

The Banksia rose that climbed over the verandah of the Crow's Nest hadshed its first crop of blossoms. The border below was strewn withbright petals of storm-scattered flowers; while above the dank pinesdripped and drooped beneath the dead weight of universal moisture. Thefar-off glory of the mountains was blotted out, as though it had neverbeen; and the doll's house, with its subsidiary group of native huts, had the aspect of a dwelling in Cloudland. From within came the plashof water falling drop by drop, suggesting a vision of zinc tubs, pails, and basins, set here, there, and everywhere, to check the too completeinvasion of the saturated outer world. 

Just outside the drawing-room door, heedless of the mist that hungdewdrops on her lashes, and on blown wisps of hair, Quita stood, devouring with her eyes a damp note, handed to her a minute since byone of Mrs Desmond's _jhampannis_. 

"DEAR MISS MAURICE"--(it ran)--"At last I am allowed to write andsay--Come. Not this afternoon, because he had quite a long outing thismorning in that blessed spell of sunshine; and he is sound asleep afterit, has been for an hour and more; or of course he would send a linewith this himself. Come to dinner. Half-past seven. Then you canhave a long evening together without keeping him up too late. For Theois still high-handed with him about sleep and rest. But really he hasmade astonishing progress since we got him over here. Dr O'Malley isquite comically elated over his recuperative power. Says he has seldomseen such a rapid and vigorous convalescence after concussion; andtakes more than half the credit to himself; but I am convinced that itis you who are mainly responsible for it. He says little enough, evento Theo. Yet one can see how impatient he is to be well again, becauseof you; and that's half the battle. Though perhaps my prosaic zeal forconcentrated food of all kinds deserves to be taken into account!Theo, who is reading every word of this over my shoulder--in spite ofmy insistence on the privacy of _all_ correspondence!--wishes to pointout that his own genius for nursing is really at the bottom of it. (_N. B. _--This is simply because he wants you to be extra charming tohim to-night!) But apart from all my nonsense, the point remains thatamong us all we have done great things in less than three weeks. Comeand see for yourself, and we can squabble over our laurels at leisure!

"Theo sends sympathy and _salaams_, and I think you know that I am veryreally 'yours, '

"HONOR M. DESMOND. "

Quita smiled as she folded up the note, though her lashes were wet withmore than mist. Tears came too readily to her eyes just now, a factthat engendered occasional bickerings between herself and Michael. 

"And to think that I was blind enough to hate that dear woman, " shethought. "I, who pride myself on my intuition!"

Then she scribbled a hasty note of acceptance, despatched the_jhampanni_, and remained standing absently by the verandah rail, looking out into nothingness; trying to grasp the fact that thelongest, hardest three weeks of her life were over; that in less thanfour hours' time she would once more set eyes on the man who was, toall intents and purposes, her newly accepted lover; would verify in theflesh the remembrance of that wonderful night and morning. 

The thought so unsteadied her, that she clenched her hands, and jerkedherself together. Having more of Diana than of Venus in hercomposition, the intensity of her love--since avowal had levelled allbarriers--was a constant surprise to her; and now she was even a littleashamed of her natural longing for the touch of hands and lips, thatshe had at times been disposed to scorn. None the less, she hoped, unblushingly, that she would be allowed to have him to herself for anhour, or so; hoped also--nay, confidently expected--that she would endin overruling this stern purpose of his, that irritated her, even whileit compelled her admiration. 

To her, as to all eager natures, the appeal of the present wasall-powerful, the more so when that present offered her with both handsthe best that life has to give. To sacrifice it on the altar of aproblematical future seemed sheer folly; magnificent folly, perhaps, but, in the circumstances her quickened heart leaned towards a lessmagnificent wisdom. She detected in this unmanageable husband of hersa strain of unpretentious heroism, which delighted her in the abstract. But when the heroic puts on flesh and blood, and shoulders itself intoour narrow lives, it is apt to appear a little too big for the stage;and Quita had an artist's eye for proportion, whether in pictures or inthe human comedy. 

Moreover, a mingling of French and Irish blood rarely results in anirksome development of the conscience, or of that moral bugbear, asense of responsibility; and deep down, Quita knew herself to be morelike her brother in both respects than she quite cared to acknowledge. For all her husband's conscientious suggestion that marriage was a"complicated affair, " she persisted in regarding it simply as the crownand completion of their great love, a happiness to which they wereentitled by every law human and divine. The generations still to behad not yet laid their arresting hand upon her. In her esteem, suchshadowy probabilities had neither right nor power to stem the newimperious forces at work within her. 

It remains to add that Eldred's avowal had not shocked or repelled heras much as he had feared. For, among Michael's promiscuous intimatesin Paris, Vienna, Rome, she had seen and heard more than Lenox waslikely to guess of that enslavement to drugs and absinthe to which theartist's temperament seems peculiarly prone; though she was far fromrealising in detail the full horror and degradation involved. Shemerely felt certain that--heredity or no--Eldred was, by the nature ofhim, incapable of travelling far down that awful road; that with her athis side to hearten and help him, he could not fail to free himselffrom "the accursed chain. "

But they must fight the battle together. That was the Alpha and Omegaof her thoughts. He had not yet measured the height and depth of herlove. Let her only make this clear to him, and he must give in; if notto-night, at least before his leave was up. Years of living withMichael had accustomed her to getting her own way in all essentials. But she had yet to try her strength against the bed-rock of Scottishgranite underlying her husband's surface quietness; against theterrible singleness of mind that cannot--even for Love's dearsake--view harsh facts through a medium of rosy mist. 

While she stood thus, trying to see into the darkness that shrouds thecoming day, even the coming hour, from inquisitive eyes, the driftingvapour all about her paled from grey to white, from white to a gossamerfilm; and finally uprose from the valley, like a spotless scroll rolledbackward by an unseen Hand, giving gradually to view a multitude ofmountains, newly washed; mountains that glowed with richest tints ofpurple and amethyst and rose, in the level light of afternoon. AndQuita, being in a fanciful mood, saw in this "good gigantic smile" ofthe rain-soaked earth a happy omen; an assurance that so would themists rise from her own life, and the sunlight prevail. A suddenrecollection of the buffalo "_Mčla_" set her smiling. 

"How idiotic I am!" she reproved herself gently;--we are apt to begentle with our own foolishness; it never seems quite so egregious asother people's--"I might be a girl of twenty, after my first proposal, instead of nearly thirty, and a nominal wife of five years' standing. "

She drew out her watch. Four o'clock. Three mortal hours before shecould even think of starting. There was nothing for it but to haverecourse to her easel, _faute de mieux_. The last words waked hernormal self. They were no less than heresy, treason to her art. Michael would have disowned her, had she spoken them in his hearing!Was Art, then, so small a thing when compared with this overwhelmingforce of Love, which dwarfed all thoughts and acts that did notminister to its needs? It was too early days as yet to answer so largea question. She simply knew that since that first kiss had set her onthe threshold of an unexplored world, Art had lost its grip; that, forthe present, at all events, she did not want to paint, but to love andlive!

"Pity Michael isn't here to scold me, " she thought, as she turned backinto the house. 

But Michael was away at Jundraghat, the Rajah's summer Residency. Hisfinished portrait had been sent off that afternoon; and he had followedit, for the pleasure of hearing Elsie's thanks and praise in person. 

The little room, robbed of the picture that had been its chief ornamentfor many weeks, looked empty, desolate; and with a restless sigh shewent over to her easel. This also was empty. Her study of a hillgirl, --begun half jestingly, as a contrast to Michael's flower ofWestern Maidenhood, --had so grown and beautified under her hands, thatit had been voted worthy of a Home Exhibition; and its case now stoodagainst the wall, awaiting mail day. Three or four unfinished picturesleaned against the easel. Quita looked through them, aimlessly, insearch of a congenial subject. But they were chiefly landscapestudies; and in her present mood Nature seemed a little tame, andbloodless. Her heart cried out for something human, and she wishedthat Michael would come back. 

Then, like a ray of light, came the required inspiration, satisfying atonce the counter-claims of Art and Love. She sought out a freshcanvas, set it on the easel, and plunged, forthwith, into a roughhead-and-shoulder study of her husband. 

Now time no longer stood still. Michael was forgotten. And, while herbrush sped hither and thither, she crooned low and clear, the song thathad proved the open sesame to her cave of enchantment. 

And, in the meantime, Michael--the forgotten--was manipulating a newand delicate complication in a fashion peculiarly his own. 

On entering Mrs Mayhew's drawing-room, he had found, not his "moonlightmaiden, " as it pleased him to call her, but the Button Quail herself, who greeted him with a rather embarrassing effusion of thanks. 

"And the best point about it is, that it's really _like_ Elsie, " sheconcluded, with an air of paying an exceptional tribute to his skill. "Portraits so seldom _are_ like people. Haven't you noticed it?That's why I generally prefer photographs. But your picture isdifferent. There are only two things about it that don't _quite_please me. " She paused, eyeing the canvas with her head on one side;and Maurice, who was irresistibly reminded of a bird contemplating aworm, wondered idly what was coming in the way of criticism. "I wishyou had allowed her to wear something _smarter_ than that limp whitesilk; and I think she looks much too unpractical, day-dreaming on averandah railing at that hour of the morning! But then, Elsie _is_rather unpractical; or would be, " she added quickly, "if I didn'tinsist on her helping me with the house. That's where moatAnglo-Indian mothers make such a mistake. But _I_ always say it is amother's duty to have _some_ consideration for her girl's futurehusband!"

And she smiled confidentially upon the aspirant at her side. ButMaurice, absorbed in critical appraisement of his own skill inrendering the luminous quality of Elsie's eyes, missed the smile;missed also most of the interesting disquisition on her education. 

"Yes, yes, --no doubt, " he agreed with vague politeness, and Mrs Mayhewopened her round eyes. 

But the direction of his gaze was excuse enough for any breach ofmanners; and she returned to the charge undismayed, approaching hersubject this time from a less prosaic point of view. 

"Really, Mr Maurice, I never knew till now that I _had_ such a prettydaughter! The whole effect is so charming, that I begin to think youmust have flattered her!" she remarked archly; and Maurice fellheadlong into the trap. 

"Flattered her? _Mon Dieu_, no! Nature has taken care to make thatimpossible. For, although she falls short of true beauty, she has suchdelicacy of outline, of colouring, an atmosphere so ethereal, that onewants a brush of gossamer dipped in moonlight, not coarse canvas, camel's hair, and oils, if one is even to do her justice. Some day Imust try water-colours, or pastels. _Sans doute ça ira mieux_. " Hewas off on his Pegasus now, far above Mrs Mayhew's bewildered head. "She would make a divine Undine--moonlight, and overhanging trees. Theface and figure dimly seen through a veil of water weeds. --But where isshe, then?" he broke off, falling suddenly to earth like a rocket. "May one see her this afternoon? I want to hear from herself that sheis satisfied. "

Mrs Mayhew smiled and nodded, a world of comprehension in her eyes. 

"Yes, yes, I can quite believe _that_. I will tell her you are here. She looked rather a wisp after the dance last night, so I sent her upto rest, for the sake of her complexion! But, of _course_, she mustcome down now. You will find her more entertaining than '_la petitemčre_, ' She has taken to calling me that lately!"

The complacent little lady took a step forward, then--a bubble withmaternal satisfaction--spoke the word too much that is responsible forhalf the minor miseries of life. 

"Do you know, Mr Maurice, it is quite charming of you to have shown meyour feelings so openly, and I think the least that I can do is toassure you of my sympathy and approval. I don't feel _quite_ socertain about her father. He is wrapped up in the child, and man-like, wants to keep her for himself. But no doubt between us we shallpersuade him to listen to reason! Now, I will go to Elsie. "

But Michael made haste to interpose;--a changed Michael, puzzled to theverge of anger, yet punctiliously polite withal. 

"One moment, Mrs Mayhew, please. It might be as well if you and Iunderstood one another first. It seems that I have been clumsy inexpressing myself, that I have given you a false impression. If so, Iask your pardon. Believe me, I fully sympathise with Colonel Mayhew'sreluctance to part with such a daughter; and I am not arrogant enoughto dream of asking him to make such a sacrifice, --on my behalf. "

It was very neatly done. Michael's detached self, looking on at thelittle scene, applauded it as quite a masterpiece in its way. But MrsMayhew stood petrified. Her brain worked slowly, and it took her anappreciable time to realise that she had been something more than afool. Then, drawing herself up to her full height--barely five feet inher heels, --she answered him with an attempt at hauteur that quitemissed fire. 

"Since you are so _considerate_ of Colonel Mayhew's feelings, I onlywonder it has not occurred to you that your conduct during the past twomonths has been little short of dishonourable?"

"Dishonourable?" His eyes flashed. "_Mais comment_?"

"You have given every one in Dalhousie the impression that you were--inlove with Miss Mayhew. "

His relief was obvious. 

"Naturally, my dear lady. For I _am_ in love with her. How could aman, and an artist, be anything else? But marriage--no----" He shookhis head decisively. "That is another pair of sleeves. Women areadorable. But they are terrible monopolists; and, frankly, I have notalent for the domesticities. As a lover, I am well enough. But as ahusband--believe me, in six months I should drive a woman distracted!Ask Quita. She knows. If I have given Miss Mayhew cause to regret herkindness to me, I am inconsolable; though, in any case, I can neverregret the privilege of having known, and--loved her. "

Throughout this ingenious jumble of egoism and gallantry, his listenerhad been freezing visibly. On the last word she compressed her mouthto a mere line, and stabbed the unrepentant sinner with her eyes; sinceit was unhappily impossible to stab him with a hat-pin, which she wouldinfinitely have preferred. 

"I have never in my _life_ heard any man express such improper ideasupon a serious subject, " she remarked with icy emphasis. "And I am_quite_ thankful that your peculiar views prevent you from wishing tomarry my daughter. "

"_Bien_! Then we are of one mind after all, " Maurice answeredcheerfully. "And since we understand each other, may I at least bepermitted to see Miss Mayhew before I go?"

"See her? Certainly _not_. Really, Mr Maurice, your effronteryastounds me! Understand, please, that from to-day there is an _end_ ofyour free-and-easy French intimacies! Colonel Mayhew and I have toconsider her good name and her future happiness; and we cannot allowyou, or any man, to endanger either. "

Michael shrugged his shoulders. His disappointment was keener than hecared to show; but this hopeless little woman, with her bourgeois pointof view, was obviously blind and deaf to common-sense or reason. 

"I would not for the world endanger Miss Mayhew's happiness, or hergood name, " he said, not without dignity. "And as one may not see her, there is no more to be said. "

He held out his hand. But Mrs Mayhew's manners were not proof againstso severe a shock to her maternal vanity. She bowed as if the gesturehad escaped her notice. 

"Good-bye, Mr Maurice, " she said rigidly. 

He returned her bow in silence, slipped the rejected hand into hispocket, and went out. 

In passing through the hall he was aware of a slim white figure comingdown the broad staircase; and without an instant's hesitation he stoodstill. In spite of "the little she-dragon in there, " he would see heryet. For the knowledge that he had lost her increased her valuetenfold. 

"You are really pleased with it--tell me?" he said eagerly as theirhands met, for he saw the question in her eyes. 

"Pleased? You know I am. It is _much_ too good of you to give me sucha splendid present; and father is simply delighted. But why are yougoing away? I thought you would stay to tea. "

He still held her hand, in defiance of a gentle attempt to withdraw it, and now he pressed it closer. 

"Unhappily I must go, " he said, without looking at her. "Your motherwill tell you why, better than I can do. Good-bye---_petite amis_. Think well of me, if you can. "

He bent over her hand, kissed it lingeringly, and was gone before shecould find words to express her bewilderment. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

 "What we love we'll serve, aye, and suffer for too. " --W. Penn. 

After sunset the mist came down again, thick as cotton-wool. Heavenand earth were obliterated, and a quietly determined downpour set infor the night. 

Quita was still at her easel, trying bravely to disregard the collapseof her happy omen; Michael lounging in a cane chair, with Shelley and acigarette. He had returned from Jundraghat in a mood of skin-deepnonchalance, beneath which irritation smouldered, and Quita's news hadset the sparks flying. Behold him, therefore, doubly a martyr; ready, as always, to make capital out of his crown of thorns. A renewedpattering on the verandah slates roused him from the raptures of theEpipsychidion. 

"Well, at least you can't think of going _now_, " he said, flinging thebook aside with a gesture of impatience. "That's one blessing, if therest's a blank. "

Quita, who was washing out her brushes, looked round quickly. 

"I'm sorry to leave you alone in a bad mood, Michael; but I mean to go, whatever the weather chooses to say about it. "

"_Parbleu_! But what has come to you, Quita? You are infatuated withthat granite-natured Scotchman!"

"And if I am . . . I have every right to be. "

Her gaze had returned to the vigorous outline on the easel, and hervoice softened to an unconscious tenderness, peculiarly exasperating toa man in Michael's mixed frame of mind. 

"_Naturellement_!" he answered with a shrug. "Being a woman, you havedivine right to monopolise a man, --if the man is fool enough to submitto it. Nature is determined that you women shall not escape your realtrade. That is why she takes care to make every one of you a bourgeoisat heart. And all these years I have cherished the delusion that you, at least, were a genuine artist!"

"So I am. Every whit as much as yourself. "

"And also--a genuine woman?"

"I hope so. "

Michael smiled--a smile of superior knowledge. 

"One cannot serve two masters, _ma chčre_. That's where thecomplication comes in, when an artist happens also to be a woman. Thecreative force, mental or physical, is a master-force. Only asuperhuman vitality can accomplish both with any hope of success. Succumb to your womanhood, and there's an end of your Art--_voilŕtout_. "

"But no, Michel. I won't believe that. " She spoke stoutly, thoughcold fear was upon her that a germ of truth lurked in his statement. 

"Believe it or not, as you please. You are on the high-road to makethe discovery for yourself, and you will find it a case of nocompromise. One of the two must predominate. You will either becomean amateur artist or an amateur wife and mother. Which do you supposeit will be?"

She shut her paint-box with an impatient snap. 

"I really don't know. I am not in the mood for abstract speculation. "

"No. You are in the mood for concrete love-making; and in pursuit ofit, you're ready to face a drenching, to leave me is the worst possiblecompany, without a sisterly qualm, and without even troubling to put myrazor in your pocket. "

"Don't talk melodramatic nonsense, " she rebuked him sharply. Then pityand tenderness prevailed. "If it's really as bad as that, _mon cher_, why on earth didn't you take yesterday's chance, and ask Elsie to beyour wife? I believe she would have said 'Yes. '"

"So do I. Therefore I preferred not to ask her. Still--it's none theless maddening that because you women have this incurable mania formarriage, one should be cut off from her sweet companionship, from theinspiration that is to be found in that delectable borderland betweenfriendship and love; and insulted into the bargain by a chit of amother-woman, with no more brains and imagination than a sparrow! Butfor me, at any rate, there can be no compromise. I do not choose toprofane the sanctuary of my soul, to corrupt my Art, by becoming a merebreadwinner, a slave of the hearth-rug, and the tea-cup--in fact, theproperty of a woman. That's what it amounts to. And I doubt if any ofus relish the position when it comes to the point. Even that devotedhusband of yours, after waiting five years upon your imperial pleasure, seems in no hurry to tie himself up again; or you would hear less abouthis conscientious scruples, I assure you. They would be swept aside, like straws before a flood. "

At that Quita's eyes flashed. 

"Michel, you _shall_ not speak so of him, " she cried imperiously. "I've said already that I won't have the subject discussed. How should_you_ understand a man like Eldred, --you, who hardly know the meaningof the word 'conscience'?"

"_Dieu merci_; since its chief function seems to be to make oneself andevery one else uncomfortable. --Hark at the rain! I wish you joy ofyour journey. "

He spoke the last words to an empty room. Quita was already changingher dress hurriedly, defiantly, shutting her ears to the discouragingsounds without. Michael's half-jesting insinuation had hit her harderthan he guessed; had deepened her determination to extricate herself, without loss of time, from a position that justified a suggestion sogalling to her pride. 

But the mere getting down from the top of Bakrota, and climbinghalf-way up the neighbouring hill, through a desolating world of mistand rain, was, in itself, a prospect that would have daunted a lessheadstrong woman. Michael returned her hasty "good-night" in a voiceof resigned martyrdom, and out in the verandah, four drenched_jhampannis_ cowering round a hurricane-lantern, had passed beyondmartyrdom to the verge of open rebellion. 

They were poor men, and the Miss Sahib's slaves, they protested inchorus; but it was a very bad rain. Even with the lantern, it would beimpossible to keep the path; and if harm should come to the Protectorof the Poor, the Sahib would smite them without mercy. Also the "mate"[1] was even now shivering with ague; in proof whereof he so vigorouslyshook the lantern that it almost fell out of his hand. 

But Quita was adamant. She bade them set out at once, or the Sahibwould smite them there and then. Awed by a threat that would neverhave been executed, they hastened to assure her that she was, collectively and individually, their "father and mother, " that theirworthless lives were at her service, and that they would startforthwith. 

Three minutes later, they were swinging cautiously along the four-foottrack that corkscrews down to the level of the Mall, the foremost manthrusting the lantern well ahead, with the sole result that a greatwhite circle showed weirdly upon the curtain of mist, through whichthey journeyed by faith, and not by sight. With every step of the wayQuita's conviction grew that she had pushed persistence to the verge offolly; and the thought of Michael, alone and dejected, tugged at herheart. The rain formed miniature canals in the waterproof sheet thatcovered her; and more than once a jerk of the dandy emptied these intoher lap; while the mist itself was so dense that she seemed to bebreathing water instead of air. There was no denying that to-morrowwould do as well as to-night. But her impatient spirit fretted againstdelay; and this senseless obtrusion of inanimate things, --angering her, as only the inanimate can, --drowned the still small voice ofcommon-sense. 

Nevertheless, human will and endeavour have small chance in a duel withthat invisible Force, which men call Fate. In the language of theEast, "it was written" that she should not get down the hill thatnight; and before they reached the Mall, Quita was compelled to ownherself beaten. 

A jerk, a crash, followed by darkness, and a thud that brought herhalf-overturned dandy into violent contact with the ground, fairlysettled the matter. The "mate" had missed the path; and, but for aninstantaneous counter-jerk on the part of the men behind, Quita wouldhave been shot down the _khud_, instead of on to the stony roadway. Asit was, she thrust out both hands to save herself, while the rainpattered through the light lace scarf on to her head and neck. Thelantern glass was broken, and the "mate, " lamenting volubly, declaredthat his arm appeared to be broken also. Quita herself wasignominiously damp and bedraggled; and vanity apart, going on was outof the question. Even getting back, minus the lantern, would be adifficult matter. With tears in her eyes, and fierce disappointment ather heart, she submitted to the inevitable. 

Michael greeted her with lifted eyebrows, and an exasperating chuckle. 

"Thought ten minutes of it would be enough for you, " he remarkedcoolly; and her wrath against things in general vented itself on him. 

"Really, Michel, you are _detestable_! It was not enough. The 'mate'lost his footing, and the lantern broke. Oh, it's cruel . . . Afternearly three weeks . . . "

Her voice broke, and Michael, thankful to see her again, took one ofher hands and drew her towards him. 

"_Pauvre chérie_, " he said more gently. "Don't break your heart overit. Send a note to say you'll come to-morrow, and cheer me up a bitnow, like the sweet sister you are. "

There was nothing else to be done. Arming an adventurous _sais_ withMaurice's lantern, an alpenstock, and two notes tied up in a scrap ofoiled silk, Quita choked down her misery, and did her utmost to complywith his request. But the meal was only a partial success, for therebellious heart of her was out there in the rain, following the notesto their destination. 

They did not reach it till well after eight o'clock, when those whoawaited her had given up all hope, and were just sitting down to dinner. 

Lenox still wore his arm in a sling, and the lines in his face lookeddeeper than usual. Otherwise he was quite himself again. The anxietyin his eyes gave place to dejection as Honor handed him Quita's note. 

"Shall I open it for you?" she added gently. 

He frowned, and thanked her. There are few things more galling to aman than helplessness over trifles. He laid the open note beside hisplate, and its half-dozen lines of love took him an amazingly longwhile to read: for Quita, like many spontaneous natures, had the giftof making herself almost seen and heard by means of a few writtenwords. He tried to win comfort from the thought that it was only amatter of getting through eighteen hours, after all, and roused himselfresolutely to a fair semblance of cheerfulness. But both husband andwife were too keenly sympathetic to be quite successful in theirattempts to change the current of his thoughts; and their own heartswere heavy with a great anxiety for Desmond's life-long friend, PaulWyndham. A phenomenal downpour at Dera Ishmael had produced a prolificcrop of fever cases, and Wyndham's had taken a serious turn. The lasttwo days had brought such disquieting news that Desmond was alreadyhalf-inclined to throw up the rest of his leave and go straight down toPaul's bedside. The possibility of broaching the subject to his wifethat night so absorbed his mind that surface conversation was aneffort; and all three were thankful when the meal was over. 

"Bring your coffee and cigars into the drawing-room, and we'll havesome music, " Honor said, as they rose from the table, and Lenox lookedhis gratitude. Intimate speech of any kind, even with Desmond, wasanathema to him just then, and his full heart went out to this woman, whose genius for divining others' needs was so unerring, because hersympathies were so deep and true. 

He determined to put Quita out of his head for the evening, if shewould consent to stay there; and less than five minutes after thistriumph of common-sense, a slight stir in the verandah roused him tounreasoning hope that it might be she after all. But it was only AmarSingh, the bearer, with a telegram for Desmond. 

His heart stood still as he tore it open; then a stifled sound ofdismay brought Honor instantly to his side. 

"Dearest--what is it?" she asked under her breath. 

For answer he handed her the flimsy scrap of paper, and went quicklyinto the next room. Honor's eyes took in the curt statement at aglance. 

"Leave cancelled. Return at once. Infantry for cholera camp. None ofours yet. Wyndham worse. High temperature persists. Conditioncritical. "

A low sound escaped her, and she passed the telegram to Lenox. It wasfrom her brother, Colonel Meredith, now in command of the regiment. 

"A double blow, " she murmured mechanically. "By this time it maybe--all over!"

Her lips quivered, but she did not follow her husband, knowing that inthe first bewilderment of grief he would prefer to be alone. And Lenoxhad no answer for her; had, in fact, scarcely heard what she said. Then, as his brain grasped the latter half of the telegram, he glancedat her. He had never seen her look less like herself. 

"I'm afraid this has hit you hard, " he said, with more of feeling inhis eyes than he knew how to put into his tone. "But you mustn't takethe worst for granted. Desmond won't, if I know anything of him. "

"I hope not. But this is . . . Paul; and you don't know what thatmeans to us both. Besides . . . The saints of the earth are alwaystaken too soon. "

"No, not always. Fate does sometimes make mistakes on the rightside . . . By accident, " he added grimly. "I suppose one of these hasgone to the Strawberry Bank. I must send Zyarulla off at once to getmy traps together. It means starting first thing. "

She looked at him in surprise. 

"Yes. But not you, surely. You're hardly fit for duty yet. "

"Nonsense. Barring my arm, I'm fit for anything. And if we're in forcholera, I don't see myself leaving Dick to handle the Battery withoutme. "

"You're bound to ask Dr O'Malley's permission, though. "

"Yes, worse luck. But I fancy I shall square him. At the sametime--it's hard lines----"

He broke off short. The thing did not bear speaking of. 

"It _is_ bitterly hard lines, for you both, " Honor answered, lookingaway from him. But she knew the best men of her service too well tosuggest that, without straining a point, he might honestly be declaredunfit for duty. 

"At least it will be a comfort to her having _you_ here, " he went onmechanically, because the thing had to be said somehow. "I'll leave anote, of course, but I'd be grateful if you'd take it for me some timein the morning. She may not understand how impossible it is for a manto hold back--on any pretext, at a time like this, and I know I cantrust _you_ to make things clear to her. You're more than half asoldier yourself. "

"So I ought to be!" Honor answered, inexpressibly touched by hisconfidence in her. "And of course I would go to her if I were here. But to-morrow I shall be on my way back to Dera with you both. "

"Dera!--But that would be madness. Do you suppose Desmond would everhear of such a thing?"

"I haven't supposed anything about it yet, " she answered, smiling. "Ionly know that I can't let him go down into--all that, alone. Now Imust say good-night, and go to him. We'll make all arrangements forthe journey, " she added, as they shook hands, "and Zyarulla will do thepacking for you. So be sure and get some sleep when you have seen DrO'Malley. "

His face hardened. 

"I only know one way to make sure of that, " he said, avoiding her eyes. 

"Oh, no, no; not that way, please. "

"I imagine it'll be that or none, " he answered almost roughly, as heturned away, and with a sigh Honor followed her husband into thedining-room. 

He sat with his back to her, elbows planted on the writing-table, hishead between his hands. But at her approach he looked up, and with asharp contraction of heart she saw that tears stood in his eyes. Awoman takes small account of her own wet lashes, but a man's tears arelike drops of blood wrung from the heart. 

Honor took his head between her hands, and kissed him, long andtremulously. After that there seemed no need for words on the subjectnearest their hearts. 

"You knew why I didn't come sooner?" was all she said, and Desmondpressed the hand resting on his shoulder. Then, seating herselfopposite him on the edge of the table, she glanced at the telegraphform lying before him. 

"Are you wiring for more news?"

"Yes. I want an 'urgent, ' care of the Station-master, to catch me atLahore to-morrow night, and another at Thung dak bungalow next day;unless . . . Of course . . . "

"Hush, hush. You _must_ not think of that. "

He frowned, and was silent. The two men loved one another as menlinked by half a lifetime of toil and ambition learn to love, --or hate;and in the face of a calamity so unthinkable, even Desmond's incurablehopefulness was shaken. 

"Captain Lenox believes he will be allowed to go, " Honor went on aftera pause. "But he's hardly fit for it, is he?"

"Not quite, perhaps, though he's made of iron under it all, and if he'sset on going, I don't fancy O'Malley will stand in his way. "

"I told him we would make all travelling arrangements, and you'll besending Dunni out with this, I suppose?"

"Yes. At once. Why?"

"Because I want him to take a note to Mrs Rivers at the same time. "

"Mrs Rivers? Would you sooner go to her than stay on here?"

Honor smiled. 

"Do you really imagine I shall stay on here?"

"Why not? It would save the trouble of moving; and you wouldn't feellonely with the little chap for company. "

"But, you dear, foolish man, can't you see that it's you I want?" Andshe leaned forward, speaking quickly to stave off interruption. "Don'tmake a fuss about it, please; because I have settled everything in mymind. I'll ask Mrs Rivers to take baby and Parbutti for me. I knowshe gladly will. As for me, of course I go down to Dera to-morrow, anddo what I can for you all. "

At that Desmond straightened himself; and Honor foresaw one of thosepitched battles, which, between natures equally imperious andhot-headed, were unavoidable from time to time; while Desmond, becausehe meant to have his own way, dared not let her see how profoundly hewas moved by this culminating proof of her devotion. 

"My dear Honor, the thing is out of the question, " he said decisively. "It's splendid of you even to think of coming down. But it would beunpardonable in me to allow it, so be a sensible woman and put thenotion out of your head, once for all. You know you could never bearto leave little Paul when it came to the point. "

"I could . . . I could. Oh, Theo, don't be unreasonable over this. "

"The unreasonableness is yours, my dear. If this is going to be bad, we may all be off into camp before the week's out. "

"Well, then, Frank would take me in . . . And at least I should be onthe spot--in case . . . Oh, Theo, I _must_ come! Why on earthshouldn't I be there just as much as Frank, and that little missionarywoman, Mrs Peters?"

"Frank" Olliver, a Major's wife, was the only other woman in theregiment, and hill stations were not (as she would have expressed it)"in her line. " But Desmond was immovable. 

"That's quite another matter. Being there already, they naturallywouldn't desert their post. But you are here, thank God, safe out ofit all; and I must insist on your remaining here, if it's only for mysake. " A half smile dispelled the gravity of his face. "I've a notionthat when you married me you promised, among other things, to obey me!"

"Well, I was driven to. It was the only way to get you. But I'm suremost of us make that promise with mental reservations. In certaincases I should not dream of obeying you, Theo, and this is one!"

"But if I flatly refuse to take you with me?"

"I suppose I should have to follow on alone. "

He looked at her straightly for a moment. Then: "I don't think youwould deliberately defy me, Honor, " he said in a level tone. "Icouldn't put up with that, even from you. "

There was a short silence. She saw that in direct opposition to hiswill she could go no further. But the woman who loves, and knowsherself beloved, has subtler weapons at command. Setting her two handsupon his shoulders, and bringing her beautiful face very close to his, Honor returned her husband's look with a smile so mutely beseeching, that his fortitude, already undermined by the news from Dera, began towaver, and she saw it. 

"My very dearest, " she said, on a low note of tenderness, "of course Iwould never defy you. But don't break my heart by pushing me on oneside, and leaving me up here alone, idle, anxious, when there is realwork--woman's work--waiting to be done down there. I'm as strong as achurch, you know that. And I could help with Paul when he isconvalescent. We could have him in the bungalow. I know separation isbound to come some day. But not in this terrible fashion, and not yet. _Please_, Theo, not yet. "

Then, because tears threatened, she leaned down till her foreheadrested against his shoulder, and furtively dried her lashes with theback of her hand. When a strong woman lays aside her strength, andrelies on the inherent power of her womanhood, no man on earth is amatch for her. Desmond could only surrender at discretion, and takeher altogether to himself. 

"And you began by saying you would never defy me!" he whispered intoher ear. "What else do you call this, I wonder? You incurable woman!Is it really because you are so keen to help, or chiefly because youwant to be in my pocket? Which?"

"Chiefly because I want to be in your pocket, " she answered withoutshame, and he kissed her bowed head. 

"But mind you, " his tone changed abruptly, "I have no business to givein to you; and if any harm should come of it, I could never forgivemyself. I believe I should blow my brains out on the spot. "

At that she lifted her head and stood up beside him. 

"Theo, you _shall_ not say such dreadful things. "

"It's no more than the truth, " he answered, with a touch of defiance. "Lord, how you women, and the children you give us, complicate life fora man! Yet it's not worth a brass farthing without you both. "

"Thank you for owning that much!--Now I must write my note, and seeabout packing. Come up soon, dear. There's an endless deal to dobefore we can think of going to bed. "

On his way up to join her twenty minutes later, Desmond looked intoLenox's small room. Zyarulla had strewn the floor with books, boots, clothes, and a couple of boxes, preparatory to going into action. Hismaster, enveloped in a cloud of blue smoke, sat afar off directing theplan of campaign. A great peace pervaded his aspect, and theunmistakable fragrance that filled the room brought two deep lines intoDesmond's forehead. 

"Just looked in to find out how you were getting on, " said he. "Notseen O'Malley already, have you?"

"No. But his verdict is a foregone conclusion, so we're going aheadwith things. Your wife's not really coming, is she?"

"Yes. I did my best to prevent it; but there's no gainsaying her. "

"Great Scott, she's a plucky woman! You must have plenty to see toboth of you. Don't let me keep you, old chap, I'm all right. "

"Glad to hear it. You'll sleep. That's certain. But I wish togoodness you'd given Nature a chance. "

"Nature wouldn't have given _me_ a chance, " the other answered withsudden heat. "And there's a limit to what a man can stand. By theway, " he added in an altered tone, "I can't tell you how sorry I amabout Wyndham. But you must hope for the best. "

"Thanks, " Desmond answered quietly. "Good-night. "

The door of his wife's room stood ajar, and in passing it to go to hisdressing-room, his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a muffledsob. Treading softly, he pushed the door open, and looked in. 

A night-light in the basin, and one candle on the dressing-table showedhim a tall white figure bending over the rail of the cot where his sonlay asleep. Honor had discarded her dinner dress for a light wrapper, and her loosened hair fell in a dusky mass almost to her knees. 

For a few seconds Desmond stood watching her, uncertain whether tointrude upon her grief or no. He knew her peculiar dread of separationfrom those she loved, knew that throughout the sixteen mouths of herchild's life she had never left him for more than a few hours except togo to Chumba, and then not without remonstrance. Yet she was leavinghim now of her own free will, for an indefinite time, and in the fullknowledge of the grim possibilities ahead. It is in such rare momentsof revelation that a man realises dimly what it may mean for a womandowered with the real courage and dignity of self-surrender to giveherself to him; that he is vouch-safed a glimpse into that mystery oflove, which cynics of the decadent school dismiss as "amoristicsentiment, " a fictitious glorification of mere natural instinct. ButDesmond took a simpler, more reverential view of a quality which hebelieved to be the most direct touch of the Divine in man, and which hehad proved to be the corner-stone of his wife's character. 

He went forward at length, but so noiselessly that Honor had no idea ofhis presence till his arms came round her from behind, and drew her upso close against him that her wet cheek touched his own. 

"Theo . . . That wasn't fair!" she protested with a little broken laugh. 

"Not quite. But I couldn't resist it. "

Then they stood silent, looking down at the sleeping child. 

He lay on his back, one half-opened hand flung high above his head, andthe fair soft face, in its halo of red-gold hair, bore the impress ofthe angelic, that only comes with sleep, and vanishes like magic at thelifting of the eyelids. 

Suddenly Desmond tightened his hold of her, and by a mutual impulsetheir lips met. 

[1] Headman. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

"Our frailties are invincible, our virtues barren; and the battle goessore against us to the going down of the sun. "--R. L. S. 

The rain, which had set in with such quiet determination at sunset, fulfilled its promise of continuing through the night: and thepattering on the slates that had mingled with Quita's latest thoughtsgreeted her, with derisive iteration, when she opened her eyes nextmorning. But its power to thwart her was at an end. Now that daylightwas come, nothing short of a landslip could withhold her from the thingshe craved. The thought leaped in her brain before she was fullyawake. "And after all, why should I wait till the afternoon, " was herpractical conclusion. "I'll go down at eleven. "

With that she sprang out of bed, and slipping on a dull bluedressing-gown, hurried into the dining-room, where she and Michaelalways met for _chota hazri_. 

Here she found him, in Japanese smoking suit and slippers, smilingcontentedly over an item of his early post. 

"What's pleasing you, _mon cher_?" she asked absently, depositing alight kiss on his hair. For a woman in love--and a man no less--is asroyally indifferent to the joys and sorrows of all creation aschildhood itself. 

"A letter from my pretty Puritan. It is not for nothing that she hasthose straight brows, and that small resolute chin. She will not bethrust down any man's throat for all the hen-sparrows in Christendom!"

"Why--what does she say?" Quita asked, peering critically into theteapot, and wondering how it would feel to pour out Eldred's early tea!

"Listen then; and judge for yourself:

"'DEAR MR MAURICE, ---There seems to have been an unluckymisunderstanding between you and mother yesterday. But I hope thisneed not make any real difference in our friendship. Because I thinkwe have always understood each other, haven't we? Of course if myparents prefer that we should not be about together quite so much, there is no help for it. But at least I would like you to know that Iam still, as I always have been, your friend (if you wish it)

"'ELSIE MAYHEW. '"

"_Tiens_! How is that for your 'child of twenty'? It is the letter ofa woman; and a woman with an exquisite sense of her own dignity intothe bargain. "

Quita smiled thoughtfully as she buttered her toast. 

"I am wondering how she would have answered if you had asked her, " wasall she said. "I don't feel quite so certain as I did last night. "

"_Ni moi non plus_. Which makes the situation just twice asinteresting. For all the Button Quail's beak and claws, I fancy Ishall see more of my Undine yet!"

With a chuckle of satisfaction, he fell to re-reading Elsie's note: andQuita, immersed in her own affairs, promptly forgot them both. 

An hour later she reappeared--her whole face and form radiating thelight within; went straight to her easel, flung aside its draperies, and surveying her work of the previous day, found it very good. Butthere were certain lines and shadows that displeased her critical eye. She would study his face afresh this morning, with the twofoldappreciation of heart and brain, and surprise him with the picture whenit was nearer completion. 

Just then the bearer, entering, handed her a note. She opened iteagerly--recognising Eldred's handwriting--and read, with abewilderment bordering on despair, the stoical statement of facts setdown by Lenox in the first bitterness of disappointment, ten hours ago. The shock staggered her like a blow between the eyes. Her lips partedand closed on a soundless exclamation. The abrupt change in her facewas as if a light had been suddenly blown out. 

"_Mon Dieu_, . . . Cholera!" she murmured helplessly, putting one handover her eyes as if to shut out the horror of it. "This is mypunishment for ever having let him go. "

Then, as if in hope of discovering some mitigation of her sentence, shere-read the short letter, lingering on the last paragraph, which alonecontained some ray of comfort, some assurance of the strong love thatwas at once the cause and the anodyne of their mutual pain. 

"And now, my dearest" (Lenox wrote), "what more can I say, except--beof good courage, and write to me often. The rest, and there's a gooddeal of it, can't be put upon paper. That's the curse of separation. Start a picture, and throw your heart into your work, as I must intomine. God knows when I shall see you again. But trust me, Quita, assoon as ever I can, and dare, to put an end to this intolerable stateof things. --Till then, and always, your devoted husband, ----E. L. "

It was the first time he had signed himself thus: and the envelope wasaddressed 'Miss Maurice'! The irony of it cut her to the quick. Tearsof self-pity, flooding her eyes, startled her back to reality; and senther stumbling towards her own room. But before she could reach it, Michael's voice arrested her. 

"Come on, Quita, " he shouted good-humouredly. "Where _are_ you off to?I want my breakfast. "

She turned upon him a face distorted with grief. 

"_Parbleu, chérie, qu'y-a-t'il a maintenant_?" he demanded, with an oddmingling of irritation and concern. 

"Cholera at Dera Ishmael--Eldred's gone down this morning. . . . " Thentears overwhelmed her, and he turned sharply away. "Oh go, . . . Go, and have your breakfast, Michel; and let me be. I want nothing, nothing, but to be left alone. "

And vanishing into her room, she bolted the door behind her. 

Maurice frowned, and sighed. In all his knowledge of her, Quita hadnever so completely lost her self-control. It was quite upsetting: andhe disliked being upset the first thing in the morning. It put him outof tune for the rest of the day. But after all . . One must eat. Andhe retraced his steps to the dining-room. 

"I wish to heaven she had never discovered this uncomfortable husbandof hers!" he reflected as he went "Since he will neither marry her, norleave her alone; and it is we who have to suffer for his heroics!"

For all that, he found speedy consolation in the thought that at teno'clock a new 'subject' was coming to sit to him:--a wrinkled hag, whomhe had met on his way back from Jundraghat, bent half double under atowering load of grass, her neutral-tinted tunic and draped trousersrelieved by the scarlet of betel-nut on her lips and gums, and by agoat's-hair necklet strung with raw lumps of amber and turquoise, interset with three plaques of beaten silver;--the only form of savingsbank known to these simple children of the hills. 

While hastily demolishing his breakfast, Maurice visualised his picturein every detail: and with the arrival of his model all thought of Quitaand her woes was crowded out of his mind. Yet the man was notheartless, by any means. He was simply an artist of the extreme type, endowed by temperament with the capacity for subordinating allthings, --his own griefs no less than the griefs of others, --to onedominant, insatiable purpose. And according to his lights he must bejudged. 

Quita remained invisible till lunch-time, lying inert, where she hadflung herself, upon her unmade bed. 

The first tempest of misery, and rebellion, and self-castigation hadgiven place to sheer exhaustion. For even suffering has itslimitations; which is perhaps the reason why grief rarely kills. Allthe springs of life seemed suddenly to have run down. Her spirit feltcrushed and broken by the obstructiveness of all about her. The strainof the past three weeks, following upon a severe shock, had told uponher more than she knew; and this morning's sharp revulsion of feelingbrought her near to purely physical collapse. 

And while she lay alone through two endless hours, tracing designs fromthe cracks in the whitewashed wall, one conviction haunted her withmorbid persistence. Because she had not valued him in the beginning, because she had repudiated him in a moment of wounded pride, he wouldbe taken from her, now that heart and soul were set upon him, and shewould never see him again. It was useless to argue that the idea waschildish; a mere nightmare of overwrought nerves. It persisted andprevailed, till she felt herself crushed in the grip of a relentless, impersonal Force, against which neither penitence nor tears would avail. 

Finally, worn out with pain and rebellion, she fell asleep. 

BOOK III. -THE TENTS OF ISHMAEL. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

 "Leave the what at the what's-its-name, Leave the sheep without shelter; Leave the corpse uninterred, Leave the bride at the altar. " --Kipling. 

Even in a land where danger and discomfort flourish like the ungodly, that journey from the cedar-crowned Himalayas to the white hot flats ofthe Derajat, with the Punjab furnace in full swing, was an experience notreadily forgotten by the three who set out upon it in the dripping greydawn of a July morning. Before them stretched two nights and three daysof pure martyrdom, aggravated by that prince of evils--a troubled mind:for the Desmonds a haunting anxiety, and for Lenox the harassingrealisation that his own strength or weakness during the next few monthsstood for no less than the happiness or misery of the only woman onearth. It is this irrevocable fusion of two lives, and the network ofresponsibilities arising from an act less simple than it seems, thatconstitute the strength, the charm, the tragedy of marriage: and a dimforeknowledge of its complexity dawned upon Lenox during his penitentialprogress into a land of fire and death. 

Throughout their fifty mile descent to the foot-hill terminus it rainedperseveringly. But toward evening the clouds parted, and an hour ofsunshine set the drenched earth steaming like a soup kettle when the lidis lifted off. Desmond had ordained that Lenox and his wife should becarried down in doolies; an indignity to which they submitted underprotest: and Honor, scrambling out of her prison through an opening levelwith the ground, passed quite gratefully from its stuffy twilight, redolent of sodden canvas and humanity, to the smell of hot wood andleather that pervaded the sun-saturate railway carriage awaiting them inPathankôt station. 

With the unhurried deftness of an experienced pilgrim, she set aboutmaking the place cooler, and more habitable; drew up all thewindow-shutters; opened her bedding roll; and taking possession of Lenox, established him, with tender imperiousness, in the least stifling corner, a pillow set lengthways behind him. He leaned against it, and closed hiseyes. 

"Head bad?" she asked a little anxiously. For the concussion headache isno child's play, and ten hours in a doolie might breed neuralgia in acannon-ball. 

"Pretty average. Nothing to trouble about. " The assurance was notconvincing: and she gleaned the truth from two deep lines in his forehead. 

"I'm going to make you some tea in a minute, " she announced cheerfully, opening her basket, and clamping a travelling spirit-lamp to the woodworkabove the seat. "Real tea. Not the stewed leaves and water we shouldpay six annas for outside! There's half a dozen of soda, three pints ofchampagne, a fowl, and an aspic in the icebox under your seat. But teawould be best now. We'll keep the rest for your dinners. "

He opened his eyes and smiled at her. 

"You've a remarkable talent for spoiling a man!"

"It's one I'm very proud of, " she answered simply: and leaning out of theopen doorway, caught sight of her husband striding down the platform, closely followed by an army of coolies, two bearers, and twopessimistic-looking dogs on chains. "Theo, " she called, "do leave thateternal luggage to Amar Singh, and come and be spoilt! We're going tohave tea. "

Before the train jolted out of the station, she had served it to them inlarge cups, an insubstantial biscuit in each saucer: for it is drink, notfood, that a man wants when the thermometer stands at 110 degrees in theshade. 

At Umritsur the train halted for half an hour. The thermometer had notfallen with the sun; and when the faint breeze of their going died down, there seemed to be no air left to breathe. 

Lenox dined regally out of the ice-box: while Desmond and Honor, silencing his protests by flight, carried off iced soda and awhisky-flask to the frowsy, airless refreshment room, where they wrestledundismayed with curried kid, the ubiquitous chicken cutlet, and twoplates of discoloured water, --flavoured with _jharron_, [1]--thatmasqueraded as clear soup. Two quarrelsome Eurasians shared their table. A punkah that may once have been white waggled officiously overhead. Butfor all that the flies were lords of the meal; and enjoyed it far betterthan those who paid for it. 

"Thank God for my good dinner!" Desmond muttered with a wry face as heput down his money. "_You_ must supplement it out of Lenox's rations, old lady. _Hukm hai . . . Sumja_?" [2]

She laughed and shrugged her shoulders. Having won the victory thatmattered, she could afford to be submissive over trifles. 

An hour or so before midnight, they clanked into Lahore station--abig-bastioned building, whose solid masonry breathed fire, as literallyas any dragon of romance. Within was a great darkness, partiallydispelled by hanging oil-lamps; and babel enough to wake the SevenSleepers. The uninitiated arriving at an Indian railway station are aptto imagine that a riot of some sort must be in progress. But it is onlythe third-class passenger, whose name is legion, fighting, tooth andnail, for the foot of space due to every possessor of the precious morselof cardboard tucked into the folds of his belt: because he knows, fromharsh experience, that when the train moves on more than a few will beleft disconsolate, to watch its unwinking eye vanish out of theirken:--bewildered adventurers, for many of whom the "fire-carriage" stillremains a new-fangled god, who feeds on coal and water, and can only bepropitiated by repeated offerings of that wonder-working hieroglyph--thetikkut. 

At Lahore passengers to Dera change into the night mail for Mooltan: andalmost before the train drew up Desmond was out on the platform, pushinghis way, purposefully, through a mass of jostling, shouting, perspiringhumanity:--Sikhs, Punjabi farmers, moneylenders, 'fat and scant ofbreath, ' women of all ages, with apathetic babies, in round cap andnecklet, astride upon their hips. In the station-master's office hefound the fateful red envelope awaiting him; and broke the seal with ashaking hand. 

"Crisis over. Condition more hopeful. Will wire Jhung. "

"Thank God!" he muttered, choking down a lump that had risen in histhroat. Then, elbowing his way back to where Honor and Lenox stood guardover a disordered pile of luggage, he thrust the paper into her hand. 

"We'll bring him round between us, you and I, " he said, as she looked up;and she nodded contentedly, her eyes deep in his. He could no longerregret having given way to her; and she knew it!

They were not the only English passengers in the Mooltan train. Two Derasubalterns, who had fled posthaste from Simla, stood smoking outsidetheir carriage:--Hodson, the 'slacker' of the Battery, a small sallowindividual, with heavy-lidded eyes, and a disagreeable mouth; and MajorOlliver's 'sub, ' Bobby Nixon, who answered indiscriminately to half adozen names, but was officially registered as The Chicken, a tribute tohis cheerful lack of wisdom, worldly or otherworldly, and to the sparsecrop of 'down' that surmounted an extensive freckled face, and shadowed amouth whose one beauty lay in its readiness to smile capaciously upon theworld at large. 

As Honor and Lenox came towards him, the said mouth screwed itself into alow whistle. 

"Great Scott, Mrs Desmond, . . But this is flagrant heroism! Who'd havedreamt of meeting _you_ here?"

"A pleasant surprise, I hope, " she asked, smiling, as they shook hands. 

"Why, of course it's always good to see you, " the boy answered, lookingupon her with frank admiration. "And you bet we're proud to have ourladies facing the music with us. But still . . Cholera's cholera; and itlooks like a record year. They've got it hot and strong at Mian Mir. Two of the Norfolks came down the hill with us, swearing like Billy O. Been up less than a fortnight; and there's a masked ball on at the Clubto-morrow. Oh Lord, it's a lively country! Poor old Hodson only got aweek in Simla; and he has fever on him still. "

Lenox glanced quizzically at the man he desired to weed out of hisbeloved Battery by the simple means of making him work. 

"Hard luck, " he remarked; a suspicion of irony in his tone. And Hodson, anathematising under his breath India in general, and the Frontier inparticular, strolled off down the platform, head in air. There waslittle love lost between him and a commandant for whom work was thebackbone of life. 

Just then, through the open windows of the next carriage, there cameforth a voice of thunder--articulate, unparliamentary thunder: and Lenox, with a touch of friendly authority, drew Honor farther away. 

"That's old Buckstick, " Bobby explained genially. "Giving it to his poordevil of a bearer, because he wants to hit out at some one. They say inthe regiment that some fool of a palmist told him to beware of cholera;and I believe the old chap's in a blue funk. Queer thing, funk. Putthat man on an unbroken horse, or in the thick of a hand-to-handscrimmage, and he wouldn't know the meaning of fear. Yet now . . . "

His dissertation was interrupted by the appearance at the window ofColonel Stanham Buckley of the Punjab Infantry, who mopped a moist baldhead, and inquired picturesquely of a passing official when the blankthis blankety blank train was supposed to start. Then catching sight ofa woman's figure, he vanished, with a final incoherent explosion, slamming up the window-shutter behind him. 

How the devil, he asked himself furiously, should a sane man expectto find an Englishwoman hanging about Lahore station on a murderousnight of July? The idea that she might be travelling to Dera neverentered his head. His own wife, after five years of Frontiervicissitudes, --aggravated by debt, and the tyranny of 'little drinks atmess, '--had developed pronounced views on the duties of motherhood. These had led to a house in Surrey, which, for one reason or another, ithad never yet seemed feasible to give up: and Buckley had consoledhimself after the fashion of his kind, with hard drinking, hard riding, and hard swearing, --the only form of Trinity recognised by a certain typeof man. 

And as he opened his ice-box, and helped himself to a stiff 'nightcap'before turning in, Desmond joined the group outside. 

"Come on, you two, " he said, grasping an arm of each, "Dogs and luggage, and carriage all square. We shall be off in a minute. Only half an hourbehind time! See you again at Chichawutni, Nick. Don't lie too flat, and get apoplexy. We can't afford to lose willing men!"

They met again, all six of them, on the Chichawutni platform, in a dryhot dawn; for they were nearing the desolation of the Sindh Sagar desert, where the monsoon is a negligible quantity. Lenox, who had neither sleptnor smoked all night, looked rather more ragged than usual in the clearlight; but otherwise seemed to be bearing the journey well. 'OldBuckstick, ' as he had been christened by irreverent juniors, raised hishat to Honor from a distance; and wondered what the hell women of thatsort were made of. 

Early breakfast over, they set out upon a six hours' tonga drive toJhung; an isolated civil station fifty miles off the line of rail. Tortured India was already awake and astir; and along an interminableroad of fine white dust, covered with straw, they sped at a hand-gallopbetween converging lines of sheesham-trees, with clank and rattle andincessant tooting of horns, scattering the unhurried traffic of the openroad:--a procession of five tongas loaded to the limit of allowance withhuman beings, dogs, saddles, and battered boxes. In all directions theunprofitable land rolled level to the sky-line. Every seven or eightmiles they stopped to change ponies. Every hour the heat and glare grewfiercer; the clangour of wheels and tonga-bar more assertive, till itseemed to beat on bared nerves; and the terrible thirst of the Frontiertook hold upon the dust-filled throats of dog and man alike. 

It is possible to compress a good deal of discomfort into six hours: andthe Dak Bungalow, in its noonday quiet and comparative coolness, seemedan Island of the Blest after the glare and riot of the road. Here theDesmonds were cheered by a reassuring telegram; and here all rested tillafter sundown, when the pitiless tongas claimed them again; and all nightlong they fled across the open desert over a track of straw, through aninterminable darkness strewn with stars. 

Now and again a handful of these, seemingly dropped to earth, heralded achanging station, and a halt for fresh ponies. Here would be brief andblessed respite; a moment to stretch cramped limbs: moving lights thatrevealed shadowy shapes of men and horses: much apostrophising of theProphet, interspersed with questionable jokes and laughter: and the voiceof the pariah, roused from light sleep, or the absorbing pursuit offleas. Here also Colonel Buckley would wake up, and confound creation insmothered expletives, mindful of Honor's presence; and on one occasionHodson was heard confiding to the Chicken his determination to 'get quitof this blasted Frontier' on the first opportunity. Whereat Lenox losthis apathy, and turned upon Desmond, who walked beside him. 

"Listen to that now! By Jove, he shall get his opportunity sooner thanhe thinks for. We can't have young skrimshankers of his kidneypatronising the finest service in India. "

"Get Richardson to give him a taste of the swimming-bath, in his messkit, when the cold weather comes!" Desmond suggested with a laugh. "I'veknown that knock the nonsense out of some of 'em. "

Lenox nodded thoughtfully. 

"I'm not over-partial to that form of argument, " said he. "But in thiscase, I believe I should rather enjoy it. "

Then the voice of the driver requested the Heaven-borne to return totheir seats: and they were off again, full clatter, half a dozen pariahsspeeding their progress. Honor, by her own choice, shared the back seatwith her husband in comparative comfort. His enclosing arm shielded her, as far as might be, from the incessant jolting; and from time to time, inutter weariness, her head sank upon his shoulder, and she slept, whilethe two men smoked and talked fitfully in undertones. 

Such primitive journeyings are fast becoming obsolete in the India ofto-day, where the railway stretches its antennae in all directions, andthe horn of the motor has been heard beyond Chaman. Yet, for all theirobvious discomforts, they possessed their own peculiar flavour ofinterest and charm. 

Dawn showed them the Indus at last: a sheet of tarnished silver, fivemiles wide, sprawling over the colourless country, its normal bankssubmerged by the rush of water from the hills: and behind them day sprangout of the east, 'a tyrant with a flaming sword. '

Through eight blazing hours that sword hung bared above them. For theirferry-boat was a native barge, persuaded rather than propelled in anygiven direction by oars as long as punt poles; and set with one unwieldysail that could neither be tacked nor furled; but which provided them, for a time, with a patch of burning shadow, by no means to be despised. In it they smoked and picnicked, and made merry with cards and dogs, tothe best of their ability; while erratic currents bore them from sandbankto sandbank; each collision involving an interlude of shouting, shoving, coaxing, and upbraiding on the part of four assiduous boatmen; and when, by the mercy of God and the river, they managed to run aground on thefarther side, it was nearing four o'clock in the afternoon. 

Here were more tongas awaiting their prey: and this time the travellershailed them gratefully: for the swollen river had almost invaded thegardens of outlying bungalows; and a short gallop brought them at lastinto the straggling station, whose name literally signifies the Tents ofIshmael. But the day of tents had long since given place to the day ofspacious, square-shouldered bungalows, with pillared verandahs, set inthe midst of rambling compounds, where the ferasch and banana flourishedin dusty luxuriance, while orange, pomegranate, hybiscus, andpoinsettia, --to say nothing of marigolds and roses, --blazed regally inthe blossoming season with scarlet, and crimson gold. A bird's-eye viewof the station itself might have suggested to the imaginative eye a gameof noughts and crosses scratched on a Titanic slate:--a network of widewhite roads, unrelieved by curve or undulation; their rigidity emphasisedby equidistant lines of trees, and whitewashed gate-posts, innocent ofgates. 

Into one of these openings three out of the five tongas finally clatteredand stood still; and a familiar brogue gave them greeting from theverandah. 

"Praise the Powers, ye've got here at last! We'd begun to think youmight be setting up house on a sandbank for the night!"

"We've had our fill of 'em without that, Frank, " Desmond answered as hesprang from his seat. 

For the voice was the voice of Mrs Olliver, a rough-cut Irishwoman, whoseshort reddish curls, and masculinity of speech and manner, cloaked thewoman's heart that glowed deep down in her, --a jewel crusted with commonclay. Beside her stood Max Richardson, and Colonel Meredith--a big, broad-shouldered man, extraordinarily like his sister in face andtemperament--who cleared the steps like any subaltern, lifted Honor outof the tonga, and kissed her on both cheeks. 

"You've no earthly business to be here, you know, " he reprimanded her byway of greeting. "I'll tell Theo what I think of him, when I get himalone!"

"No, please, John, you mustn't, " she entreated in a low tone. "He didhis best to prevent me. But I meant to come . . . And I came!"

"I thought as much, when I got his wire!" Then, still keeping hold ofher, he shook hands with Desmond. "Mighty glad to get you back, Theo:and to see you looking so fit. You'll find your work cut out, I promiseyou. "

"So much the better. Any cases?"

"Not yet, thank God. We must steer clear of camp, if the thing can bedone. But the fever's bad enough. They're dropping like flies in thecity, poor devils. Our hospital's crammed; and two 'subs' on thesick-list at well as Wyndham. He's going on all right now; but goodnessknows when he'll be fit for duty. "

"I want to see Mackay about getting him over here as soon as possible. May I borrow Suliman, and ride round at once?"

"When you've got outside a fair allowance of tea and sandwiches. Not aminute sooner!"

"Tea? Rather not. But I'd sell my immortal soul for an iced peg!"

While they talked, Max Richardson had led his friend into the loftyshadowed drawing-room, that, in spite of a thermometer at 96 degrees, struck cool as a grotto after the furnace without: and Frank Olliver, consigning Honor to the largest arm-chair, herself presided at the tray;apologising, in characteristic fashion, for having temporarily 'takenover charge. '

"But bossing the show's one of me few talents; an' I'm not for wrappingit in a napkin. Geoff swears I took over charge of creation before I'dcut me first tooth! Any way it struck me that perhaps in the hustle ofstarting you'd not thought of sending full instructions; so I just cameover this morning, and made free with your linen cupboard, an' yourbazaar account. For I know how it feels to come back to a dead house atthis time of year. --Lord, there's that Theo man off again; incarnatewhirlwind that he is! He'll get Major Wyndham over here to-morrow, sureas fate; though the good man refused _my_ pressing invitation a week ago. And 'tis the first time one o' me own brother officers has denied me theonly kind o' Woman's Rights this child's ever likely to clamour for!"

"Hear, hear, Mrs Olliver!" Meredith and Richardson applauded her, as sheheld out both hands for their tea-cups; and Lenox smiled amused approvalfrom the depths of his chair. 

When Desmond returned an hour later, he found Lenox's luggage in theverandah, awaiting removal, and Lenox himself sitting alone in thedrawing-room with Brutus and his pipe. It rested on his knee, held inplace by the finger-tips emerging from his sling; and as Desmond enteredhe was scientifically pressing its contents into place with the ball ofhis thumb. 

Impulsively the other hurried forward, and laid an arresting hand on hisarm. 

"Not that again, surely, old chap, " he said, a note of anxiety in hisvoice. "Do you quite realise how many times you have filled it in thelast thirty-six hours?"

Lenox's fingers closed like a vice upon his treasure. 

"Can't say I've troubled to keep count, " he answered in a hard voice. "And I'm damned if I can see what right you have to take me to task aboutit. "

"Not a shadow of right, " Desmond owned frankly, "Except that I careimmensely what comes to you, and to that plucky wife of yours who hashonoured me with her friendship; and whom I am hoping to welcome here--asMrs Lenox before many months are out. "

The shot took affect. With a listless movement Lenox let his fingersfall apart, and the pipe rolled on to the rug at his feet. Here Brutuslazily investigated it as a possible treasure trove; and after a puzzledsniff or two lifted inquiring ears to his master, who was lookingabsently in another direction. 

Then Desmond stooped, and picked it up. 

"Will you let me empty it, and fill it from my own pouch?" he askedquietly: and Lenox gave silent assent. 

"No doubt I seem to you a contemptible brute enough, " he added bitterly, while the transfer of tobaccos was in progress. "And no doubt you're notfar wrong either. But if you could get inside my head for a few hours, you might possibly understand. "

"My dear Lenox, it is just because I understand that I'm keen to do whatlittle I can for you, even at the risk of being damned for officiousness!If your head's giving you trouble, why not take a genuine dose of thestuff last thing; and get a night of solid rest before you start work?That seems to me safer than trifling with poison in the form of tobacco. You know yourself you'd make a square stand against the naked drug. It'sthe little 'nips, ' the small capitulations, that do the damage in thelong-run. "

He held out the pipe: and Lenox, clenching his teeth upon it, proceededto set it alight. 

"Say what you please about things in future, Desmond. "

He spoke without removing his eyes from the match he was manipulating. "I swear I won't take it amiss again. " Then he rose abruptly. "But Imust be off now. I only waited to see you, and--thank you beforeleaving. You've the knack of putting fresh heart into a fellow when hefeels played out. "

Desmond eyed the man thoughtfully for a second before replying. Everyline of him proclaimed utter weariness of soul and body. 

"Anything ready for you over there?" said he. 

"Not that I know of. But Zyarulla will shake things down in no time. "

"All the same, as your luggage is handy, why not stop on here? You'd beuncommonly welcome; and I know Honor would be glad to keep an eye on youfor a while longer. "

The invitation, given on the spur of the moment, took Lenox aback. 

"But, my good chap, . . . You've got Wyndham coming over. "

"Yes. Thank God. To-morrow or next day. No distaste for Paul'scompany, have you?"

Lenox smiled, and shook his head. 

"Hang it all, Desmond, you know what I mean. You and your wife have donetoo much for me already. There _are_ limits to a man's capacity forsponging on other folks' generosity. "

"Well, if that's your only objection, we'll consider the matter settled!Wyndham goes into my dressing-room; so the boy's nursery is at yourservice. My wife is never so happy as when she has her hands full; andit'll be less trying for you here, than in your own empty bungalow. "

The last words flashed a suspicion into Lenox's mind. 

"Look here, man, " he broke out hotly, his eyes searching Desmond's face. "Isn't it you yourself who would be glad to keep an eye on me? You'rehalf afraid I shall knock under to this infernal thing if I'm too muchalone. Is that it?"

Desmond met question and glance four-square. 

"You gave me leave just now not to mince matters, and I take you at yourword, " said he. "To acknowledge that living alone may make the fightharder for you is no reflection on your powers of resistance. It issimple fact; and no earthly good can come of disregarding it. In yourcase discretion is the better part of valour. --Now, will you bereasonable, and accept my suggestion in the spirit in which it was made?"

He held out his hand. Lenox grasped, and wrung it hard. 

"Thanks, old chap, " he said. "I'll stay for the present. There's nowithstanding you two. "

That night he excused himself from mess: and long after the house andcompound had fallen asleep, he and Desmond sat together in the _dufta_, with pipes and pegs, and softly snoring dogs at their feet, talkingintermittently of all things in earth and heaven, with the rare unreservebred of tobacco, and the communicative influence of midnight. Talk ofthis kind draws men very close together; and in the course of it Lenoxdiscovered--as others had done before him--that this man who had becomeso intimately linked with the vital issues of his life was no mere goodcomrade, but a dynamic force, challenging and evoking the manhood of hisfriends. 

When they parted Lenox felt more hopeful than he had done since thearrival of Quita's note; and honest sleep hung heavy on his eyelids. 

"Don't believe you need the dose we spoke of after all, " Desmond remarkedon a note of satisfaction. 

"Not a bit of it. Thanks to you, I believe I shall sleep like a top. "

Nor was he disappointed. 

For the first time in fifty-six hours he took his fill of naturaldreamless sleep: and, on waking next morning, the first sight thatgreeted him was a letter from Dalhousie, propped against the milk-jug onhis early tea tray. 

[1] Duster. 

[2] It is an order--you understand!

CHAPTER XIX. 

 "And methought that beauty and terror were only one, not two; And the world has room for love and death, and thunder and dew; And all the sinews of Hell slumber in summer air; And the face of God is a rock; but the face of the rock is fair. " --R. L. S. 

That same evening after sunset, a hospital doolie was set down in theverandah, and from it emerged Paul Wyndham--a long lean figure of aman, whose most notable features were deep steadfast eyes, neither bluenor grey; a mouth of extraordinary gentleness and capacity forendurance; and the grave quietness of movement and speech, that maymean power in perfect equilibrium or mere dulness. 

Desmond and Honor welcomed him with unconcealed affection; and forhimself, his descent into the Valley of the Shadow seemed a small priceto pay for a convalescence cheered by the ministrations of these two, than whom there were none dearer to him on earth. Of the unalterablenature of his feeling for Honor, both husband and wife were well aware;though no word of it ever passed their lips. They were aware, also, that the love of a man like Paul Wyndham was a thing apart; implyingneither disloyalty to his friend, nor the remotest danger to any of thethree concerned. Conditions inconceivable to the pedestrian order ofmind. 

Too weak to fret against enforced inaction at a time of stress, Wyndhampassed his days between sleeping and waking and eating; between raretalks with Lenox and Desmond, and the restfulness diffused throughheart and brain and body by Honor's constant presence at his bedside. She had amply fulfilled the promise given him more than four years agoof close and privileged friendship; and he counted himself more blestin its possession than many a man who wins the entire woman, to findher no more than a plaster goddess after all. 

Honor herself, apart from the natural woman's pleasure in nursing anappreciative patient, was thankful for a definite demand upon her time. For Theo was seldom available now, except for an occasionalafter-dinner drive, through darkness two degrees cooler than high noon;and beneath her surface serenity she suffered keenly from the ache ofempty arms; from the completeness of separation involved in leaving achild too young to span distance even by hieroglyphs, profuselydecorated with 'kisses, ' such as she had seen women treasure in thedays of her young ignorance. Mrs Rivers wrote constantly andcopiously. But can the most unwearied pen set down all that a mothercraves to know about her child?

At the end of a week, Lenox was with them still. To his solesuggestion of departure, Desmond had merely replied: "My dear man, don't talk nonsense. When we've had enough of you, we'll let you knowit, without ceremony!" And Lenox, strangely loth to return to hisbachelor quarters, took him at his word, and stayed on. 

Yet the two men saw little enough of one another. For on the Frontierwork means work: and when cholera hovers over the station like a birdof prey, it is carried on with redoubled vigour. Only by constantoccupation can fear and fatalism be held at arm's-length. Only theinfectious mettle of the British officer can infuse into all ranks thatcheerful alertness which, at a time of epidemic, is the finestsafeguard in the world. There is much virtue, also, in mere routine, one of the wingless good angels of earth; and only those who haveproved its power to drag broken heart or broken body through the thingsthat must be done, estimate it at its true value. 

In Lenox's case, it helped to deaden the prick of anxiety as to thefuture and the physical ache of longing; for as Commandant with two outof four subalterns on the 'sick list, ' he had his hands full; andDesmond, the Colonel's chosen friend and ally in all regimentalmatters, was in the same enviable condition. The more so, since he andMeredith between them had anticipated the modern theory that the spreadof cholera or fever can be partially checked by a determined assault onflies and mosquitoes, the great disease-breeders of the East; asuggestion received at that time with a mild amusement, bordering onscorn. But the two men, zealous for the credit and welfare of theregiment--the Great Fetish 'that claims the lives of all and lives forever'--determined to give the new notion a fair trial in their ownLines; and Desmond, as may be supposed, flung himself heart and soulinto the organisation of this very novel form of campaign! Plungedneck-deep again in the work he loved, there seemed no limit to histireless energy; and from the Colonel downward, all were heartily gladto get him back. 

Even in an age given over to the marketable commodity, England canstill breed men of this calibre. Not perhaps in her cities, whereindividual aspiration and character are cramped, warped, deadened bythe brute force of money, the complex mechanism of modern life: but inunconsidered corners of her Empire, in the vast spaces and comparativeisolation, where old-fashioned patriotism takes the place of parochialparty politics, and where, alone, strong natures can grow up in theirown way. 

It is to the Desmonds and Merediths of an earlier day that we areindebted for the sturdy loyalty of our Punjab and Frontier troops, forour hold upon the fighting races of the North. India may have been wonby the sword, but it has been held mainly by attributes of heart andspirit; by individual strength of purpose, capacity for sympathy anddevotion to the interests of those we govern. When we fail in these, and not till then, will power pass out of our hands. 

That there was no such failure among the little band of Englishmenthroughout that inglorious campaign against an enemy one could neverhave the satisfaction of thrashing in the open, the attitude of theirNative officers and men bore ample witness. Light-heartedsubalterns--whisked away from half-fledged love affairs, or the moreserious business of sport--might curse their luck with blasphemousvigour; older men might grumble openly at extra parades, at the strainof additional vigilance and discipline; but for all that, the work wasdone, --thoroughly, and with a will; not within the station only, butout there on the open plain, rolling in vast undulations to the nakedspurs of the Saliman range, where the sun smote through the canvas asif it had been so much brown paper and the stricken regiment strove, byconstantly shifting ground, to shake off the pursuing horror thatsteadily thinned its ranks. Here Colonel Stanham Buckley waked eachmorning with the cold clutch of fear at his heart; fortified himselfwith incessant 'nips' throughout the day; and left the bulk of the workto a cheery little Adjutant, untroubled by the sorrowful great gift ofimagination. And here, as in the station, all officers were diligentin visits to the hospital; heartening the sufferers by their presence, and combating, as far as might be, the Oriental's fatalistic attitudetowards disease and death. Perhaps only those who have had closedealings with the British officer in time of action or emergencyrealise, to the full, the effective qualities hidden under a carelessor conventional exterior:--the vital force, the pluck, endurance, andirrepressible spirit of enterprise, which--it has been aptly said--makehim, at his best, the most romantic figure of our modern time. 

And while indefatigable soldiers fought the enemy in camp and in theLines, Dudley Norton, O. S. I. , Deputy Commissioner, and ruler-in-chiefof the station, fought him no less energetically in the bazaar andnative city; an even more heart-breaking task. For here was nodisciplined body of men, but a swarm of prejudiced individuals, caringnothing for infection, and everything for the sanctity of house andcaste. Precautions and sanitary measures had to be carried at thepoint of the bayonet; and they were so carried. For Dudley Norton, nonovice at Frontier work, had long since made himself wholesomely fearedand respected throughout the Derajat; while, among the Maliks of hisdistrict, his hawk-like eyes gleaming under heavy brows were accreditedwith the power of watching a man's thoughts at their birth. Areputation too useful to be discouraged!

Like all detached frontier civilians, he practically lived at thestation mess; except on fugitive occasions, when a placidly handsomewoman, bearing his name, vouchsafed him a flying visit from home; forno other reason--said the evil-minded--than to establish a right-of-wayover her property. At these times Norton welcomed, and entertained hiswife with a scrupulous politeness and concern for her physicalwell-being that was a tragedy in itself; and eventually 'saw her off'at the nearest railway station with a sigh of relief. For, once--in aformer life, it seemed--he had been in love with her; and the ghost ofa dead passion is an ill companion at bed and board. At the presentmoment, he had seen neither her nor his only son for more than fiveyears; and of the small daughter, whose coming had transfigured hislife, there remained only a cross in Kohat cemetery, and a faded photoof the flagrantly unnatural type that prevailed in the late 'seventies. But the man who gives his heart to the Indian Borderland must steelhimself to forgo much that, in the arrogance of youth, he has deemedindispensable to happiness, or even to living at all. 

Frontier service begets closer contact between soldier and civilian, both in work and play, than cantonment life down country; most often tothe uprooting of prejudice on both sides; and Norton was one of the fewmen in the station who had achieved comparative intimacy with Lenox. Those formidable eyes of his had been quick to detect in the taciturnGunner, who had done so much, and had so little to say about it, acoming 'political' of no mean quality, a man of ideas and ambitions, for whom the great country of his service was something more than avast playground, or shooting-box; in effect, a man after his own heart. 

Thus, finding Lenox established at the Desmonds, Norton called uponthem soon after Honor's arrival. He was rewarded by a standinginvitation to 'drop in' any afternoon, or evening that he happened tobe free, an invitation which Honor extended to most of the men who cameto bid her welcome; and tea at the Desmonds--with iced coffee or pegsas alternatives, and smoking a matter of course--soon became a dailyinstitution; a respite, if only for an hour or two, from the monotonyof mess, parade-ground, and hospital. 

"Awfully sporting of Mrs Desmond, " was the verdict of gratefulsubalterns, who found these tea-drinkings a vast improvement on stalehome papers, and half-hearted gambling at the Club. There was alwaysmusic. Honor, besides playing magnificently, could be safely reliedupon for impromptu accompaniments. The Chicken, and an irrepressibleIrishman of the Sikhs, who gloried in the name of O'Flanagan, wereindefatigable on the banjo, and in the construction of topical versesto vary the programme. Hot-weather audiences are not hypercritical;and in the red-hot circle of days and nights the mildest innovation iswelcome as a sail on a blank horizon. 

Desmond himself was delighted with his wife's spontaneous contributionto the good spirits of the station; and if the two had little quiettime together, they had at least a satisfying sense of comradeship inwork; the strongest link that can be added to the strong chain ofmarriage. 

Frank Olliver, with her big smile, and infectious gaiety, looked inmost days, as a matter of course; till one of the two fever cases shehad managed to lay hands on took a serious turn, and an hour off dutycould only be secured when Honor insisted on relieving guard, andsending Frank over to play hostess in her stead. 

There was also little Mrs Peters, the only other wife in the station; asquare, shapeless cushion of a woman, who would rush in for abreathless half-hour to pour tales of native cunning, and Eurasianapathy into Desmond's sympathetic ears. Being both plump andenergetic, she suffered cruelly in the heat; mopped her face withoutshame between her sentences; and, according to Frank Olliver, livedchiefly on lime-squash, and a limitless admiration for her missionaryhusband, --a large, ungainly man, with the manners of a shy schoolboy, and the wrapt gaze of a seer; a man who, in an age of fanaticism, wouldhave walked smiling to the rack. As it was, he walked with no lessequanimity through the pestilential mazes of the city and bazaar. Foralthough in this age of tolerance run to seed, a man is not called uponto die for his beliefs, he is occasionally called upon to live forthem; which is not necessarily the easier of the two. But up to hislights Henry Peters achieved it. At all possible and impossible hours, his unwieldy white umbrella, pith hat, and badly-cut drill suitpervaded the dwellings of his scattered converts; while his wife, tornbetween pride in him and mortal dread of infection, grieved in secretover inadequate meals snatched at odd hours; and supplemented tremulousprayers for his safety with lumps of camphor, screwed up in paper, andslipped surreptitiously into the pockets of his coats. 

Once or twice she dragged him in triumph to the Desmonds, --a reluctantdishevelled hero, --and 'showed him off' to that little company ofwell-groomed, kindly-natured soldiers, with a naďve simplicity thatwent to Honor's heart. 

"Why is it that some of us have a special licence to be so exquisitelynatural?" she wondered, as she stood beside the tea-table, dispensingiced coffee, and surveying, with satisfaction, a room full oftobacco-smoke and contented men. "That's just how I feel tempted to'show off' Theo, sometimes. And wouldn't the dear man crush me topowder if I tried!"

She glanced approvingly at him where he sat astride on a reversedchair, in dusty polo kit, reporting progress of the great 'flycampaign' to Wyndham, who had been newly promoted to a deck-lounge inthe drawing-room at tea-time. 

It was a larger gathering than usual; and, in spite of the fact thatfor three days the thermometer had recorded a hundred and twenty in theshade, spirits ran high. The subalterns--for whose exuberant foolingHonor had a very tender tolerance--had 'chorussed' themselves hoarseand thirsty; and were receiving the reward of the public-spirited outof long misty tumblers, that fizzed and bubbled. Peters had forgottenhis shyness in a discussion with Norton on the vexed question ofcholera infection, and the probable futility of quarantine; while MrsPeters, listening anxiously, made inconsequent darts into the argument, to her husband's obvious discomfiture, and Norton's equally obviousamusement. 

A group of men near Honor were talking of England, tormentingthemselves gratuitously by bare imagination of a feast. Captain Unwinof the Sikhs was casually unfolding a plan to elude superfluouscreditors, and spend next summer 'at home. ' His debts were phenomenal;and it was six years since he had sighted the funnel of a steamer. Heexpatiated yearningly on prospective delights. Cup Day at Ascot; aJuly evening on the upper reaches of the Thames; a punt in a backwater;a pipe and a cushion; just enough breeze to stir the willows; and, withany luck, a pretty woman in the bows. 

"Just a shade better than a sandbank on the Indus, eh?" he wound upwith a chuckle of enjoyment. "And I'll pull it through this time orperish in the attempt! Lord . . . Think of jingling down Piccadilly ina hansom once again . . . "

"To dinner at the Savoy, " suggested a thick-set Major on a note ofrelish. "Devilish good one they gave me there three years ago. Nightbefore I sailed. "

Sympathetic murmurs encouraged him to enlarge on the cherished memory!but before he had reached the _entrée_--an elaborate item--Honor wasout of hearing; having crossed the room to where Lenox sat balancing acoffee-cup on one knee, watching the faces round him with keen, kindlyeyes, and taking little active part in the proceedings. He still worehis arm in a sling; and his teeth held the inevitable pipe, filled froma tin of tobacco that Desmond had induced him to accept on the night oftheir talk. Only three times in the past week had he succumbed to theforbidden mixture. But the glow of satisfaction, which those who havenever resisted unto blood, complacently couple with self-conquest, wasdenied him. Restlessness, lack of sleep, constant recurrence of theconcussion headache, --these had been his reward; with the result that arising temperature had forced him to put his name on the 'sick-list'and take a few days off duty. But at Honor's approach his whole facelit up. The intimacy of everyday life had drawn them very near to eachother; for Honor had all the magnetism of a woman made for tenderness;a magnetism few men can resist, and few women condone. 

"You look so tired, and aloof from it all, " she said gently. "I'mafraid the boys' nonsense and noisiness worries your head. "

"Not a bit of it. It's good to see them enjoying themselves. You're apublic benefactor, Mrs Desmond. "

She laughed, and blushed. 

"Nonsense. It's only so nice of them to come, when one can do solittle to amuse them. Do have some more coffee. "

"Thanks. It's capital stuff. Dick's very late, " he added anxiously. "I'm wondering what's come to him. "

He rose, and followed her to the tea-table, where Bobby Nixon salutedwith his most expansive smile; and announced that O'Flanagan, reinforced by refreshment, was once more 'willing to oblige. '

An assurance that the rest were unanimously willing to listen broughtthe Irishman to his feet, banjo in hand; a lank, clean-shavenindividual, who secreted a well-spring of humour beneath thetragi-comic solemnity of the born-low comedian. He was greeted withcries of "Fire away, old Flannel Jacket!" "Phil the Fluter's Ball!""An' give ut in shtyle!" He gave it in style accordingly, and in abrogue as broad as his own shoulders; the whole room spontaneouslytaking up the chorus. 

 "Wid the toot of the flute, an' the twiddle of the fiddle, Dancin' in the middle, like a herring on a griddle! Up an' down, hands come round, cross into the wall-- Faith, hadn't we the gaietee . . . "

But at this point the door opened to admit Max Richardson. He wasstill in uniform; and there was that in his face which checked theirhilarity, and made O'Flanagan instantly put down his banjo. 

Honor went quickly towards him, holding out her hand. 

"What is it?" she asked in a low tone. 

"It's young Hodson. He died . . . Half an hour ago. "

"Not cholera?"

Dick nodded. 

An inarticulate murmur went round the room; and for several seconds noone spoke. The first white man down seemed to bring the enemy withinstriking distance of each one of them. 

Then Lenox came forward. "You'll excuse us, Mrs Desmond?" he saidquietly. And the two men went out, leaving a strangely silent roombehind them. 

They passed through the hall into the dining-room before Lenox took thepipe from his lips, and spoke. 

"Bad business, " he remarked laconically. "And, God forgive me, when he'went sick' this morning I half thought he was malingering. Poorchap . . . He's quit of the Frontier sooner than he thought for, without any help from me. You were with him, I suppose, . . . At thelast?"

"Yes; for the best part of two hours, " Dick answered, absently helpinghimself to a cheroot. "Never saw a man take it harder. No getting himto make a fight for it. Kept on begging me to tell him if this showwas fellow's only chance; and . . . I couldn't. "

Lenox looked intently at his friend. 

"That so?"

The other nodded; and there was a short silence. Richardson took up aphotograph of old Sir John Meredith, and examined it with criticalinterest. 

"You might have sent for Peters, " Lenox said at length, "No earthly use. He swore like a trooper when I suggested it; and Ican't blame him. Professional platitudes are not the style of physicto ease a man when he's suffering hell's own torments in his mind andbody. " He set down the picture abruptly, and swung round on his heel. "I'll be going on now, for a tub, and a change of clothing. Idiotic ofme, no doubt; but I feel a bit off colour after all that. How aboutthe funeral? To-night?"

"No. First thing to-morrow. I'll arrange it with Peters before heleaves; and get Courtenay to let me off the sick-list, if I can. " Thengrasping the younger man's shoulder with rough kindliness, he added:"Good old Dick. Pull yourself together, and come back here for dinner. It may be my turn . . . Or yours, before we're through. And if itis . . . We don't go out like snuffed candles, remember. You may takemy word for it. "

"Hope to God you're right, " the other answered between his teeth, andwas gone. 

Next morning, in a flaming dawn, all that remained of Tom Hodson wasconsigned, with military honours, to the dust of that Frontier he hadgrown to hate, because it demands so much of a man, and offers solittle in return; and every house within earshot of the cemeteryvibrated to the three parting volleys fired over the open grave. 

Lenox was present at the service; and at the gun practice that followedshortly after it. Thirty grains of phenacetin and several forbiddenpipes, had ensured him six hours' sleep, and a cooler skin; with theresult that he had successfully induced an amused medical officer toreport him 'fit for duty. ' But Nature is relentless; and Lenox, driving back from 'orderly room' through a white-hot glare, and a hazeof pungent dust, found himself speculating vaguely--as though thequestion concerned some unknown entity in another world--how he wasgoing to drag a protesting body and brain through the rest of the day'swork. 

"Got to be done somehow, though. That's flat, " was his final verdictas he passed into the twilight of the hall. 

Every door in the house was shut against the furnace without; had beenshut since seven of the morning; and would so remain till after sunset. Yet, the mercury hovered between ninety-seven and a hundred all day, and most of the night. In India the thermometer supersedes thebarometer; and in the hot weather it becomes an obsession. There isalways a mild satisfaction in knowing exactly what one has endured. 

Desmond was not yet back, and the study was empty; a friendly-lookingroom, its simple haphazard furniture unified by the rich colourharmonies of Indian carpets and curtains; while a liberal supply ofbooks, unusual for the country, proclaimed it the room of a soldier whofound time for study and thought. 

Too weary to get out of uniform, Lenox laid aside his helmet andaccoutrements; shouted to the punkah coolie, sleeping in the verandah, chin on chest; sorted his geographical papers, and sat down to thetable. Then he took out his pipe, eyed it thoughtfully, and flung itaside with a curse. Each relapse resulted in a renewed access ofself-distrust; and this morning the cloud upon his spirit fell heavierthan ever, because he foresaw that if the work ahead of him were to bepulled through, in the teeth of the grinding headaches consequent onhis fall, last night's programme must be repeated, not once, but manytimes, And at that rate, what was to be the end of it? The degradationof submitting to the drug itself? A thousand times, no. The soldierin him sprang to arms at the mere suggestion. Like all men capable ofgreatness, he believed, not in the mastery of circumstance, but in themastery of will. Yet, unhappily, the will, like all spiritual forces, is ignominiously dependent on bodily conditions. Pain, sheer pitilesspain, will have its way with the bravest of us. 

The man was ill without realising it. The nerves in his head throbbedto a devil's hornpipe of their own, and mental effort was beyond him. In vain he contracted his heavy brows, and tried to gather up thethreads of the chapter he had been working at. Black depressionoverpowered him, obliterating rational thought. The morning's servicehaunted him with unnatural persistence, and the half-hour he had spentwith Dick in the dead boy's bungalow, looking through his papers--achaos of bills, mostly unpaid; racing notes; old programmes; and half adozen envelopes addressed in a girl's unformed hand. On the openblotter, an unfinished letter to a friend in Simla had announced hishope of a speedy exchange down country! his determination not to spendanother hot weather 'on this God-forsaken Frontier . . . '

"Poor misguided chap, " Lenox mused, not without a tinge of his oldcontempt. "Now if only _I_ could have gone in his place, it would havesimplified matters all round. "

But he thrust away the thought as morbid and cowardly; and by way ofcurative drew Quita's last letter out of his breast-pocket. The factof her love for him still remained a miracle incompletely realised; andshe had been right in her belief that he had yet to discover itsintensity and depth. 

The great noontide silence had already fallen upon house and compound. Outside, brazen earth and brazen sky glared at one another withmalignant intensity. Two bullocks lounged under the bananas by themill wheel flicking lazy tails when the flies presumed too shamelesslyupon their apathy; and crows, with beaks agape, hopped resignedly fromone burning patch of shade to another. Among the verandah roof-beams, three grey squirrels argued, with subdued chitterings, over a kipper'shead stolen from a breakfast plate; and at intervals a piteous wailingcame from the servants' quarters, where, as all knew, Nizam Din, kitmutgar, was beating his pretty wife, Miriam Bibi, for the third timethat week, because she had grown careless in the matter of covering herface, since the coming of Zyarulla, whose arrogant magnificence hadcreated a flutter in more than one respectable household. 

But Quita's letter, written in her 'garden' on a boulder, beforebreakfast, had transported Lenox many hundred miles away from it all. The cluttering of squirrels, and the cries of poor Miriam Bibi enteredhis ears; but the spirit of him was back among the mountains; the scentof warm pine-needles was is his nostrils, the spell of his wife's faceand voice upon his heart. 

A sudden sense of suffocation dispelled the dream. He found himselfbreathless, in a bath of perspiration. The punkah had stopped dead. And one must have endured this trifling inconvenience to gauge thesignificance of those five words. 

Lenox straightened himself with an oath. "_Kencho_. [1] . . . You sonof a jackal!" he thundered; at the same time jerking the punkah frill, an effective means of reanimating the long-suffering punkah coolie, whohas a trick of twisting the rope round his arm, that he may jerk it themore easily in his dreams. 

But Lenox's vigorous pull merely brought a great length of rope throughthe wall; and his command was answered by the groans of a man intorment. Springing up, he wrenched open the glass door; and a blast asfrom a furnace struck him across the face. The coolie, a brown, distorted mass, writhed upon the hot stones in mortal agony. At theSahib's approach, he struggled to his knees with a rush of incoherentdetail; while Lenox shouted for Zyarulla, and the dogcart; flung a wordof encouragement to the stricken man, and went in again for his helmet. 

Till the trap appeared Lenox paced the verandah; the punkah cooliegroaned; and Zyarulla protested as openly as he dared against his Sahibbeing put to personal inconvenience for a base-born--mere dust of theearth. None the less, at the Sahib's order he gingerly helped the dustof the earth into the trap, where Lenox put his one available arm roundthe writhing body; and the _sais_, who showed small relish for thesituation, was ordered to get up and drive from behind. The which hedid; leaning over the back seat, and keeping ostentatiously clear ofthe misbegotten son of a pig who had broken his midday sleep. 

In this fashion they journeyed, awkwardly enough, to the temporarycholera hospital; a handful of tents and grass huts on the outskirts ofthe station. Betwixt the clutches of cramp, and the abject humility ofhis kind, the coolie slithered from the seat on to the mat; and Lenoxhad some ado to prevent his falling headlong from the cart. But in duetime he was handed over safely to a suave, coffee-coloured hospitalassistant, and carried shrieking into a tent crammed with sights unfitto be told; whence he emerged, two hours later, without protest ofvoice or limb, to swell the intermittent stream of fellow-corpses thatflowed from the hospital to the burning ghatt or the Mahommedalburial-ground outside the station. 

When Lenox staggered back into the hall, dizzy with headache, andhalf-blinded with glare, he was met by Desmond, who, noticing a slightlurch as he entered, took hold of his arm. 

"Zyarulla told me what happened, " he said, a great gentleness in hisvoice. "Come on to your room, old man. Take a rousing dose ofphenacetin, and lie down till tiffin. I'll bring you a lime-squash. "

"Thanks. You are a damned good sort, Desmond. The sun's touched meup, I fancy. I shall be all right in a couple at hours. "

But before two hours were out, Desmond's orderly was speeding throughthe dust to the Doctor Sahib's house; and Desmond himself had gonehurriedly to his wife's room, where she too was lying down after hermorning's duties. She rose at his coming, holding out both hands. Forshe read disaster in his eyes. 

"Darling, what has gone wrong?"

"It's Lenox. He's down with it. Not severe as yet. But there's nomistaking what it is. "

Her faint colour--it had grown perceptibly fainter in the pastweek--left her face. 

"Oh, his poor wife! We must send a wire at once. "

"I've sent one already, by the orderly who went for Courtenay. Toldher she should have news every day, for the present. "

"Oh, bless you, Theo! You think of everything!"

"Steady, Honor, steady, " he rebuked her gently. "We've got to do afair share of thinking between us just now. Paul can safely stay on ifone isolates that side of the house; and Zyarulla and I can doeverything for Lenox between us. As for you, John must give you a bedtill we're through. "

"But, Theo . . . "

"Be quiet!" he broke in almost roughly; adding on a changed note: "Foronce in a way, my dearest, you will obey orders without question--or goaltogether. Now give me the chlorodyne, and let me get back to poorLenox. Seems brutal to give him any form of opium after all he's beenthrough. Hullo, there's Richardson shouting outside. He'll beterribly cut up when he knows. "

It transpired that Richardson had come over, post-haste, to reportthree cases among his men; and at sun-down the little mountain battery, with its three subalterns and full camp equipment, marched out into theopen desert, scornfully overlooked by that Pisgah height of theFrontier, the Takti Suliman, whose square-cut crags were printed insharp outline upon a stainless sky. 

[1] Pull. 

CHAPTER XX. 

 "Passion has but one cry, one only;--Oh to touch thee, my beloved!" --Olive Schreiner. 

Asiatic cholera is as capricious as a woman; capricious both as to herchoice of victims, and as to the grisly fashion of her wooing. In onemood she will kill at a stroke, like a poisoned arrow; in another shewill play with a tortured body as a cat plays with a mouse. And it wasthus that she dealt with Eldred Lenox. 

For two days and nights Desmond and the Pathan wrestled against theevil thing, and against that deadly apathy as to the result, whichkills more surely than the disease itself. And since the regimentclaimed many hours of the Englishman's day, the brunt of the nursingdevolved upon Zyarulla, who scorned suggestions of sleep, and appearedto live on pellets of opium, and a hookah, which inhabited the verandahoutside his master's room. 

There were moments when they were tempted to despair. But they foughton doggedly, and without comment; and as the second night wore towardsmorning, they knew that they had conquered. The gong at the policestation down the road had just clanged three times. Every door andwindow-slit stood open at their widest; and through them entered in thefamiliar, unforgettable smell of the Indian Empire under her yearlybaptism of fire; a smell of dust, and baked brick work, and stalenative tobacco. A hand-lamp on the mantelpiece diffused a yellowtwilight through the room; a twilight flavoured with kerosine: andacross the twilight the shadow of the punkah flitted, like a whisperingghost. 

Zyarulla, crouching at the bedside, slid a cautious knotted handbetween the buttons of the sleeping-coat, and laid it lightly on hismaster's heart. The flutter within was feeble, but regular; though theface, grey and shrunken almost past recognition, still bore the impressof death. 

"God is great, " the Pathan muttered into his beard. "The strength ofthe Heaven-born is as that of mine own hills; and my Sahib will live. It is enough. "

On the farther side of the bed, Desmond, in gauze vest, and beltedtrousers, mopped his forehead, and drew a long breath. Then, measuringout a tablespoonful of raw-meat soup, he slipped a hand under the darkhead on the pillow. 

"Lenox, dear chap, drink this, will you?" he said, speaking aspersuasively as a mother to a child. 

Lenox obeyed automatically. For a mere instant his lids lifted, andrecognition gleamed in the eyes that seemed to have retreated half-wayinto his head. Then, with an incoherent murmur, he settled himselfinto a more natural attitude of rest; and the two men watching himintently, exchanged a nod of satisfaction. 

The Pathan, sitting back on his heels, fumbled at his belt for a pelletof opium. 

"He will sleep now, Huzoor, like a day-old babe; and the Presence willsleep also. Since yesterday at this time your Honour hath taken norest; and there be three hours yet to parade-time. "

"Good. We have fought a tough fight, thou and I, and be sure LenoxSahib will know of thy share in it. Wake me at half-past five. "

"Huzoor. "

Zyarulla salaamed profoundly; and Desmond, dropping with fatigue, flunghimself, even as he was, on to a chair-bed in the adjoiningdressing-room, and slept the dreamless sleep of exhaustion. 

Before six he was over at Meredith's bungalow, sitting on the edge ofhis wife's bed, drinking tea with an egg in it, --her ownprescription, --and enjoying her delight at his news. 

"Good enough, isn't it?" he concluded heartily. "I'll take thetelegraph office on my way back. "

"And _I'll_ come over to breakfast, bag and baggage!"

"Capital. If John agrees. "

"Of course he will. He's not such a fidget as you are!"

"Glad to hear it; if it means getting you back; and both rooms shall bedisinfected to-day, Lord, but it's a weight off my mind!"

And he cantered down to the Lines in such a mood of exaltation as theyknow who have been privileged to fight for a human life, and win. 

Honor got her own way, as she always did; and half-past nine found herback at her deserted post behind the teapot. Desmond fancied that shelooked paler than usual; that her cheerfulness was veiled by a shadowof constraint. But as Paul was present, enjoying his first normalbreakfast, he contented himself with scrutinising her, when herattention seemed to be taken up elsewhere. As a matter of fact, Honorknew precisely how often he looked at her; and, womanlike, hugged hissolicitude to her heart. For there had been moments, in the past twodays, when the traitorous thought would obtrude itself that perhaps thechild needed her most after all. 

Directly the meal was over, she rose, murmuring that she had 'things tosee to, ' and went out, leaving the men with their cigars. But insteadof going to the store cupboard, where the old Khansamah awaited her, armed with his daily _hissab_, [1] she slipped into the drawing-room, sat down at her bureau, and leaned her head on her hand; honestlyhoping that Theo might leave the house without coming to her. For allthat, the sound of his elastic step brought a light into her eyes. Shedid not rise, or look round; and he came and stood beside her. 

"Not quite yourself this morning, old lady?" he asked. "Anythingreally wrong? Fever? Headache?"

She caught the note of anxiety, and with a quick turn of her headkissed the fingers resting on her shoulder. 

"No, darling, neither. Don't worry yourself. I'm perfectly well. "

"Sure?"

"Quite sure. "

"Good. " And he departed, whistling softly; clear sign that all waswell with his world. 

But twenty minutes later when Paul came in to look for a strayed pipe, he found Honor, quite oblivious of 'things, ' crying quietly behind herhands. He retreated hastily; but she heard him and looked up. 

"Don't go, Paul. I want you. "

No three words in the language could have pierced him with so keen athrust of happiness. 

"Do you mean . . . Can I help you?" he asked eagerly. "I felt suresomething was wrong. "

"Did you? I'm a bad actress! But . . It's about Baby, --the otherPaul, " she added, smiling through wet lashes. "I have just had aletter from Mrs Rivers that makes me want to pack my boxes and gostraight back to Dalhousie. "

"And shall you? Is it serious enough for that?"

"Oh, how _can_ one tell?" she cried desperately, her voice breaking onthe words. "It mightn't seem serious to you. He has fever, and atouch of dysentery, and terrible fits of crying with his double teeth. Mrs Rivers seems anxious; and of course one thinks . . . Ofconvulsions. It all sounds rather a molehill, doesn't it, after thehorrors we have been living in here? And perhaps only a mother wouldmake a mountain out of it. But I think mothers must have God's leaveto be foolish . . . Sometimes!"

Fresh tears welled up, and she hid her face again. Paul could onlywait beside her tongue-tied, half-sitting on the edge of thewriting-table, wondering what dear, unfathomable impulse had led her toadmit him to the sanctuary of her sorrow; realising, so far as amasculine brain can realise, something of the struggle involved inwoman's twofold responsibility--to the man, and to the gift of the man. 

It is the eternally old, eternally new tragedy of Anglo-Indianmarriage; none the less poignant because it is repeated _ad infinitum_. Love him as she may, it costs more for a wife, and still more for amother, to stand loyally by her husband in India than the shelteredwomen of England can conceive. For to read of such contingencies inprint, is by no means the same thing as having one's heart of fleshpierced by the sword of division. 

"Has Theo heard all this?" Paul hazarded gently. "He went off in suchgood spirits. "

She dried her eyes, and looked up, "I couldn't spoil it all by telling him. But I thought it might seemless of a nightmare, if I could tell some one . . . And . . . "

"And I happened to come handy?" he suggested with a rather patheticsmile. 

"Oh, Paul, how horrid! It wasn't that, " she contradicted him hotly. "It was because you are . . You, my boy's godfather, and my very dearfriend. Do you suppose I would have shown my mother-foolishness to anyother man of my acquaintance?"

"No. I don't suppose it, " he answered, looking steadily down into theanxious beauty of her face. "Forgive my much less pardonablefoolishness, and let me help you, if that's possible. Are you reallythinking of going?"

"N . . No. I don't believe I am. Only . . For one mad moment, I feltas if _nothing_ could hold me back. But children are such elasticcreatures; and if I arrived to find him quite frisky and well, thinkhow ashamed I should feel at having deserted Theo, and put him to somuch expense for nothing. But I do want to wire at once; though Ihardly like sending Theo's orderly . . . "

"Let me write it for you, and send my man, " he volunteered, catchinggratefully at something definite to be done; and taking up a form heprepared to write at her dictation. 

"Reply prepaid, please; and addressed to Frank. I shall go straightover there, and stay till I get the answer, I could never keep it upwith Theo all day. You saw how badly I did it at breakfast!--What'sthat? Some one come?"

Sounds of arrival were followed by an unmistakable Irish voice in thehall; and Honor hurriedly dabbed her eyes. 

"Dear Frank, how clever of her! She can drive me over. "

A minute later she was in the room; an angular workmanlike figure, insun helmet, and the unvarying coat and skirt. It was her one idea of adress, --drill in summer, tweed in winter. "An' be all that's sensible, what more should an ugly woman want?" had been her challenge to amisguided friend, who had suggested higher aspirations. "'Tis nomanner o' use to dress up a collection of limbs and features withoutsymmetry; an' it saves no end of mental wear and tear, to say nothingof rupees, that's badly wanted for polo ponies. "

She entered talking; and shook hands talking still. 

"The top o' the morning to you both! 'Tis an unholy hour for a visit. But I'm after the loan of a feeding-cup, knowing you've two. Thatmurdering villain of a _messalchi_[2] broke me only one this morning;an' I'm afraid I used 'language' when I saw the corpse, besidesthreatening to cut the price of a new one out of his pay! '_Memsahibke kushi_, '[3] he answers, salaaming like a sainted martyr, and takingthe wind clean out o' me sails. But I'll wash yours meself; so youneedn't fear to lend it. " Then, becoming aware of Honor's red eyelids, she broke off short. "Why, Honor, me dear, it's the born fool I am tobe chattering like a parrot when you're in trouble, by the looks ofit. " A glance from one to the other revealed the telegram in Paul'shand. "Great goodness, it's never the child, is it?" she asked with aswift change of tone. 

"Yes. Honor has had disturbing news, " he answered for her. "She'lltell you about it while I send off this wire. "

Honor, who had risen, sank into her chair again as he left the room. 

"Read that, dear, " she said simply: and while Frank Olliver read, astrange softness stole over her face, blanched and lined by manyFrontier hot weathers. Outsiders, who wondered how any man had evercome to fall in love with her, might have wondered less had theychanced to see her then. On reaching the signature, she awkwardlypatted Honor's shoulder. 

"'Tis just one o' the bad minutes there's no evading, me darlint. Theprice you've to pay for the high privilege of carrying on the race. "

"It seems a big price sometimes . . In India, " Honor answered, notquite steadily. "And it's your one bit of compensation, Frank, thatyou're spared the wrench of having to live with your heart in twoplaces at once. "

At that Frank bit her lip, and stinging tears--an unusualphenomenon--blinded her eyes. But she was overstrung by a week of hardnursing; and some childless women never loss the tragic sense ofincompleteness, the unacknowledged ache of empty arms. 

"Spared? Ah, me dear, you ought to know me better by now, " sheprotested reproachfully. "I've no use at all for cheap comforts o'that kind. What's the sharpest pangs, after all, balancedagainst . . . The other thing? Lighter than vanity itself; an' youknow it. None better. But there . . . I'm clean daft to be talking soat this stage o' the proceedings. It's the happy woman I am, sureenough. Geoff and I are rare good friends. Always have been. Butdon't you talk to me again about being spared. It's one more than Ican stand; an' that's the truth. "

Honor took possession of the hand that patted her shoulder, --a squarehand; rough with much riding and exposure, --and laid it against hercheek. 

"Bless you, Frank, " she said softly. "You make me feel quite ashamedof myself. Come and get the feeding-cup; and take me home with you. I've wired to Mrs Rivers; and the answer will come to you. I couldn'ttell Theo, till . . I must. "

Frank's smile had the effect of sunshine striking through a shower. 

"Saints alive, how you spoil the dear man! But indeed an' I wonder whocould help it? Not meself, I'll swear. "

Desmond came in very late for tiffin. At Paul's announcement thatHonor had gone to Mrs Olliver's till tea-time, he raised his eyebrowswithout question or comment: then, going over to the mantelpiece, stoodcontemplating a recent photo of her and the child. 

"Did you happen to notice her at breakfast?" he asked abruptly, hiseyes on the picture. "She didn't seem to me quite up to the mark. Andof course . . Bringing her into this . . . One feels responsible . . . "

There was more in the tone than in the broken sentence; and Wyndham, coming up behind him, grasped his shoulders. 

"My dear Theo, " he said soothingly, "I can't let you be hag-ridden byyour favourite nightmare! Honor is woman enough to be responsible forher own actions. Besides, she is perfectly well. I had a talk withher before she went. As to her coming down into this, you couldn'thave held her back. She has every right to stand by you, if shechooses; and you must know, even better than I do, that in the goodfuture ahead of you, wherever you may be, unless it's active service, Honor will be there too, . . As sure as my name's Wyndham. "

This was quite a long speech for Paul; one that it cost him an effortto make; and Desmond, fully realising the fact, turned upon his friendwith impulsive warmth. 

"True for you, Paul, old man! She's a Meredith. That about coverseverything. What an amazing talent you have for casting outdevils!--Now, let's be common-sensible, and have some food. Kohi hai!Tiffin lao. " [4]

And as if the walls had ears, the meal made its appearance with thatsilent celerity which the retired Anglo-Indian--who has sworn at nativeservants for thirty years--misses so keenly, when he is relegated tothe cumbersome ministrations of the British house-parlourmaid of Baling. 

"By the way, " Desmond remarked, as he dissected a fowl, cooked--by themercy of the gods--in that elusive interval between toughness andputrescence, the pursuit of which gives to hot-weather housekeeping anexcitement peculiarly its own, "there's bad news from the Infantry campthis morning. Poor old Buckley. A cramp seizure at midnight. Wentout in three hours; and was buried at dawn, Mackay showed me a notefrom Dr Lowndes saying he believed it was one of those odd freaks ofdisease, a spurious case. Sheer funk; and nothing else. Camp was in aflourishing condition. No deaths for nearly a week. Then, yesterday, the Colonel's bearer must needs appropriate an unattached germ; and itseems that this got on the poor chap's nerves. He dined chiefly offwhisky; and afterwards yarned away to Lowndes about his wife andchildren. Hadn't seen 'em for eight years. Never mentioned 'em toLowndes in his life before: and from what one has heard, the wire thatgoes home this morning will barely spoil her appetite for dinner; whichonly seems to add a finishing touch to the pity of it all. Mysteriousthing . . . Marriage . . . "

He broke off short on the word. The thought of his own first venture, and the misery that might have come of it, but for an accident sostrange as to seem unreal, sealed his lips on the subject of theeternal riddle of the universe: and Paul, being blest withunderstanding, unobtrusively shifted the talk to another channel. 

There could be no thought of polo for Desmond that afternoon; thoughMajor Olliver came and reasoned with him forcibly in the verandah. Hedevoted himself, instead, to the exhaustive disinfection of thesick-room and dressing room. It was hot work; unpleasant work. But itwas good to be through with it; to have rid the house of the lastvestige of an uninvited and unwelcome guest. With which reflectionDesmond sat down finally in the sanctuary of his study; lit a cheroot;and opened a battered original of Omar Khayyam, whose stately quatrainsand exquisite imagery were less hackneyed then, than they have sincebecome among modern devotees of culture. 

A great silence pervaded the house. He had left Lenox in the blessedborderland between sleeping and waking, with Zyarulla on guard; andlooking in on Paul, had found him dozing also, after the morning'sunwonted exertion. No doubt Frank would drive Honor back for tea: andeven while he read Desmond's ear was strained to catch the sound ofwheels. This capacity for sustained ardour is a very rare quality inlove that has attained its object, and the woman who does notsucceed--unwittingly enough--in extinguishing it within the first fewyears of marriage is rarer still. 

The sound he waited for came at length; and he sprang out of his chair. But in hurrying through the drawing-room, towards the hall, anothersound arrested him; the unmistakable clink of the tonga bar. 

"A tonga? Why, who the deuce . . . " he ejaculated mentally. "It can'tbe . . . . "

But at this point he fairly ran into the arms of a woman, in alpacadust-cloak and shikarri helmet; a woman who clutched his left arm withboth hands: and before he could collect his scattered senses, Quita'svoice was in his ears. 

"Oh, Captain Desmond . . Tell me . . Is he . . . ?"

"He is out of all danger now, . . If he can be kept quiet, " Desmondanswered, stifling his own amazement in view of her white face andshaking lips. 

"Thank God. Oh, thank God!" The words were a mere flutter of breath;and with the sudden relief from long tension all her courage went topieces. A dry sob broke in her throat. Her lids dropped; and she felllimply against him. 

"You poor, dear, plucky woman, " he murmured, putting an arm round her, and gently removing the heavy helmet; while she lay motionless; herhead on his shoulder; no vestige of colour in lips or cheeks. 

Desmond began to think she must have fainted outright: and while heheld her thus, meditating a cautious removal of his burden to the sofa, steps in the hall were followed by the appearance of Honor in thedoorway: a radiant Honor, aglow with the good news that had brought herstraight back to him, like a homing bird. Her small gasp of surprisemelted into a smile of amused understanding, as Theo telegraphedwireless messages to her over the golden brown head that wastrespassing, flagrantly and confidingly, on her own exclusive property. The whole thing was so exactly like Quita: so daring; so preposterous;so entirely forgivable! And Honor's hospitable brain at once beganscouring the bungalow for some corner where she might stow thisunexpected addition to her elastic household. 

"She must have left Dalhousie directly she got my first wire, " Desmondsaid under his breath. "Get some brandy, while I put her down. "

But his first movement roused Quita from semi-unconsciousness. Shelifted her head with a startled sound; and at sight of Honor the bloodrushed back into her face. 

"This is pretty behaviour!" she said with a little broken laugh. "I'mso sorry. It must have been the reaction, the relief, after thatexcruciating journey. "

"No need to apologise!" Desmond answered, a twinkle of amusement in hiseyes. "No use either to try and push my arm away. Let me get you tothe sofa first. "

Honor piled two cushions behind her; and as she sank back into theirsilken softness, leaned over and kissed her cheek. 

"You very wonderful person, " she said. "How on earth did you pullthrough it, all alone?"

Quita shrugged her shoulders. 

"It was not amusing, " she answered with her whimsical smile. "But itwas an experience: and that is always something, --when it is over! Ithink I never realised before how big and how terrible a country Indiais; or how kind people are out here, " she added, looking from one tothe other with misty eyes. 

"Kind? Nonsense!" It was Honor who spoke. "Now . . Will you have apeg, or some tea?"

"Tea, please. And after that, I may see . . Eldred, mayn't I?"

Instinctively she appealed to Desmond, who knitted his brows indistress. "I'm afraid that's out of the question, . . Yet awhile, " hesaid. 

"Well then . . When?"

"Can't say for certain. Probably not for two or three days. Iwouldn't so much as risk telling him that you are here till then. "

The mist on her lashes overflowed; and she dashed an impatient handacross them with small result. 

"But I have waited three days already. And since this morning I havebeen counting the hours . . The minutes . . "

It was no use. She could not go on without further loss of dignity;and Honor hastened into the breach. 

"Drink your tea first, dear. You can talk afterwards. "

And as she obeyed, Desmond came round and sat beside her. 

"See here, Miss Maurice, " he began. But she raised an imploring hand. 

"Oh, don't call me that . . Now. It hurts. It makes me feel I have nomanner of right to be here. And I have a little right, haven't I?"

"More than a little, I should say, . . Mrs Lenox. Is that better?"

She flushed to the eyes, and glanced down at her bare left hand. Itwas the first time she had heard her married name; and the sound of itwas music in her ears. But she shook her head. 

"No. It's almost worse, till I know for certain what's going to comeof my mad leap in the dark. "

"Well then . . . ?"

"Why not . . 'Quita'?" She looked up beseechingly. "I should lovethat: and it would make me feel less of an intruder. "

"You are forbidden, on pain of instantaneous eviction, to feel anythingof the sort! And I heartily vote for 'Quita, '" Desmond answered, smiling into her troubled face with so irresistible a friendliness thatshe must needs smile back at him, however mistily. 

"Oh, but it's good to talk nonsense with you again!" she cried. "Only, I want to know, . . Please, about Eldred. He is too weak. Is that it?"

"Far too weak. You see, we only pulled him round the corner at threeo'clock this morning; and the great thing now is to avoid any risk ofreactionary fever. Well, you know yourself . . I may speak frankly?"She inclined her head. "Your coming, besides being emotionallydisturbing, will make something of a complication under thecircumstances . . "

"Oh, I know . . I know! It seems like forcing his hand. Every minuteI see more plainly that I ought never to come at all. "

"Waiting would have been wiser, " Desmond reproved her gently. "But Iadmire the pluck of the whole thing far too much to scold you for it. "

Her smile had a touch of wistfulness. 

"That's so like you! But I don't know about pluck. Perhaps, if I hadrealised all the details, I might have hesitated; though I doubt it. Ihalf lost my senses for the time being; and I believe poor Michelthought I'd lost them permanently! He was furious with me for going. "

"Rather rough on him, when you come to think of it! But why on earthdidn't you wire to us before starting?"

"At first it simply didn't occur to me; and when it did, I had justsense enough to know that you would probably wire back 'Don't come. 'And even _I_ could hardly have persisted in the face of that! So Idetermined to take the small risk with the big one. Dak bungalows seemto grow wild in India; and I thought there would surely be one herewhere I could get some sort of a bed. "

"Dak bungalow, indeed! If there is one, _I_ won't help you to findit!" This from Honor, in a burst of righteous wrath. "So you may aswell resign yourself to staying with us, whether you like it or not!"

"With you? Is it possible? I thought . . . But have you really acorner available? I could sleep divinely on the hearth-rug, I'm sodesperately tired, and so relieved. "

"Very well. That settles it. But I'll let you off the hearth-rug, even though you did fling Dak bungalows at my head! Captain Lenox isin Baby's nursery; and we can shut off the dressing-room for you, ifyou can manage with a chair-bed. It's quite safe. Everything has beendisinfected. I believe Theo knew you were coming! Will that do?"

"Do? _Ma foi_, . . But how does one say thank you for such goodness?"

"One refrains!" Desmond remarked, handing her empty cup across to hiswife. 

Quita laughed. 

"You are incorrigible!" said she. "But there is still this to thinkof. With your friends coming and going, how am I to be . . Accountedfor till I have seen . . Eldred? If I am Miss Maurice, _par exemple_, what am I doing in Dera Ishmael? And if not . . ? _Mon Dieu_, butit's an ignominious tangle. I'm as bad as Alice in Wonderland in thewood. I seem suddenly to have lost my identity: and in my mad anxietyand impatience to get here I never thought anything about it till I wassweltering in that horrible barge this morning. Shall I livealtogether in my room? It would be no more than I deserve. "

"My dear, you'll do nothing of the sort. " It was Honor this time, "Luckily for you, the Battery's in camp; and since Captain Lenox'sillness there's been an end of my tea-parties. Our own people may belooking in now he's better. But for the next two days or so I shallsimply be '_dawazar bund_. '[5] It needs no effort to develop aheadache, or a touch of fever this weather. There's only Paul, andFrank, whom I couldn't shut out. May we just explain to them, more orless, how things stand?"

"But yes. Of course you must. And . . After all . . . "

She hesitated, flushing painfully. 

"After all, " Desmond came to her rescue, "it won't be so very longbefore the vexed question of your identity is settled for good. NowI'd better go and speak to Paul. He may be turning up for tea, anyminute; and that would be awkward for you. "

As he reached the door at the far end of the room, Honor fled after him. 

"Read those, dear, " she said breathlessly, thrusting a letter andtelegram into his hand. "They will account for this morning. I hadbad news. But thank God it's all right now. I wired. "

"And never told _me_?"

"You were so happy. How could I?"

"Then that was why you bolted?"

"Yes. I couldn't have kept it up for long. "

"Well . . I've no time to scold you now, " he said, looking unspeakablethings at her. "Wait till I get you to myself, . . That's all!"

This short colloquy, carried on in an undertone, did not reach Quita'sears. 

"What sort of a man is this Paul?" she asked as Honor returned to herchair. "I don't know his other name! Is he the sort that would belikely to understand . . Our very incomprehensible position?"

Honor took a leather frame from the table beside her, and put it intoQuita's hands. 

"If you are any judge of faces, that's the best answer I can give you. "

Quita scanned the picture abstractedly for several seconds. 

"Yes. He'll do, " was her verdict. Then she flung the thing from her;and burying her face in the cushions sobbed with the heart-brokenabandonment of a child. 

"Oh, what a blind fool I was to come!" she lamented through her tears. "I don't believe he'll understand my madness. And if he doesn't . . . He'll never forgive me!"

[1] Account. 

[2] Scullery man. 

[3] As Memsahib pleases. 

[4] Any one there! Bring tiffin. 

[5] Not at home. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

"Here the lost hours the lost hours renew. "--Rossetti. 

"It progresses, doesn't it?"

"It does more than that. It lives. You've transfigured it in these fewdays; and I like your knack of emphasising essentials without jarring theharmony of the whole. You ought to make your mark as a portrait painterin time. "

"I've done so already . . More or less, " Quita answered modestly, stepping backward, with tilted head, to get a better view of herachievement. It was the study of Lenox, which, for all her perturbation, she had packed as tenderly as if it were a live thing; and which alonehad made life endurable for the past three days. Her easel had been setup in the dining-room, where she could work without fear of chanceintruders, who gravitated either to the drawing-room or the study: and onthis fourth morning after her arrival, she was standing at it withDesmond, who had looked in for a word with her before starting for theLines. "If you were to go home now, " she added, after a pause, "youwould find the name Quita Maurice not quite unknown in artistic circles. But they'll never see this, though it's going to be the best thing I'vedone yet; because . . . "

"Yes, naturally, . . Because . . . "

"How nice you are!" she said simply. "One needn't dot the i's, and crossall the t's with you. Of course it's very incomplete still. Asuggestive study is the most one can achieve from memory. So you mustn'tjudge it as a portrait, --yet. It's just a daring experiment that noright-minded artist would have attempted. But it's come out better thanI thought possible. And I'm glad you like my work. "

"I do; no question. I'm no critic, though; only a soldier, with a tastefor most kinds of art. It's full of latent vigour; rugged without beingrough, like Lenox himself. A fine bit of weathered rock, eh? I am onlyafraid that after feasting your eyes on this, the original may give yousomething of a shock at first sight. "

"Is he so terribly changed . . In one month?"

"Well, think what he's been through. Concussion and cholera have knockedsome of the vigour out of him; and he looks years older, for the timebeing. But you mustn't let that upset you. It's not unusual aftercholera; and in a week he'll be looking more like himself again. "

Then the truth dawned on her. 

"Captain Desmond, --are you telling me all this because . . ?"

"Yes . . Again, because . . . !" he answered, smiling. 

"To-day?"

"As soon as you please. "

She gave a little gasp; then shut her lips tightly. 

"Do you mean . . Have you actually told him?" she murmured with avertedeyes. 

"Yes. "

"And did he--is he----?"

"It's not for me to say. " Desmond seemed equal to any amount ofincoherence this morning. "You'll find out for yourself in no time. "

"Oh dear!"

"Is it as dreadful as all that?"

"In some ways, --yes. It takes my breath away. "

"Try and get it back before you go in to him, " he counselled her kindly. "And keep some sort of hold on yourself--for his sake. Don't trouble himabout results, unless he broaches the subject. It we can keep clear ofthe worry element, just getting hold of you again may do him a power ofgood. "

Then, --creature of moods and impulse that she was, --she turned on himspontaneously, both hands outflung. 

"_Mon Dieu_, what a friend you have been to us both! Thank you athousand times, for everything. I know you hate it. But if I kept it inany longer, I should burst!"

"Just as well you let it out, then, " Desmond answered, laughing, andgrasping the proffered hands. "I must be off now. Good luck to you, Quita. You're worthy of him. "

For some minutes after he had gone Quita stood very still, trying to gether breath back, as he had suggested: a less simple affair than itseemed, on the face of it. For although she had taken the plunge, in animpulse of despair, a week ago, she had only grasped the outcome in allits bearings during the past three days, throughout which she had beenacutely aware of Eldred's presence on the farther side of her barred andbolted door. He had told her plainly that, until he felt quite sure ofhimself, he dared not take her back. Yet now, by her own unconsideredact, she was forcing upon him, at the least, a public recognition oftheir marriage; an acknowledgment that might make further separationdifficult, if not impossible, for the present. All her pride andindependence of spirit revolted against this unvarnished statement offact; and the memory of Michael's random remark heightened her nervousapprehension. Yet, on the other hand, Love--who is a bornpeace-maker--argued that, after all, he might not be sorry to have hishand forced by so clear a proof of all that she was ready to do andsuffer on his behalf. An argument strongly reinforced by her originaldetermination to overrule his scruples, and help him in the struggle thatloomed ahead. 

In this fashion Love and Pride tossed decision to and fro, as they havedone in a hundred heart-histories; till common-sense stepped in with thereminder that Eldred was waiting; and that by now retreat was out of thequestion. The thought roused her to a more normal state of confidenceand courage. Putting away palette and brushes, she covered up hercanvas: and because, for all her artistry, she was very much a woman, went straightway--not to her husband's door--but to her own mirror! Thevision that looked out at her was by no means discouraging: a demurevision, in a simple, unconventional gown of green linen, with a Puritancollar, and a wide white ribbon at the waist. A few superfluous touchesto her hair, and equally superfluous tweaks to the bow of her ribbonbelt, wrought some infinitesimal improvement in the picture, which nomere man, hungering for the sight and sound of her, would be the leastlikely to detect. Then half a dozen swift steps brought her to his door:the one that communicated with the dining-room. 

It opened on to a curtain, about which there still clung a faintsuggestion of carbolic. 

"Eldred?" she said softly. And the voice she had last heard through thehiss of rain, and the crash of broken branches, answered: "Come in. "

She pushed aside the curtain, and stood so, paralysed by a nervousnessaltogether new to her. 

He lay on a Madeira lounge-chair, with pillows at his back. Every bonein his face, every line scored by the graving-tools of conflict and pain, showed cruelly distinct in the morning light. At sight of her, he triedto speak; but the muscles of his throat rebelled: and he simply held outhis arms. Then, in one rush, she came to him: and as he laid hands onher, drawing her down on to a spare corner of his chair, she leanedforward and buried her face in the soft flannel of his coat. 

Nothing but silence becomes the great moments of life; and for a longwhile he held her thus, without power or desire of speech. All his man'sstrength melted in him at the faint fragrance of her hair; at theexquisite yielding of her figure, as she lay palpitating against him; atthe yet more exquisite assurance that the love he had gained was a thingbeyond estimation, a thing indestructible as the soul itself. For hervery surrender was quick with the vitality that was her crowning charm. 

And she, feeling the tremor that ran through him as he kissed theblue-veined hollow of her temple, --the only space available--exulted inthe belief that love had triumphed over bloodless scruples once and forall. 

"Quita, " he whispered at length, "what possessed you to face thatnightmare of a journey alone?"

"You possessed me. " She made no attempt to lift her head. 

"But, my darling, you ought not to have come. You ought not to be here. You know that. "

"Yes. I know it. Are you . . Angry, that I am here?"

"Angry? My God! It's new life to me. Your voice, just the music of it, gets into my head like wine. Look up, lass. I love your hair, everywisp and thread of it. But I am waiting for something more. "

The appeal was irresistible; and she looked up, accordingly, setting herhands lightly on his shoulders. The change wrought in him by illness andmental struggle pierced her like a physical pang; and her eyes fellbefore the yearning in his, the revelation of chained-up forces, andemotions straining at the leash. Then, still keeping her lids closed, she tilted her head backward, her lips just parted; and again, as on thatnight of enchantment at Kajiar, they were swept beyond the boundaries ofspace and time; beyond the stumbling-blocks, the pitiful limitations ofearth. 

But limitations are as indispensable to life on our bewildering planet asbread and meat. The wine of ecstasy can only be taken in small doses, ata price. 

Quita sat upright at last, on the spare corner of her husband's chair, flushed, smiling, and not a little tremulous. Stumbling-blocks andlimitations loomed again on the horizon. But for the present she wouldhave none of them. Eldred was not angry. He wanted her--supremely:--howsupremely, his lips had just been telling her in language more primitive, more forcible than speech. 

And now he lay merely watching her, still retaining her hands, drinkingin the penetrating charm of her, as a parched traveller drinks at aroadside spring. 

"Well?" he asked presently. "After all that--what next? There's therub. "

"Need we spoil these first heavenly moments together by looking for rocksahead, _mon cher_? Captain Desmond begged me to keep the 'worry element'at arm's-length. "

"Dear old Desmond! He's made of gold. But now that you are here, you'vegot to be explained. And there's only one way to explain you--Mrs Lenox!"

Her face quivered. 

"Eldred, I won't be explained . . That way, unless . . You really wishit. Only Mrs Olliver and Major Wyndham know about me: and now I've seenyou, and feel sure there's no more danger, I can easily go back toDalhousie and stay there, till you . . Till you're more ready for me. "

"Can you though?" He pressed her hands. "And do you believe I amcapable of packing you off to-morrow?"

"I don't know. I think you'd prefer not to. But I believe you arecapable of doing anything, once you're convinced it's right. "

"Dearest, indeed I'm not. " He spoke with sudden vehemence. "If I were, we might be clear of this unholy tangle by now. But since you'vehonoured me by plunging into hell fire on my account, I can't let you goagain . . . Yet. "

The last word fell like a drop of cold water on the hope that glowed ather heart. But she chose to ignore it. 

"Well then?"

He raised one hand, and laid it lightly on her breast, feeling for hiddentreasure. Then his fingers closed on the two rings; and he smiled. 

"Since you seem to have forgiven the ill-tempered chap who gave youthose, you might do worse than have 'em out, and wear them--by way ofexplanation!"

Her own hand went up to them, instinctively, and closed over his. 

"I'll take them out now, at once, if you'll promise to put the weddingone on, yourself, with the proper words. "

"What? Not the whole blessed service?"

At the note of dismay in his voice her laughter rang out, clear andnatural; a silver sound, that pierced him with its poignant sweetness. 

"Darling idiot! Of course not. I only meant the 'ring' words for luck. Though if I could have my own way, I'd like the whole thing over again, to make it feel more real. All that seems to have happened to a not veryadmirable girl I once knew, in another life. "

"Does it indeed?" he asked, smiling upon her in great contentment. "Irather admired that girl myself! But believe me, Quita, it's all realenough to satisfy us both. 'There's no discharge in that war. ' And youdon't get a human man to go through the ordeal of that service exceptunder severe stress of circumstance! If I couldn't recapture you anyother way, I'd do it . . With alacrity. Not unless. "

"But who will do the explaining to the station at large?"

"Desmond and his wife will gladly do that much for us. " He was about toadd that his chief friend knew already: but decided that it would behardly fair on Dick to 'give him away. '

"And where did it all happen?" she demanded, dimpling with enjoyment. "In Dalhousie?"

"I imagine so. "

"You mustn't imagine. We must have all the details clear, so as to lieconsistently!"

"Well then, to account for our abruptness, we'll decide that I lost myheart to you at home, some time ago; and rediscovered you by chance inDalhousie. "

She laughed again, from pure exuberance of happiness. 

"That's capital! I'll explain it all to Mrs Desmond; and she shall dothe rest. "

While they talked, she had succeeded in extricating her rings; and nowshe dropped them into his open palm:--the gold band of Destiny, and thehoop of sapphires and diamonds that he had chosen with such elaboratecare, and presented to her with such awkward, palpitating shyness nearlysix years ago. 

"Put them on, please, " she said softly, thrusting out her wedding finger. "'For better for worse; for richer for poorer; in sickness and in health;till death us do part. '"

On the last words she lifted her head. He caught the gleam of tears onher lashes, and slipped the ring on to her finger; uttering the tripleasseveration with a suppressed fervour rarely to be heard at the altarrails. Then the second hoop was added; and, still keeping possession ofthe fettered hand, he sat silent a moment, looking down at hisachievement with an absurd sense of satisfaction. Quita was looking atit also, wondering if he could hear the hammering of her heart. 

"Now we are really married, " she murmured as simply as a child. 

"Weren't we before?" he asked, on a note of amusement. 

"I suppose so. It didn't feel like it. "

"And does it feel more like it now?"

"Not much, yet. But it will, in time. "

"Yes. In _time_. "

The pause, and the emphasis smote her. But again she ignored the cloudno bigger than a man's hand; defying its power to veil her sunlight. 

"The proper thing after a wedding is . . To kiss your wife, " she remarkeddemurely, without looking up. 

"Is it? I don't remember doing so last time. "

"You never did; and it's bad luck not to. That's why everything wentwrong! You were too shy; and . . Your first wife didn't much like thatsort of thing. "

"My second wife will have to put up with it, whether she likes it ornot!" he answered, drawing her towards him by dear and delicious degrees. "We won't play fast and loose with our luck this time. "

An abrupt knock at the door startled her out of his arms; and the curtainwas pushed aside by Desmond:--a strangely transfigured Desmond, with setjaw, and desperate eyes. 

"My dear man . . " Lenox began. But an intuition of catastrophe past theshow of speech made him break off short. 

Then Desmond spoke, in a voice thick and unlike his own. 

"Sorry to spoil things by interrupting you in this way. But one had totell you. It's Honor . . . "

He could get no further: but his eyes were terribly eloquent; and thesilence held them all as in a vice. The awakening woman in Quita gaveher courage to break it. 

"May I go to her?" she pleaded. "And help her . . If one can?"

Though the plea was addressed to Desmond, she glanced first at Lenox, andread approval in his eyes. 

But Desmond shook his head. 

"That's my business, " he answered quietly. He had mastered his voice bynow. "I want you to take over charge here. It's a sharp attack. Ishan't leave her again, till . . . It's over. "

And before either of them knew how to answer him, the curtain had fallenheavily behind him. 

Overwhelming tragedy, striking across their golden hour like a nakedsword, wrenched them out of themselves. 

Without a word Quita knelt down beside her husband, bowing her foreheadon the back of his hand. Women of her temperament are little given tothe habit of prayer: and her rare communings with the Hidden Soul ofThings more often took the form of wordless aspiration, than of directpetition or praise. But now her uplifted soul went out in a passionateappeal to the Great Giver, and the great Taker Away, for the life of thewoman whom she had hated so heartily less than three months ago. 

And Lenox lay looking straight before him, stroking her hair soothinglyfrom time to time. 

"Desmond is a strong man, a very strong man, " he said, as if speaking tohimself. "But there's a flaw in his armour just above the heart; and Ibelieve that if any real harm comes to that wife of his, he'll go topieces, like a wheel with the centre knocked out. "

CHAPTER XXII. 

 "What Love may do, that dares Love attempt. " --Shakspere. 

It was evening at last: a sullen, breathless evening, heavy withthreatening cloud. 

Since morning Honor Desmond had been fighting for life, againstappalling odds; while the man, whose love for her almost amounted to areligion, did all that human skill could devise, which was pitifullylittle after all, to ease the torturing thirst and pain, to uphold thevitality that ebbed visibly with the ebbing day. But the very vigourof her constitution went against her; for cholera takes strong boldupon the strong. And Desmond never left her for an instant. He seemedto have passed beyond the zone of hunger, thirst, or weariness, to havereached that exalted pitch of suffering where the soul transcends thebody's imperious demands, asserts itself, momentarily, for the absoluteunconquerable thing it is. 

Frank Olliver, in defiance of a July sun, flitted restlessly in and outof the bungalow; and since Desmond would admit no one but the doctor tohis wife's room, she found some measure of comfort in futile attemptsto lighten Paul Wyndham's anxiety, and distract his thoughts; while thenewly joined husband and wife, so strangely isolated in their moment ofreunion, waited and hoped through the interminable hours, and snatchedfugitive gleams of contentment from the fact that now, at least, theycould suffer together. 

James Mackay, the regimental doctor, a crustacean type of Scot, cameand went as frequently as his manifold duties would permit. On eachoccasion he was waylaid in the dining-room by Paul Wyndham, his facehaggard with suffering; and on each occasion the little man's decisiveheadshake struck a fresh blow at the hope that took 'such anunconscionable time a-dying. ' Finally he spoke his convictionoutright. It was late afternoon, and Honor's strength and courage, though still flickering fitfully, were almost spent. 

"I'm doubting if we can do much more for her now, " he said, when thedoor of her room had been quietly closed behind him. "It'll be no lessthan a miracle if she lasts through the night. "

"Have you told him that?" Wyndham asked in a voice of stunned quietness. 

"Man alive, no! 'Twould be no mortal use. _He_ won't give up hopetill the last nail's in her coffin. " Paul winced visibly, and by wayof atonement for his bluntness, the other made haste to add: "Ifthere's the remotest chance of pulling her through, Desmond 'll do it. You may swear to that. The man's just one concentrated, incarnatepurpose. "

Wyndham set his lips, and turned away: and the Scotchman stood eyeinghim keenly. 

"What sort of a tiffin did you have?" he asked with rough kindliness. 

"Oh, I don't know. Nothing much. "

"I thought so. Eat a good dinner, man. Starvation's no use to anyone, and I don't want to have you back on my hands. "

With that he departed, and Wyndham had just decided on filling anotherpipe, since some pretence at occupation was imperative, when Meredithentered unannounced. 

A glance at his face showed Paul that he knew, and believed the worst;and for a moment they confronted one another in mute dismay. TheEnglishman's inability to put his heart into words has its patheticaspect at times. These two men were linked by years of mutual work, and immediate mutual pain: yet Wyndham merely laid down his pipe andasked; "Have you seen Mackay?"

"Yes. Met him on my way here. I'm going in to her at once. "

And Paul, picking up the discarded pipe, looked after him with envy andhunger in his eyes. 

Meredith knocked at the bedroom door. 

"Who's there?" Desmond's voice came sharp as a challenge. 

"John. "

"Come in, then. "

And he went in. 

The room was large, lofty, and very simply furnished. With theleisurely swaying of the punkah, light and shadow flitted across thewide, low bed, on one side of which Honor lay, warmly covered withblankets, her breath coming in laboured gasps. Desmond knelt by her;and, on Meredith's entrance, set down the feeding-cup, but because herhand was on his coat-sleeve, he did not change his position, or risefrom his knees. She held out the other to Meredith, But it felllimply before he could reach her. 

"John . . Dear, " she greeted him in a husky whisper. "I'm so glad. Sit near me . . Here. "

He obeyed, seating himself on the unoccupied part of the bed; andtaking up her hand, cherished it between both his own. It was cold andclammy, the finger-tips wrinkled like a washerwoman's, and at sight ofher face his self-control deserted him, so that he dared not riskspeech. For cholera does its work swiftly and efficaciously, and ineight hours Honor Desmond's beauty had been ruthlessly wiped out. Inthe grey, pinched features and sunken eyes--already dimmed by acreeping film that blurred the two faces she so loved--it was hard totrace any likeness to the radiant woman of twenty-four hours ago. Onlythe burnished bronze of her hair, encircling her head in a large looseplait, remained untouched by the finger of death. 

When Meredith could command his voice, he spoke quietly and cheerfullyof the day's work, and of the certainty that she would pull through. Then the hand in his stirred uneasily. 

"What is it, dear?" he asked. 

"John, I want you to remember, "--the voice was still husky, and shespoke with difficulty--"whatever happens, . . And tell father, please . . It wasn't Theo's fault. It was mine. "

The hand on her husband's coat-sleeve felt its way up uncertainly, tillit rested in a lingering caress on the dark bowed head. For Desmond, leaning on his elbow, had covered his eyes with one hand. 

Meredith frowned. 

"Dearest girl, it was no one's fault. Besides, you are going to getwell. But talking is a strain on you now, I'll look in later. "

He stooped and kissed her forehead. 

"Good-bye, " she whispered. 

"No, not good-bye, " he contradicted her steadily. "I shall see youagain after mess. "

She sighed, and her lids fell. The terrible apathy of cholera wascrushing the soldier spirit out of her by inches. 

"God! I don't believe she heard me, " he murmured in sudden despair. 

At that Desmond uncovered his eyes. "She heard you, right enough, " hesaid quietly, "Trust me not to let her go. "

And Meredith went reluctantly out, leaving man and wife alone with theShadowy Third; the only third that could ever come between them. 

Honor's hand slipped down from his head to his shoulder, and she openedher eyes; the soul in them struggling to pierce the mists that deepenedevery minute. 

"Darling, " she breathed. "Come closer . . Much closer. I wish . . Iwish you didn't seem all blurred. "

He bent nearer, looking steadfastly into her altered face. 

"That better, dear?" he asked, controlling his voice with an effort. 

"Yes. A little. Whatever John may say, it was my fault, " shepersisted, for in spite of pain and prostration, the mists had notclouded her brain. "It was selfish of me to insist. See . . What I'vemade you suffer. But you don't . . Blame me, do you, . . In yourheart?"

"Blame you, . . My best beloved? How can you ask it? I . . I worshipyou, " he added very low. 

The extravagant word, reviving dear and imperishable memories, calledup a quivering smile, more heart-piercing than a cry: and Desmond, putting a great restraint upon himself, enfolded her with one arm, andkissed her softly, lingeringly, as one might kiss a child. 

"My very Theo, " she murmured, her voice breaking with love. "It hasbeen so perfect . . I suppose that's why . . Not three years yet;and . . I can't bear . . To leave you behind, even for a little. "

"You'll not do that, Honor, " his voice had the level note of decision. "If _you_ go, . . . I go too. "

"No, no. You must wait . . For your boy. "

Desmond set his teeth, and answered nothing. In the stress of anguishhe had forgotten his child. 

Suddenly a convulsive shuddering ran through her, and her breath cameshort and quick. 

"Theo, . . What's happening?" she panted. "Where are you? Hold me. Everything's . . Slipping away. "

It cut him to the heart to unclasp the fingers that clung to him;though he was back again in a moment, holding weak brandy and water toher lips. 

"Drink it, Honor. For God's sake, drink it!" he commanded, a ring offear in his voice. For in that moment, a change, terrible andsignificant, had come over her. His appeal produced no response, nomovement of lips or eyelids. Her face seemed to shrink and sharpen, and change colour before his eyes. Her breath was cold as the air froma cave. 

He set down the wine-glass, and in the first shock and horror of it allstood like a man turned to stone. Then common-sense pricked him backto life, and to the necessity for immediate action. After so sharp anattack, collapse would probably be severe and prolonged. He laid hisfingers on her pulse. It was rapid, and barely perceptible, but thestill small flutter of life was there. 

He opened the verandah door, where Amar Singh and a very aggrievedAberdeen terrier had sat since morning, and issued a swift order forhot water, mustard, warm turpentine; a grim repetition of the battle hehad fought out a week ago. But now he fought single-handed, while AmarSingh and a small tremulous ayah, crouching beside a charcoal brazierin the verandah, kept up a steady supply of his primitive needs. 

Thus James Mackay found him on his return; still doggedly applyingfriction and restoratives without having made an inch of progress forhis pains. Darkness had fallen by now, and the one lamp, set well awayfrom the bed, made a pallid oasis in its own vicinity. Desmond hadflung aside his coat, and his thin shirt clung in patches to his dampbody. His face was set in rigid lines; and the little doctor, whocarried a heart of flesh under a porcupine exterior, was haunted fordays by the despair in his eyes. 

"How long have you been at it, man?" he asked without preamble. 

"A lifetime, I should say. Possibly an hour. "

"No change at all?"

"Not the slightest. But I know . . She's alive. "

Mackay scrutinised the awful stillness on the bed. 

"We must try hypodermic injection, " he said gently. "And in themeantime . . . " he went over to a table strewn with sick-roomparaphernalia, and poured out half a pint of champagne, "you'll pleasedrink that. "

And as Desmond obeyed automatically, his hand shook so that the edge ofthe tumbler rattled against his teeth. The body was beginning toassert itself at last. But the stinging liquid revived him; and in asilence, broken only by an abrupt direction or request from theScotchman, the last available resources were tried again and yet again, without result. Finally Mackay looked up, and Desmond read the verdictin his eyes. 

"My dear man, it's no use, " he said simply. "She's beyond our reachnow. "

Desmond's lips whitened: but he braced his shoulders. "She's not. Idon't believe it, " he answered, on a toneless note of decision. Andthe other knew that only the slow torture of the night-watches couldbrand the truth into his brain. 

With a gesture of weariness, infinitely pathetic, he turned back to thebed, and bending down, mechanically rearranged the sheet, and smootheda crease or two out of the pillow. The bowed back and shoulders, despite their suppleness and strength, had in them a pathos too deepfor tears: and Mackay, feeling himself dismissed, went noiselessly out. 

For a long moment Desmond's unnatural stoicism held firm. Then, deepdown in him, something seemed to snap. With a dry, choking sob, heflung himself on his knees beside the bed, and the waters came in evenunto his soul. 

It seemed a thing incredible that one hour could hold such a store ofanguish. The half of his personality, the hidden life of heart andspirit, seemed dead already: and in that first shuddering sense ofloneliness, time was not. 

A familiar choking sensation recalled him to outward things. Thepunkah coolie had fallen asleep; and in a fever of irritation he sprangto his feet. Then the thought pierced him: "What on earth does itmatter . . Now?"

But the trivial prick of discomfort had, in some inexplicable fashion, readjusted the balance of things; reawakened the conviction that had sostrangely upheld him throughout the day; and with it the spirit of 'nosurrender, ' which was the very essence of the man. All the tales hehad heard of cholera patients literally dragged from the brink of thegrave by devoted nursing crowded in upon him, like reinforcementsbacking up a forlorn hope, and once again he bent over his wife, caressing the crisp upward sweep of her hair. 

"Honor, you _shall_ live. By God, you shall!" he whispered low in herear, as though her spirit could hear and take comfort from theassurance. 

A downward jerk of the punkah rope set the great frill flapping withostentatious vigour; and he himself set to work again no lessvigorously; fighting death hand to hand with every weapon at command. He clung to his renewed hope with a desperation that was terrible;realising more acutely than before that to let go of her was to fallinto nameless spaces void of companionship and love. Once or twice theflicker of the punkah frill created an illusion of movement in theface, and his heart leapt into his throat, only to sink to the depthsagain when he discovered his mistake. But nothing now could turn himfrom his purpose; or quench that indomitable determination to succeedwhich is one of the strongest levers of the world. 

And at long-last, when persistence had begun to seem mere folly, camethe first faint shadow of change. Slowly, very slowly, her faceappeared to be losing the bluish tinge of cholera. Fearful lestimagination should be cheating him, he fetched the lamp, and held itover her. Unquestionably the colour had improved. 

The loose chimney rattled as he set down the lamp; and he spilled halfthe brandy he tried to pour into a spoon. Then, steadying himself by asupreme effort, he managed to pour a little of it between her lips, watching with suspended breath for the least sign of moisture at thecorners. A drop or two trickled uselessly out, but the muscles of herthroat stirred slightly, and the rest was retained. 

Then for a moment Desmond let himself go. With a low cry he leaneddown, and slipping both arms under her, pressed his lips upon her coldones, long and passionately, as though he would impart to her the verypower of his spirit, the living warmth of his body and heart. And atlength, he was aware of a faint unmistakable attempt to return hispressure. He could have shouted for sheer triumph. It was as if hehad created her anew. But love, having achieved its perfect work, mustbe kept under subjection till the accepted moment. 

A little more brandy, a little more chafing of hands and limbs, and themiracle was complete. By degrees, as imperceptible as the coming ofdawn, life stole back in response to his touch. She stirred, drew adeep breath, and opened her eyes. 

"Theo, . . Is it you? Have I . . Got you . . Still?"

It was her own voice, clear and low, no longer the husky whisper ofcholera. The caress in it penetrated like pain; and tears, sharp asknives, forced their way between his lids. 

"Yes, my darling; . . . And I've got _you_ still, " he answered, histenderness hovering over her like a flutter of wings. 

"But what happened? I thought . . . "

"Don't tire your dear head with thinking. By God's mercy, I draggedyou back from the utmost edge of things; and you've come to stay. That's enough for me. "

Ten minutes later she was sleeping, lightly and naturally, her headnestling in the crook of his elbow, one hand clinging to a morsel ofhis shirt; while he leaned above her, half-sitting, half-lying on theextreme edge of the bed, not daring to shift his strained position byso much as a hair's-breadth; till overwhelming weariness had its waywith him, and he slept also, his head fallen back against the wall. 

When at last he awoke, a pale shaft of light was feeling its way acrossthe room from the long glass door that gave upon the verandah. Outsidein the garden the crows and squirrels were awake, and talkative. Thewell-wheel had begun its plaintive music, punctuated with the plash offalling water, and the new day, in a sheet of flame, rolled upunconcernedly from the other side of the world. 

Honor had turned over in her sleep, leaving him free to rise, andstretch himself exhaustedly; and as he stood looking down upon thenight's achievement, upon the rhythmical rise and fall of his wife'sbreast beneath its light covering, new fires were kindled in the man'sdeep heart; new intimations of the height and depth, and power of that'grand impulsion, ' which men call Love; and with these, a new humilitythat forced him down upon his knees in a wordless ecstasy ofthanksgiving. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

 "They are one and one, with a shadowy third; One near one is too far. " --Browning. 

Quita was troubled. 

A full week had elapsed since that day so strangely compounded ofrapture and dread; of matter-of-fact service, and shy, tenderintimacies that had seemed to set a seal on the completeness of theirreunion. Yet, in the days that followed, she had been increasinglyaware of a nameless something, an indefinable constraint between them, which instinct told her would not have been there if conscience hadsurrendered all along the line. 

It was not his mere avoidance, after the first, of caresses congenialto the opening phase of marriage that disconcerted her. Such emotionalreticence squared with her idea of the man. She would not have had himotherwise. They were sure of one another; and in both natures passionwas proud and fastidious. It could thrive without much lip-service. The undefined aloofness that troubled Quita was spiritual, rather thanphysical. She was conscious of walls within walls, separating her fromhis essential self; and behind these again of an unobtrusive reserveforce, whose power of endurance she could not estimate; because herdealings with Michael's shallower nature had afforded her no experienceof a moral stability free from the warp of the personal equation. Itwas as if some intangible part of him, over which she could establishno hold, stood persistently afar off, --tormented, but immovable. 

She could not know that the form of opium administered during hisillness had revived and strengthened temptation when he himself wasphysically unfit to cope with it; that by her impulsive return to him, at a critical moment, she was forcing him open-eyed toward acatastrophe more lasting, more terrible for them both, than the initialharm done by her rejection of him five years ago. Reserve andself-disgust made speech on the subject seem a thing impossible; whilehis mere man's chivalry shrank from allowing her to guess that by anact of seeming reparation, she had run grave risk of putting realreparation out of her power. Once only did the love that consumed himbreak through the restraint he put upon himself in sheer self-defence. 

It was the first day he had been allowed up at a normal hour; andcoming into the dining-room, he had found her alone at her easel, nearone of the long glass doors. At the sound of his step she turned hercanvas round swiftly, and came to him with a glad lift of her head. Hetook her hands in his big grasp, and kissed her forehead. 

"Good morning, lass, " he said. "You never told me you had brought thatwith you. Couldn't be divorced from it, eh? What's the great worknow? May I see?"

"But yes, naturally. I've been keeping it as a surprise for you. Idon't believe I should ever have got through this last fortnightwithout it. _Voilŕ_!"

She set it facing him, and standing so with her eyes on the picture, waited eagerly for his word of praise. But as the seconds passed, andit did not come, she turned, to find him looking at her, not at thepicture; his teeth tormenting his lower lip; a suspicious film dimmingthe clear blue of his eyes. Emboldened by this last incrediblephenomenon, she came and stood close to him, yet without touching him. 

"Darling, you do like it, don't you? I can't complete it till you giveme a few sittings; but then--it will be my masterpiece. I shall nevershow it, at home, though. It's too much a part of myself . . . My veryinmost self. "

And he could not withhold the demonstration that such a confessionprovoked. 

"Oh, my dear, " he said at last, without releasing her. "You made toolittle of me once; and now you're making too much. I'm not worth itall. "

She put a hand on his lips. 

"Be quiet! I won't hear you when you talk so. Look properly at mypicture now. You haven't told me it's good. "

"Of course it's good. Amazingly good. But . . . " he laughed, a shortcontented laugh--"it's beyond me how you could be misguided enough towaste your remarkable talent in perpetuating anything so ugly!"

Her smile hinted at superior knowledge; yet she paid his obvioussincerity the compliment of not contradicting his final statement. 

"In the first place, because I love it. And in the second place, because, for all true artists, who see in form and colour just a soul'sattempts at self-expression, there is more essential beauty in certainkinds . . . Of ugliness, than in the most faultless symmetry of linesand curves. One is almost tempted to say that there is no such thingas actual ugliness; that it is all a matter of understanding, of seeingdeep enough. For instance, I find that essential beauty I spoke of inMrs Olliver's face. "

"Ah . . . So do I; of a rare quality. "

"Well then, dear stupid, allow me to find it in yours also!"

"One to you, " he admitted, smiling. "But now . . . I am in your handstill tiffin. What are you going to do with me? Read? Sing? Thedrawing-room's empty; and I haven't heard you since Kajiar. "

"Do you want the Swinburne again?"

"No; by no means. "

"Why not? Don't you like the song?"

"I like it far too well; and I'm not strong enough yet to stand abrutal assault upon my feelings! Come along, and give me somethingwholesome and simple. A convalescent needs milk diet mentally as wellas physically, you know!"

This was on one of his best days. But there were others, --followingupon nights of sleeplessness, and pain, and heart-searchingunspeakable, only to be alleviated by the one unfailing remedy, --whenthe strain of repression demanded by her constant presence so wroughtupon his nerves that he would get up and leave her abruptly withoutexcuse; or shut himself into his room on the empty pretext of revisingmanuscript. As a matter of fact, he spent most of the time girding atthe deliberate waste of good hours; till the consciousness of slippingdeeper into the mire and the dread of ultimate defeat became almost anobsession, aggravated by ill-health and want of rest. 

Quita, who remembered well his inexhaustible capacity for keepingstill, was distressed and puzzled by these moods of restlessnessverging on irritability, whose true significance she could not guessat; though she was woman enough to know that a position merelyunsatisfactory for her, must be an actual strain on him. And as hisstrength returned, she could only hope from day to day for someallusion to the possibility of moving into their own bungalow; since itwas clear that they could not remain with the Desmonds for ever! Prideand delicacy alike withheld her from the lightest mention of thesubject. It seemed to her that she had transgressed sufficiently inboth respects already. Yet, as the days accumulated to a week, andstill he said no word, she grew definitely anxious to know what wasgoing to happen next. 

But, with all its drawbacks and difficulties, this week of intimateeveryday companionship had been one of the best weeks in her life. Ithad served, above all things, to establish her conviction that thehusband she had chosen, by a lightning instinct of the brain ratherthan the heart, was in all respects a man among men. He appealed tothe artist in her by a natural dignity and distinction of person andcharacter, by a suggestion of volcanic forces warring with the asceticstrain in him yet steadfastly controlled; and above all, by a superbsimplicity and unconsciousness of self, that draws introspectivetemperaments as infallibly as the moon draws the sea. 

And apart from her joy in him, she was keenly alive to hersurroundings; to the practical work going on about her; to thestimulating contact with a new type, a new atmosphere. At first shesaw little of outsiders, or indeed of any one besides her husband. John Meredith came over every day; Wyndham, though still living in thehouse, had gone back to duty; while Desmond--after one day of completecollapse, when Frank revenged herself on him by monopolising Honor--hadtaken up his work again with heightened zest, and devoted every sparehour to his wife. But the four met at meals, and in the evening, whenQuita kept all three men alert and amused by her intelligentquestionings, her frank interest in every detail of her new profession, as it pleased her to call it. 

Before the week was out her pocket note-book contained a smallportrait-gallery of studies in pencil and water-colour. She sketchedDesmond's old Sikh Ressaldar, with his finely carved features, deepeyes, and vast lop-sided blue and gold turban; and Desmond himself inthe white uniform and long boots, which so greatly pleased her, occupied several pages. 

Mounted on Shaitan's successor, she rode down with him twice to earlyparade; and sat entranced through the whole proceeding; watching thelong lines of men and horses sweeping across the open plain, wheeling, retiring, advancing, changing formation with exquisite andinstantaneous precision, in response to Meredith's brisk words ofcommand; while massed lance-heads and steel shoulder-chains flashed andwinked in the level light. 

It was her first experience of meeting soldiers in the mass, on theirown ground, and the man who has faced death and dealt it out to othersappeals irresistibly to the fundamental barbaric in women. To thisfascination, Quita added the artist's reverence for the men who 'dothings, ' as opposed to the men who record or express them. 

She enlarged on the subject at breakfast one morning, in her usualdirect fashion; but Desmond would have none of it. 

"Remember, Quita, " said he, "that an artist, in the inclusive sense, when he is worth anything, stands for the strongest thing in the world. . . An idea. "

Her face brightened with interest. 

"That's true. But unhappily great art doesn't necessarily imply greatcharacter, and great action does. That's why the world's heroes havenearly always been men of action; and always will be. "

"Ah, now you've given yourself away neatly!" Desmond cried, like agreat schoolboy. "Where would your heroes be a hundred years aftertheir death, but for the men who immortalise them on canvas, and inprint? Would the effect of their noble living be one-half asfar-reaching, if it remained unrecorded? It's no case for comparison, any more than the eternal man and woman question. They are diverse;and the world has equal need of both. So there's consolation for usall!"

"Well played, Desmond!" Lenox remarked, smiling and nodding across thetable at his wife. 

"I surrender at discretion, " she admitted sweetly. "But still, beingan artist, I take off my hat to men of action, and always shall. "

"Good luck for the men of action!" Desmond retorted, with an amusedglance at Lenox, as they rose from the table. 

By now cholera and fever were dying out slowly, like spent fires. TheInfantry had come in from camp; and the Battery was expected backshortly, only two fresh cases having occurred. Then, as Honor began tomend, people dropped in again at tea-time, eager for news of her; andQuita discovered how widely and deeply she was beloved. Little MrsPeters disappeared behind a very crumpled handkerchief while trying toexpress her feelings; and the Chicken blew his nose vigorously whenQuita announced that Honor would soon be allowed into the drawing-roomfor tea. 

She was getting used to her new name now. Officers of all ranks cameto call on her as a 'bride'; an embarrassing attention which she wouldgladly have dispensed with in the circumstances, since Eldred baselydeserted her on each occasion; and she was introduced to Norton, whoinspected her critically and flagrantly, as a possible stumbling-blockto a promising career. Altogether, she was beginning to see India in anew perspective. Hitherto, in her aimless wanderings with Michael, shehad merely looked on at its vast and varied panorama of life; hadstudied it with the detached interest of the outsider. Now she feltherself absorbed into the brotherhood of those who worked and sufferedfor the great country of her husband's service; who were as flies onthe wheels of its complex mechanism; and who heartily loved or hatedit, as the case might be. 

At last, after a week of devoted nursing, Honor was allowed to make herfirst appearance in the drawing-room; and Desmond invited a 'selectfew' to tea for the occasion. Wyndham stood alone on the hearth-rugwhen she entered, her husband supporting her with his arm. She wasvisibly thinner; and her face was almost as colourless as the sweepingfolds of her tea-gown. Otherwise her beauty had reasserted itselftriumphantly; and Wyndham caught his breath as he came towards her. 

She gave him both her hands; and he held them closely for a longmoment. Then, obeying a rare and imperative impulse, he bent down andtouched them with his lips. A faint colour tinged Honor's cheeks. "Dear Paul, " she said under her breath: and Desmond, leading her to thesofa, established her in a nest of cushions, with a light covering forher feet, just as Quita and Lenox came in, closely followed by MaxRichardson in uniform. 

He had come in from camp not an hour ago; and had ridden over withoutchanging, in his zeal to shake hands with Lenox and his wife. Theformer had endured his congratulations and delight at the news with thebest grace he could muster; and had avoided a word with him alone. Nowhe drew up a chair and sat down by Honor: while Quita, pricked to apassing jealousy by his instant gravitation to her, moved off with MaxRichardson, talking and laughing as if she had known him for years. Itwas not her habit to waste time in preliminaries. 

"They'll get on splendidly, those two, " Honor said, smiling as shewatched them. 

"I'll be glad if they do, " Lenox answered without enthusiasm; and hereyes scanned his face. 

"You aren't getting on splendidly, though. You look worn to a shadow. I'm afraid it's been difficult. "

"Hideously difficult. "

"And you ought both to be so happy, now of all times . . . "

"Yes. That's the exquisitely refined torment of it. "

"You haven't been sleeping?"

"No . . . Nothing to speak of. But don't give yourself a headache onmy account, dear lady. Desmond would never forgive me! I'm a toughcustomer. I shall pull through somehow. "

"If you could only bring yourself to talk it over with Theo, " she urgedin a lower tone, as he came towards them with Mrs Peters, who flungshyness to the winds, and fairly took Honor's breath away by kissingher on both cheeks. 

Desmond's 'select few' amounted to less than a dozen. Honor's sofa wasthe centre of attraction; and her sympathetic spirit thrilled inresponse to the friendliness that glowed, like a jewel, at the heart ofeveryday talk and laughter. For the past fortnight of pain and stressseemed to have drawn them all indefinably closer to one another: whichis the true mission of pain and stress in this very human world. 

Later in the evening there were light sports on the Cavalryparade-ground, which Meredith, Desmond, and Olliver were bound toattend; Wyndham and half a dozen others remaining behind. 

Courtenay, on his way to the door, remarked to Lenox that a shortouting would do him no harm; and Quita, who chanced to be standing athis elbow, pressed lightly against him. 

"Drive me down, dear, " she said softly. "I should love it. " And sincehe had avoided her for the greater part of the morning, he could notwell refuse. 

"I like your 'Dick, ' Eldred, " she informed him, as they bowled alongthe wide straight road. "He is _bon garçon_, through and through. Notbrilliant, perhaps: but quick, appreciative, and he can talk. "

"Yes: Dick's a real good sort. Glad you approve of him. And as fortalking . . . _you_ could draw conversation out of a stone wall!"

"I don't always succeed with the one I am leaning against just now!"

"Well, I'll swear it's not your fault if you fail, " he answered, smiling down upon her with such unfathomable sadness in his eyes, thatshe cried out involuntarily, between vexation and despair--

"Oh, _mon Dieu_, is it always going to be like this between us? Isthere nothing I can do to make you happy again?"

"Nothing just at present, worse luck, " he said grimly, looking straightahead: for in the face of such an appeal he could hardly confess hisdesperate need to be left alone. "It's a question of time, as I toldyou, and my own strength of will. But if the situation becomes toointolerable for you, there is always the last resort of oversteppingthe limit, and setting you free for good. "

Quita could not know how cruelly ill he had slept since her coming, norhow little a man tortured by insomnia can be held responsible for hisutterances; and the significance of his last words so startled her thatshe clutched his arm. 

"Eldred . . . Eldred, promise me you'll never even think of such athing . . . Never!"

He winced under her touch. "Quita, remember where we are, " he saidsharply; and she dropped her hand. 

"But all the same, promise me . . What I asked; or I shall never havean easy moment. "

"It might come to seem the kindest thing one could do for you, " hepersisted, still without looking at her. But fear gave her courage tostrike deep while the chance of speech was hers. 

"It would never be anything less than an act of cruelty and cowardice. Remember that. I am ready to put up with everything . . . Everythingrather than lose you, now. "

"If that's the truth, lass, " he said with sudden gentleness, "you mayset your mind at rest. I promise. "

"Thank you, _mon cher_. "

Then they fell silent till the parade-ground came in sight. 

This, their first appearance together in public, was something of anordeal to both; and at the last minute Quita's courage evaporated. 

"Eldred . . . Stop, please, " she said suddenly. "I'm shy of them all;and I don't want to talk to them just now. "

"Thank the Lord for that!" he answered so fervently, that they bothlaughed aloud; and there is nothing like laughter for clearing the air. 

"Take me for a drive, " she suggested. "Show me your bungalow . . . Ourbungalow, will you?"

He hesitated. It seemed he was only to exchange one ordeal foranother. "It's a ramshackle, comfortless place, Quita, " he objected. "Wouldn't it be better to wait till . . Till I can have it decentlyfitted up for you? Or you might like to pick another one. "

"But no. I want that one; and I want to see it first just as you livedin it, please. "

"Very well. If you wish it. "

An officious chowkidar opened doors for them with a great clatter ofbolts, and an elaborate air of being very much on the spot; and theystepped straight from the verandah into the one room Lenox hadfurnished besides the bedroom. It looked desolate, and smeltuninhabited; but Quita inspected the horns, the rugs, the sketches, even the handful of books left on the writing-table, with eagerinterest; and Eldred, stationed on the hearth-rug, answered her runningfire of questions a little vaguely, because he was listening moreintently to her voice than to what it said!

Suddenly his thoughts were checked by a vivid sense of having livedthrough this identical scene before; of standing near a fireplacewatching her light-hearted explorations. But where? When? Then, likea dash of cold water, came enlightenment. It was at the Kiffel AlpHotel, on the day of their wedding; and the bitterness of the lostyears between, with their final heritage of evil, flowed over him likethe sluggish waters of a dead sea. 

Quita was hesitating on the threshold of the bedroom now; and an insaneconviction came upon him that if she went in there he would lose heragain, as on that earlier day. It was all sheer brain-sickness, andlack of sleep, but at the moment it was horribly real. 

"May one look at the other rooms too?" she asked. "I want to see whichwould do best for my studio!"

"Look into every hole and corner, if it amuses you, dearest, " heanswered; but made no attempt to accompany her. 

When at last she reappeared, the nightmare feeling took him afresh. Hefelt certain she would come straight up to him, and lay hold of thelapels of his coat. And this she actually did; lifting a glowing faceto his. 

"Eldred, " she began, exactly as before . . . And it was more than hecould stand. The oppression of her nearness set the blood rushing inhis ears; and taking her hands from their resting-place he put her fromhim, almost an arm's-length, as though the better to look into her eyes. 

"Well?" he asked, with an attempt at lightness that rang false. "Isyour Highness quite satisfied with it all?"

But she was not to be deceived. Her cheeks flamed; and she almostsnatched away her hands. 

"Yes. I am quite satisfied, " she said, in a changed voice. "And Ithink it's high time we went back. "

Then she left him, a shade too rapidly for dignity, and sprang into thecart, before he could get near enough to help her up. 

"Quita . . . Why did you do that? What's wrong?" he asked, lamelyenough as he gathered up the reins. 

"Need you add insult to injury by asking that?" she flashed out, angrytears pricking her eyeballs. "I'm wrong. You're wrong. Everything'swrong. I ought never to have come here . . . Before I was wanted. "

He made no comment on that. It was not a question to be discussed inthe open road, with a _sais_ jogging on the tail-board behind; and nomore was said till they reached home. 

Then, as Eldred pressed the reins under the clip, he said in a quiettone of command: "Stay where you are, please, till I can get round. "And for all the rebellion in her blood, she obeyed. 

He lifted her out bodily, and drew her into the hall. It was empty andalmost dark: and before she guessed his intent, his lips had touchedhers lightly, with a quick sigh that told of passion held in check. But she broke away from him, unappeased, and shut herself into her room. 

She was relieved to find that a sprinkling of the tea party--theOllivers, Norton, and Richardson--had stayed to dinner. Olliver washer partner; and evinced his appreciation of the fact by chaffing herlaboriously throughout the meal; the one form of conversation shefrankly detested. 

But Richardson sat on her right, and, in Olliver's phraseology, "madethe running with her all the time. " For good, single-hearted Maxfrankly admired her. His conscience pricked him more acutely than ithad yet done at thought of his own responsibility for the wasted years;and he longed for a chance to say as much to his friend. But Lenox wasnot in a mood to talk about his wife; and Richardson got no word inprivate with him throughout the evening. 

Frank Olliver left early; and as Desmond half-lifted his wife from thesofa, Quita came up and said good-night also. She had been watchingthese two with reawakened interest throughout the afternoon andevening, and wondering whether she and Eldred could ever arrive at suchperfect community of heart and mind. 

In passing her husband, she laid butterfly finger-tips upon hiscoat-sleeve. "Good-night, _mon ami_, " she said, just framing the wordswith her lips: and before he could get a square look at her, she wasgone. 

When the three men were left alone, Wyndham drank his 'peg' standing, and departed; but Desmond took Lenox by the arm. 

"Come into the dufta[1] for half an hour, " he said. "I've hardlyspoken to you since Monday; and I think we have a thing or two to talkover. "

Lenox submitted with a smile of resigned amusement, and the study doorclosed behind them. 

[1] Study. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

 "I dare not swerve From my soul's rights; a slave, though serving thee. I but forbear more nobly to deserve; The free gift only cometh of the free. " --O. Meredith. 

"Well, old chap?"

Lenox tried to speak carelessly; to evade the inevitable; for he wassore, with the twofold soreness of insomnia and thwarted passion; andwhen all a man's nerves are laid bare, he naturally dreads a touch inthe wrong place:--hence irascibility. To any one else he would havepresented an impenetrable curtain of reserve, of ironical refusal toadmit that anything was wrong. But Desmond had the man's tenderness, which is sometimes greater than the woman's: and, as Quita had oncesaid, he was privileged, simply by being what he was. 

Having set glasses and spirit-decanter within reach of their twochairs, he came over to Lenox, and set both hands on his shoulders. 

"My dear fellow, it's no use shirking facts, " he said straightly. "You're only flesh and blood; and the strain of all this is justknocking you to pieces again. No reflection on your wife. You knowwhat I mean?"

"Yes. I know very well what you mean. " Lenox spoke with repressedbitterness. "I once heard hell defined as disqualification in the faceof opportunity. "

Desmond turned back to the table, and helped himself to a fresh cigar. "Are you so dead certain about the disqualification?" he asked withoutlooking up: and he heard Lenox grind his teeth. 

"Oh Lord, man, if you're going on that tack, I'm off. "

"Indeed you're not. There's a deal more to be said. As far as Iunderstand matters, I imagine that your wife's coming here makes adecided difference in regard to--ultimate possibilities?"

"Yes; that's just it. She has cut away the ground from under my feeton all sides. " He was thinking of his promise that afternoon, and hisvoice lost its schooled hardness. "She's set on going through withthings, at any price. But then . . She doesn't realise . . . "

"Believe me, it wouldn't make the smallest difference if she did. Women are made that way, to our eternal good fortune. Their capacityfor loving us in spite of what we are is a thing to go down on one'sknees for. You'll appreciate it, one of these days, if you haven'tdone so already. "

"Appreciate it? Great Scott, Desmond, haven't I ten times more causeto do so than _you_ can ever have had? But that doesn't wipe out factsor principles. "

He left the hearth-rug, and paced the room in restless agitation. Desmond sat down, lit his cigar, and waited. His own suggestion couldbest be made if Lenox could be induced to unburden himself a littlefirst. Presently he sat on the edge of the writing-table, well out ofrange of the lamp; stretched out his long legs, and folded his arms. 

"By rights, I suppose I ought to have let her go back to Dalhousie atonce. She suggested it herself. But it seemed too brutal; and Iwasn't up to the wrench of letting her go just then. Besides, therewas your wife's illness. It would have been out of the question. Andnow I'm in a bigger hole than before. We are living at cross purposes. She sees I'm holding back; and she's puzzled, and unhappy. But how thedeuce is a man to tell her plainly that by an act of pure pluck anddevotion, at the wrong moment, she has practically pushed me deeperinto the pit than I've been yet? In fact, I'm beginning to be afraidthat . . . The damage may be permanent. "

Desmond stifled an exclamation of dismay. 

"I wonder if you could bring yourself to tell me exactly what you meanby that?" he said quietly. "Perhaps I have no business to ask; butunless one goes to the root of a thing it's useless to talk of it atall. "

"I know that. If I hadn't meant to tell you, I shouldn't be in herenow. The fact is . . It's gone a good bit beyond tobacco this lastfortnight. " He hesitated; but Desmond made no sign. "Did you nevermiss that bottle of chlorodyne you brought me the day I was bowledover?"

This time Desmond started. 

"Good heavens, yes! I had to get a fresh one . . For Honor. But itnever occurred to me . . . "

"It wouldn't. You're not the sort. I emptied it, though, in no time. But it's poor stuff. It didn't half work. Then, one night--I was madwith pain, and want of sleep--I got hold of the raw drug, inpellets--from the bazaar. " He shivered at the recollection: "I tellyou, Desmond, it's appalling to feel the foundations of things givingway. But I've taken it ever since, . . Pain or no. --_Now_ do you doubtthe disqualification I spoke of? Personally I don't feel fit to touchher hand. "

The bitterness of conviction in his tone made Desmond lean forward toget a better sight of him. 

"Lenox, old man, " he said, almost tenderly, "such exaggerated notionsare all a part of your unsettled nerves. --Smash up your devil's box ofpills; or . . Hand it over to me . . If you will . . . ?"

Lenox hesitated; but his face gave no sign of the short sharp strugglewithin. "You shall have the thing, if you wish it, " he said at length. "It gives me no pleasure to make a beast of myself. But that doesn'ttouch the heart of the difficulty. So long as she's here, I haven't achance. If I give up the stuff, I shall go to pieces with headache andinsomnia. That's flat. "

"Indeed I think you're mistaken, " Desmond spoke with deliberatelightness. "At all events, I have a suggestion to make that may helpyou . . For the moment. I have quite decided that Honor must leavethis, directly she is strong enough to stand the short journey to SheikBudeen; probably in three or four days; and after a week or two there, she must go on to Dalhousie till September. Can you see a chink ofdaylight now?"

"Why, naturally. You want Quita to go up with her? A capital notion!"

His eagerness was an unconscious revelation of all that he had endured. 

"Yes. I want you to tell her, from me, that she would be doing us botha very real kindness. Honor would break her poor heart alone at SheikBudeen; and if you put it to Quita that way, I don't think she willtake your suggestion amiss. "

"I'm positive she won't. I'll speak to her to-morrow. "

He got up; squared his shoulders, with a great sigh of relief; helpedhimself to whisky-and-soda; and emptied half the tumbler at a draught. 

"By Jove, Desmond, you've put fresh spirit into me. This will give mea chance to fight the thing squarely; and I hope to God I maysucceed, --even yet. "

"Of course you'll succeed. We may take that for granted, " Desmondanswered, smiling. "You've won the great talisman that puts failureout of the question. As soon as we are officially through with thecholera, you should take sick leave, and go off into the hills. You'llnot fight to any purpose, till you're in sound health again. "

"How about Dick, though? It's his turn for leave. "

"He'll survive missing it. He's in splendid condition; and this is alife-and-death matter for you. Besides, Courtenay will never let youstart duty till you've been away. 'Dick' can take fifteen days whenyou get back. "

"Poor chap! But I'm afraid that's the only programme possible. "

He sat down at last; and for a time they smoked contentedly; then Lenoxdrew a letter from his breast-pocket. 

"From Sir Henry Forsyth at Simla, " he explained, "about my chances upGilgit way. If we decide on re-establishing the Agency there, heevidently counts on sending me up again, with young Travers as myAssistant. He and I have done some decent work together in that partof the world. Nothing I should like better, of course. But . . In theface of recent developments, I swear I don't know how to answer him. "

He handed the letter to Desmond, who read it and looked thoughtful

"If you get this chance, I think you must take it, " he said. "Withyour special knowledge, you'd be the right man in the right place, upthere: and apart from your own ambition, you owe something to India, after what you've done already. "

Lenox sighed. 

"I owe something to my wife also. You'd be the last to denythat. --Jove, it's amazing what a fine crop of complications will growout of one false step. A little want of frankness on her part; alittle over-hastiness on mine; . . And see where we've travelled inconsequence. All my work in the past five years has been tendingtowards something of this kind. But it would never do . . For Quita. Think what a life for a woman, even if one could hope to have her therein time. Shut up in the heart of the hills, with half a dozenEnglishmen, and a husband who might end in going to the devil. Notanother woman nearer than Srinagar; and communication with India cutoff for six months in the year. No. One would never get permission. It would simply wrench us apart again. --There seems to be a Fateagainst this marriage of mine every way. My fault, no doubt. Perhapsas a soldier with a taste for exploration, I was a fool to go in for itat all. "

Desmond leaned forward, and flicked the ash from his cigar. 

"Nonsense, man, " he said emphatically. "You're talking heresy andschism! Soldier or no soldier, I believe in marriage. Always havedone. With all its difficulties, it's an incomparable bond; as you'llfind out, once you two are on the right footing. But you're hardly fitenough yet to see things in their true perspective. All this Gilgitbusiness is still a good way ahead; and I can only say that if it doescome to spending a good part of your service up in the wilds, you couldnot have chosen a woman more fitted for it than Quita. The better oneknows her, the more one admires her . . "

The other's face softened. 

"She's as straight and as plucky as a man, " he said simply. "Andwhenever comes of it, I'm a lucky devil to be her husband. --Think I'llturn in now, and try for a little sleep. I never meant to inflict myaffairs on you like this. But you bring it on yourself, Desmond, bybeing so confoundedly sympathetic!"

Before the two men parted, the box of opium pills had changed hands:and Lenox, by way of trying for a little sleep, lit a fresh cigar, --hewas beginning to tolerate them now, --and went out into the garden. 

Its open spaces were saturated with moonlight; while trees and bushes, solitary or huddled together, stood in black pools of shadow, andfragments of curded cloud trailed across the sky. Absorbed in thought, Lenox crossed a stretch of lawn set with rose-beds; and turning at thefar end strolled back towards the house, that loomed, an unwieldy massof shadow, against the palpitating radiance beyond. 

The light in his own room showed through the split bamboo of the'chick' in hair-line streaks of brightness; but from the door next hisown it issued in a wide stream that lost itself in the moon-splashedverandah. Quita had rolled up her 'chick, ' and stood leaning againstthe doorpost in an attitude that suggested weariness, or despondency, or both; the tall slender form of her thrown into strong relief by thelight within. He knew that she must have seen him; and his hope wasthat she would come out and say good-night to him. Since he mustspeak, it would be a relief to speak at once, and get it over. Itmight even be possible to sleep, if matters could be definitely settledbetween them without further discord; otherwise, bereft of the opium, his chances were small indeed. 

But though he drew steadily nearer, she remained motionless; to allappearance unaware of his presence. But the mere craving to touch her, to hear her voice, grew stronger every minute; and he was not to bethwarted thus. At the verandah's edge he paused. 

"Quita, " he said, scarcely above his breath. 

"Yes. "

"Have you forgiven me?"

"No. Not quite. "

"But I want you. "

"Come to me, then. " A slight movement suggested a defiant tilt of herchin. 

The verandah itself stood more than two feet above the ground; butinstead of going round by the steps, he sprang up on it, flung away hiscigar, and stood before her with proffered hands. 

She surrendered her own. 

"Now?" he asked, smiling. 

"No, no. "

He stooped and kissed her hair. 

"Now, perhaps?"

"Yes, . . Almost. Though I'm not sure that you deserve it. "

"I don't, " he answered humbly, taking the wind out of her sails. 

Then objects in the room behind her caught his attention:--herdressing-table, with its silver-backed brushes and hand-glass, itsdainty feminine litter; her blue dressing-gown flung over a chair; and, tucked away in a corner, her small comfortless bed. 

"Come out into the garden, away from all this, " he said hurriedly, almost angrily. "Why on earth did you drag me up here?"

"Because it's the man's place to come to the woman, " she answered, witha demure dignity more provocative than tenderness. "It has been toomuch the other way round between us lately. As one has to suffer fromthe drawbacks of being a woman, one may as well enjoy the advantagesalso. "

"And having enjoyed them, will you graciously condescend to come outthere with me?"

"But yes; of course I will. "

He turned on his heel; and they went out together. In the strongIndian moonlight her soft blue dinner-dress, sweeping the grass behindher, was blanched to a silvery pallor; her bare neck and arms gleamedlike marble touched into life; and unconsciously she swayed a littletowards him as she walked, like a tall flower in a breeze. The radiantmystery of earth and sky, the scarcely less radiant mystery ofwomanhood beside him, conspired with her veiled mood of gentlealoofness to strike his defences from him. But he kept his hands inhis pockets by way of safeguard; and because he had small skill inbroaching a difficult subject, he held his tongue. 

Half-way across the lawn, she came deliberately closer. 

"You know, you hurt me cruelly this afternoon, Eldred. "

"Did I, lass? That was abominable of me. But you must makeallowances, even if you don't understand. I'm a man, and you're awoman. That seems to be the root of the difficulty. And now I'm halfafraid I may hurt you again. "

"Why?"

"Because I'm a clumsy brute; and I do it without meaning to. But Isuppose it's plain to you that we can't go on much longer as we aredoing now?"

"Of course we can't. " She let out a breath of relief. "I've beenwondering when you were going to see that. "

"I have seen it all along. Only, for the life of me, I didn't know howto make the next move. But I have just had a talk with Desmond, . . About his wife. He wants to send her to Sheik Budeen, the minute she'sfit to spend a night in a doolie. "

"Where . . And what . . Is Sheik Budeen?"

The perceptible change in her tone disconcerted him. But the thing hadto be got through; and he went ahead without swerving. 

"It is an apology for a Hill Station, about fifty miles north of this. Just a handful of bungalows, on an ugly desolate rock, rising straightout of the plain. No trees; no water, except what they collect in atank for use. But being nearly four thousand feet up, it's a fewdegrees cooler than this: and probably after a week or two there MrsDesmond would be fit to stand the journey to Dalhousie. "

It was characteristic of him that he made no attempt to soften facts:and Quita, edging a little away from him, lifted her head. 

"Is it settled when one is to start for this inviting spot?" she asked, critically examining a distant star. 

"In a few days, if Mackay agrees. Poor Desmond, he hates letting hiswife go. But for her sake he wants to get her away from here as soonas possible. "

"I see. And you want to get me away from here as soon as possible. It's a very convenient arrangement for you both. "

Her implication stabbed him. He stood still, and faced her; his eyesfull of pain. But he made no attempt to touch her: which was a mistake. 

She stood still also, --head uplifted, hands clasped behindher, --without discontinuing her scrutiny of the heavens. 

"By the Lord, you are hitting back harder than I deserve, " hereproached her desperately. "At least you might believe of me all thatI said of Desmond, . . That it is for your sake, and that I shall hateletting you go. The suggestion was entirely his own. He asked me totell you, from him, that you would be doing them both a very realkindness by going with Mrs Desmond; and I thought . . You would be gladof a chance to help either of them; especially since you must know, after all I said at Kajiar, that it is impossible . . Yet for us tostart fair and square. "

It was a long speech for Eldred, and it brought her down from the stars. 

"Naturally I am delighted to do anything on earth for the Desmonds, "she said sweetly, ignoring his final remark. "You speak as if I mightrefuse to go. But I haven't fallen quite so low as that. "

"Quita, have you _no_ mercy on a man?" he flashed out between anger andpain. "There has never been any question of 'falling' on your side, and you know it. But surely you understand that, in spite of all thathas happened between, what I dared not to do a month ago, I dare not donow. "

"Do you mean . . Is . . The trouble not any less?"

"No. "

"But I thought you were going . . To fight it?"

"So I am; so I shall, till I break it, or it breaks me. But look backover the past few weeks, and ask yourself if I have had much of achance so far. "

She unclasped her hands and looked up at him, speech hovering in hereyes. But she dropped them again, and stood so, with bowed head, shifting her rings nervously up and down her slim third finger. 

"Dear lass, what's troubling you?" he asked. "We've got to understandone another to-night; so don't be afraid to speak out. Better make aclean wound and have done with it, than think hard things of me thatmay be unjust. Tell me the thought I saw in your eyes. "

"I was thinking of something Michael said. " She spoke in an even voicewithout looking up. 

"Michael? Well . . What was it?" Anxiety sharpened his tone. 

"He said that if . . If you really . . Wanted me back again, yourconscientious scruples would be swept away like straws before a flood. I wouldn't believe him then. But now . . I'm afraid it's true. "

"Confound the man! What does he know about my scruples?" Lenox brokeout with irrepressible vehemence; and she looked up quickly. 

"Please don't be violent, Eldred. You told me to speak out. Besides, Michael is my brother. "

"I'm sorry. But if he were ten times your brother, I'd say the same. He had no business to try and set you against me like that. " He caughther unresisting hands now, and held them fast. 

"You take Michael's word against mine . . Is that so?" he asked, a dullflush rising in his face; and he tried to look into her eyes. But shewould not have it. 

"Oh, my dear, can't you see it's not, " she said, so low that hescarcely heard her. "It's . . Your own actions, contradicting your ownwords, that make me feel he must be right. "

Lenox stood aghast at this new and unanswerable aspect of the case; atthe knowledge that, in respect of practical proof to the contrary, hishands were tied. 

"Good God! what can a man do to convince you?" he demanded on a note ofsmothered passion. "Quita . . My very wife, look me in the eyes, andanswer me straight. Do you honestly believe that I have been insultingyou with mere lip-service all this while?"

He stood before her in mingled dignity and humility, trying to masterhimself, to find some admissible outlet for the tumult of feeling thatwas undermining the foundations of his will. But she did not answer atonce; nor did she look up. 

"Think how I welcomed you a week ago, " he urged. 

"I do think of it. But . . Since then . . . " She hesitated; and aslow wave of colour crimsoned her neck and face, even to her forehead. "I . . I don't know what to believe, " she added very low. 

The words struck away his last defences, and he caught her in his arms;straining her to him, and kissing her almost roughly on lips and eyesand throat. She submitted at first, in sheer amazement andhalf-frightened joy at having roused him thus. Then she tried to freeherself; but he held her close, and hard. 

"Do you believe now, " he asked, his lips at her ear, "that I wantyou . . That I love you . . With every part of me, heart, and mind, andbody?"

For all answer she leaned her head against him with a broken sob. 

"Oh, Eldred, " she rebuked him through her tears. "I never knew youcould behave . . Like that!"

"No more did I, " he answered bluntly. "Forgive me, darling, if youcan. I was a brute to lose control of myself. But you pushed me toofar. There are things no man of human passions can put up with; and ifyou are going to begin by doubting my sincerity, all hope of real unionbetween us is at an end. "

"Dear love, I promise I'll never doubt it again, " she whisperedfervently. "I'll go away, and stay away . . Without any fuss, if onlyI can see things straight and clear; if only you won't quite shut meout from the best part of yourself. "

"I've no notion of shutting you out from any part of myself, youprecious woman. But the habit of half a lifetime is not easy to breakthrough; and I suppose that when two people marry they have to learnone another bit by bit, like a new language; except in such a rare caseas the Desmonds, where love and understanding are not two things, butone, like the man and woman themselves. There . . Did you ever guess Ihad thought all that about marriage!"

She laughed contentedly. 

"No. How could I? And it's your thoughts I want, Eldred;--the hiddenyou, that belongs to no one but me. "

"Do you, though? It sounds rather wholesale! But I'll do my best. "

"Come over and sit on the steps; and I'll try to tell you just howmatters stand, and how I feel about it all. "

He led her back to the verandah, and establishing her on the topmoststep, seated himself lower down, one arm passed behind her, his lefthand covering hers that lay folded in her lap. Quita, looking downupon it in a flutter of happiness, noted and approved it as an epitomeof the man; large, without clumsiness, nervous and full of character. 

Then he told her, simply and straightly, a part of what he had toldDesmond; and more, that was for herself alone. Through all he said, and left unsaid, Quita felt the force of his ascetic personality, of astrong man, stern with himself and his own passion; and, womanlike, thrilled at thought of her dominion over him; her power to set himvibrating by a word, a look, a touch. Yet she listened withoutmovement or interruption; for the which he blessed her in his heart. 

"I suppose there are numbers of men who would take . . What I refusewithout a twinge of conscience, " he said finally. "But the fact that Ishould be acting dead against the right, as I see it, would makecapitulation wrong for me, . . If not for them. Besides, one dare nottrifle with an inherited evil. One's only chance lies in taking strongmeasures on the spot. You understand?"

"Yes, I understand . . Now; though I didn't at first. And I wouldn'thave you different by one hair's-breadth, though your strength andsingle-mindedness does make things harder for both of us. "

He pressed her hands. 

"It's worth all I've been through, and more, to hear you say that. Only remember, lass, it's not simply a question of principles that mayseem to you high-flown, but of bedrock facts. I don't want to enlargeon the ugly or painful side of a very ugly subject; but I do want youto understand that not only my career, but our whole future happinessdepends upon my crushing out this habit before it degenerates to acraving; before my conscience gets blunted, my will-power undermined. Opium is worse than drink in both respects: and if things ever reachedsuch a pass--which God forbid--it would mean losing my commission; justgoing under, like dozens of ill-fated chaps, and sinking in the scale:or at best scraping along in the army by means of constant subterfuges, at the hourly risk of discovery and disgrace. A nice sort of life foryou, my proud little woman. And for----" he broke off short. 

She tried to speak, but tears were clutching at her throat; and after amoment's pause, he went on: "There is a great black something deep downin me, Quita, that rises up now and then, like a spiritual fog, andblots all the light and colour out of life. This, and the dread ofthose hideous possibilities I spoke of, made me feel, a month ago, asif it might be better for you to be left in comparative freedom, thanchained to a man with a devil inside him. But your coming down herehas put all that out of the question. "

"Thank God I came, then. "

"Yes. Thank God you came, " he echoed fervently. "Though I was afraidyou didn't quite realise . . . "

"Dear, I did. More than you imagine. But I wanted . . To help you inspite of yourself; and I hoped we could fight it out together. "

He shook his head. 

"Don't think me brutal, Quita, but a man's got to fight out this sortof thing alone with his own soul . . And God. You can only help justby . . Loving me, and believing that I shall pull through. Dear oldDesmond has done about as much for me as one human being seemspermitted to do for another in big contingencies; and, by the way, hesaid rather a charming thing to-night. "

"He has a gift for that. What was it?"

"He said I won the great talisman that put failure out the question. "

She laughed again, softly. 

"Oh, how I love that man, and his incurable idealism!"

"You do? You lawless young woman! How many more?"

"Only one more . . I think!"

And freeing her left hand she slipped it round his head, that was on alevel with her shoulder, drew it close against her, and ran her fingerslightly through his thick hair. 

"I'm going to weave a magic over your head to make you sleep, andreward you for giving up the opium, you poor, poor darling. "

And with a sigh Lenox yielded himself to the ecstasy of her touch. 

Their talk grew fitful, and fragmentary; intimate lover's talk, interspersed with luminous pauses, that were but hidden channels ofspeech; till Quita felt the walls within walls giving way under her'magic, ' and knew that she had reached the shy, inmost heart of the manat last. That enchanted hour lifted them beyond the ardours ofpassion, to the mastery of spirit; to a passing revelation of theeternal beauty underlying earth's tragedies and complexities: and bothwere conscious of an exalted strength. 

The harsh clanging of the police gong, twelve times repeated, broughtthem back to the iron facts of life. With a murmur of reluctance theyrose; and Lenox escorted his wife to the door of her room. 

"Shall I let down your 'chick' for you?" he asked. 

"Please. "

He untied the strings that held it up. Then, as the curtain fellbetween them and the lamplit room, Quita turned, and with a gesture alltenderness, laid both arms round his neck. 

"I shall never forget to-night, Eldred, " she whispered, "even if welive to be cross prosaic old people together. You may go to the otherend of the world, now, and stay there as long as you like! I am sureof you; and I feel in every fibre of me that we are going to winthrough in the end. "

CHAPTER XXV. 

"In a hundred ages of the gods I could not tell thee of the glory ofHimachal. As the dew is dried up by the sun, so are the sins ofmankind, by the glory of Himachal. "--_From the Hindu_. 

That night Eldred Lenox slept long, and dreamlessly; and awoke with newlife throbbing in his veins. The three uneventful days that followedwere among the happiest in his life; and on the fourth, before sunset, the two women set out, in hospital doolies, on their primitive journeyto Sheik Budeen. 

Honor had protested, almost to tears, at being compelled to spend afortnight with her heart in two places, and her body in a third! ButDesmond, reinforced by John Meredith, had held his own; promising toescort her to the barren Rock of Refuge, whose only virtue was itselevation; and, by arranging a relay of ponies along the route, gallopback in time for 'orderly room' next morning. "Which is more than ninehusbands out of ten would do for a headstrong wife!" Meredith hadconcluded, stroking her flushed cheek: and thus the matter had beensettled. 

Lenox and Quita spent the last afternoon together in their ownbungalow, at her suggestion. The officious chowkidar unearthed twopunkah coolies for the occasion: and the planning of their future home, a picnic tea served on Eldred's writing-table, and practicalconsiderations in respect of furniture and house linen--though Quitahad small inherent regard for either!--helped, more or less, to obscurethe thought of separation. Before leaving the bungalow, she wonthrough the dreaded last injunctions and kisses without ignominiouscollapse, since Lenox was to ride out for a few miles beside thedoolie; and they parted finally with brave words, and a prolongedhand-clasp that left her fingers tingling for a good five minutesafterwards. 

Quita never forgot that journey. Its weird fascination, clashing withthe ache of parting, stamped every detail indelibly upon hermemory;--the vast, featureless plain, empty as a widow's heart; thelavish moonlight poured out upon it like water, flowing unhindered tothe naked spurs of the frontier hills, whose huge shoulders, peaks, andescarpments blotted out the stars along the western horizon; theoccasional appearance of wild-looking Waziri militia-men, from thechain of outposts along the foothills, who had been warned to keep up asharp look-out along the road: no villages; no trees; no sound ormovement anywhere, save the distorted shadows and rythmical grunting ofher doolie-bearers, the soft shuffling of their feet, and the click ofhoofs, as Desmond rode at a foot's pace beside his wife, ordismounting, walked and talked with her, his bridle slung over his arm. 

The suggestion of tenderness and companionship in their low tonesseemed to accentuate the lifeless desolation through which they moved, the blankness and uncertainty of the anxious months ahead. Possiblysomething of this occurred to Desmond; for after the first few miles hedeserted his wife now and again, and walked by Quita; exorcising thespirit of self-torment that haunts the imaginative, as he of all menbest knew how to do. 

Finally, lulled by the movement of the doolie, she fell asleep; andawoke to find herself in a changed world; a world of rough-cut volcanicrock and boulder, piled up on either hand in fantastic disarray; aworld of white light and sharp black shadows; of mystery, and terror, and uncanny beauty. It was as if she had been transported back to themorning of Time, when the earth giants wrenched up the mountains, andpelted one another in pure sport: and as she flung back the loose flapof her doolie to get a wider view of it all, Desmond trotted up to her. 

"It's less alarming than it looks, " he reassured her. "We have onlyturned off into the Paizu Pass. It's a nasty dangerous bit of road;but our own men are on ahead, so we're safe enough. We shall beclimbing the hill directly; and I'll be uncommonly glad of my _chotahazri_. "

"You deserve it, you poor fellow! But it sounds an anachronism! Ican't believe that anything so commonplace as a bungalow, with servantsand tea and toast, exists within a hundred miles of this primevalnakedness. "

But in the fulness of time, bungalow, tea, and servants were allforthcoming: and between three and four of the morning their fantasticjourney culminated in a prosaic meal of eggs and buttered toast. Whenit was over Quita vanished, leaving Desmond alone with his wife; andbefore moonset he was speeding back along the road they had come;covering the fifty miles at a hand-gallop, in something less than fivehours. 

A fortnight later two very unwilling grass-widows were rescued byLenox, who had secured his sick leave; and who escorted them from DeraIshmael as far as Lahore, where he left them to go on into the mountainregion beyond Kashmir. 

Hillmen have a saying, 'Who goes to the hills goes to his mother'; andEldred Lenox, a hillman both by love and lineage, confirmed it for thehundredth time, as he pushed his way upward, by leisurely enchantingstages, from the steaming Punjab, through the great natural gateway ofthe Baramullah Pass, a towering defile, thunderous with full-fedtorrents and waterfalls, into the familiar Valley, . . A very sanctuaryof peace; its terraced slopes splashed with the vivid green ofrice-fields, the russet and gold of ripe orchards and cornlands; upthrough Srinagar, 'the City of the Sun, ' of carved and gilded temples, thronged waterways, and flat house-tops blazoned with flowers; and yetagain upward, by ways well known to him, into the hidden mysteries ofthe mountains massed about the valleys; a mighty conclave of immortalsbrooding in majestic meditation; shrouded at this season by dazzlingcontinents of cloud; and plunging green arms to the rivers and lakes, that gleamed like molten silver under a pale sky. 

To know a character rightly it should be seen in its natural element;and the Lenox of the Himalayas was by no means the same man as theLenox of the Plains. All his latent energy and vigour blossomed outlike flowers at the first whisper of spring. 'The glory of Himachal'drew and penetrated and inspired him like nothing else on earth. 

Here he tracked and brought down oonyal, markhor, and the greatmountain sheep; explored on a small scale, because the fever of goingwas upon him; and slept as a man only sleeps when he is living close tothe heart of Nature. Here, also, --fortified by solitude, by theuplifting sense of things awful and divine which is the gift of greatmountains to those who love them, --he fought doggedly andsystematically against a craving that persisted in spite of improvedhealth. For the tyranny of opium is as tenacious as it is deadly; andthe habit of five years is not to be broken in as many weeks. But theman who wills to conquer evil has God and Nature fighting on his side:and in the teeth of several flagrant lapses, Lenox made steady progress. 

In Srinagar he bought a bottle of chlorodyne; and two days later flungit down the _khud_. When his store of drugged tobacco ran out, hereplaced it by a brand in which an innocuous admixture of opium justsufficed to produce the faint fragrance that he loved. The black fitsof melancholy, which were native to his temperament, and which, in thepast five years, had threatened to dominate him permanently, evaporatedlike morning fogs before the sun as the certainty grew in him that hemust prevail: and Quita, who had done most of the harm, madeunconscious reparation by letters whose consummate faith in the finalissue was stimulating as the mountain air itself. 

By October he was back at Dera Ishmael Khan;--a renewed man, bronzedand vigorous, the shadow gone from his eyes; testing his achievementand finding that it held good; bending all his energies to the task offitting up a home for his wife; a task whereof Honor usurped as large ashare as he would permit. Then, towards the end of the month, he wroteto Quita: "Come. We are ready, and waiting for you, --the house, Zyarulla, Brutus, and your impatient husband, who will pick you up atLahore. "

And on the last day of October, more than six years after their hastywedding, Eldred and Quita Lenox entered upon their married life. 

"Have you forgotten, darling, the nonsense I talked that day about theHouse, and the Enchanted Palace?" she asked, as they stood together ontheir first evening in the drawing-room, whose every detail he hadplanned with elaborate care. 

"Is it likely? Why?"

His arm was round her shoulders; and putting up one hand she touchedhis face. 

"Why . . Because I said we would have to begin with the House. But weseem to have reached the Enchanted Palace before starting after all?"

"By a very roundabout route, " he answered, a suspicion of the oldsadness in his eyes. 

"Yes; but we _have_ reached it. That's the main point, dear Pessimist;and the commonplace House I offered you has tumbled into a dust-heap ofruins. Don't let's build it up again, whatever else we may do in theway of foolishness. Retrogression is the one unforgiveable sin!"

It is the instinctive cry of love in the first flush of fulfilment. The grand impulsion of man to woman brushes aside lesser considerationslike so many flies. But Life and Temperament, standing discreetly inthe background, will have their say in the 'fateful second act' of thehuman comedy before the curtain drops. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

 "Climb high, love high, what matter! Still . . . Feet, feelings, must descend the hill. " --Browning. 

On a certain afternoon of early March, Quita Lenox stood at her easel, in the small room she had fitted up as a studio, palette in one hand, long-handled brush in the other, two broken lines of irritation betweenher brows. 

The verandah door stood wide; and through it the breath of spring camein to her, velvet soft, compact of a hundred nameless scents, mingledwith the paramount scent of roses. For March is India's rose month:and in the midst of so much that is unlovely, the roses of Dera IshmaelKhan are things to marvel at, and thank Heaven for. Quita's ramblingcompound was packed with them, from the plebeian Cabbage, to the lordlyMaréchal Neil. Three golden buds of the latter drooped over the whiteribbon bow at her waist: and a bowl of dark red ones stood on theuntidy table behind her. 

But even the subtle-sweet influence of the day failed to sooth thecreases out of her forehead. For the panel picture on her easel wouldnot 'behave'; her scattered ideas refused to range themselves: and thefount of inspiration seemed dried up within her: trifles insignificantenough to the 'lay' mind: but for the artist, whether of pencil, orbrush, or chisel, they spell despair. All the morning she had wrestledwith the picture half defiantly, as it were against the stream. Suchwork is seldom satisfactory; and since lunch she had been engaged inblotting it all out ruthlessly, bit by bit. 

The refractory creation of her spirit was a small panel in oils: asubject picture, more or less symbolical, such as she did not oftenattempt:--a broken hillside, of Himalayan character: bare blocks ofgranite, dripping with recent rain, their dark corners and intersticesalight with shy wild flowers and ferns: a stone-set path zigzaggingamong them, and half-way up the path, the figures of a man and woman:the man ahead, upon a jutting ledge of rock, half turning withdown-stretched hand to draw the woman up after him, his vigorous formbacked by a sky of driving cloud. Of the woman's face, as she liftedit to his, nothing could be seen save the outline of cheek and brow. Her bowed shoulders and the lines of her figure expressed effort, tinged with weariness. Below her, the topmost half of a deodar sprangupward, a suggestion of wind in its drooping bows: and through torngrey cloud, a sun-ray, striking across the two figures, waked copperygleams in the woman's dark hair, and points of brightness on drenchedrock and fern. 

All these things were as yet conveyed rather than expressed: thefigures, in particular, being still little more than studies suggestingboth the strain and exhilaration of ascent. On a strip of cardboardpropped above the canvas, four lines were scribbled in pencil. 

 "Does the road wind up-hill all the way? Yes, to the very end. Will the day's journey take the whole long day? From morn till night, my friend. "

Quita read and pondered the words for the hundredth time: but the hintof melancholy in them only increased her vague feeling of annoyance, and the lines deepened between her brows. 

It was her first serious attempt at a picture after four months ofidleness, and 'amateur scribblings'--so she designated them in herletters to Michael; and for the time being brain and hand seemed tohave lost their cunning. She needed the stimulant of criticism, ofdiscussion, to oil the wheels and set the machine going afresh. Ifonly Michael were here, how they would have argued and squabbled, totheir souls' content, over values, and proportions and effects of lightand shade; and what a fine day's work would have sprung from it all!

"I really think I must get him down here for a week or two, " shethought. "Just to give me a fillip in the right direction. "

Fired by the notion, she made one or two ineffectual dabs at thewoman's draperies: then, flinging down brush and palette, sank into adeep, cushioned chair sacred to her husband, as a small table bearingash-tray, pipes, and a pile of corrected proofs, bore witness. Sheglanced through them lazily, with softened eyes: then, as if drawn by amagnet, her gaze returned to the picture. 

"Horrid depressing thing!" the reflected. "And yet . . How attractive!The general character of it is rather like Eldred himself. I suppose Icould produce nothing that wasn't at this stage! They are both up-hillsubjects, certainly; worth tackling; and not to be mastered in a day. "

But for all that she was little used to wrestling with her art. Thetouch of genius in her was of the spontaneous, rather than of thepainstaking order; and a remembered word of Michael's rose up todisconcert her. "Succumb to your womanhood and there is an end of yourArt. " Irritating man! What business had he to make random shots sonear to the truth. Yet it was not the whole truth; and hers was thechance to prove it. 

Certainly for the past six months and more, she had succumbedunreservedly to her womanhood; had endured without a pang the temporaryeclipse of her art. What need to strive after the presentation, theexpression of life, when she had penetrated to the core of it: wasliving it buoyantly, fervently, with every faculty of heart and spirit?By nature a being of extremes, she was apt to fling all her energies inone direction at a time: and in these last months of so-called idlenessshe had been mastering the rudiments of the finest and most complex ofall arts, --the art of living in closest human relationship with 'acreature of equal, if of unlike frailties'; an art that must bemastered afresh, year by year: because life, as we know it, is rootedin change; and if a husband and wife are not imperceptibly growingtowards one another, they are almost infallibly growing in the otherdirection. But for the artist woman self-surrender is no naturalinstinct: it is a talent to be consciously acquired, if she everacquire it at all: and although Quita had, in some sort, been throughthe fire, she was still a novice in those 'profound and painlesslessons of love, ' that can only be taught in the incomparable school ofmarriage. 

Meanwhile, she was learning her husband, --in his own phrase, --like anew language; and enjoying the process, despite its undeniabledifficulty. For the man was by temperament inarticulate, and asolitary: propensities aggravated by six years of bitterness, andstifled passion. Let his love be never so deep and true, the spell ofisolation, the spirit that drives men into the wilderness, was asstrong in him as the need to share thought and feeling with the heartnearest her own was in his wife. At no time could he have been classedamong the frankly unthinking men who slip into marriage as composedlyas they slip into a new suit of clothes: and at five-and-thirty, thecomplete readjustment of life and habit demanded by this exquisite yetexacting bond could not be arrived at without some degree of consciousstrain and compromise. 

The past few weeks had revealed to both, more or less clearly, the 'seaof contrarieties' through which they were called upon to steer withoutcapsizing; had brought them to that critical turning-point when thefirst rapture of passion in possession subsides imperceptibly, into anemotion deeper and more stable; when the insignificant outer worldresumes its normal proportions; and individuality reasserts itself, often with disconcerting results!

Hence Quita's revived zeal to finish a picture begun and flung asidemonths ago; and Eldred's unusually prompt response to a request from anEditor friend in England for a set of articles on Tibet, whose holy ofholies had not then been unveiled and described for the benefit ofman's insatiable curiosity. 

He was in his study now, finishing the first of them in time for thehomeward mail: unconsciously enjoying a return to the familiaroccupation. The writing of it had engrossed more of his mind andleisure during the last week than Quita chose to consider quiteadmissible in those early days. Her own absorption in her picture wasquite another matter, be it understood! And, in truth, she wouldgladly have had him in the studio, ensconced in his own chair, andavailable for argument or love-making according to her mood. Hithertoshe had resisted temptations to invade his study when she knew him tobe at work. But this afternoon a vague spirit of unrest had gottenhold of her, making the thought of his diligence, and complacentdetachment from her, peculiarly exasperating; and before longexasperation drove her to the door of his sanctum. 

It stood ajar: and pushing it open, she went softly in. His back wastowards her, and his concentration so complete that he was not aware ofher till she stood at his elbow. Then he started and looked up with asmothered exclamation of doubtful character. 

"Hullo, my lady, I thought this was against regulations! What's up?"

She perched lightly on the arm of his chair. 

"Nothing's up. I'm rather 'down, ' that's all; or I wouldn't haveinfringed your territorial rights! _Do_ leave off being a model ofindustry, and come into the studio. "

"But, my dear girl, . . Why?"

"Because I want you. Isn't that reason enough? There'll be plenty oftime to finish grinding out dry-as-dust facts about Tibet after tea. "

"I'm afraid not. I told Desmond I'd get down to the tent-peggingearly. Is it really anything important, lass?" he added, controllinghis impatience with an effort. 

"Oh dear, no, not the least in the world!" She was on her feet now:head erect: dignity incarnate. "Unless it is important to do what yourwife asks you with good grace. But I believe little illusions of thatkind are warranted not to outlast four months of marriage. "

He brought his hand sharply down on the table. 

"Quita, you are talking childish nonsense. Why the dickens can't youleave me in peace till I'm through? I shan't be much longer now: andyou can lecture me on the whole duty of husbands all the evening, ifyou've a mind to. "

"Indeed I've not. Duty never gets a word in edgeways, while Love ismaster of the house. If it ever comes to 'duty' between you and me, Ishall pack my kit and go, I promise you. It's the reality or nothingfor me. --But don't hurry your work on my account, _mon ami_, " sheadded, on her way to the door. "I shall probably drive over toHonor's, and leave you in peace till dinner-time. In fact, you have mypermission to dine at mess for a change, if it would amuse you. "

And as he turned quickly with remonstrance on his lips, the door closedbehind her. With a sigh that ended in a smile, he took up his penagain: wishing her back the moment she was out of reach. For beneathhis surface equanimity, the man in him was still thrilling under theemotion and astonishment of absolute possession; under the hallowingsense of permanence that at once calmed and exalted the fever heat ofpassion. 

But Quita returned to her studio feeling more out of tune than ever. It was her own foolish fault, of course, for interrupting him: a formof knowledge that has never yet made for consolation. And while shestood alone before her picture, wondering whether she really wouldorder the trap and go over to the Desmonds, footsteps in the verandahheralded Honor's appearance in the doorway:--a glowing Honor, lookingremarkably young and fresh in a long, loose alpaca coat, and a shadyLeghorn in which roses nodded: the peach-bloom of health back in hercheeks, the old buoyant stateliness in her step and carriage. 

Quita flew to her with a little cry. 

"Honor, you dear woman! How engaging of you to turn up, just when Iwas wanting you, and feeling too lazy to go and find you. "

The kiss that passed between them was a real one; not the perfunctorypeck of greeting that usurps its name. For, as flowers most exquisitespring from strangely unpromising soil, so had those two weeks ofisolation and heart-hunger on the unloveliest hill-top of NorthernIndia generated an enduring friendship between these two women, sounlike in outward seeming: a deeper thing than the facile feminineinterchange of Christian names and kisses. 

"Come your ways in, you patent radiator of happiness!" And Quita wouldhave thrust her friend into Eldred's chair: but Honor, catching sightof the picture, went eagerly up to it. 

"My dear, how remarkable! When did you begin it?"

"Ages ago, in Dalhousie; and now I want to finish it. But the lamp ofinspiration won't burn. I'm afraid the wick's gone mouldy from disuse. "

But Honor was reading the lines above the canvas. 

"Ah, I see! Christina Rossetti, " she said. "Quita, you must finishthis. It's going to be very good. I love that little poem. "

"Yes, you would. I've always rebelled against it. But last year wheneverything seemed such a struggle, the lines haunted me so, that Itried to get rid of them by turning them into a picture; and that's theresult. Rather like Eldred and me! He's always dragging me up on tohigher ground: yet he's so divinely unconscious of it all the time. "

"Dear fellow!" Honor said softly. "But _he_ hasn't done all thelifting. You've made a new man of him, Quita. "

"Have I?" Sudden seriousness shadowed her eyes. "It was the least Icould do, . . Considering all things. Only . . I wish he wasn't quiteso inward; so in love with his own company. "

"You'll change that, in time. "

"Do you think so? I wonder. "

She bent in speaking to look through three or four small canvases thatstood with their faces to the wall. 

"I want to show you the pair to my Up-Hill picture. It's anotherRossetti, _Amor Mundi_; and the contrast pleases me. I've taken theopening lines:

 "'Oh where are you going, with your love-locks flowing, On the west wind blowing, along this valley track?' 'The down-hill path is easy; come with me, an' it please ye; We shall escape the up-hill, by never turning back. ' So they two went together, in glowing August weather, The honey-breathing heather lay to their left and right . . '

There now, can't you see them going down and down . . . ?"

With a quick turn of the wrist she brought the picture into view, andset it on the table in a good light. 

"Can't you feel the soft wind against their faces, . . The ease, theswiftness, and the thrill of it all; the thrill of yielding to earthand the beauty of earth, of giving up for a while one's futilestrugglings to reach the moon?"

Honor stood silent, gazing at the picture with rapt interest. To thisdeep-hearted passionate woman, whose sympathies stretched upward anddownward along the whole gamut of human feeling, its appeal was farstronger than Quita--in whom passion was mainly an imaginativequality--was likely to realise. For the small picture was heavy withheat and colour, and the glamour of high mid-summer; the sky's blueintensity glowing between masses of white thunderous cloud; thehillsides clothed in their August splendour of purple, and pink, andgreen: and down the white track that sloped to the valley a man and awoman, hand in hand, the woman leading, appeared to be coming straightout of the picture. Her flying hair, and the sweep of her draperies, showed the speed of their going; and the ecstasy of it shone in thefaces of both. 

"It's a powerful little poem, " Quita exclaimed. "As they go on theymeet with grisly portents, the track gets steeper, and they are afraid. But by that time it is 'too steep for hill-mounting, and too late forcost-counting; the down-hill path is easy, but there's no turningback. '"

Honor gave a little shiver. 

"It's a wonderful bit of work, " she said. "But is it always the manwho leads up, and the woman who leads down, Quita?"

"No. By no manner of means! I happened to see it so in those twoinstances. Probably the sainted Christina saw it the other wayround. --But come and sit in Eldred's chair now, and let's get back torealities. "

"Realities? Why, my dear, your pictures touch the height and depth ofthe biggest realities. I never knew you did that sort of thing. "

"I don't as a rule. But those poems possessed me. "

"Well, I can only say, go on and do more. "

"I will . . If I can. " And gently pushing Honor into the chair, shesettled herself on the carpet, and flung an arm over her friend's knee. "It's high time I started work again. I've been idling far too long. "

Honor smiled. "Don't be in a hurry to put an end to it, dear. It'sone of the divinest and most profitable kinds of idling you will everknow. You are building up your future in these first months together. "

Quita's sigh was a little anxious, though not sad. 

"Are we? Well, I hope we've got the foundations right, " she said, looking thoughtfully up into the other's face. Something in its veiledbrilliance caught her attention, and bent her flexible mind in anotherdirection. "Do you know, Honor, " she went on, "you've blossomed outamazingly just lately. Your eyes are shining like two stars, as if youhad some heavenly secret hidden behind them. "

"It's an open secret, and a very human one!" Honor answered, smiling. "You are well on the way to discovering it for yourself. "

With a low sound, Quita captured the hand lying near her own. 

"Oh, you utter woman!" she murmured. "Is it still so beautiful . . . After three years?"

Honor's colour deepened. "It's more beautiful. Much more beautiful. Because now . . There are two of them. "

There was a moment of silence, while Quita fidgeted with the greatsquare sapphire on her friend's wedding-finger. 

"You'll think me dreadful, " she said at last. "But I'm not quite surethat I see the logic of that. For the present, at all events, I onlywant Eldred, and these . . My spirit children, " she indicated herpictures with a little nervous laugh. "You must make allowances forthe artist woman, Honor. She so seldom feels and does the things sheought to feel and do!"

"That's just why she is apt to be so refreshing!--But believe me, Quita, the most perfect marriage is not quite perfect till it becomes'the trio perfect, ' three persons and one love. That's not fantasticidealism but simple fact. Besides, " she hesitated and caressed a straytendril of Quita's hair, "doesn't it seem to you a bigger thing, on thewhole, to make men and women to the best of one's power, than to makebooks or pictures, even fine ones?"

"Yes, in some ways . . It does. And for that very reason I doubtwhether I am fitted to make them. It's a gift, an art, like everythingelse. Not the creating of them, of course. That's a privilege, or afatality, as the case may be! But the moulding of them, after they arecreated. You can't deny that they complicate things: and even at thisstage, I find marriage a far more complicated affair than I imagined itto be. Didn't you?"

Honor's smile was sufficient evidence to the contrary. But she wasold-fashioned enough to have a difficulty in talking about the hiddenpoem of her life. 

"Perhaps we were exceptions, Theo and I, " she said at last. "We knewone another . . Intimately, before starting; and to live with him, and . . In him, seemed to come as natural as breathing. But then, mydear, I'm simply a wife and a mother: not a woman of genius, like you. "

"Aren't you, indeed? Don't pulverise me with sarcasms, please! In myopinion this exquisite passion of yours for being 'simply a wife and amother' is in itself a kind of genius: perhaps the highest there is. You see and feel the essential beauty of both relations so vividly thatyou make one see and feel it also; just as certain other kinds of womenmake one half-ashamed of being a woman at all! Yours is thetemperament that gives, Honor, . . Gives royally; and is always sure ofreturn because it looks for none. While as for me, my presentcomplications are the natural outcome, --multiplied by six years, --of mylong-ago blindness and folly, that sprang from my capacity for taking, without a thought of giving in return. You see, Eldred and I have bothan ample time to crystallise in different directions: and the years welet slip may be trusted to exact their debt to the uttermostfarthing. --Ah, there he is!"

The words were a mere throb of the heart. She was on her feet when theman entered: and Honor, watching her face, thought she had never seenit so nearly beautiful. She herself rose also, with a prompt excusefor departure. 

"I haven't even _seen_ Theo since breakfast, " she said as they shookhands. "Tent-pegging days are hopeless: and I promised to go downearly. Don't trouble to come out with me, please. "

But Lenox insisted: and on his return found Quita back at her canvas, to all appearance working diligently at a difficult bit of detail inone corner. She greeted him with lifted brows. 

"Finished your article already?"

"No. "

"Then what on earth are you doing, loafing about in here? I'm busy. Iwant to get this bit done before I go out. "

"Do you though?" but instead of retreating, he came closer, deliberately confiscated palette and brushes, and drew her into hisarms. 

"Shall I send Desmond a 'chit, ' to say 'I have married a wife, andtherefore I cannot come'?"

"Yes, --do. He'll forgive you. "

"And shall we go for a long ride across country, when I'm through withmy work: and look in at the tent-pegging later?"

For answer she leaned against him with a sigh of content. 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

 "Elfin and human, airy and true; * * * * * * Your flowers and thorns you bring with you. " --R. L. S. 

But the stumbling-block reasserted itself, and prevailed. 

The articles on Tibet were solid affairs, for a solid journal; twelveof them, to be paid for on acceptance; and since Lenox needed the moneyto clear off debts incurred when furnishing and pay for their trip toKashmir, he decided to get them written as soon as might be, before thestealthy increase of heat made mental effort a burden. Thus, while theBattery absorbed his mornings, Tibet made unlawful inroads upon hisafternoons and evenings; and the narrow margin of leisure thus left tohim did not by any means satisfy Quita's healthy appetite forcompanionship. More than once she attempted remonstrance, pitched inthe wrong key, only to be routed by the unanswerable argument that thework must be done, and that there was no other time in which to do it. Finally, in a mood between pride and resignation, she shrugged hershoulders and turned elsewhere for companionship; for interests to fillthe long hours which Eldred's devotion to work left empty on her hands. 

And here, in a virtue pushed to the confines of vice, in the man'sblind unintentional neglect of the woman for whom he would wring thelast blood-drop out of his heart, you have the nucleus of more thanhalf the pitiful domestic tragedies of India. It is the crucialmoment, the genesis of a hundred unsuspected possibilities, this firstdivergence of the man and woman, along separate paths of interest. Love may be strong enough to stand the strain, but it will be lovedebarred from that intimate fusion of heart and brain which aloneconstitutes true marriage. The other kind is at best a permanent'friendship recognised by the police':--a tacit confession of failurewhich this high-hearted, if contrarious couple were by no means mindedto arrive at, now or ever. But there is no warning sign-post at theturn of the road; and already their feet were nearing it, withoutknowledge that its easy gradient slips into the Valley of Dry Bones. 

Quita, however, was in a better case than many wives so circumstanced;in that her art was no mere distraction for spare hours, but a livingreality; though, unhappily, a capricious one. And now when she wouldhave returned to it in earnest after months of philandering with brushand pencil, it stood aloof, unmanageable as Eldred himself! She wastoo genuinely an artist to attempt the completion of an imaginativepicture against the stream; and for fresh work, fresh mental stimuluswas needed. This was not readily to be found in the everydayhappenings--the riding, tennis, and gatherings at the ClubGardens--that made up the cold-weather life at Dera Ishmael; and shehad little taste for small social or domestic amenities, in themselves. The call of the wild was in her blood. One might as well hope todomesticate a sea-gull as a woman of this type. She managed herhousehold on broad lines, ignoring minor details, and Zyarulla, to hissecret relief, found himself still the lynx-eyed custodian of theSahib's _Izzat_[1] in houses and compound, still the controller of hispetty cash. Quita received his monthly account--plus a minutepercentage on each item--in perfect good faith. His visions ofpossible dismissal evaporated. He heartily commended his master'schoice of a wife; and, in moments of expansion over the evening hookah, confided to the Khansamah--a friend and ally in the matter ofaccounts--his conviction that Mem Sahibs who made pictures were of adifferent _jat_ to those who played tennis, harried their ayahs, androde rough-shod over the sensibilities of honest bearers like himself![Transcriber's note: The "a" in "_jat_" is an a-macron, Unicode U+0101. ]

And, in truth, the Bohemian and cosmopolitan elements in Quita made herairily contemptuous of trifles, of the petty point of view, the 'local'attitude of mind often found in isolated Indian stations, moreespecially among the women. And setting aside Honor and Frank, thehalf-dozen officers' wives belonging to the Infantry Regiments were forthe most part colourless average types of femininity such as Quita wassomething too ready to despise. 

But the woman element had never played a large part in her life; and itwas to the men she turned instinctively for mental companionship; forthe larger outlook, the saner grasp of things big and small. She drewthem by a natural magnetism; and held them by a talent for comradeshipwhich never degenerated into familiarity or freedom. The four Batterysubalterns, headed by Richardson, surrendered at discretion. And therewere others also; notably George Rivers, Desmond's subaltern, apromising Lothario with a profile, a tenor voice, and an unimpeachabletaste in ties and waistcoats. But Quita gave the preference toEldred's brother officers; and to their open delight made them free ofthe house. One or more of them dined with her at least three nightsa-week; and her instantaneous gravitation to Max Richardson had alreadyresulted in an informal friendship equally delightful for both. 

Lenox accepted these developments without comment, yet not withoutinward regret. For he craved the restfulness of quiet evenings alonewith his wife, after a hard day's work: and indeed saw more than enoughof his subalterns--always excepting Dick--on the parade-ground and inthe orderly room every morning. Very soon he took to excusing himselfearly, on these convivial evenings, with the result that before longthe old habit of working at night had him in its clutches once again, the charm of it heightened by months of abstinence. For a while heheld out against it; but the quiet within and without, the certainty offreedom from interruption, the lucidity of thought that brains of acertain order seem only able to arrive at in the small hours, werepowerful advocates for surrender; and little by little habit conquered. He smoked more and slept less; and the quality of his work improved ingreat strides. 

But Quita objected strongly to this barefaced revival of 'bachelorhabits' within six months of marriage; and more than once--waking inthe small hours to find herself alone--she had slipped on herdressing-gown and boldly invaded his study; a disarming vision enough, her face flushed with sleep, looking absurdly young in a halo oftumbled hair, her eyes alight with tenderness and enjoyment of her owndaring. On each occasion she was reproved without severity;established herself in the deck-lounge of old days; fell asleeppromptly, and was carried protesting back to bed; but not until she hadseen the lamp put out and the detestable litter of papers tidied up forthe night. 

In this fashion the first half of March slipped uneventfully by, eachday bringing with it that imperceptible advance of heat which strikesan undernote of dread through the rose-scented languor of a PunjabMarch. For in the vast Northern Plains of India, it is autumn, notspring, that bears the winged word of resurrection. But Quita wasstill at that enviable stage in love's progress when times and seasonsand places shrink to mere pin-points beside the one supreme fact. AFrontier hot weather in Eldred's company held no terrors for her. Possibly two months' leave would be available later on, when they wouldspend the honeymoon--of which they had been twice defrauded--inKashmir; and, in the meantime, so long as one roof covered them, allwas well; in spite of her secret wish that Tibet and the Pamirs couldbe expunged from the map of Asia by means of a private deluge!

But if Quita were inclined to quarrel with her husband's industry, MaxRichardson was not. He was enjoying, for the first time in his life, the mere pleasantness of a woman's intimate companionship;--in Quita'scase a companionship full of incident, of delicate reticences, alternating with unexpected revelations of thought and feeling; andthrough it all a frank interest in everything that concerned himself, which is perhaps the subtlest form of coquetry. Not that Quita meantit as such. In her entire devotion to her husband, she simply did notconsider her effect upon other men; to whom, in consequence, she showedher true self almost with the freedom and spontaneity of a child. Richardson's own simplicity of character, and the ease with which oneslips into a pleasant path, helped matters forward; and before long, they had fallen quite naturally into the habit of riding or drivingtogether when Lenox happened to be very much engaged. Quita saw noreason to conceal her pleasure in these outings. Lenox thanked hisfriend once or twice, bluntly enough, yet with evident sincerity; andRichardson accepted his own good fortune with an unquestioningappreciation very characteristic of the man. 

His thoughts were running definitely upon this pleasant state ofthings, as he drove Quita Lenox homeward through the main street of thenative city, on a glowing evening, some two weeks after Honor's visitto the studio. Behind them clattered a small guard of native police, without whom it would not be advisable to explore a frontier city; andon either hand stretched a narrowing vista of open shop fronts noisywith vituperative buyers and sellers; brilliant with piled vessels ofbrass and copper, with the rainbow tints of dyed silks and muslins, piles of parched corn and spices, oranges, bananas, and pomegranates;their upper storeys breaking out into quaintly carved windows andbalconies, strange splashes of colour, or rough childish pictures, innocent of proportion. And, better than these, in Quita's esteem, wasthe wide street itself, packed with the noisy, leisurely life of anIndian city:--goats and cattle; women and children; open bullock-cartsthat seemed to have all eternity to travel in; princely-looking Afghantraders in long coats and peaked turbans; Waziris, with keen, Jewishfaces framed in greasy locks that fell upon their shoulders; the _sais_from his tail-board shouting ineffectual commands to make way for theSahib; long-legged fowls, leaping and fluttering up under the pony'snose; pariahs, lazily insolent, almost allowing the wheel to grazethigh-bone or paw, before they condescended to loaf away to a freshresting-place; and over all an arch of blue, so deep and passionate asto be almost vocal; and pervading all, the indefinable, unforgettablesmell of the East:--a smell compounded of musk, spices, open drains, and humanity. 

When at last they emerged into the open, and quickened their pace, Quita drew a breath of satisfaction, and smiled up at her companion, who allowed his eyes to linger in hers a moment longer than theoccasion required. 

Their outing had been an unusually long one; for whenever she couldfind her way into the city Quita was insatiable. Again and againRichardson had sat waiting in the sun, while she made thumb-nailsketches of street corners, bargained with curio-sellers for theAlexander coins and relics which abound at Dera Ishmael, or extractedinformation from shy, smiling women, whose faces happened to take herfancy in passing. 

"You have been a miracle of patience!" she assured him, as they nearedcantonments. "And I daresay you hated it half the time, and scorned myglobe-trotter behaviour! I've noticed how quickly most Anglo-Indiansget bored if one asks questions, or shows the smallest interest in thecountry and the people. "

"Probably they don't enjoy airing their own ignorance, " he suggested, with lazy amusement in his eyes. "_I'm_ not bored with you, though. Shouldn't be, even if you were to pelt me with questions till midnight. "

She laughed lightly. 

"Don't dare me to put you to the test! It might make us enemies forlife. And it's really capital that we get on so well. Just think howawkward for Eldred if I had taken one of my strong unreasoning dislikesto you!"

"Still more awkward for me! I never thought you carried hidden weaponsof that sort about with you. "

"Wait till you know me better. I am a hopeless creature of extremes!You can't think how I hated my dear Honor Desmond last year, --thoughI'd cut off a hand for her now; nor how I still hate . . . Some one Ihave never seen;--some one who wrote to Eldred--about me--years ago. "

She broke off, remembering that in his eyes she had only been marriednine months; though if she had been looking at him instead ofcontemplating the hands that lay clasped in her lap, she must havenoticed his start, the sudden tension of his face and figure. Lenoxhad never told her, then. He might have guessed as much. And whyshould she ever know, after all? His native honesty prompted him tomake a clean breast of it, and ask her forgiveness. But somethingstronger, --a new imperative desire to stand well with her at anyprice, --held him silent. Presently, she glanced up at him curiously;but his straight-featured profile and steady hands upon the reinsrevealed nothing beyond a momentary abstraction of thought. 

"I forgot, when I spoke just now, " she said in a changed voice--a voiceof closer intimacy--"that you don't know how long we have really beenmarried, --do you?"

"Yes, I do know, " he answered, still intent upon the pony. Everymoment made him more exquisitely uncomfortable. But he could not lieto her. 

"Did my husband tell you?" she flashed out almost angrily. 

"No, indeed. He's not that sort. I--found out by chance. "

"How strange! Another man did the same. One can never keep a secretin this world. Well--it was the letter I spoke of that did all theharm; that broke up everything between us for five years. Can youwonder that I've never forgiven the writer, and never shall? Notbecause he wrote unfairly of me, but because of all that Eldredsuffered then, and afterwards. "

"Did you never make allowance for the fact that he could not have knownhow things were between you, --that he meant no harm?"

"I'm afraid I made _no_ allowances; though I'm quite aware that, speaking justly, one can't blame him. Probably Eldred never did. ButI told you my dislikes were unreasonable; and it makes me hate him tothink that he was quite happy away there in England all those fiveyears, while Eldred was half-killing himself with work and misery. "

"Yes, I understand that. But it's all over now; and the harm'srepaired. "

"I hope so, in a measure; though it's my belief that harm done cannever really be repaired; only patched up. "

"That's a very terrible doctrine, Mrs Lenox. "

"I'm afraid facts go to prove the truth of it. "

Although she spoke quietly, a touch of hardness had invaded her voice;and Richardson had no answer to give her. His cheerful, easy-goingnature had rarely been so deeply stirred. A new and delightfulexperience seemed to be taking an unlooked-for turn, and his lameattempts at self-defence in the third person struck him as bordering onthe grotesque. He set his teeth and flicked the pony viciously; thenhauled at his mouth because he broke into a canter. Yet he was atender-hearted man. 

"Poor little beast! Don't treat him like that, " she rebuked him, between jest and earnest, "What's wrong? The city seems to havedisagreed with you. "

Again he did not answer: and for a time they drove on without speaking, each, if the truth be told, thinking of the other. Then she startledhim with one of her direct, inconsequent questions. 

"Mr Richardson, how old are you?"

He laughed. 

"Just thirty. Why?"

"I was only wondering. You're the sort of man who ought to marry. Have you never thought of it yet?"

"No. Too little money. Besides, I'm a lazy beggar, and I shirk theresponsibility. "

"That means you've never been in love!"

"I suppose not. Nothing more serious than a passing inclination. Meregrowing pains!" He smiled at the remembrance of a certain romanticepisode in his early twenties. "What's your notion? Have I beenoverdosing you with my company that you are so keen to marry me off?"

"Don't talk nonsense. I was simply thinking of you. You've the rightstuff in you for a husband. But personally, I prefer you unattached. I should probably quarrel with your wife; and she would break up ourfriendship; which would be a thousand pities. "

"Mrs Lenox--d'you mean that? Do you really value it one little bit?"

His repressed eagerness puzzled her, and she lifted her eyebrows. "Butyes, _mon ami_! Would I go about with you so much if I didn't? I havefailings enough, Heaven knows, but insincerity is not one of them. Bythe way, am I to put you on my other side to-night? Wouldn't youprefer Mrs Norton, or Mrs Lacy Smith for a change? I couldn't get theDesmonds; and Eldred hates my poor little party in consequence. "

"So shall I, if you banish me from your end of the table. "

"Well, that settles it. Two conspicuously large men in open mutinywould be more than the rest of us could stand!"

They swerved in between the gate-posts, and drew rein as she spoke. The sound of their wheels had brought Lenox into the verandah. 

"It's high time you were back again, you two, " he said, with a touch ofdecision, as he lifted his wife from the cart. "I was wondering whathad come to you. See you again at eight, Dick. "

And Richardson, having quite recovered from his bad quarter of an hour, drove off humming the refrain of a song Quita had sung to him a fewevenings back. After all, so long as she liked him, and valued hisfriendship, she was welcome to hate the supposed unknown, whoseidentity she must never be allowed to guess. 

Meanwhile Lenox and his wife went on into the house, Quita disarmingreproof by instant apology. "It was delightful; but I'm sorry we wereaway too long, dear. "

He smiled contentedly down upon her. "Well--there are limits! Whereon earth did you go?"

"All through the city again, and I unearthed endless treasures. You'dhave loved it. "

"Of course I should. Great fool that I was not to chuck the writingand take you myself!"

"Oh, if you only would, a little oftener!"

Something in her tone smote him; and putting both hands on hershoulders, he bent towards her, pain and passion in his eyes. 

"Darling, tell me, have I been neglecting you lately?"

Her low laughter reassured him. "Neglecting me? Dear stupid! D'yousuppose I'd sit down under it if you did? Now I'm going to change fordinner; and do please make yourself agreeable to Mrs Norton thisevening. "

For the Deputy Commissioner's wife was honouring her husband with aflying visit, before going north to spend the season in Simla. 

"The devil take Mrs Norton. Odious woman!"

"No, --it's _you_ that will have to take her!" she answered, laughing. "And it's not my fault that you won't have your beautiful Honor on theother side to keep the balance true. "

Quita enjoyed her little dinner, and saw to it that others didlikewise. She was a natural-born hostess. Talk never flagged in herneighbourhood, and her own lack of self-consciousness set the stiffestand shyest at their ease. Besides, she always enjoyed talking toNorton, whose cynicism and critical attitude she disarmed by the simplemeans of ignoring them. She liked the man's plain, hard-featured face, ploughed with deep lines of thought and effort, and only redeemed fromugliness by his remarkable eyes. 

"Stoking up!" he remarked grimly, sipping his soup with a keenappreciation of its quality. "Punkahs and hell-fire again in no time. One hardly has time to cool down before the winter slips away. MrsNorton's off to Simla in ten days; and I suppose you'll be bolting alsoby the end of next month?"

She laughed, and shook her head. "If you're counting on getting myhusband to chum with you this hot weather, I'm afraid you'll bedisappointed. "

He eyed her quizzically for a moment. 

"Of course--I forgot. You're a new broom! If I meet you in Marchthree or four years hence, I shall hear another story. "

"And enjoy the triumph of your own cynicism! Very well, I accept yourchallenge. I shall write to you three years from now, just to tell youhow the land lies. "

"Do. And if you forget, I shall hear of you from some one else. Weknow all one another's little doings in this corner of the world. Ifeel curious about you, and prophesy that Simla and amateur theatricalswill carry the day; though for Lenox's sake I hope all the triumph willbe on your side. But it's no light matter, I can tell you, to win yourspurs as a Frontier officer's wife of the right quality. "

"Like Mrs Desmond, for instance?"

"Quite so. Like Mrs Desmond. "

"I notice all the cynicism goes out of your voice when you speak ofher. Yet you can make insulting prophecies about _me_, at my own tabletoo! Am I so immeasurably inferior?"

"That remains to be seen! You have still to be tested in the furnace, and no imaginary furnace either. Man or woman, staying power's thegreat requisite for India, Mrs Lenox. To pull through for half a dozenhot weathers is all very well, --mere getting one's hand in. But by thetime a man has completed his twentieth he begins to know somethingabout the weakness of the flesh. I seem to you, with your youth andhigh courage, a cynical, disagreeable fellow enough. But perhaps whenyou are middle-aged and disillusioned, and all the good blood in yourveins has been dried up by fever, you'll forgive my straight speakingto-night; though by then I shall be a forgotten old fogey, eating myheart out in England, or I shall have dropped in harness, which wouldbe the kinder fate of the two. "

"Indeed I have forgiven you already, " she answered in a softened tone;and involuntarily her eyes sought the handsome heavy-featured womanbeside her husband, whose Paris dinner-dress was cut lower than needbe, and whose elaborate 'fringe' rather too obviously grew off her head. 

"Thank you. It's more than I deserve; and I'm sorry I must repay youby giving you your first taste of the pleasant little surprises thatare a main feature of Frontier life. I have to go off across theBorder early next week, to fix the position of a post we are going tobuild for our Mahsud levies, and to collect a fine from some rascalswho have been raiding Tank. "

"Where's that?"

"An unlucky village near the Gomal Pass, --the great trade route intothe hills. It gets burnt to the ground periodically by the Waziris, probably much to its advantage; but one can't overlook the insult toBritish authority. So I'm obliged to visit them in state and talk tothem like a father, after collecting their fine; and I'm afraid I musttake your husband and Richardson along with me, besides a handful ofcavalry and infantry by way of protection and prestige. "

Quita's face fell. "For how long?" she asked, collecting her lastcrumbs of pastry with a peculiar deliberation. 

"We might be ten days coming and going. Not more. "

"And--would there be fighting?"

"Probably not. It's a peaceful deputation. But peace armed to theteeth is the only kind the Waziri understands; and he can't alwayscontrol his rifle when he finds the eternally aggressive white mantaking liberties with his sacred hills! We shan't be sorry for a whiffof cool air any of us; and you won't be the only injured wife. ColonelMontague, of the Sikhs, comes with us; and I'm going to rob Mrs Desmondof her _preux chevalier_ also. I only want half a squadron, but Ishall make special request for Desmond. He's a capital man to havehandy in case of accidents. As for Lenox, he'll be delighted, ifthat's any consolation to you. "

"Well, naturally, " she faced him now, eyes and lips under control. "Besides, ten days is nothing. One has to make a beginning; and itmight have been ever so much worse. "

"That's the plucky way to look at it, " he said in evident approval, andQuita rather abruptly changed the subject. 

The evening that followed was a remarkably cheerful affair, imbued withthat spirit of friendly informality which makes the little dinners ofIndia live long in the memory. O'Flannagan had brought his banjo. Rivers and Richardson both sang creditably; and Quita herself was inone of her 'inspired' moods. Only Mrs Norton, having deposited hergrey satin magnificence upon the sofa, protested mutely against whatshe considered a tendency to 'rowdyism' in her hostess;flirted--intellectually--with any one who had the hardihood to sit nearher; and on the stroke of ten rose with a suppressed yawn and atransparently insincere little speech about an enjoyable evening. 

"Begad, but her works want oiling badly!" O'Flannagan confided toQuita, as the last shimmering morsel of her train slid out of sight. "She's one o' your immaculate Englishwomen who give me the blues. Comeon, Mrs Lenox. Thank Heaven for the dash of ould Ireland in you; andlet's begin to enjoy ourselves!"

From that moment the evening took a new lease of life. Two batterysubalterns came over from mess, and it was close on midnight whenLenox, returning from his final duties in the verandah, found Quitastanding by the mantelpiece, her cheeks flushed, her eyes radiatingenjoyment. 

"Thank the Lord that's over!" he ejaculated fervently, flinging himselfinto a deep arm-chair; and she turned on him promptly, with a visibleruffling of her feathers. 

"Eldred, you're positively inhuman. When you talk like that you makeme want to hit you!"

She stood above him, threatening him with one slim hand; but Lenox, reaching up lazily, grasped her arms below the elbow, and gently butirresistibly forced her on to her knees. 

"Hit out, lass, if you've a mind to, " he said good-humouredly. "Iswear I won't retaliate!"

She struggled for freedom; but he held her in a vice. 

"You great schoolboy, --let me go!" she commanded, between laughter andvexation. "I don't care if you do hate dinner parties. I must havethem sometimes. I love to see people enjoying themselves as they alldid tonight, except that odious Mrs Norton, who doesn't count. You'renot pliable enough. That's what's the matter with you. But if I liveto a hundred and twenty you'd never make a hermit out of _me_!"

"And if you gave a party every night of your life you'd never make asociety man out of me. I should simply apply for a trans-frontierbillet, where wives are not admitted. But look here, little woman, didNorton tell you about next week?"

"Of course he did. You'll be gone in three or four days. It'shateful. Do let me have my arms back, darling. "

And he surrendered this time. 

"Are you sleepy?" she asked, her eyes, full of laughter, resting in his. 

"Lord, no. I'm going to sit up and put in two hours work at leastbefore turning in. "

"Indeed you'll do no such thing. You're going to sit up and talk tome. I didn't like to bother Mr Norton; but I've a hundred questions toask you about it all. "

"_Hazúr ke kushi_! [2] Ask away. Only let me get at my pipe, and I'mat your service. "

He filled and lighted it with leisurely satisfaction; and Quita, settling herself on the carpet beside him, her face looking into his, her bright head laid against his knee, kept him talking of Borderpolitics and Border warfare till all thought of putting in two hours'work was out of the question. 

[1] Prestige. 

[2] As your Honour's pleases. 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

 "The work is with us; the event is with Allah. " --Kipling. 

"Shade, water, grass . . . Not half a bad place for a picnic, eh, Major? And I hope that plausible-looking scoundrel, talking to Norton, has provided a decent breakfast for us. Five hours of marching in thisair puts an edge on a fellow's appetite. "

Richardson's remark was addressed to Desmond, --now a Major of sixmonths' standing, --whose practised eye was critically surveying thecamping-ground assigned by the local magnate, Nussar Ali Khan, to theseven British officers and their handful of native troops. 

The site chosen was the topmost of two wide terraces descending to astream, from whose farther bank a great hill rose abruptly, dark withpine and ilex, and cleft into a formidable nullah. On the right, flathouse-tops of a walled native village overlooked the terrace, with itsinviting group of trees, beneath which breakfast was in preparation. On the left another elevation, crowned with huts; behind them an openfield, sloping to a ten-foot wall; and above the wall the ubiquitouswatch-tower of the Border glowered like a frown upon the face of peace. The impedimenta of the little force, --transport, field-hospital, andcamp-followers, --still trailed along a narrow lane leading from the_kotal_[1] over which they had come, to the terrace itself. Alreadygrey films of wood-smoke soared, plume-like, into the blue; and the airat ten of the morning was still keen with the sharpness of a smallfrost at high altitudes. 

"Not half a bad place for a picnic, " Desmond admitted mentally; thoughfor several reasons, this man, --who was a Frontier soldier by instinctand heritage, --would scarcely have chosen it himself. 

But stringent military precautions were no part of the programme:Norton's escort of half a squadron, two guns, and five hundred Sikhsand Punjabis, being little more than a necessary appendage to apeaceful visitation. Such commonplaces of Frontier government as theenforcing of a fine, and the choosing of a site for an outpost mannedby friendly tribesmen, was unlikely to cause friction or stir upstrife; and Norton, standing apart from the group of officers in khaki, was listening politely to Nussar Ali Khan and his friends, --some half adozen Maliks from the fortified villages scattered among the hills. Spare, muscular men, all of them, in peaked caps and turbans, sheep-skin coats, and voluminous trousers, girded by the formidablePathan belt, with its pouches, dagger, and straight-handled sword;their bearded faces lighted up, as they talked, by flashes of whiteteeth; most of them towering half a head above the squarely-builtEnglishman, with the jaw of a bull-dog and the eyes of a hawk, whounderstood their language, their strange mingling of courage andcruelty, of simplicity and cunning, as a man only understands that towhich he has devoted a lifetime of labour and thought. 

Lower down, under the lee of the village wall, a local _jirgah_[2] satwatching the influx of troops with non-committal indifference, waitingto come forward and protest their devotion to the White Queen and theBurra Sahib; their entire readiness to be bound over by the Maliks'proposals, and, in effect, to behave themselves till next time! Theutmost guarantee of good conduct that will ever be wrung out of thelawless sons of the North-western hills. 

"It is enough, Khan Sahib, " Norton said at length, cutting short astring of compliments that he knew by heart. "Let the _jirgah_ come tome and make their statement while breakfast is preparing. "

But the Khan, indicating with a sweep of his arm the limitless time attheir disposal, declared that a matter so trifling could very well waittill the Presence and the officer Sahibs had refreshed themselves. 

"It is well known among our people, Hazúr, " he concluded, "that yourHonour regardeth not food or rest when work remaineth to be done. Butthe matter hath already been peacefully settled with these men. Moreover, there be the officer Sahibs also, desiring breakfast; and myson hath commanded everything of the best for your Honour's reception:even wood and grass in abundance, that labour might be spared. "

Having struck camp before six that morning, Norton needed no furtherpressing: and ten minutes later the eight Englishmen were breakfastingheartily on provisions that atoned in quantity for lack of quality. 

Besides Desmond and the Gunners, the Deputy Commissioner, who knew howto pick his men, had secured Unwin and Montague with the Sikhs, a smartsubaltern with the Punjab Infantry, and Courtenay as medical officer. Behind them, sepoys and sowars, keeping their arms by ColonelMontague's orders, smoked or slept at their ease. Sentries had beentold off; pickets posted in front and rear; the screw guns unlimbered, and stationed with their infantry escort on rising ground at the farend of the field. Scattered groups of villagers, appearing on wallsand house-tops and on the hill to the left, squatted on their heels, watching the mild tamasha with evident interest, and exchanging broadsallies of wit with the sepoys by way of adding flavour to theentertainment. 

Pipes, cigars, and a pleasant sense of wellbeing followed the meal. 

"I congratulate you, Norton, " Montague remarked between pulls at astumpy briar that was consoling him for muscular fowl and curriedleather. "Your Wolves of the Khanigoram are behaving likeSunday-school children at a prize giving! We can fix the site for thepost when we've rested a bit longer, and start back this afternoon, eh?"

"Yes, by all means. I have only to settle matters with the _jirgah_. "

"Thank goodness, I'm booked for first leave, " the other continuedconversationally. He was a plump, well-cared-for little man, hamperedby half a dozen boys and girls clamouring for education at home, andwas beginning to lose his taste for scratch picnics across the Border. "This sort of thing sets one hankering for the hills. I suppose youwon't be doing wonders up Tibet way this year, Lenox? Metal moreattractive, and all that sort of thing, eh?"

"Yes, I shall stick to the Battery for the present, " Lenox answered, ignoring the playful allusion: and Richardson, detecting annoyance inthe tone, put in his own oar deftly enough. 

"Unwin's the lucky beggar. When do you sail, old chap?"

"To-day fortnight, praise the powers! No more dancing attendance onWaziris for eighteen good months to come. " He stretched his crampedlegs contentedly. "Those Johnnies on the wall seem to be getting boredwith our show. We ought to have brought a couple of banjos along toamuse their majesties!"

It was true. Gradually, by twos and threes, the villagers were meltingaway: and Desmond, who was leaning against a tree trunk close toNorton, helmet tilted over his nose, apparently half asleep, touchedthe civilian's arm. 

"I say, Norton, " he said under his breath. "Take your oath it's allsquare?"

Norton looked round sharply. 

"My dear man, we've eaten their food. Ever know a Pathan commit abreach of hospitality?"

"No. But it looks queer. "

For by now their audience had practically disappeared. The villagewall was empty, save for one crouching figure, that sprang suddenly andsilently to its full height, and brandished a bared sword: the bladeflashing like a helio in the strong light. 

"What's the _mutlub_[3] of that theatrical interlude?" Richardsondemanded with a laugh; and was answered by a signal shot from thewatch-tower behind. 

In a flash all eight of them were on their feet: Montague and Lenoxshouting to their men to 'fall in. '

The order was obeyed with incredible promptness. But the Waziris hadthe advantage of playing a prepared game; and before the officers hadtime to disperse a murderous fire was poured upon them from all sidesat once: from the village, the watch-tower, and the huts on the left. Swift as magic the walls bristled with picked marksmen, armed withmatchlocks, Winchesters, and Martini Henry's stolen from Bordersentries: and it was clear that the enemy held the nullah in greatstrength. 

"Massacre, by God!" Desmond muttered between his teeth as he dodged awhizzing bullet, while a second glanced off his brass buckle, andburied itself in the tree behind him. 

Colonel Montague, advancing to meet his men, who came forward at thedouble, fell, mortally wounded, with two bullets through his body. Hestaggered to his feet; only to fall again, face downward, as Desmondand Courtenay hurried up to him, and--covered by the fire of hisSikhs--carried him into comparative safety behind a stack of_bhusa_, [4] within reach of the ambulance; his bugler following closeat their heels. 

"I'm done for, " he panted, as they laid him down. "Make the best jobyou can of me; and prop me . . Against the stack. I'll directoperations . . While I can . . Hold out. "

There was clearly nothing else to be done; and while Courtenay obeyedthe dying man's injunctions, Desmond made haste to join his own sowars, who were already doing smart work with their rifles, under RessaldarRajinder Singh. 

By now the din was terrific. It was as if a special department of hellhad been suddenly opened up. Firing had become general from all thesurrounding hills; for an attack of this kind, once started, speedilydegenerates into a matter of _ghazá_. [5] Every moment brought freshreinforcements to the Waziris; every moment their fire grew hotter; andevery moment, through the rattle of musketry and the yells of thetribesmen, came the deep-throated duet of the sturdy little screw-gunsunder the wall, as they pitched shell after shell into the nullah, fromwhose depths a hidden foe responded with pitiless accuracy and vigour. 

For, simultaneously with Montague's advance, Lenox and Richardson haddoubled to their guns through a hailstorm of humming, leaping bullets. One, passing through Lenox's coat-sleeve, grazed his upper arm; while asecond struck Richardson's breast-pocket, and was only prevented fromwounding him mortally by a pad of first-aid bandages which Courtenayhad served out to him, in joke, two days earlier. Reaching the gunsunscathed, they found the gunners at their posts, the infantry escortblazing merrily and effectively at the marksmen on the wall: and atonce opened fire on the nullah with case-shot and shell. 

But their height and exposed position rendered them too conspicuous tobe missed for long by an enemy whose skill in picking off Britishofficers makes the little wars of the Frontier such cruelly costlyaffairs. In less than two minutes, a burning pain near hisshoulder-blade told Lenox he was hit. But not being disabled, he paidsmall heed to so trivial an incident at the time. The incessant firingtook up all his attention. 

Before ten minutes were out, shells, case-shot, and shrapnel had allbeen exhausted. The Mahsuds were firing more steadily than ever; andon the terrace itself, the infantry and sowars were in no enviablecase. Unwin had fallen, shot through the head. Montague hadmomentarily succumbed to pain and exhaustion; and Desmond, with littleMartin of the Punjab Infantry and a Sikh Subadar, was in command ofaffairs. 

Sudden faintness, and a damp discomfort down his back, warned Lenoxthat his wound must be bleeding more freely than he knew. He grippedthe shoulder of a gunner standing near him; and for an instant allthings swam together before his eyes. 

"Look, Captain Sahib, look! There be fresh men on the hill. "

The voice of the Havildar Major in his ear steadied his senses: and hesaw the new danger that threatened. Down the steep hillside at theirright rear, a compact body of men leapt cautiously from cover to cover;an occasional glint of sunlight on a sword-blade revealing theirprobable intent. 

"I say, Dick, those devils'll rush the guns if we give 'em half achance, " he said, turning to his subaltern; and without waiting for ananswer, ordered his escort to cover the hill, and prepare for a volley. 

But almost before the command could be obeyed, --with a final leap and adull roar, rising to a yell of triumph, --the Waziris were upon them atclose quarters; the front ranks brandishing long knives, the rest armedwith matchlocks and rifles. 

The Sikhs stood their ground sturdily: as Sikhs may be trusted to do inany straits; while the guns, firing over their heads, sent many of thefrenzied fanatics rolling over and over, with yells of a very differentnature. 

Then, suddenly . . Lenox never quite knew how it happened . . He feltthe earth heave under him; some one gripped him from behind: Dick'stall figure, revolver in hand, interposed between him and the swarminghillside; and the next instant reeled against him with such violencethat both fell heavily to the ground. At once their men closed roundthem, covering them with their rifles; a Havildar and two gunnerseagerly proffering lengths of turban for bandages, since it was plainthat Richardson's wound in the thigh was no light matter. 

Startled and stunned as he was, Lenox righted himself speedily; andkneeling on one knee, supported his subaltern's shoulders against theother, while a Havildar roughly bandaged the wounded leg, and bulletswhinged and whirred on all sides of them. 

"Dick, you'd no business to be there. What the devil did you do?"Lenox asked, a queer vibration in his voice: for it seemed that nottill this moment had he understood the strength of the link that boundhim to the simple-hearted man who was his friend. 

"For God's sake don't plague a chap with questions when he's hard hit. The thing's done; and . . " Richardson's voice trailed offinaudible, --"it's better this way . . For her. " Then he roused himselfwith an effort. "We've crushed the brutes, haven't we?"

"Yes. For the present. The men behaved splendidly. Jove! here comesNorton through the thick of it all. Orders to clear out, most likely. If it's that, I wish to hell it had come five minutes sooner. " AndRichardson murmured inarticulate assent. 

Norton carried his message in his face. 

"The Colonel has rallied a little, " he said, after expressing sympathyand concern for the plight of both officers. "And he agrees with methat it is wanton sacrifice of men to hold out any longer. OnlyCourtenay and Martin untouched out of the seven of you; for Desmond'sjust had his wrist smashed, poor fellow. We must get back, as best wecan, by the lane and over the _kotal_. Desmond has despatched a partyof his sowars to Brownlow, of your corps, for reinforcements of men andammunition. His post is only nine miles off, and we can push along inthat direction. Now I must get back to the Colonel. I'll letCourtenay know he's wanted: and send a stretcher along. "

With his departure, began the desperate business of dismembering gunsand loading mules under a sharp fire; gunners, drivers, and nativeofficers vieing with each other in carrying off the wounded, repulsinghand-to-hand attacks, and in many individual acts of gallantry. Whilelimbering up the guns a mule was shot, and two wheels rolled down theslope. The Havildar in charge sped after them, through patteringbullets; returning with seventy-two pounds of solid metal hanging fromeach arm. But even as he flung them down in triumph, he rolled over, with a bullet through his chest: while Richardson's orderly staggeredpast, carrying the gun itself, a matter of two hundred pounds. Suchamazing feats can flesh and blood achieve under the spur of momentaryexaltation. 

And at last, --despite the catastrophe of a stampede among theammunition and ambulance mules, which left them poorer by four thousandrounds and their field hospital, --the preliminaries were accomplished. Covered by the sharp rifle practice of the infantry and sowars, men, animals, and stretchers retired, without precipitation or disorder, along the narrow lane, bounded by stone walls and rugged hills swarmingwith a jubilant enemy. For at the first signs of evacuation theMahsuds came out in greater numbers; harrying and pressing in upon thedogged little column on all sides, yet rarely offering a mark forriflemen; their lithe bodies and marvellous activity enabling them tofind cover almost anywhere. 

It was heart-breaking work: for, in the soldier's vocabulary, there isno more unwelcome word than retreat; notwithstanding the fact that aretreat which covers all ranks with honour and glory is perhaps thefinest achievement possible in the great game of war. Certain it isthat the progress of Norton's broken escort through that veritabledeath-trap, to the _kotal_ where a second stand might prove feasible, was carried out by officers and men with the indomitable coolness andspirit that converts failure into 'an honourable form of victory. '

It is such crises which test the mettle of our native troops: addingfresh proof, if more were needed, of the magnificent fighting materialthat India has given into our hands. For Colonel Montague had againlost consciousness; and Martin having been shot in the calf as heentered the lane, the task of carrying out all the details of theretirement fell upon the senior Native officer, Subadar Hira Singh, under Desmond's orders. He and Norton, bearing the joint burden ofresponsibility, kept close together. The surface cynicism of thecivilian had been burnt up in the fire of healthy savage action; and atodd moments, when ordinary speech was possible, his admiration for theconduct of all concerned vented itself in disjointed ejaculations ofapproval that warmed the cavalryman's heart. 

"Wait till I make out my report of all this, " he said on one occasion. "Be sure you Piffers will get all the kudos you deserve. "

And five minutes later, he fell--shot through the body--into Desmond'sarms. 

"Nothing . . Nothing serious, " he protested, while his face wried withpain. "Don't delay matters . . On my account. I can pull alongsomehow, if you'll give me an arm. "

But they got him on to a stretcher, none the less; and Courtenay didall he could till a definite halt was possible. 

"Bad . . Is it?" the civilian asked coolly, noting the concern in theother's eyes. "Well, a man might do worse than die . . . Like asoldier. But by God, I'll hang on to life somehow, --till I can draftout my report. "

And hang on to life he did, in defiance of mortal pain, with a tenacityworthy of his bull-dog jaw. 

At the foot of the _kotal_, Desmond called a halt; and the rearguardunder Hira Singh closed up, to hold the enemy in check, that the gunsand wounded might get over in safety before the position should befinally abandoned. 

And now began the toughest bit of fighting the day had yet seen. Forthe Waziris closed with the Sikhs and Punjabis in overwhelming numbers;exchanging the clatter of musketry for the clash of steel, thesickening thud of blows given and received. But neither numbers norcold steel availed to break up that narrow wall of devoted men. Witheach gap in their ranks, they merely closed in, and fought the morefiercely: Hira Singh, with his brother the Jemadar, and a score ofunconsidered heroes, flinging away their lives with less of hesitationthan they would have flung away a handful of current coin, to gain timefor those whose safety hung upon their power of resistance. 

At last, --when all had passed over the small hill behind them, --camethe order to fall back: and not till that moment had any man among themyielded a foot of space to the persistent foe, who now pressed afterthem; and, with renewed jubilations and flutterings of green standards, occupied every available position on the surrounding hills. 

For two interminable hours the dreary game went on; till six ridges, that climbed to a commanding plateau, had been held and abandonedthrough shortage of ammunition. But thanks to the steadiness of therearguard, and to their leader's genius for the art of war, no furtherlives were lost; no further advantage gained by the Waziris; and atlength, heart-weary and leg-weary, they reached the plateau itself, tofind Brownlow, --with shot and shell, and two hundred Sikhs thirstingfor battle, --already there before them, having covered the nine milesin one and a half hours. 

Perhaps only a soldier who has drunk his cup of blood and fire to thedregs, knows the strange mingling of emotions packed into that littleword 'relieved': and assuredly none but a soldier could enter into thejoy with which Lenox stood swaying dizzily beside his beloved guns, while he and Brownlow pitched eight-and-twenty shells into thefortified village below the last one, to their shameless satisfaction, lighting on the mosque itself, and lifting the Mullah, with his greenflag of victory, twenty feet into the air. 

It was a more or less damaged and dejected party of five whichassembled in the small mess tent that night. 

So much had been lost, so little gained by the day's disaster: anepitome of too many 'regrettable incidents' beyond the Border. Thecostliest item of Frontier defence is this unavoidable waste of thelives of picked soldiers. The Sikhs had lost heavily in Nativeofficers and men. Colonel Montague had succumbed to his wounds duringthe retirement. Norton and Richardson, both too severely hurt toappear at mess, were officially in hospital, --that is to say, onstretchers in two field service tents: and three out of the five men atthe mess table had brought away superfluous mementoes of Wazirimarksmanship. 

Lenox himself had suffered more from loss of blood than from the fleshwound in his shoulder, which was not a serious affair; and to Desmond'sbroken wrist had been added a disfiguring slash across his cheek. Nodoubt orders and commendation awaited them: but their elation at theprospect was hushed by the very present shadow of death. For thesoldier, inured as he is, does not count death a little thing. Hecannot, any more than the rest of us, 'go out of the warm sunshineeasily. ' And the thought of Montague's wife and children, of Unwin's'No more dancing attendance on Waziris, ' intruded unsought, breakingthe thread of common speech. 

No doubt, also, Desmond and Lenox were thinking, manlike, of their ownwives; and thanking God for wounds that would only let loose thewoman's divine reserves of tenderness, her passion for 'mothering' theman she loves. Once during the evening they exchanged a glance ofcomprehension, --the freemasonry of those who love, --and the samequestion sprang simultaneously to their minds. "How about poor Norton?Would the news bring that wife of his back to Dera Ishmael in the lastweek of March?" And Desmond decided that if it did not, Norton must bepersuaded to put up with them, and submit to Honor's ministrations, inwhose power to soothe and bless he had the faith of a little child, orof a great man; for the two are so nearly allied as to be almostidentical. 

As for Norton himself, he was too much engrossed in the painful task of'hanging on to life' to trouble his head about any other matter. Thenews of his serious hurt spread through the neighbouring villages asnews only speeds in India, without help of post or wire: and when, onthe following morning, a deputation of friendly Khans waited upon theBurra Sahib, to express their sorrow and shame at so flagrant a breachof the great Border law of hospitality, and to offer help with thebringing in of dead bodies, Norton insisted on receiving them, proppedup on a chair: a broken, but unconquered remnant of the man whom theyhad feared, and loved, and obeyed, with that mixture of independenceand loyal allegiance which is perhaps England's greatest triumph inIndia. 

But all his courage could not conceal the truth from their eyes: andwith one accord, these hardened men--who had no regard for death in theabstract, and an unlimited veneration for strength in any form--bowedthemselves at the Englishman's feet, and wept like children. 

"Oh, Sahib, . . Father of the District, . . This is an evil thing thathath befallen, " the oldest among them wailed, in deep-tonedlamentation. "How will it be with us who have so long been ruled byyour wisdom, when the light of your Honour's countenance is withdrawn?And whom will the _Sirkar_[6] send us in thy stead?"

"In less than a month the Sirkar will send fire and sword, " Nortonanswered sternly. "Smoking villages, and blackened crops. A gift fora gift, a blow for a blow, is straight dealing. But for one life takenyesterday the _Sirkar_ will exact ten: of that ye may rest assured. "

"Nay, but let it not be forgotten, Hazúr, that we, who are present, bemen of one word, true to our salt; not as those murderers, upon whomthe wrath of Allah will be poured out like water, even upon theman-child at the breast, for yesterday's black work. "

Which comfortable prediction Norton received with rather a bittersmile. It did not square with his own experience of the ironicaltangle men call Life. But for all that, it is possible that, in hisextremity, he envied these savage Sons of the Prophet their faith inthe rough justice of Allah's dispensations. 

[1] Hill. 

[2] Tribal council. 

[3] Meaning. 

[4] Chopped straw. 

[5] Fanatical slaughter. 

[6] Government. 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

 "The man was my whole world, all the time, With his flowers and praise, and his weeds to blame; And either, or both, to love. " --Browning. 

The Father of the District never saw his unruly children again; nor didMrs Dudley Norton ever return to Dera Ishmael Khan. The telegram hedespatched to her on arrival, made light of his wound, and its possibleresult; perhaps because pride urged him to take the initiative ratherthan submit to the culminating proof of her total detachment from him;perhaps because he shrewdly guessed that she could not reach him intime. 

It had needed all the reserves of strength that are the reward of cleanand temperate living, to keep him alive throughout the return marches. Yet the feat was accomplished, and his official report--a lucid, vigorous bit of work--drawn up in full; with the result that, inleisurely course of time--a mere trifle of seven months or so after theevent--there appeared in the 'Army Gazette' the names of Major Desmond, V. C. , Captain Lenox, C. I. E. , and Lieutenant Richardson, as officers onwhom her Majesty had been graciously pleased to bestow theDistinguished Service Order. The principal Native officers, whosegallantry had been so notable a feature of that grim day's work, received the coveted Order of Merit; Hira Singh and his brother beinggazetted, though killed, that their widows might draw a larger pension. For England is rarely unmindful of her heroes; notwithstanding hersuperb dilatoriness in honouring the men who risk death and disablementfor the maintenance of her scattered Empire. 

With the completion of the report, on which his heart was set, the willto live deserted Dudley Norton. To drop in harness was, as he had saidto Quita, a kinder fate than the dismal disintegration of a lovelessold age; and the loosening of his grip on life brought reaction sharpand sudden, from which he never rallied again. 

His death, following close upon that of the two Sikh officers, cast atemporary gloom over the station; and on the occasion of itsannouncement, the two chief papers of Upper India broke out intojournalistic eulogies on the notable qualities of the man's work andcharacter; extolling his strength and breadth of purpose and of view;his daring disregard for red-tape and all the paraphernalia ofmechanical officialdom; and above all, his remarkable hold upon theFrontier tribes; administering, too late--with true humanperversity--the praise that had been so grudgingly dealt out to himwhen ambition was at its height, when a word or two of generousrecognition would have atoned in some measure for the failure andembitterment of his private life. Finally, they commiserated with theman on whom would devolve the insuperable task of replacing a DudleyNorton. 

He arrived in due course:--a stop-gap from an obscure down-countrystation; a man of hide-bound conventionalism, who brought with himthree children and a washed-out, subdued-looking wife, and who spokemagnanimously of Norton as "a clever fellow, of course, but deplorablycasual officially. " With such haphazard shifting of pawns on thechess-board is the momentous game of Empire played. Yet long afterDudley Norton's name had been almost forgotten by the overtasked, fluctuating world of Anglo-India, it still remained a household wordamong the Mahsud Waziris, whose brothers in blood had so treacherouslytaken his life. 

And while Norton lay dying at the Desmonds' bungalow, Richardson wasestablished under his friend's roof as a matter of course. For this isIndia: the land of the Good Samaritan, as those who have lived therelongest know best. It has been well said that "an Englishman's housein India is not his castle, but a thousand better things--a casualward, a convalescent home, a rest-house for the strayed traveller; andhe himself is the steward of it merely. " That this is no exaggerationbut simple fact, Quita had already seen; and now, when she herself wascalled upon to obey the unwritten law of her husband's country andservice, Lenox noted, with a throb of pride, that for all her artist'stendency to shrink from pain and suffering, she rose to the situationlike a high-mettled horse to a fence. 

On their first evening together, when Dick, under the mercifulinfluence of morphia, had forgotten pain in sleep, Lenox spoke to herof the thought that troubled his mind. 

He was lying back luxuriously in his deep chair--the wounded shoulderand left arm scientifically bandaged--while Quita hovered about him, orknelt at his side; her every tone and gesture, and the misty shining ofher eyes, enveloping him in so exquisite an atmosphere of tendernessthat, like Stevenson, Lenox felt inclined to vote for separations (notto say wounds) when they were both safely over!

"Come here a minute, darling, " he said at length, drawing her downbeside him. "I want to tell you about Dick. There's no getting at therights of it, of course. He won't say a word himself; and I went allto pieces for the moment. I only know that when the firing washottest, he managed to cross in front of me; that the bullet in his legought by rights to have gone into mine; and it's quite bad enough toknow that. "

Quita's eyes swam in sudden tears. "I always thought him a dearfellow, " she said softly. "Just a dear fellow; not much more. Butnow--one begins to admire your 'Dick. '"

Lenox nodded. "You never quite know what stuff a fellow's made of tillhe gets his chance. "

But Quita, crouching lower, had bowed her forehead upon his hand. 

"What is it, lass?" he asked; and when she looked up, not only herlashes, but her cheeks were wet. 

"Eldred, am I hideously wicked?" she faltered. "I was--I was thankingGod that he _did_ take his chance. Think--if it _had_ been you! _Am_I wicked?"

He drew her close, and kissed her. "Hardly that, dearest. Only veryhuman. "

"But there's no danger, is there? No permanent damage done?"

"No. Mercifully the bullet only grazed the bone. He may have a weekof fever, and a slow convalescence; but you'll not grudge the troubleof nursing him, after what I've told you. "

"I'd never have done that. And now, "--she rose to her feet, her eyeskindling, --"now it will be a privilege. Oh, I'll be ever so good tohim, " she added under her breath. 

And for the next three weeks--being, as she had said, a creature ofextremes--she was so uniformly and enchantingly 'good to him' thatthose long days of fever, pain, and enforced idleness were among themost delectable Max Richardson had ever known, or ever wished to know;that, in truth, each landmark on the road back to health and duty couldno longer be regarded with that unmixed satisfaction common to themasculine invalid. 

But Richardson was too little capable of analysis to be troubled bythis wrong-headed state of things, or to detect the hidden seed fromwhich his flower of contentment sprang. Mrs Lenox was astonishinglykind to him, and quite the most charming companion a sick man coulddesire: that was all. 

His sharp bout of fever once over, she sang to him, read to him, arguedwith him on a quaint variety of subjects, enlarging his mental horizon, drawing out thoughts and opinions at whose existence he had neverguessed till now. But for him the hidden charm of their intercourselay less in what she said or sang, than in the vibrations of her voice;in the quick response of lips and eyes to her April changes of mood;and more than all in her unfailing spirit of humour, which broke up themonotone of days spent in a long chair as a prism breaks white lightinto a band of brilliant colours. For Quita's genius was not of thehighly specialised order. It did not inhabit an air-tight compartmentof her brain where pictures grew. It pervaded her whole personality. It was not merely a genius for art, but for living, for being vital, for seeing and feeling and doing all that it is possible to see andfeel and do in the sum of man's threescore years and ten. Small wonderthen if Max Richardson enjoyed his convalescence, and was in no hurryto complete the process. 

As for Quita, she was unconsciously slipping back to her favouritepastime, to that alluring compound of friendship and etherealisedflirtation which she had likened to fencing with the buttons off thefoils. The outcome of her last fencing-bout might have awakenedglimmerings of caution in a less reckless offender. But Richardson wasnot to be named in the same day with James Garth; and in his case itwas less a matter of fencing than of 'two heads bending over the sameboard till they touch, and the thrill passes between them'; a dangerousvariation of the same amusement. The two heads had not touched as yet. In all probability they never would. But prophecy is unsafe where thehuman heart is in question: and as the month slipped by, and Eldred'sreabsorption in the Battery and the hated articles left them constantlyalone together, Quita grew genuinely fond of this big, fair man, withhis unruffled sweetness of temper, and lazily smiling eyes. Hesatisfied the lighter elements in her nature as completely as herhusband satisfied its deeper needs; and in truth, so little did oneman's sphere of influence trench upon the other's, that she had almostbeen capable of loving both at once; each with a different set offaculties:--an achievement only possible to that bewildering creation, the artist woman!

Not that Quita had yet achieved anything so remarkable. But herfeeling for Richardson, founded upon gratitude and built up bysympathy, was a real thing; and being singularly free from the taint ofbaser clay, she frankly acknowledged the fact, not only to herself but, on more than one occasion, to her husband, thinking to please him byher appreciation of his friend. 

But man is born to perversity as the sparks fly upward; which is morethan half the reason why he is born to trouble. Also, perversityapart, it was early days for a husband, endowed with the normal man'sdesire for exclusive possession, to stand the strain of a triangularhousehold. Therefore, when Quita, extolling Richardson's patience andgratitude, remarked for the second time with unguarded fervour, "Onereally grows much too fond of the dear fellow, " Lenox turned upon her astraight glance of scrutiny. 

"Great luck for him. Have you ever told him so, I wonder?"

The undernote of sarcasm in his half-bantering tone brought the bloodto her cheeks. But her manner froze in proportion to her inward heat. 

"Am I given to making promiscuous declarations of that sort?"

"Not that I am aware of. But you have rather original ideas on theplatonic question; and one can never quite tell where you draw theline. "

"I draw it at telling a man I am fond of him, " she answered, with aslight lift of her head. "Even a man so little likely to misunderstandone as your Dick. "

"Is _that_ what you call him now?"

"I won't answer such a question. You may think what you please. "

Then, in defiance of dignity and pride, her lip quivered, and she camecloser to him. 

"Eldred, what makes you say such detestable things? I thought youwanted me to be good to him. Are you--angry with me about it now?"

The touch of hesitancy, so rare in her, disarmed the man, reawakenedhis better self; and slipping an arm round her, he crushed her againsthim with a force that took away her breath. 

"I'm a selfish brute, Quita. That's all about it, " he said bluntly. "And Dick's the best chap in the world. "

She hid her eyes a moment against his coat. Then straightened herself, and stood away from him. "You exaggerate the selfishness, I assureyou, " she said, smiling at his gravity of aspect. "And even if youdidn't, I could forgive that; but not that you should so misunderstandmy whole nature. Honestly, Eldred, I would almost rather you struckme. "

"Struck you? Great Scott!"

The amazement in his eyes brought a sparkle into her own. 

"Yes, exactly. That's so like a man! D'you fancy I don't know that ifyou laid your littlest finger on me roughly, in a moment of heat, you'dnever forgive yourself? Yet you struck something much more sensitivethan my mere body, when you said you couldn't tell where I drew theline. I may not have been reared upon copy-book maxims, but I have myown ideas about the fitness of things; even if they don't coincide withyours, at least I think I may be trusted not to disgrace you. "

"Do you really need to tell me that, Quita?"

"It seems so--after what you said just now. "

He frowned. "You can wipe out what I said just now, lass. It wasspoken in annoyance. "

"Well, please don't say such things again, even in annoyance; or therewill never be any peace between us. Besides, my dear, they are quite, quite unworthy of you, and no one knows that better than yourself. "

She came closer now, and laying both hands upon him, lifted her face tohis. Then she left the study, with the seal of reconciliation upon herlips, and revived assurance in her heart. 

But Lenox, drawing out pipe and tobacco-pouch, as he watched her go, was discomfortably aware that his first attempt at remonstrance hadended in strategic surrender. Not only had he failed to dispel thenameless cloud that hung upon him, but he had managed matters so illthat now the whole subject must be labelled 'dangerous'; not to bereopened except under special stress of circumstance. 

"She needs riding on the snaffle, " was his masculine reflection, arising from the natural conviction that in all matters of moment themastery must rest with him; which was not Quita's view by any means;and her husband was just beginning to recognise the fact. He noted, inspite of her genuine devotion, a curious detachment, mental and moral, a certain airy evasion of common, womanly responsibility, the freeattitude of the good comrade rather than the wife; inherent tendencies, fostered and established by the dead years that took their toll atevery turn. 

Each week of living with her deepened his conviction that the winningof the entire woman would be a matter of time and trouble; of acquiringknowledge in which he was still sadly deficient. And how infinitelyshe was worth it all! He reminded himself that the first year ofmarriage was proverbially difficult; that two pronouncedindividualities could not be expected to fuse without a certain degreeof turmoil; and having lighted his pipe, he flung himself into a chair, and closed his eyes. 

For his trouble of mind had a physical basis of which his wife knewnothing. His wound, though only keeping him on the sick-list a week, had given him a good deal of pain, intermittent fever, and brokennights, which he had made light of that Quita might feel free to devoteherself to Richardson, whose first bout of fever had been severe. Butwhen pain and heated blood had subsided, the broken nights remained. Acrushed habit--let it be never so sternly trodden under--retains itsvitality for an amazing length of time. Lenox fought the threatenedreturn of insomnia with every legitimate weapon; spent the greater partof each night in his study, writing doggedly, or pacing the long roomwith mechanical persistence, --to no purpose. 

Then, with a stunned incredulity, he realised what was happening. Stealthily, insistently, the old craving was reasserting its dominionover him. He had been prepared for the possibility of itsrecrudescence once or twice in the event of illness or mental strain, before he could count it conquered for good. But that it should havecome so soon, and upon so slight a provocation, knocked all the heartout of him; blackened for the time being his whole outlook on life. Inordinary circumstances, he would have found it an unspeakable relief toshare the trouble with his wife; to give her the chance she had once sodesired of helping him to fight against it. But now they were rarelyalone together for long; and her lightly detached attitude tended toestablish rather than dispel his native instinct of reserve. Moreover, she was so happily absorbed in ministering to his friend, that heshrank from shadowing her bright nature with the cloud that darkenedhis own;--a mistake arising from his rudimentary knowledge of women. For an appeal to her deeper sympathies might have wakened herundeveloped mother instinct; and by drawing them into closer unionmight have averted much. But in the last event, it is 'character thatmakes circumstance, and character is inexorable. '

Thus Lenox, lying back in his chair, was still far from recognising hisfundamental error. He was simply pondering Quita's last words to him, and endorsing their truth with characteristic honesty. He had puthimself in the wrong by his manner of broaching the subject; but thebelief in his right to speak of it remained. He was prepared to put upwith a good deal for Dick, but not for others; and it was beginning todawn upon him that Dick was in all likelihood the first of a series;that only so could her need for varied companionship be satisfied. Anidea that suggested disturbing contingencies. His mind reverted toGarth, to Sir Roger Bennet, and to the nameless unknowns who hadprobably bridged the space between. Since her frank confession ofloyalty at Kajiar, he had refrained from expressing curiosity on thesubject. But a man cannot always keep his mind from straying intoforbidden places. "If only she would not treat the whole crew as ifthey were her brothers; and favourite brothers at that!" had been histhought more than once during the past few months. It was all verywell with Dick, --a gentleman through and through, without a grain ofconceit in him; but there were scores of others who would notunderstand. Garth, for instance, had clearly not understood; and forher sake, as well as his own, Lenox did not choose that she shouldmultiply mistakes of that kind. 

With a sigh, he drew out his watch, remembering that he had consentedto be one of the judges at the Punjab Infantry sports, in which some ofhis own men and Native officers were taking part. Perhaps Quita woulddrive down with him: but he would not press the point. 

Her infectious laughter seemed to challenge and rebuke his black mood, as he opened the drawing-room door to find her taking her patient for awalking tour, his hand resting on her shoulder; her face alight withencouragement, looking up into his. For it was this big man, with hisdependence, and his simplicity of character, who had wakened the motherspirit in Quita after all; though she was not yet alive to the fact. 

They stood still when Lenox appeared, Richardson a little breathlessfrom some recent effort. 

"He tripped over your bear's head, and I saved him from falling!" Quitaexplained triumphantly. "I wanted him to try without the crutch, because Dr Courtenay takes him in to dinner to-night; and he hardly hadto lean on me at all!"

"I told Mrs Lenox you'd be down on me if I turned her into awalking-stick, " Richardson added in half-laughing apology. "But sheinsisted. And you know how much chance a fellow has when she insists!"

"Yes--_I_ know, " Lenox answered, such depth of conviction in his tonethat Quita laughed again. 

"_Mon Dieu_--listen to the man! One would think I spent half my timeinsisting on his doing what he hates; which is a rank libel! Now, MrRichardson, back to your chair, please. You've done enough for onewhile. "

Lenox put out a hand to steady him across the room. 

"He's going to beat me at picquet now, by way of gratitude, " Quitaremarked, shaking out his pillows and settling him in. "Are _you_ offanywhere, _mon cher_?"

"Yes: to the P. I. Sports. I'm one of the judges. "

"Then it would be quite useless to go with you. But I'll ride down, ifyou like. "

Lenox hesitated. He had seen the shadow of disappointment in hissubaltern's eyes. 

"N . . No, " he said at length. "Better stop and play with Dick. WhenI come back I'll get you up into the trap, old man, and take you for adrive before dinner. Who's coming, Quita? Just the Desmonds andCourtenay?"

"Yes; and the Ollivers. "

"I'm glad. She's good company. "

"Which is more than I can say of _him_, " Quita remarked, as the doorclosed behind her husband. "And he takes me in. Poor me! But you'llbe on the other side; and you must be very kind to me to make up. "

He smiled gravely upon her, without replying. She had establishedherself on a low stool fronting him; elbows on knees, hands framing herface, her fearless eyes searching his own. 

"What are you smiling at?" she asked. 

"The notion of a great buffer like me being 'kind' to _you_. It's youand Lenox who are a long sight too kind to me. You're spoiling mebetween you. Why didn't you go to the sports with him just now?"

"Because I didn't choose!" she answered sweetly. "And as forspoiling, --what else did we have you here for? The only thing I ask inreturn is that you will give up this nonsense about not letting mepaint your portrait. Will you, please?"

He was silent a moment, tugging at his fair moustache, his eyesavoiding hers. Then:

"It wouldn't be worth all the work you'd put into it, " he objected withan uneasy laugh. 

"I'm the best judge of that. Inspiration's been dead in me for months;and now that you have set the spark ablaze, it's hardly fair orgracious to fling cold water on the poor thing. But of course if thesittings would bore you, now you can move about a bit----"

"Bore me? Mrs Lenox!" He looked straight at her now, emphatic denialin his gaze; and she nodded contentedly, knowing that her point wasgained. 

"That's a mercy, " she said. "Put on your service kit to-morrowmorning, and we'll start in earnest. I'm longing to begin. But in themeantime you are generously permitted to beat me at picquet!"

The dinner that evening was, as Quita explained, "Just a familyaffair, " to celebrate Richardson's good progress, and drink success tothe punitive expedition, which on that very day was filing through theGomal Pass into Mahsud territory, to take toll, not only in men'slives, but 'in steer and gear and stack' for that day of treachery andblack disaster, whose hidden motive still remained a mystery even tothose most intimate with the tribes of the district. 

Honor, who had not seen Lenox for nearly a week, was struck by a changein him, whose significance she understood too well. The lurking shadowin his eyes, the bitterness in his tone, --recalling 'bad days' last hotweather, --so troubled her that she found surface talk and laughter aneffort, and felt grateful to Frank, who could always be counted uponfor more than her share of both. 

She rallied him on his gravity, in happy ignorance of the cause. 

"Sure ye're just in low water, Captain Lenox, " she declared with herbig laugh, "because your dapper little screw guns have been left out ofthe show. You want to be hitting the scoundrels back with your ownshells, eh?"

To which Lenox replied in an undertone of savage conviction thatpuzzled Honor. 

"You never made a straighter shot, Mrs Olliver. I'd give five years ofmy life to be taking the Battery through the Gomal to-day. "

But if Lenox had little to say for himself, Quita was not in the samedilemma. In fact, it seemed to Desmond that she talked a little toodaringly, a little too much; and for the first lime he found hisappreciation tinged with criticism. 

He had gathered from Lenox that she knew little or nothing of hishidden trouble; but it struck him that a wife of the right sort (Honor, for instance) would have guessed the truth by now. He knew how littleLenox appreciated the constant influx of men to tea and dinner; and oneor two people--of the social vulture species--had already spoken to himof her friendship with Richardson in the tone of voice which madeDesmond clench and pocket his fists, lest he should knock them down outof hand. He took advantage of his seat next the Gunner to mention, under cover of general conversation, his anxiety about Lenox's health;and managed also to take part in most of his talk with Quita throughoutthe meal. 

She redoubled her friendliness to Richardson by way of flinging downher gage; whereupon Desmond with admirable _insouciance_ retired fromthe lists. Once or twice her eyes challenged his, half-puzzled, half-defiant. Her quick perception detected his critical attitude, andin her present mood the undernote of antagonism acted as a spur ratherthan a check upon the dare-devil strain in her, which was responsiblefor her odd mingling of folly and heroic self-devotion. 

Before the ladies left the table, the success and thoroughness of theexpedition was proposed with cheers; followed by a second toast, drunkin silence, to the memory of the three men who had been alive in theirmidst less than a month ago: and later in the evening--when theOllivers, Richardson, and Courtenay were absorbed in whist, and Honorhad gone out with Lenox into the garden, where a late moon wasrising--Desmond lured Quita to the piano at the far end of the room byasking her to sing. 

At the close of the second song, he leaned his elbow on the top of theinstrument, and stood so, searching her face with such discomposingdirectness that a burning wave of colour submerged her, and she droppedher eyes. 

"I don't believe you ever criticised me till to-night, Major Desmond, "she murmured, striking soft chords at random with her left hand. 

"Not since I really came to know you, " he answered in the same tone. "You have never given me cause. "

"Well--I don't like it. "

"Few of us do. You prefer indiscriminate admiration?"

The flush deepened, but she looked up. 

"I prefer your approval to your disapproval, " she said, still movingher hand over the notes. "But I have always gone my own way; and Iwarn you that nothing rouses the devil in me like being scolded ordictated to. "

"My dear Quita, I have no right nor wish to do either. I only want toask you a question or two--if I may?"

"What about?"

"Your husband. He won't consult Courtenay; and I am getting anxious. Would you mind telling me about how much sleep he has had this lastweek?"

She shrugged her shoulders. 

"As far as I know he hardly ever comes to bed at all. "

"Quita, you are exaggerating!"

"I only mean, it's no use asking me for accurate information. "

"But do you know that insomnia's a serious thing--especially for him?"

"Yes. I made a fuss when he first began working late. It's bad forhim and a nuisance for me. But I have given that up now. He's asobstinate as I am about going his own way. It's almost the onlyquality we share in common. "

"Don't you feel it might be worth trying again?"

"Possibly. If _you_ think I ought. "

Desmond's eyes twinkled at the implied compliment. 

"I do think it. "

She sighed. 

"Oh, well, --I don't promise, and we've had enough of the dismal subjectfor now. One never seems allowed to enjoy one's self in peace. D'youwant more music, or--would you prefer whist?"

"I'm to cut in, and leave Richardson free. Is that it?"

The blush that still burned in her cheeks spread slowly over her neckto the soft lace at her breast; and the man felt that in his momentaryvexation he had struck too hard. Then her eyes flashed fire into his. 

"Major Desmond, if you begin saying things like that to me--I shall_hate_ you. "

"No, Quita. It'll never be that between us. I apologise. But youknow I care immensely for your husband, and it angers me to seeyou--apparently indifferent . . . "

"Indifferent? How _dare_ you . . . ?" she breathed low andpassionately, her breath coming in small gasps. 

"I understand. But I'm not sorry I roused you. --Here comes Honor. Iknow she wants to get home early. Good-night to you. Am I forgiven?"

"No. But you will be--to-morrow morning. I believe one could forgiveyou almost anything. "

"I'll not be base enough to take advantage of such a generousadmission, " he answered, smiling and grasping her hand. 

Lenox, with a keen glance at his wife's face, followed the Desmondsinto the verandah, and helped Honor into her seat. 

"You'll keep your promise, won't you?" she pleaded. "And go straightto bed without even looking into your study. Never mind if the lampburns there all night. You can charge me for the kerosene!"

"That's a bargain then, " he answered, laughing. "It's like old timesto have _you_ laying commands on me again!"

"Not only to-night, remember: a whole week of nights and more. "

"Trust me. I have promised. Good-night, Mrs Desmond, and thank you. "

As the dog-cart turned into the open road, Honor spoke: "Theo, if shelets him go to pieces again . . . I shall never, never forgive her. "

There was a break in her low voice, and Desmond slipping a hand throughher arm, pressed it close against him. 

"You dear blessed woman, no fear of that. She cares, --with all herheart. But there are faults and difficulties on both sides; and I'mafraid they have still a lot of rough ground to get over before theysettle into their stride. "

And Quita, the perverse, Quita, the inconsistent, cried herself tosleep that night upon her husband's shoulder. 

CHAPTER XXX

"Hearts are like horses; they come and go without whip or spur. " --_Native Proverb_. 

"Only ten minutes more; a bare ten minutes. Then you shall 'ease off'and stretch your legs a little. I'm sure by this time you must bewishing all artists at the bottom of the sea!"

"N-no; I haven't got quite as far as that yet, " Richardson answeredwith lazy good-humour, flicking the ash off his cigar. 

"You will, though, before I've done with you! I know I have beenexacting to-day, for the eyes are the crux of a portrait. Unless theindividual soul looks out of them, it's a dead thing. D'you know, Ionce told Eldred that yours were like bits of sea water with sunbeamscaught in them; and the effect isn't easy to produce on canvas. ButI'm succeeding--I'm succeeding _ŕ merveille_. That's why I must getthe effect while my hand is in; and you've not once hampered me bylooking bored or impatient. How is one to reward you for such angelicbehaviour?"

"There are ways and ways. Am I allowed to choose?"

"Perhaps, --within limits! But we'll discuss that when I can give mymind to the subject. Now, your head a little more to the right, please. That's better. You get out of position when you talk. "

"Sorry. I may lean back though, mayn't I?"

"Why, of course! I only wonder you don't get up and throw the chair atmy head!"

He laughed and leaned back accordingly, blowing an endless chain ofsmoke-rings, and watching her face, her supple slenderness, the deftmovements of her hand, with a contentment whose vital ingredients heeither could not or would not recognise--yet. 

For a full week he had spent many hours of each day in smoking andwatching her thus; and the fact that he had never yet found theoccupation monotonous was a danger-signal in itself. But yourcomfort-loving man is singularly obtuse in the matter ofdanger-signals: and loyalty apart, Richardson was too genuinely devotedto his friend to admit the possibility of that which was almost anaccomplished fact. The man was not built for high tragedy; and, intruth, the sittings were an equal pleasure to him when Lenox joinedthem, as he often did; the two men smoking and talking horses or theirbeloved 'shop, ' while Quita worked and listened, and interruptedwithout scruple whenever the spirit moved her. 

Yet beneath the smooth-seeming surface of things Lenox was more thanever aware of her curious detachment, of a disturbing sense that hishold over her was still an imperfect thing. Nor was he altogethermistaken. Quita had not yet learned to give herself royally. The factthat she had put her heart and life into the hands of the man she loveddid not prevent her from going her own way; from feeling--as she hadalways felt--responsible to herself alone for her words and actions. 

And the past week had seemed to emphasise these idiosyncrasies;because, at the first mysterious breath of inspiration, the submergedartist in her had risen again with power, had, for the time being, dominated her, --body and soul: and she may surely be forgiven if the'world-lifting joy' of creation swept her off her feet; if she had eyesand thoughts for little else save the picture coming to life under herhand. Perhaps it needs an artist, one who has felt the Divine breathstir a spark into a flame, rightly to understand and make allowance forsuch spiritual intoxication. Michael, --shallow-hearted egoist thoughhe might be, --would have understood: because he was an artist. ButLenox, being simply a man and a soldier, found it difficult todistinguish between her absorption in the picture and in the subject ofthe picture; difficult to realise her momentary freedom from thepersonal equation. 

What with incessant sittings, and equally incessant people to tea anddinner, he had little intimate speech of her in the daytime; and in thelong hours of wakefulness as he lay beside her listening to her evenbreathing, he faced the fact that his growing irritability was due tojealousy;--not the jealousy that doubts or suspects, --of that he wasincapable; but the primitive man's demand for exclusive possession ofhis own. Probably Desmond, in such a case, would have lost his temperand cleared the air in half an hour. But temperament is destiny: andLenox was not so made. He merely shut the door upon the evil thing;and tried--not very successfully--to ignore its existence. And withthree evil spirits in possession of him, it is not surprising if attimes he gave place to the devil. 

Of all this Quita was airily unaware. Since he had given up coming tobed at unearthly hours, she concluded that he slept. Mixed motives hadheld him silent in regard to the threatening shadow of opium, evenduring her moment of collapse and self-reproach after the expeditiondinner; and of his dawning jealousy he was at once too ashamed and tooproud to speak. 

This morning his repressed irritability had been more marked thanusual; and Quita had decided that once free from her enthrallingpicture, she must devote herself definitely to 'cheering him up. ' Butfor the present she discouraged troublesome thoughts; and now, whileRichardson sat smoking and watching her, she was conscious of nothingon earth save the exhilaration of success. 

She let fall both hands at last, with a sigh of supreme satisfaction. 

"There! I can do no more to it--for the present. You are released. You may come and look. "

He obeyed; and stood beside her lost in uncomprehending admiration ofher skill. 

It was Quita who spoke first. "We have achieved a rather remarkablebit of work between us, you and I. "

"We?" he echoed in amaze. "I don't quite see where I come in. "

"No: you wouldn't: and I'm afraid I can't enlighten you. But the factremains. Would you mind if I sent it to the Academy, just as aPortrait of a Soldier?"

"The Academy? Good Lord! I should be proud. "

"Thank you. I believe they'll hang it; and hang it well. That will be_my_ reward. But what about yours?"

She looked up at him now, letting her eyes rest confidently in his: andthe glad light in them held him, dazzled him, so that he forgot toanswer her; forgot much that he ought to have remembered, in theflashlight of a revelation so simple yet so astounding that it took himseveral seconds to understand what had befallen him. 

"Well?" she asked, smiling. "Is it so tremendous?" And the spell wasbroken. But reality remained. 

He felt something in him throb strangely; the pain of it melting into aglow more startling than the first shock; and with an awkward laugh heturned abruptly away from her;--too abruptly, as a twinge in his leftleg gave warning, so that the laugh ended in an involuntary sound ofpain. 

"Mr Richardson, do be careful, " she reproved him gently. "What hascome to you? And why do you go off like that without answering myquestion?"

For he had crossed to the mantelpiece; and a photo of her portrait ofLenox seemed to be absorbing his attention. Nor did he take his eyesfrom it in speaking. 

"Because--well, because it struck me that perhaps you wouldn't be sokeen about rewarding me, --if you knew . . . . "

"What? _Is_ there anything to know?"

"Yes: worse luck. I ought to have spoken sooner. But I shirked it, especially after what you said out driving. You remember--thatletter--long ago?"

"Am I likely to forget? What about it?"

This time he faced her deliberately, though the blood mounted to hisforehead. 

"I am the chap who wrote it. I'm the man you have been hating allthese years; the man you _hate still_. "

She came a step closer and stood gazing at him blankly, reorganisingher sensations. 

"You wrote it? _You_?"

"Yes; I. "

"But did you really know anything about me, or about Sir Roger Bennet?"

"Nothing on earth. I was simply repeating idle gossip. "

"Oh, how could you! And look what came of it. The years of bitternessand estrangement----!" He winced under her passionate reproach. 

"It was done in ignorance, remember; though, as you reminded me notlong since, that doesn't soften facts. Slang me; hate me for it, ifyou must. It can't be helped. "

"But I don't hate you, _mon ami_; I couldn't if I tried for a month. "

This was disconcerting. He had thought to snap the cord of theirfriendship, and so make it easier to see less of her in future. 

"Not even now you know?" he persisted desperately. And she shook herhead. 

"Yet you told me distinctly that you could never forgive that unluckychap. "

"But then I never guessed it was _you_, " she retorted with true woman'slogic. "How _could_ one hate you, after what happened last month. Eldred told me. "

"That, "--he shrugged his shoulders, --"that was a mere nothing. "

"Excuse me, as men go now it was a good deal. But still--I am puzzled. If you shirked telling me all this while, what made you tell me to-day?"

This also was disconcerting. But he did his best. 

"I don't know. Perhaps it was talking of rewards. Besides--I'm one ofthose clumsy fools who never feel quite comfortable until he hasblurted out the truth. "

He tried to laugh, but her direct look broke the sound in his throat. 

"I rather admire that kind of fool, " she said, with quiet emphasis. "And you have lost nothing by your folly, --nothing. "

"Does that mean you have quite forgiven me?" For the life of him hecould not stifle the exultation in his tone. 

"Quite--quite. Will that do for your reward? Shake hands onit, --please: and I promise never to speak or think of it again. "

Before their hands fell apart Lenox entered, and a slight shadowcrossed his face. 

"A note for you, Dick, " he said quietly. "The man wants an answer. "

Richardson's relief was evident. 

"Thanks. I won't keep him waiting. " And he departed without openingthe envelope. 

"Don't be too long; and don't change your coat, " Quita called afterhim. "There's some detail work that I might get in before tea. " Thenconscious of gathering storm, she turned hurriedly to her husband. 

"What were you and Dick shaking hands about at this time of day!" heasked as the door closed upon his subaltern. 

She had meant to tell him as a matter of course. But something in histone roused her fatal spirit of perversity--and up went her chin intothe air. 

"We were striking a bargain. Have you any objection?"

"No. Not the smallest. Would it be any use if I had?"

She paused, weighing the question. 

"I don't think it would. Petty tyranny of that kind is the last thingI could put up with; the last thing one would expect from you. "

"Quite so. At the same time--marriage means compromise. Youunderstand?"

"When a man says that he usually implies that the woman will do most ofthe compromising, in order that he may have his own way. "

"Within limits, a man has a certain right to his own way in his ownhouse. "

"And generally gets it!" she answered lightly. 

Lenox shrugged his shoulders, and going over to the easel, contemplatedin silence the living likeness of his friend: while Quita, watchinghim, was increasingly aware of slumbering electricity that might at anymoment break into a lightning-flash of speech. 

"It's good. Don't you think so?" she asked on a tentative note ofconciliation. 

"Of course it is. Damned good, " he answered gruffly. 

"Eldred! Even if you _are_ in a bad mood, you might control yourlanguage. "

"I beg your pardon. It's exceedingly good. But you've had it longenough on hand. Shall you finish it to-day?"

"I don't think so. Why?"

"Because, though Dick isn't quite up to duty yet, he's fit to be backat mess again and in his own bungalow. "

"Has he said anything about it?"

"No. "

"And do you propose to tell him outright that he has been here longenough?"

"What I propose to say to him is my own affair. You needn't distressyourself on his account. Dick and I understand one another perfectly. "

"No doubt you do. But after all, I am his hostess, and though you maynot object to being flagrantly inhospitable, _I_ do--very strongly. Besides, why should you be in such a hurry to turn him out? Are youannoyed again because we happen to be good friends and enjoy oneanother's society? I thought you were above that sort of thing. "

The suggestion of scorn in her tone pricked him past endurance. Heturned upon her sharply; and his eyes took on their blue of steel. 

"I am not above the natural passions of the natural man. You may aswell know it first as last. And I do not choose that Dick and half themen of the station shall practically live in my house because I happento possess a very attractive wife. "

"In fact, you imply that the attractive wife is bound over not to gobeyond correct platitudes with any of them but you. Is that it?" shedemanded, the red of rebellion staining her cheeks. 

The man was sore rather than angry; and the least touch of tendernessor hesitancy would have melted him to generous contrition. But hermanner hardened him, and he set his teeth. 

"I imply nothing of the sort; and you know it. It would never occur tome to set limits, general or particular, on your conduct with othermen; and as for your intimacy with Dick, if I didn't believe in youboth absolutely I wouldn't live with you another week. But I want tomake it clear to you that, having accepted the fact of marriage, youcannot in reason be as independent and daringly unconventional in yourdealings with men as you were when you had no one to consider butyourself. I know India better than you do. We live in glass housesout here: and I know the sort of remarks that are made about a youngmarried woman who is never seen without half a dozen men at herheels . . . "

"But, my dear man, " she broke out impatiently, "who cares one grain ofdust what their remarks may be? Men are my natural-born companions. Always have been. Always will be. And it's no use asking me to crampand distort my whole nature because bourgeois people take a low view ofthe matter. "

"No use, is it? That's pretty strong, Quita. Not that I _am_ askinganything of the kind: only that you should show some smallconsideration for my point of view; that you should make some effort toadapt yourself to a new relation. "

"I _do_ make an effort, Eldred, " she answered unappeased. "Butindividuality and temperament are stubborn things, even in a woman; andI can't sacrifice mine because I happen to be your wife. Marriagedoesn't change one into an invertebrate creature of wax and pack-threadto be moulded or pushed into any shape a man pleases; especially if onehappens to be an artist as well as a woman. We have our own devilsinside us; our own minds and bodies as well as you. It wouldn't be theleast use my promising to walk discreetly and weigh my words andactions; because I shouldn't keep the promise for five minutes. Besides . . . " Returning steps sounded without, and Lenox held up hishand. 

"That's enough, " he said decisively. "Here's Dick. You're simplytelling me, in roundabout language, that you intend to take the bitbetween your teeth. Well, I intend to keep a firm hold on the reinsfor your sake as much as my own. "

She flushed hotly. 

"_Mon Dieu_, what a detestable similie!"

"Quite so. But it expresses the position. If you will make it a caseof mastery, what else can a man do?"

And as Richardson entered from the dining-room, Lenox went out; by wayof the verandah into his study. 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

 "When the fight begins within himself, The man's worth something. " --Browning. 

Lenox, back at his writing-table, automatically took up his pen. Butfive minutes later he still sat thus, looking straight ahead of himinto a future darkened by the encroaching shadow of opium, andcomplicated by this new factor of open discord, which--apart from thepain of finding division, where he had looked for unity--set all hisnerves on edge. 

Hitherto, his distaste for friction, coupled with an almost unlimitedpower of endurance, had inclined him to let matters slide. But now hisconscience--the accusing, spiritual thing that was himself--warned himthat if marriage meant compromise, it also meant responsibility; thathaving been goaded into decisive speech, he stood pledged to decisiveaction, for her sake, even more than for his own. Yet, at the moment, he felt physically and mentally unfit to grapple with the complexsituation, hampered as he was by the experience of all that may springfrom one false move, one instant of unguarded speech; and the knowledgethat his insight, his judgment, were clouded by the insomnia, grindingheadache, and renewed wrestling with a power stronger than his will. For there was no evading the truth, that, in the past weeks, the drughad gained fresh hold upon him; had resuscitated the old paralysingpessimism and dread of defeat, so that he asked himself bitterly whatright had he to sit in judgment upon any one, least of all upon thedear woman who was the core and mainspring of his life?

Yet, fit or unfit, the need for action, for the rightful assertion ofauthority, remained. He laid down his pen, planted an elbow on thetable, and covered his eyes; struggling for clear unprejudiced thought;tormented by the consciousness of a certain small box hidden away in alocked drawer within easy reach of his hand. 

Suddenly he sat upright. The lines of his face hardened; a coldmoisture broke out upon his forehead; and the desperate look in hiseyes was an ill thing to see. Yet his movements had a strangemechanical deliberation, as he opened the drawer, found the box, helpedhimself from its contents, and, locking it up again, leaned back withthe long exhausted sigh of a man released from tension. 

For several minutes he sat thus, arms folded, eyes closed; yieldinghimself to the luxury of relief that stole over him, while the greatmagician plucked the pain from throbbing nerves, unravelled the tangleof thought and feeling, soothed brain and body like the touch of awoman's hand. 

But relief, as always, brought revulsion; this time sooner than usual;because for many days he had held his own against the evil thing, andhad almost begun to believe himself on the upward grade. 

"Damnation!" he broke out fiercely, and, the key being still in hishand, flung it haphazard right across the room. It fell between aheavy bookcase and the wall; and with a savage laugh of satisfaction, he took up his pen, and began to write rapidly, without pausing toselect words or phrases. He tore it all up next morning, but for thetime being it served to distract his thoughts. 

Presently he heard Quita's voice at the door. 

"Eldred, aren't you coming to tea?"

"No, " he answered, without looking round. 

"Shall I bring you some, then?"

"No, thank you. "

He turned his head just in time to catch sight of her as she closed thedoor; then went on writing with less regard than ever for the matter inhand. 

In less than half an hour, Richardson's uneven footstep, betraying theslight limp, sounded without. He paused so long on the other side ofthe door, that Lenox's brows went up in surprise. 

"That you, Dick?" he called out. "Come along in. "

Richardson obeyed; and Lenox removed three or four books from anadjacent chair. 

"Sit down, old chap. You've not been in here often enough lately. Chained to my wife's easel, eh?"

"Partly . . . Yes, " the other answered, absently fingering some loosesheets of manuscript and ignoring the proffered chair. 

"Wasn't sure, either, if you cared about being interrupted. I came innow to say I thought of dining at mess to-night, and clearing out intomy own bungalow to-morrow. You've been uncommonly good to me, you andMrs Lenox. But I think I've been quartered on you long enough; and Ishall probably get back to duty next week. "

He spoke rather rapidly, as if to ward off interruption or dissent; andLenox started at finding the initiative thus taken out of his hands. It was not Quita's doing. He felt sure of that. But Dick's mannerpuzzled him, and mere friendliness made acquiescence impossible. 

"Well, you seem in a deuce of a hurry to be quit of us, " he said, witha short laugh. "Might as well stop till you do get back to duty; andyou might as well sit down and have a smoke, now you're here, insteadof standing there like a confounded subordinate, making havoc of mypapers!"

At that Richardson sat down rather abruptly, and helped himself fromhis friend's cigar-case. He had small talent and less taste forsubterfuge; and, his pulses being in an awkward state of commotion, hetook his time over the beheading and lighting of his cigar. In fact hetook so long that Lenox spoke again. 

"What do you suppose my wife will say to your bolting in this way, at amoment's notice! Have you spoken to her yet?"

"No. I was afraid of seeming . . . Ungracious; and one could speakstraighter to you. "

"Does that mean you really won't stop on?"

"I think not, thanks. It's awfully good of you to suggest it. I canlook in, of course, if Mrs Lenox wants any more sittings. But I may aswell stick to my arrangement and go before she gets sick of having meon her hands. "

"You're a long way ahead of that, I fancy, " Lenox remarked, with an oddchange of tone. 

For a statement of that kind Richardson had no answer. He could onlyacknowledge it with a rueful smile that did not lift the shadow fromhis eyes. There were no sunbeams caught in Quita's 'bits of sea water'just then; and for a while silence and tobacco-smoke reigned in theroom. Richardson, who appeared to be reading the closely written sheetof foolscap at his elbow, was casting about in his mind for the bestmeans of saying that which must be said; while Lenox, watching himkeenly, arrived at the masculine conclusion that Dick had 'come acropper' over something, and possibly needed his help. 

"Anything on your mind, old chap?" he asked bluntly, when the silencehad lasted nearly five minutes. And Richardson, taking his resolutionin both hands, looked up from the meaningless page. 

"Yes, that's about it. Don't misunderstand me, Lenox. I'd soonerwork with you than with any man in creation; but--there aredifficulties . . . I can't put it plainer--and I'm thinking ofapplying for a Staff appointment. My uncle in the Secretariat wouldgive me a helping hand, if you'd forward the thing with a decentrecommendation. But if you think me too much of a duffer for Staffwork, I must try--for an exchange----"

He could get no further; and Lenox, leaning across the corner of thetable, scrutinised his face with eyes that penetrated like asearchlight. 

"Well . . . I'm damned!" he said slowly. "Am I to understand thatafter all we've pulled through together, you want to get away from theBattery at any price?"

"It's not a question of what I want to do; it's what I've got to do, "the other answered, averting his eyes. 

"My good Dick, you're talking in riddles. Have you taken temporaryleave of your senses? Or is it a case of 'urgent private affairs'?"

Lenox's tone had an edge to it. Of course the man was free to go wherehe chose. But it had grown to be an understood thing between them thatthey would work together as long as might be, and he could not concealhis disappointment. Richardson knew this, and looked up quickly. Itwas the worst quarter of an hour he had ever known. Facing Waziribullets was a small matter compared with this despicable business ofdisappointing and deceiving his friend. 

"It's urgent enough, God knows!" he answered desperately. "I can't saymore than that, Lenox. I swear I can't. "

He looked straight at Lenox in speaking. And this time the older man'sgaze held him, in spite of himself, till the blood burned under hisfair skin; till he perceived, between shame and relief, that his secretwas his no longer; that Lenox had seen, and understood. His firstinstinct was--to escape. Such knowledge shared was enough to strikeany man dumb. 

"You _will_ recommend me, won't you, old chap?" he asked all in abreath, with a forward movement, as if to rise and depart. 

But Lenox reached across the table, and a heavy hand on his shoulderpressed him back into his seat. 

"No need to hurry away, Max. We've settled nothing yet. "

The assurance of unshaken friendship in his altered manner, and in thesudden use of Richardson's first name, automatically readjusted thesituation, without need of so much as a glance of mutual understanding, which neither could have endured. 

"I'm afraid I can't recommend you for Staff work, " Lenox went onquietly, as though dealing with a mere official detail, submitted forhis approval. "Not because you are a duffer, but because I can't sparemy right-hand man. I'm not an easy chap to work with, as you know. But we've learnt one another's ways by now, and, unless political workclaims me, we can't do better than run the Battery together till youget a command--and that's not far off now. As for your urgent need ofa change, if six months at home would suit you, I'll do my best tosquare it. We might manage sick-leave, on the strength of your leg, eh?"

Richardson breathed deeply. 

"Thank you, Lenox. It's splendid of you. I'd be awfully glad of thechange. "

"That's all right. And I tell you what, Dick, " he paused, and smiledupon his friend. "Hope I'm not taking an infernal liberty! But if youcan afford it--and if you can hit on the right girl--you might do worsethan bring a wife back with you. You're the sort that's bound to marrysome time, and you may take my word for it, thirty's a better age tostart than thirty-five. "

Richardson laughed, and coloured again, hotly. 

"It takes two to make that sort of start, " he said, "And if a fellowhits on the wrong one, it must be the very devil. "

"Yes, by Jove, it must!" Lenox answered feelingly; adding in his ownmind that even with the right one, it could be the very devil, now andagain. "Think of poor Norton. But you'll have better luck, I hope. About stopping on for the present, of course you must please yourself. You'd be very welcome; and if you're afraid of taking up too much of mywife's time, you can easily give me more of your company than you havedone so far. See how you feel about it to-morrow. "

"Thanks, I will. "

He rose now unhindered; and stood a moment hesitating, fired with avery human wish to express his gratitude. But Lenox had accepted anddismissed the whole incident in a fashion at once so impersonal, sochivalrous, that his aching sense of disloyalty and unworthiness seemedto have been tacitly wiped out, leaving one only course open to him--toact as though that culminating hour of madness had never been. 

"See you again before I start for mess, " he said, as Lenox looked up. And the dreaded interview--that should have broken up everything, yethad altered nothing, save his own estimate of life--was over. 

Lenox, left alone again, bowed his head upon his hands, and sat a longtime motionless, while the white flame of anger leaped and burned inhis brain; anger such as he had never yet felt towards his wife. Thespirit of his formidable uncle still so far survived in him thatinstinctively he blamed the woman; blamed himself also because prideand a strong distaste for self-assertion had inclined him to anattitude of masterly inactivity. In this fine fashion, between them, they had rewarded Dick for an unrecognised act of gallantry that mightwell have cost him his life; and nothing now remained but to make suchinadequate atonement as the case admitted. Strange as it may seem, hehad never come so near to loving his friend as at that moment. 

As for Quita--was there even the remotest chance that she also . . . ?His brain refused to complete such a question. The thing wasunthinkable. But in any case his own duty stood out crystal clear. When he had mastered his anger sufficiently to risk speech, he and shemust come to terms upon this thorny subject once for all. And he musttake his stand upon the bare rock of principle. Let her brand himbourgeois, Covenanter, what she would. Dick's secret must be kept--atany cost!

CHAPTER XXXII. 

 "Love's strength standeth in Love's sacrifice, And he who suffers most has most to give. " --Hamilton King. 

Dinner that evening was an oppressively silent affair. The man's whiteNorthern anger still smouldered beneath his surface immobility; whileQuita, who could not bring herself to believe in the spontaneity ofRichardson's engagement at mess, was instinctively measuring andcrossing swords with the husband, whose personality held her captiveeven while it forced her every moment nearer to the danger-point ofopen defiance. 

Both were thankful when the solemn farce of eating and drinking came toan end; and Quita rose with an audible sigh of relief. 

"Are you coming into the drawing-room at all?" she asked, addressingthe question to his centre shirt-stud. 

"Yes--at once. I have a good deal to say to you. "

She raised her eyebrows with a small polite smile, and swept on beforehim, her step quickened by the fact that his words had set the bloodrushing through her veins. The dead weight of his silence pulverisedher. Speech, however dangerous, would be pure relief. 

Before following, he locked up spirit tantalus and cigar-box with hiswonted deliberation; and on reaching the drawing-room found herabsorbed in contemplation of Dick's portrait, hands clasped behind her, the unbroken lines of her grey-green dress lending height and dignityto her natural grace; the glitter of defiance gone out of her eyes. 

Lenox set his lips, and confounded the advantages nature and artconspire to bestow upon some women, more especially when they knowthemselves beloved. The mere man in him had one impulse only, --to takeinstant possession of her; to conquer her lurking antagonism by sheerforce of passion and of will. But he had sense enough to know thatsuch primitive methods would not shift, by one hair's-breadth, theirreal point of division; would, in fact, be no less than inverteddefeat. The heart of her was secure:--that he knew. It was herdetached, elusive mind and spirit that were still to win; and a man'sarms had small concern with that form of capture. 

Quita vouchsafed him a glance as he entered. Then her gaze returned tothe picture. 

"One misses him, " she said, presumably to the tall figure on thehearth-rug. "I think I have never known a man so uniformly cheerfuland sweet-tempered. But it is selfish to grudge him a little change ofatmosphere. And no doubt he is having a livelier evening than we are. "

She was facing her husband now; but something in his aspect made herfeel suddenly ashamed of using small weapons against a nature toomagnanimous to retaliate. And, without giving him time to answer, shewent on, a little hurriedly, "Eldred, if this intolerable state ofthings means that you really imagine I am--how does one put anything sodetestable?--growing . . . Too fond of Mr Richardson, you can set yourmind at rest. Morality apart, you are much too masterful, toolarge--in every way--to leave room for any one else in a woman's heart, once she has let you in. "

"Thank you, " Lenox answered, in a non-committal tone. But a shadowpassed from his face, and she saw it. 

"Of course I know it has been rather marked this last week. But thatwas simply because for the moment he and my picture were the samething. Being absorbed in one meant being absorbed in the other. Toproduce a living portrait, one needs to get inside the subject of it asfar as possible. At least, I do. And on the whole, I think my methodis justified by the result!"

But Lenox, as he stood listening, experienced fresh proof of man'sinnate spirit of perversity. For many days past he had been angered bythe suspicion that in this affair of portrait painting, the subjectcounted for too much;--and now, when he ought to have been relieved, hefound his anger rekindled to white heat by Quita's frank confessionthat his friend--whose heart had been wrenched from him by herso-called 'method'--counted for nothing at all. For one ignobleinstant, he was tempted to break through every restrainingconsideration and lash her with the truth. 

The fact that he did not answer her at once puzzled Quita. 

"Do you understand now, _mon ami_?" she asked, coming a step closer. "I was absorbed in an interesting subject. It is over--_voilŕ tout_. "

"No, Quita; I do not understand, " he answered, repressed heat hardeninghis voice and face more than he knew. "To a mere soldier it all soundsrather inhuman; and I can only say that if you find it so necessary to'get inside' your subjects, as you express it, you had better makewomen and children your speciality, and let us poor devils alone. "

"Women and children? But, my dear--what a suggestion! One does notchoose one's subjects to order. Women and children don't interest me. I have always preferred to paint men, and always shall. "

"Then I'm afraid it may end in your having to drop portrait paintingaltogether. "

That touched the artist to the quick. With a small gasp--as if he hadstruck her--she sank upon the arm of his big chair; her hands clasped, so that the knuckles stood out sharp and white; two spots of fireburning in her cheeks. 

"Do you seriously mean--what you say?" she asked, pausing between thewords. 

"Certainly. I am not given to speaking at random. "

"You mean--you would insist?"

"I hope it would never come to that. "

"_Mon Dieu_, no. It never would!" She flung up her head with a brokensound between a laugh and a sob. "Because--if it ever did----"

She hung on the word a moment; and in a flash Lenox saw how near theywere to repeating the initial tragedy of more than six years ago. 

"Quita, " he broke in sharply, "listen to me before you say unconsideredthings that we may both of us regret. Are we going to make havoc ofeverything again at the outset? Tell me that. "

"How do I know? It depends on you. I think I told you then, that youmight as well expect me to give up seeing or hearing as to give up myart. And that is truer--ten times truer--to-day, even though Iam . . . Your wife. "

He saw her vibrating like a smitten harp-string; saw the quick rise andfall of the lace at her breast; and it was all a man could do to keephis hands off her. He had to remind himself that she was no child tobe comforted with empty kisses; but very woman and very artist, tornbetween the master-forces of life. 

"See here, lass, " he said quietly, laying aside his half-smoked cigar. "As this is a big matter for us both, we may as well get at the root ofit straight away. You said this afternoon that you could not give upyour individuality because you had accepted marriage. Very well. Neither can I. That still leaves us two alternatives. Either we mustgive up the notion of living together; or we must be prepared to makeconcessions--both of us. That is why I said that marriage meanscompromise. If we go on much longer as we have been doing lately, seeing next to nothing of one another because the house has beenconverted into a surplus club for half the fellows in the station; andif you are going to spend your time 'getting inside' other men with aview to painting their portraits, we shall simply drift apart as theNortons did. Conditions of life out here make that sort of thingfatally easy to fall into. But I tell you plainly that if there is tobe no attempt at amalgamation, if we are each to go our own way, then--we must lead separate lives. I would not even have you in India. It would be a case of going home. "

The two spots of fire had died out of her face, and she turned wide, startled eyes upon him. 

"I don't--quite understand. " Her voice was barely audible, "Are youtelling me--to go?"

"My dear--can you ask that? I am only pointing out the conditions thatmight make such a catastrophe--inevitable. Looking things in the facemay prevent future friction and misunderstanding, which are the verydevil. What's more, I never realised till lately what a very bigfactor your art is in your life. I believe it is the biggest thing ofall. Am I right?"

"I don't know. I can't tell--yet. "

He straightened himself, and his face hardened. 

"You can easily find out by putting the matter to practical proof. Infact, I am going to make a proposal that will not leave you very longin doubt. You have genius, Quita. I recognise that. And I want youto think seriously over all you said this afternoon about not crampingor distorting your individuality to suit my 'prejudices. ' If you feelthat your art must come before everything, that marriage will onlyhamper its full development, without making good what you lose, --infact, if you think that the purely artist life will be better andhappier for you in the long-run, I would sooner you said so frankly, Iwould indeed. "

"Eldred!" she gasped, between indignation and fear. But he motionedher to silence. 

"Hear me out first. I told you I had a good deal to say; and as I amnot often taken that way, you must bear with me, for once. You knownow something, at least, of what it means for a man and woman to livetogether, as we do. I warned you that I should prove a sorry bargain;and--take me or leave me--I cannot pretend that any amount ofcompromise will make me other than I am. You think me hard, narrow, conventional, in some respects, no doubt. But in a matter so vitalconventional moralities go for nothing. I want the truth. If youbelieve, as I said, that art must stand first with you--always, I shallrespect your frankness and courage in telling me so; and I will giveyou--such freedom as the circumstances admit. "

"_Mon Dieu_!" she breathed, and for a second or two could say no more. She had touched the bed-rock of granite in the man at last. Then thefear that clutched at her found words, in her own despite. 

"Have I killed--your love, so soon? Surely you could not make such asuggestion--in cold blood, unless--I had. "

"You are simply shifting the argument, " he answered without unbending. "You know whether--I love you. In fact, if it comes to that, it isyou, my dear, who have not yet grasped the full meaning of the word, oryou would not need to be told that the free choice I am offering you ofcompromise with me, or independence--without me, is the utmost proofone can give that you and your happiness stand absolutely first----"

At that she made an impulsive movement towards him, and her fingersclosed upon his arm. But with inexorable gentleness he unclasped herhand, and put it from him. 

"No, no, " he said, and there was more pain than hardness in his tone. "Better keep clear of that form of argument, for the present. Passionsettles nothing. Contact is not fusion. We have proved it, --you andI. It is not a question of what we feel. That may be taken forgranted by now. It is a question of what we are, individually, intrinsically; of how much each of us is ready to forego for the sakeof the one essential form of union that counts between a man and womanwho are not mere materialists; and we are neither of us that. I don'twant my answer to-night, nor even to-morrow. I have not spoken onimpulse; and I want you to think very thoroughly over all I have saidwhen your brain is cooler than it is just now. "

"But suppose--I don't want to think it over?"

A half smile dispelled his gravity. "Knowing you intimately, I shouldnot suppose anything else! In the two big crises of our life, remember, you were ruled purely by impulse and emotion, and you broughtus very near to shipwreck in consequence. But this time, you will dowhat I ask, and give my slower methods a chance; because this time yourdecision will be final. If we are to separate again, we separate forlife. That much _I_ have decided. The rest--I leave in your hands. "

She stood very still, like one magnetised, her gaze riveted on thecarpet. His steadfast aloofness had chilled her first headlong impulseof surrender; and she knew now that he was right:--that, dearly as sheloved him, independence in thought, word, and act were still the breathof life for her and for her art. He had put the matter to practicalproof with a sledge-hammer directness all his own; had opened her eyesto the humiliating truth that never in all her thirty years of livinghad she given up anything that mattered for any one. And now----

She raised her head with a start, Zyarulla had brought in a telegram, and Lenox stood reading it with a transfigured face, an eager light inhis eyes. 

"What is it?" she wondered, not daring to ask. "He is going awaysomewhere--he is delighted. And he says I come absolutely first. "

Then Lenox raised his eyes, and a lightning instinct told her that forthe moment he had forgotten her existence. 

"Well, Quita, " he said, unconscious elation in his tone, "I think theForeign Office must have known we had got to a difficult corner, anddecided to give us a helping hand. They want me to undertake anexploration north of Kashmir, and remonstrate with a small chief whohas been misbehaving up there. I am to report myself at Simla _ekdum_, [1] to receive detailed instructions of the mission, and we shallhave time enough to think things out very thoroughly before I get back. "

"Time? How long?"

Her colour had ebbed; but the change in him had steeled her tounreasoning hardness of heart. 

"Six months, certain. Possibly more. "

"And you are as glad as you can be. One sees that quite plainly. "

Her tone stung him to sharp retort. 

"Yes, I am glad--since you insist, and since I am no hypocrite. "

Pride would not suffer her to remind him of his assurance, "You standabsolutely first. " Instead she asked him in a repressed voice--

"Doesn't it occur to you, after your eloquence about what each of usshould give up, that this is precisely where your share of thecompromise comes in?"

"It occurred to me nearly a year ago, " he said simply. "After our talkat Kajiar, I faced the fact that there was an end of my exploring as ahobby;--at least on the big scale that appeals to me most. It was justthe price one had to pay for getting you back again; and I paidit--willingly. In fact, I should never have mentioned it, if youhadn't dragged it out of me. "

The quiet of his tone, and the kindliness in the blue eyes thatchallenged her own, brought the blood into her face. He shamed herevery way, this big husband of hers. He had counted the cost and paidit--willingly. He would not even have mentioned it. There you havethe essence of the man. Her lids fell, and her incurable instinct forcomedy set a faint dimple in her cheek. Here he was at his old trickof dragging her on to higher ground; and the perverse spirit of herloved and hated him for it in one breath. 

"But you are going now?" she whispered, without looking up. 

"Certainly. That is quite another matter. When Government needs myservices for work which I have made a speciality, it would be neitherright nor possible for me to refuse; and, frankly, I am glad, because Ilove the work, fully as much as you love yours; and because theopportunity could hardly have come at a better moment. "

"And I--go back to Michael?"

"Yes. For six months you will be free to travel, paint--what you will;and for six months I shall have my mountains to grapple with. " Againthe light sprang to his eyes. "By the end of that time we shall knowonce for all how much we are ready to forego for the sake of spendingour lives together. That is the ultimate test of a big thing, Quita--what one will give up for it. Marriage is a big thing; and ifours is built on the right foundations, it will stand the test. Now, Ishall have a good deal to see to this evening, and I think you hadbetter go to bed early. You look tired. "

"I am tired. " She realised suddenly that all the spring had gone outof her. "When do you leave?"

"To-morrow, most likely. You had better write to Michael. "

"Very well. I suppose--one will be able to write to _you_?"

"Yes. Now and then. But for a great part of the time I shall bebeyond the reach of posts. "

Though his surface hardness had melted, his voice had an impersonalnote that crushed her, making her feel as if she were dealing with acosmic force, rather than a human being;--one of his own detestablemountains, for instance. But for that, it is conceivable that theremight have been something approaching a 'scene'; that she might haveobeyed her unreasoning impulse to plead with him, and exhort him not topush his test of her to such pitiless lengths. As it was, she sankinto a chair without answering; and he turned towards the study with anew lift of his head, a new elasticity of step that struck at her heart. 

For, in truth, until he read that summons from Simla he had scarcelyknown how irresistibly the old free life drew him; how the whitesilence of the mountains called to him as friend calls friend; and thewhole heart of him answered, 'I come. ' 'As the dew is dried up by thesun, so are the sins of mankind by the glory of Himachal. ' The wordsof the old Hindoo worshipper sprang to his brain, and for him they wereno fanciful imagery, but a radiant truth. Six months of the Himalayas, six months of freedom from brain work, and headache, and strain, --forthough loyalty denied it, the past month had been a strain, --wouldsuffice to break the power of the hideous thing that was sapping hismanhood; to dispel the great black something that shadowed his mind andspirit--to set him on his feet again, a free man. 

But since he had kept the deeper source of his trouble secret fromQuita, she did not hold the key to the deeper source of his joy. Andnow, lying back in his chair, her eyes closed, violet shadows showingbeneath the black line of her lashes, she saw herself, momentarily, asa trivial thing--a mere tangle of nerves, perversity, andegotism--flung aside without hesitation, perhaps even with relief, atthe first call of the larger life, the larger loyalty. Two tears stoleout on to her lashes, and slipped down her check. Mere concessions tooverwrought feeling, and she knew it; knew, in the depths of her, thatshe was no triviality, but a woman into whose hands power had beengiven; the power of things primeval that are the mainspring of life. 

For Quita also had her secret--at once mysterious and disturbing; sinceto your highly-strung woman motherhood rarely comes as a matter ofcourse--a secret that brought home to her, with a force as quiet andcompelling as her husband himself, the awful sense of the human bond. He had told her she was free to choose; to take him or leave him as shesaw fit. But the dice were loaded. They were bound to one another nowby a far stronger power than mere law; by the power of action andconsequence, which transcends all laws. 

She had guessed the truth, and rebelled against it, on that day whenHonor had unwittingly spoken the right word at the right moment, asthose who believe in Divine transmission through human agency are aptto do. She had faced and accepted it during Eldred's absence; but hadnot found courage since his return to put it into words; had, in fact, with the revival of inspiration, thrust the knowledge aside, anddeliberately tried to forget. 

Now it came back upon her, unrebuked; and while she lay thinking overall that had passed between them, one insistent question repeateditself in her brain, "Can I tell him? Shall I tell him before hegoes?" And after much debating, she decided on silence. In the firstplace, he would be saved anxiety if he should not return in time; andin the second place--though this consideration stood undeniably firstwith her--she preferred that he, at least, should believe in thefiction of their freedom; that nothing should weigh with him, or drawhim back to her but his unalterable need of herself. How far hersecret was her own to hide or reveal, how far she had any right towithhold such knowledge from the man on the eve of a perilousundertaking, --the man to whom insight told her it would meanimmeasurably much, --were questions that simply did not enter her mind. The artist's egotism, and the woman's love of dominion, left no roomfor fine-drawn scruples of the kind. Never till to-night had sherealised how the mountains claimed and held him; and in her sudden fearof losing him, either through misadventure or through the reawakeningof the explorer in him, she lost sight of the original point at issue;of the fact that it was her own work, not his, which had threatened tostand between them. 

An hour later she went into the study, where Lenox, his brow furrowedinto deep lines, bent over an outspread map. A glance showed her thatalready in spirit he was miles away from her, planning the explorationof passes and glaciers guessed at in former journeyings, engrossed, mind and heard, in the possibilities ahead. 

She came and stood beside him. "I am going now, Eldred, " she said, atouch of listlessness in her tone. 

He looked up and nodded. "That's right. You do look rather faggedthis evening. "

"Only a headache, " she answered, flushing and avoiding his eyes. "Ishall be all right if I sleep well. "

"Do you ever sleep badly?" he asked, with the quick sympathy of thesufferer. 

"Oh dear, no. " She hesitated. "Are you coming?"

"Yes--later. "

Still she stood irresolute. Caresses had become rare between them oflate; and now pride as well as shyness checked her natural impulse. Inturning away, she allowed her left hand to swing outward, ever solittle, merely by way of experiment. "He won't see it, " she toldherself. And, as if in mute denial, his own hand met and grasped it, close and hard. 

On the threshold she paused and looked back. He was miles away again, hopelessly out of reach. A sudden thought seized her, tempted her. Half a dozen words would suffice to snap the chain that held him; tobring her into his arms. Yet now it seemed impossible to speak them, even if she would; and she went out, leaving him in undisturbedpossession of his maps and his mountains. 

She lingered long over her undressing; and when it was over could notbring herself to put out the lamp; but lay, waiting and listening forhis coming. Then, as the night slipped away and the silence became aburden, a dead weight upon brain and heart, the old haunting dread ofthose days in Dalhousie came back upon her, and she shivered. ThePagan in her leaned too readily to superstitious fancy, and her dreadshaped itself finally in a definite thought. "If he comes to me now, Iknow I shall conquer the mountains in the end. But if he doesn't come, they will be too strong for me. They will take him from me for good. "

And he did not come; till one of the morning, when he found her fastasleep, the lamp still burning beside her. 

[1] At once. 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

 "Ledge by ledge outbroke new marvels, now minute, and now immense: Earth's most exquisite disclosure, heaven's own God in evidence!" --Browning. 

"Sahib, dinner is ready. "

"I also am ready. More than ready!" Lenox answered, a twinkle in hiseyes. 

Zyarulla responded by a gleam of teeth as he followed his master to thecamp fire of roots and scrub, on whose summit 'dinner' was servedsteaming hot; a delectable mass of mutton and rice; eaten straight fromthe copper cooking vessel, lest the ice-bound breath of the mountainsfreeze it before it could reach its destination. The fire itself wassmall, and gave out little heat: for in the heart of the glaciers, sixteen hundred feet up, fuel is scarce, and even more precious thanfood. 

The five human forms, crouching close to it, had been Lenox's solecompanions through three months of hardship and danger, sweetened bythe exhilaration of conquering such difficulties as brace a man's nerveand fortitude to the utmost. Four of them were Gurkhas, --a Havildarand three men; short, sturdy hill folk of the Mongol type, with thespirits of schoolboys and the grit of heroes. The fifth was a Pathanfrom Desmond's regiment, told off to act as orderly and surveyor; a manof immovable gravity, who shared but two qualities with thethick-headed, stout-hearted little soldiers from Nepal:--courage of thefirst order, and devotion to the British officer, for whom any one ofthem would have laid down his life, if need be; not as a matter ofsentiment or heroism, but simply as a matter of course. The Gurkhashad, in fact, settled it among themselves before starting, that if anyharm came to the Sahib none of them were to disgrace the name of theregiment by returning without their leader. 

Now, as he neared the fire, looking bigger and broader than usual inhis sheep-skin coat and Balaklava cap, --his jaw and throat protected bya beard black as his hair, --all five stood up to receive him: and thequivering light showed that they also were muffled to the eyes. 

"It is a _burra khana_[1] to-night, Hazúr, " the Havildar informed himwith a chuckle; his slits of eyes vanishing as his teeth flashed out. "In a treeless country, the castor-oil is a big plant! And the cook, having three handfuls of flour to spare, hath made us three_chupattis_; one for your Honour, and one to be broken up amongourselves. "

"No, no, Havildar; fair play, " Lenox answered, smiling. "We willdivide the three. "

But seeing that insistence would damp their childish spirit offestivity, he accepted Benjamin's portion; and satisfied his conscienceby sharing it with Brutus, the inevitable, who snuggled contentedlyunder a corner of his poshteen, and thanked his stars he was not asother dogs, a mere loafer round clubs and cantonments. It was bad tobe cold and hungry; to plunge shoulder-deep through snow, and slitheracross hideous slopes of ice; but it was uplifting to share yourmaster's dinner and your master's bed; and there are few things moresustaining than a sense of one's own importance in the general schemeof things!

The fire was their mess-table, round which they dined together, to savetime and trouble in cooking; and also because community of hardship anddanger links men to one another with hooks of steel; dispels all minordistinctions of colour and creed; reveals the Potter's raw materialunderlying all. 

And while they so sat, enjoying their one-course dinner as no gourmetever enjoyed a city feast, night and frost crept stealthily, almostvisibly, over the stupendous snow-peaks and pinnacles of opaque icethat towered on all sides, breathing out cold; and contemplating, as ifin silent amazement, these atoms of 'valiant dust' who dared and werebeaten back, and dared again; who day by day pushed farther into theirwhite sanctuary of silence, in search of a pass whose existence wasguessed at rather than known. At sunset there had been a brief burstof colour, --green and opal and rose; but by now the mountains shimmeredgrey and hard as steel under the tremulous fire of the stars; and everymoment the grip of frost tightened upon half-melted glacier, upon manand beast. For behind the little group of servants, who sat apart, enjoying their own meal in their own fashion, stood twelve apatheticKashmiri ponies, --unconsidered martyrs to man's lust ofachievement, --who endured to the full the miseries of mountaineering, and reaped none of its rewards. 

Dinner over, the fire must be allowed to die down. A pipe over theembers, and a sheep-skin bag shared with Brutus, was the evening'sunvarying programme on this detached expedition into the hidden core ofthings; tents and lesser luxuries having been left with the heavybaggage in charge of two Gurkhas at the foot of the pass. 

While Lenox sat smoking, and encouraging the fire to keep alive as longas might be, his men vied with one another in discovering shelteredcorners for the night. The Havildar was in high spirits after hismorsel of chupatti, washed down with a mouthful of rum; and thelaughter of his comrades echoed strangely among the ghostly peaks. 

"You seem to be in great form, Chundra Sen, " Lenox called out at last. "What's the joke now?"

"We are seeking soft stones to sleep on, Hazúr; and betting, like the_Sahiblog_, which of us shall find the softest!" [Transcriber's note:the "o" in "_Sahiblog_" is o-macron, Unicode U+014D. ]

Lenox joined in the laugh that greeted this sally, "Good men, " he said. "Hope you find a few! First-rate joke of yours, Havildar. "

"By ill fortune, it was not I who made it, Hazúr! But an officerSahib, up in Kabul; one who knew that it is good to laugh even when theknife is at the throat. " And the search went forward with renewed zest. 

Apparently soft stones were forthcoming: for one by one the men rolledthemselves up in their blankets and sheep-skins, and slept soundly ontwo hundred feet of ice under a freezing sky; leaving Lenox alone withhis pipe and his thoughts, and the silence that dwelt like a presencein the eerie place. 

As a rule a hard day on the glaciers left him so over-powered withsleep that he could scarcely finish his smoke: but to-night his brainwas alert and active; stimulated by the knowledge that two more days ofclimbing ought to bring him at last to the Pass of his dreams:--thePass that must be found and crossed in the teeth of all that Naturemight do to hinder him!

That discovery would close the first phase of his journey: andto-night, looking back over it, from the day of his departure forSimla, he saw that it had been good. 

Sir Henry Forsyth, Foreign Secretary, and an old school friend of hisbrother's, had instructed him to work his way up to Hunza, a smallindependent state north of Kashmir, hidden among lofty mountains andimpenetrable valleys, whence robber bands--secure from retaliation--hadfor long amused and enriched themselves by flying descents uponneighbouring tribes, and upon caravans passing from Asia to India. Andnow, after an unusually daring raid, the peace-loving Kirghiz of thedistrict had appealed to the Indian Government for protection and help. 

Lenox, with his little escort of six Gurkhas and one Pathan, was toenter this stronghold of brigands; reason with their chief, and bindhim down to good behaviour for the future. In addition, Sir Henrysuggested that instead of going to Hunza direct, he should strike outeastward from Kashmir, working his way round through the great MustaghMountains, and exploring as he went, also that he should finally pushon northward, and penetrate as far into the Pamirs as the approach ofwinter would permit. 

"There will be no difficulty with the authorities. I have arranged allthat; and you need not be back at Dera till October or November, " thegreat man had concluded, in a tone half question, half command. 

"No, sir. I may as well do all I can while I'm up there. "

Whereat Sir Henry had eyed him thoughtfully from between narrowed lids. For all his great brain, he was a man of one idea: and that idea--"TheNorth safeguarded. " Mere men, himself included, were for him no morethan pawns in the great game to be played out between two Empires, onthe chess-board of Central Asia. But . . There are pawns, and pawns:and Sir Henry had had his eye on Lenox for some years; recognising inhim a pawn of high value; a man to be sent to the front on the firstopportunity, and kept there as long as might be. The news of hismarriage had been a shock to the Foreign Secretary: and it isconceivable that he had wished to test Lenox by asking him to undertakesuch a mission within a year of the fatal event. He was speculatingnow, as he watched him, how far the 'woman complication' was likely tocount with this impenetrable Scot. With Sir Henry, after the firstyear or two, the woman had not counted at all; and, unhappily for her, she knew it. 

The pause lasted so long that Lenox shifted his position: but Sir Henryonly said, "I was relieved when I got your wire. "

"Surely I could not have answered otherwise?"

"I am glad you think so. But frankly, when I heard of your marriage, Iwas half afraid I had lost one of my ablest men. "

Lenox smiled. "Not quite as bad as that, sir, I hope. "

"Well then . . What about Gilgit?"

Sir Henry spoke carelessly; but his eyes were on Lenox's face, and hesaw him flinch. 

"Is that likely to be an immediate contingency?" Lenox asked quietly. 

"Next, year, I should say, as things are going now. "

"Well, I hope it may be possible. But . . One would have to think itover. "

"_Talk_ it over, you mean . . Eh?"

Something in the tone angered Lenox. 

"Yes, sir . . Talk it over. That is what I meant, " he had answered, looking straightly at the other: and they had returned somewhatabruptly to the matter in hand. 

But Lenox had dined with the Foreign Secretary that night, and they hadparted good friends, as ever: Sir Henry begging the younger man to askhim for anything that might serve to lessen the hardships and dangersahead of him, adding, as they shook hands: "I assure you, my dearfellow, we who sit in Simla fully realise how much the country owes tomen of your sort; and grudge no money spent in making the way smootherfor you. "

But Lenox, knowing well that hardships and perils loom larger in aneasy-chair than on the slope of a glacier, had asked for little, beyondpermission to depart, and that speedily. 

A few days at Pindi had sufficed for the collecting of stores andequipment. Then he had pushed northward in earnest, picking up hisescort of Gurkhas from their station in the foot-hills: and so onthrough Kashmir, where spring had already flung her bridal veil overthe orchards, and retreating snow-wreaths had left the hills carpetedwith a mosaic of colour, --primula, iris, orchid, and groundlingsinnumerable: over the Zoji-la Pass, into the shadeless, fantasticdesolation of Ladak; and on, across stark desert and soundlesssnow-fields, to Leh, the terminus of all caravans from India andCentral Asia. Here Lenox had spent two days with one Captain Burrow ofthe Bengal Cavalry, who, with a handful of half-starved Kashmirisoldiers, upheld the interests of the British Raj on this uttermostedge of Empire. Here also he found a letter from Quita; read andre-read it, and stowed it away in his breast-pocket, trying not to beaware of a haunting ache deep down in him, which must perforce beignored. The old charm of the Road, the 'glory of going on, ' thatworks like madness in the blood, was strong upon him as ever. Butwhereas, in former journeyings, he had been one man, he was now two. The whole-hearted ecstasy of travel would never again be his. He hadgiven a part of himself into a woman's keeping; and let him put theearth's diameter between them, she would hold him still. Every week, every day that drew him farther from her did but bring home to him moreforcibly the mysterious, compelling power of marriage, its largereserves of loyalty, its sacred and intimate revelations, itsinexorable grip on life and character. 

But meanwhile, there was the Road before him; a rough road, full ofvicissitudes and anxieties, of interests and anticipations that lefthim small leisure for the communings of his heart. 

Before leaving Leh, hill camels and ponies had been added unto him;besides twenty-one decrepit Kashmir soldiers, --a type extinct sincethey have been handled by British officers. These were to be depositedby Lenox at his so-called 'base of operations, ' by way of guarding thetrade route so grievously troubled by the brigand state. 

Followed two more weeks of marching, --rougher marching thistime, --through the core of the lofty mountains that divide India fromCentral Asia; across the terrible Depsang Plains, seventeen thousandfeet up; and over four passes choked with snow; till they came upon adeserted fort, set in the midst of stark space, and knew that here, indeed, was the limit of human habitation. Next day the work ofexploration had begun in earnest. Week after week, with unwearyingpersistence, they had pushed on, upward, always upward, through regionssacred to the eagles and the clouds; working along streams that cuttheir way through hillsides steep as houses, or along tracks that ranto polished ledges of rock and dropped sheer to unimaginable depths;clambering over formidable ranges by any chance opening that could bedignified by the name of a pass; the eternally cheery Gurkhas solacingthemselves with rum; the Pathans with opium; the Scot with rare nips ofbrandy, on the bitterest nights. Still more rarely, --at wider andwider intervals of time, --he drew from his breast-pocket a pill-box, like the one still locked in his writing-table drawer at home. Itscontents were running very low by now; and, once gone, they would neveragain be replenished. That he knew; with a knowledge born not ofarrogance, but of faith that somehow, somewhen the right must prevail. 

And to-night, --as he sat alone by the fire, watching the greyness ofdeath quench spark after spark of living light, while a late moonsailed leisurely into view, overlaying the steely hardness of ice andsnow with a veil of shimmering silver, --he took out the box, and openedit. He knew it held two pellets; no more. Why not take them at once, and so break the last link of the devil's chain? He turned them intohis palm, . . And paused, while the enemy within whispered words ofseduction hard to be withstood. But now a second voice spoke in himalso: a voice of mingled authority and pleading. Why not fling awayboth box and pellets, foregoing the final degradation, the finalrapture, that every nerve in him clamoured for more imperatively thanhe dared admit even to himself. 

For some reason the suggestion brought Desmond vividly to hismind:--Desmond, with his characteristic assertion: "Of course you willsucceed. You have won His great talisman. " Yes. He was right!--'thegreat talisman. ' Surely if marriage were worth anything, if it meantmore to a man than mere domesticity, and material satisfaction, itought by rights to act as a talisman to protect him from the evils ofhis baser self. 

While thinking, he had mechanically returned the pellets to the box, closing it firmly, crushing it between his hands; and now, with a widesweep of his arm, he flung it far from him, into the blue-black mysteryof a ravine that swooped past the camping-ground to the valley below. 

"Thank God _that's_ done with!" he muttered; though as yet the painrather than the elation of conquest prevailed. Then, lifting Brutus inhis arms, as though he had been a child, he slipped, dog and all, intohis sheep-skin bag, and slept without dreams. 

An hour later, a sudden gust from the north swept down the ravine. Battalions of cloud blotted out the stars; and a host of snow-flakeswhirled above the sleeping camp, like spirits of fairies, incapable ofdoing harm. 

The chill discomfort of snow melting on their faces woke the men, oneby one, at an unearthly hour, to find their whole world shrouded inwhite, and a mist of snow-dust still falling. But Lenox, undismayed, ordered tea and biscuits, and lost no time in setting out. 

A stiff climb up the ravine into which he had flung his pill-box layahead of them; but since the side nearest the camp was unbrokenglacier, it seemed wisest to hack their way across it before attemptingthe ascent. 

It was freezing hard: earth and sky were muffled in fine white powder, and scudding clouds constantly hid the moon. An ice-slope overlaidwith snow is not pleasant going at the best of times; and on this onethere were ugly rents, into which men and animals slipped, to theirsore discomfort. But the way of life is by courage and persistence:and in time the thing was done. 

The farther side proved less formidable: and while they halted torecoup their energies, a report like thunder, followed by anunmistakable rushing sound, made every man of them catch his breath. It was an avalanche: and its appalling crescendo was coming straightdown the hill on which they stood. 

The two Pathans remained rigid, impassive, --the greater the danger thecooler do these men become: but the Kirghiz--a creature withoutself-respect--shook so violently that he dropped the bridles of hisponies. 

"Run, Sahib . . Run!" he stammered. "Or we be all dead men. "

But there was nowhere to run to, even had running on an ice-slope beenpossible; which it was not. Neither was it possible to guess the exactdirection of the invisible annihilation that was racing down upon themthrough a mist of snow. There was nothing for it but to standsteady--till that happened which must happen. So they stood steady, without speech or movement, like men turned to stone. 

It may have been a matter of minutes. To Lenox it seemed a matter ofyears. Because, in that short breathing space, fear--overmasteringfear--gripped him as it never yet had done. A year or two ago, for allhis human love of life, he would have accepted a mountaineer's deathwith something of the same pride and stoicism as a soldier acceptsdeath in battle. But now . . Now . . Life meant so infinitely more tohim, that every throbbing artery and nerve rebelled against the loss ofit. For it is happiness, more than conscience, that 'makes cowards ofus all. '

Nearer and louder grew the appalling sound. Then a great cloud ofsnow-dust burst in their faces, half blinding them: and, with the roarof an express train, the avalanche sped down the ravine; burying theice-slope they had just crossed; and obliterating their footsteps asman's work is obliterated by the soundless avalanche of the years. 

All five men let out their breath in an audible murmur. 

"_Burra tamasha_, [2] Hazúr, " Yusuf Ali remarked gravely. "Never beforehave I seen the like. "

But for the moment Lenox had lost his voice. Ten minutes' delay instarting, and they had been swept out of life, without a struggle or acry. It is this significance of trifles in determining large issuesthat at times staggers faith and reason. 

"The Sahib still goes forward?" the Pathan added presently, as one whomerely asks for orders: and the Sahib nodded. 

But this was too much for the Kirghiz. Emboldened by terror, he flunghimself on the ground. 

"I who speak am as dust beneath the feet of the Heaven-born. Butconsider, Hazúr, there will be many more such before the pass can bereached. "

"It is possible, " Lenox answered unmoved. "It is also possible that, like this one, they will keep out of our path. Make no more fool'stalk. Go back to the ponies. "

The Kirghiz was not mistaken. There were 'many more such' during thenext few days. But Lenox was not mistaken either: for none of themcame their way. Only the muffled thunder of their descent broke thestillness of a world whose mystery and grandeur surpassed anythingLenox himself had ever seen. 

For on the second night, a night without wind or cloud, they camped inthe heart of the great glacier: and all about them, --touched toethereal unreality by the light of moon and stars, --were unnumberedcrests and pinnacles, fantastically carven; black mouths of caverns, shaggy with icicles; sudden fissures and vast continents of shadow, like ink-stains on unsullied purity; and over-arching all, the stillwonder of the sky, pierced with points of flame. 

Tired as he was, Lenox resented the need for shutting his eyes upon ascene so stirring alike to the imagination and the heart: a scene thatlifted both, past Nature's uttermost sublime, to the Master-Builder, whose mind is the Universe, and whose thoughts are its stars andworlds, and the living souls of men. But for all that Nature had herway with him; sealing up eyes and mind with the double seal ofweariness and the supreme content of the climber who knows that thesummit is at hand. 

And upon the fourth day, in a blaze of sunlight, that set the unchartedsnow-fields glittering like dust of diamonds, they crossed thePass, --Lenox's own Pass, that no living man had set eyes or footupon, --and looked at last on that elusive 'other side, ' that drawscertain natures like a magnet to the far-flung limits of earth. 

And in this case the other side proved well worth the hardships enduredto reach it. After 30 many days cooped up between ice-walls andprecipitous heights, Lenox caught his breath at the magnitude of theview outspread before him; an amphitheatre of 'the greater gods', ridgebeyond ridge, peak beyond dazzling peak, stabbing the blue, the highestof them little lower than Everest's self: while across the rock-boundvalley a host of glaciers, like primeval monsters, crept downward fromthe mountains that gave them birth. 

As Lenox stood feasting his soul upon the splendour of it all, he knewthat this was one of the great days of his life: that only Quita'sinspiring presence was needed to crown the triumph of it. Even in thefirst glow of achievement, his heart turned instinctively to hers forsympathy and approval: and, could she have known it, her haunting fearthat the mountains would prove too strong for her had crumbled intonothingness there and then. For if 'many waters cannot quench love, 'neither can many mountains dwarf it. When all is said, it is still'the great amulet that makes the world a garden', and always will be, while God's men and women have red blood in their veins. 

[1] Big dinner. 

[2] Great excitement. 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

 "And echo circles in the air, Is this the end--is this the end?" --Tennyson. 

September was drawing to a close. Every day the sun fought a losingbattle against the frost and bitter winds of the Pamirs, that pierceeven through sheep-skin coats to the marrow of the bones; and everynight the thermometer fell to zero, or below it. For winter beginsbetimes on the "Roof of the World. "

On just such a night of keen stars, and still, penetrating cold, Lenoxsat alone in his circular tent of felt and lattice-work--the one formof habitation used by the nomads of the district--his coat-collarturned up, a rug round his legs, his fingers numb and blue, writing upthe official and private records of his week's work. In the middle ofthe floor a fire of roots flamed and crackled cheerfully enough, thesmoke, and most of the heat, escaping through a hole in the domed roofabove. A felt rug or two, a camp chair and table, and three sheep-skinbags, laid out for sleeping, gave an air of rough comfort to the place. But with the thermometer at zero, fuel scarce, and provisions runningvery low, actual comfort was past praying for. Lenox shifted his chairan inch or two nearer the blaze, drawing the camp table along with him, and disturbing Brutus, who acted as foot-warmer in return for theprivilege of sleeping under the rug. 

"Sorry to shunt you, old chap, " he apologised aloud. "But you're adeal better off down there than I am. "

Sundry tappings on his left foot signified grateful acknowledgment ofthe fact, as Brutus settled himself afresh and dropped back into theland of dreams, whither Lenox would gladly have followed him. For theweek had been a hard one, and he was very tired. The frost seemed tohave gripped both body and brain, and too long a spell ofmountaineering at high altitudes was beginning to tell upon hisstrength; so that he had been thankful for the flat expanses of thePamirs, which had made riding possible and pleasant once again. 

His entrance into the brigand state, and his polite, but unequivocalultimatum to its insubordinate chief had been carried through, notwithout moments of uncertainty and danger, yet with complete success, and throughout the past six weeks he had been enjoying his first bigtour of that strange region of raised valleys and vast, wind-sweptspaces where the boundary lines of three Empires meet. 

Since the night when he had flung away the cherished pill-box that nowlay regally entombed under fifty feet of snow, he had suffered nocollapse. His gradual method of unwinding the chain had averted thatfinal danger and degradation. Bat there had been days when all histraining in self-discipline had been needed to restrain him fromapplying to Zyarulla, whose kummerbund held a perennial store of theprecious drug, --the more so since his Ladaki 'cook'--chosen mainly forhis powers of endurance--knew rather less about the primitiverequirements of camp catering than Lenox himself; and in spite of keenair and exercise his appetite had steadily fallen away. There wererare days, of course, when he could have eaten camel's flesh, and thatgratefully; but there were many more when the mere man yearned towardsthe luxury of plate and silver, of varied meats, and the sparkle of aniced peg. To-night his 'dinner' consisted of a large cup of cocoa, some native biscuits, and a lump of milk-cheese made by the Khirgiz, whose domed huts and scattered flocks are the only signs of human lifein this dry region of snow and sun and tireless wind. 

On the table at his elbow, besides the steaming cocoa, were two campcandlesticks, some closely written sheets of a letter to Quita, and herlast that had reached him outside Hunza five weeks ago. Each one hehad received showed more clearly how the mysterious influence ofabsence was winning for him that volatile essence of her which hadeluded his grasp throughout six months of personal contact, and yearsof unwearied devotion. Of the deeper, hidden forces at work on hisbehalf, he guessed nothing. Only he was aware of subtle changes takingplace in her--of an indefinable softening and uplifting of the wholewoman, that increased tenfold his longing for a reunion which promisedto be closer, more consummate than the best that they had achieved asyet. 

But to-night, because body and spirit were flagging unawares, the milesupon miles of inhospitable mountain country, that must be traversedbefore he could regain the outposts of civilised life, overpowered hisimagination. To-night, for the first time, despondency and the ache ofdesire magnified the very real dangers ahead--the lateness of theseason, the uncertainty of weather and supplies. Difficulties inrespect of transport had obliged him to cut down his commissariat, despatching the remainder, with his heavy baggage, to await him on theIndian side of the Darkót Pass--the last great obstacle that cut himoff from India, and from the dear woman, never dearer than at thismoment. It was a risk, of course, and a big one. But mountaineeringimplies risks; and the man who is not prepared to face them and sleepsoundly on them, had better stick to his armchair and an office. 

The original risk had been increased by the fact that his programme ofexploration had taken longer than he calculated, and now ominoussnow-clouds, a rapidly dwindling food supply, and his own importunateheart, urged an immediate start for the terrible Wakhan Valley and theDarkót Pass. It meant a race for life--that he saw plainly enough. The chances were ten to one against the Pass being open after the 1stof October--the earliest date by which he could hope to get across. 

With a sigh, he closed his diaries, emptied the cup of cocoa at a gulp, and took out of his breast-pocket a folded leather frame. It containeda photo of Quita in evening dress--a photo so disturbingly alive thatin general he contented himself with the knowledge that it was there. But now he sat looking at it long and intently, till the eyes seemed tosoften and speech hovered on the too-expressive lips. Almost the musicof her voice was in his ears, when the night's colossal stillness wasbroken by voices of a very different quality--the deep tones of the twoPathans and the interpreter, who, on this lightly-equipped expedition, were sharing his tent; while the six little Gurkhas, packed likesardines into a smaller one, seemed to find the experience as amusingas they found the whole varied field of life. It takes more than merehardship to knock the spirits out of a Gurkha. 

As the three men entered, Lenox slipped the frame back into his pocket;and, with a few friendly words, gave them leave to retire into theirsleeping bags, while Zyarulla laid out his master's 'bed' on thefarther side of the fire. That done, he came forward, and, squattingon his heels, held out fingers like knotted twigs to the blaze. Lenox, under a pretence of reading, sat watching him spellbound, knowingprecisely what would happen next. Nor was he mistaken. Presently thethawed fingers fumbled at his kummerbund, produced a discoloured twistof paper, opened it, and taking out two familiar dark pellets, tossedthem down his throat. In the act he met his master's gaze fixed on himwith strange intensity, and at once two more pellets appeared upon hispalm. 

"Will not the Sahib honour his servant by partaking also?" he asked, proffering his treasure. "The cold increaseth every hour, and theHeaven-born hath had too little food to-day. "

It was a moment before Lenox could find his voice; not becausetemptation mastered him, but because he could scarcely believe theevidence of his brain. The sight of the forbidden thing within easyreach no longer tormented him as it would have done two months ago. The habit of resistance was beginning to take effect at last; and, almost before Zyarulla had time to wonder at his silence, Lenox hadwaved aside his open palm. 

"No, no, " he said quietly. "I have eaten enough, and thou wilt needall and more before we set foot in a bazaar again. Opium is not forSahibs. For the Pathan people, who are made of wood and iron, it maybe very well; but for the white man it is poison. "

The Asiatic shook his head, and a light gleamed under his grizzledbrows. 

"Great is the wisdom of the Sahib; yet in this matter have I also someknowledge. The Dream Compeller is no poison, Hazúr, but Allah'sbountiful gift to man, bringing strength out of weakness, peace out ofturmoil, even as the rain draweth grass from parched earth. Nevertheless, it is as your Honour wills. "

And Lenox, still watching the man's movements with a strange minglingof indifference and triumph, saw the miracle-worker--of whose powers heknew far more than the Pathan--disappear unhindered into the folds ofthe man's kummerbund; saw himself once more a free man, --captain of thesoul and body given into his charge. 

"Now it is time to sleep, " he said, pushing back his chair, and risingso abruptly that Brutus stumbled on to his feet, and emerged from thefolds of the rug with an injured air. "All things are in readiness forsetting out?"

"Hazúr, all things are in readiness. "

"It is well. Scatter ashes on the fire, and call me at dawn. "

And as he slipped into the sheep-skin bag, his whole heart echoed thewords, "It is well. " Let him only win his way back to the wife whosespirit called to him across the silence and the miles, and all would bewell indeed!

Ten minutes later, the candles were put out; the glow of the firequenched; while outside the temperature fell steadily, and a sky heavywith threatening cloud brooded over the sleeping camp. 

Lenox woke before dawn to find a creditable snow-peak piled above hisdead fire, while flakes as large as plucked feathers whirled andfluttered down upon it through the generous hole in the roof. Thethree natives had vanished, sleeping bags and all; and the Ladaki cook, with the astounding patience of his kind, had coaxed into life a firelarge enough to make his master a cup of tea from the few remainingspoonfuls of the magic leaf, more priceless to the mountaineer thanbrandy. 

It was a bad beginning. Even the Gurkhas looked grave, and shook theirheads. The sky, low and heavy with tumbled cloud, was a study in greysand indigoes; the earth a still, uncharted waste. No whisper of windor trees; no sound of life; no break of colour anywhere, from the levelplain to the galaxy of peaks and rounded shoulders tossed aloft like afrozen tempest. Only at intervals, far up the mountain-sides, blackspecks--that were grazing yaks--suggested a Khirgiz encampmentcunningly hidden in the folds of the hills. Presumably the sun was up, though the east showed as lifeless and unpromising as any other quarterof the heavens. 

A detailed investigation of the commissariat department--revealing aserious shortage of tea, cocoa, and rice, to say nothing of minoressentials--proved no less discouraging than the aspect of earth andsky. Only by the most stringent economy could the little store bepersuaded to last out four days, by which time they hoped to be overthe pass. Lenox, as usual, blamed himself. 

"Extra work on siege rations is about our programme!" he remarked withgrim humour to his devoted ally the little Havildar. "We must managethe first three marches in two days if possible. But I'm sorry to havelet you all in for a risk of this kind. "

"All right, Sahib, " the Gurkha answered with a brisk salute. "We beFrontier soldiers. It is not the first time. And 'when sparrows havepicked up the grain where is the use of regret?' If there be enoughfor your Honour all is well. The black man can tighten his belt, andforget that the stomach is empty!" He tightened his own on the spot;and went off to bid his brothers do likewise on pain of dire penalties. 

Stepping down, undismayed, from the voiceless, trackless Roof of theWorld, they were met by a desolating wind; the feathered snow-flakeschanged to a storm of sleet, --stinging, saturating; and only theknowledge that twenty-four hours delay might mean a blocked pass andanother six months of isolation from his kind, induced Lenox to urgehis men forward in the teeth of it. 

As it was, they pushed doggedly on over snow-sodden tracks, that werespeedily converted into drainage rivulets; trailing single file alongthe 'devil's pathways' that overhang the Wakhan river, --mere ledges cutout of the cliff's face, where a false step means dropping a hundredfeet and more into the valley beneath; scrambling up giant staircasesof rock, and glacier _débris_; zigzagging down one or two thousandfeet, by the merest suggestion of a route, only to start a freshclimb--drenched and weary--after floundering through a local torrent, rushing full 'spate' from the hills. Such crossings, without bridge orboat, through streams ice-cold as the glaciers that gave them birth, formed the most exciting episodes of the day's march. They had atleast the merit of creating a diversion, if a damp and dangerous one. For the Kashmir baggage ponies, battling helplessly against a currentstrong enough to sweep them off their feet, could only be guided andcontrolled by showers of stones, and a chorus of picturesque terms ofabuse from their distracted drivers. The Gurkhas, whose irrepressiblespirits kept the rest from flagging, enjoyed these interludes to thetop of their bent; plunging waist-deep into the icy water, shakingthemselves like terriers as they scrambled out on the far side, andshouting incessantly to each other, or to the terrified animals, tillthe cliffs echoed with ghostly voices and laughter. 

Along tracks possible and impossible Lenox rode his tireless scrap of ahill pony, who climbed like a goat, and whose unshod feet picked theirway unerringly even over rocks covered with new snow that gave nofoothold to man or beast. The rest walked; while the baggage poniesslid and stumbled, and scrambled in their wake with the stupefiedmeekness of their kind. 

Journeying thus, --now drenched with snow and sleet, now heartened byrare bursts of sunshine, --through the worst bit of hill country betweenPersia and China, they camped at last in the grim Wakhan valley, rightly named 'the Valley of Humiliation. ' To Lenox, the name struckhome with a peculiar force. For his time-saving scheme had failed. The three marches had not been accomplished in two days. Evil weather, incessant delays, and the impossibility of hurrying baggage animalsover dangerous ground, had prevailed against him. The valley hadconquered: and for the man remained nothing but stoical acceptance ofdefeat, and the 'half of a broken hope' that even in heaven and earth'sdespite, he might yet win through in time. 

On a night of intermittent moonbeams and racing cloud, the scene fromthe little camp across the river had a sombre majesty--a suggestion ofimpersonal, relentless power that crushes rather than uplifts; thatdwarfs man, with his puny struggles and aspirations, to a pin-point ofsand on an illimitable shore. Colossal ice-bound spurs walled them in;their sides astonishingly steep, their embattled heads shattered by sunand frost into fantastic peaks, from which masses of rock and stonesare hurled down into the valley, when rain and melting snow begin theiryearly task of modelling the face of the earth. And between thesethreatening heights the Wakhan river hurried, a pale streak of light, now grey, now silver, as the clouds, like great birds of ill-omen, chased one another across the moon. 

The sinister aspect of the place had its effect on Lenox, hypersensitised as he was by anxiety over lost hours, and by thepremonitory chill of fever, strengthening that prescience of disasterwhich saps spirit and courage more surely than disaster itself. Butthey were on the march again betimes, next morning, breasting thenorthern slopes of the Hindu Kush, which at this point can be crossedwithout much difficulty. Before noon they were over the crest; andLenox, weary at last of his nightmare struggle with the mountains, dropped thankfully into the Yarkhun valley, beyond which towered hislast great obstacle--the Darkót Pass. 

It was late afternoon, and, come what might, he intended to requisitiona guide (no easy matter) and push his way across at daylight. Butneither earth nor heaven had a word of encouragement for the man whoscanned them with tired, desperate eyes. At his feet the Yarkhun riverwhirled and foamed, a grey glacier torrent, thick with the milky scumof ice-ground salt; beyond it the ink-black gorge leading to the summitwas shrouded in a scroll of threatening cloud; and the first nativeswhom they questioned as to the state of the pass replied unconcernedlythat it had been closed four days; adding that no man who valued hislife would attempt to cross it in uncertain weather. 

To force his little contingent forward in the face of such news seemednothing less than murder and suicide of an elevated type. But Lenox, gritting his teeth on a curse, despatched Zyarulla in search of moreprecise information, and ordered his tent to be set up without delay. For even at times of despondency and ill-health, the man possessed hisfull share of that 'outward-going force' which is the hall-mark of theScottish race; and the instant books and maps were available, he satdown, filled a pipe from his dwindling store of tobacco, and proceededto look out possible alternatives should the worst befall. 

There were two: desperate resources both, yet one degree better thanimprisonment in the Yarkhun valley till it pleased the snows to melt. They could follow the course of the river to Chitral, --no Frontieroutpost then, but an independent Native State; or work their way, byfaith and courage, through the wild Swat country to the Punjab. Thestate of both routes was unknown; the question of supplies a hopelessone; and amid a chaos of uncertainties, bad weather was the one thingthat might safely be counted on in October. To crown all, their lineof communication must, in either case, be broken. They would be lostto the outside world for many days, if not weeks; and apart fromconsideration for his wife, Lenox was the last man to enjoy creating atemporary excitement at headquarters. 

None the less, after thinking himself into a blinding headache, hedecided to face the Chitral route, if snow fell, and if Zyarullabrought no better news about the pass. Then, because his last cup oftea was being held in reserve for breakfast, he contented himself withgoat's milk, a slab of chocolate, and native biscuits that served himfor bread. 

It was late before Zyarulla returned, with a companion, --a native fromYasin, on the Indian side of the Pass. 

"This man, Sahib, hath even now crossed over from Darkót village, " thePathan explained, indicating the wizened leader of a forlorn hope withthe air of a showman exhibiting a curiosity. "He came to fetch theremains of his sister, who died in this valley, that she may be buriedamong her own people. I have therefore engaged him as guide, to takethe Sahib over on his return. "

"The thing can be done?" Lenox asked, with an eagerness not to berepressed; and the small man bowed his head upon his hands. 

"Allah alone can answer the question of the Heaven-born. For one manto travel safely among glaciers and crevasses without number, it was noeasy matter--and as for a company of men and ponies, how can this slavetell? Nevertheless, if the Sahib wills, and there is no snow beforemorning, I go before, showing the way; and that which will fall--willfall. "

"Good. That is a bargain. Fulfil it, and thy reward shall be worththe winning. Let yaks be ordered from the nearest _aul_; and atdaylight we set out. "

The man from Yasin salaamed and departed; but at the tent door Zyarullapaused, a glitter of triumph in his eyes. 

"Captain Sahib, --was it well done?"

"Excellently done, " Lenox answered, smiling. "Thou art worth thyweight in tobacco of the first quality!"

And the Pathan, knowing that to his master the value of tobacco wasabove all the rupees ever minted, went out to patronise lesser mortals, and impress them with the fact that he was not as other men, since hehad rendered signal service to "the first-best Sahib in all India, whose eyes pierce the earth, and whose feet tread upon the necks ofmountains even as those of common Sahibs scatter the dust of cities!"

That night, ominous pains in his limbs and a sensation as of cold waterdown his spine drove Lenox to open his second and last bottle ofbrandy. Stimulated by the kindly spirit, he wrestled with a fowltougher than india-rubber, and slept as a doomed man might sleep on thenight of his reprieve. 

But he woke to hear the tread of his sentry muffled by new-fallen snow;and hope died in him at the sound. Outside, the world was white withit; the whole air thick with it; yet his men were striking camp andloading up, confident in the white man's reputation for achieving theimpossible. Only the little guide demurred, trembling at his ownaudacity. 

"Hazúr, look whether the thing can be done. I said--if no snow fell. "

"And _I_ say, if it fall or no, we cross to-day, " Lenox answered, withmore of assurance than he felt. "Bid the yaks go forward to prepare away for our coming. "

The great shaggy beasts went forward accordingly, head downward, ploughing a way through the snow, to make marching easier and disclosehidden pitfalls or crevasses; and by the time Lenox had despatched atravesty of a breakfast, a pallid light in the east hinted that thestorm might be local after all. Wet and draggled as they were, theorder was given to load up and start; and even as they crossed thetorrent to the foot of the glacier, earth and sky leaped suddenly intolight; broken streaks of radiance danced and sparkled on the river, andthe sun swept the shadows from hill and valley, converting theirdeathlike shroud into a glittering garment, stainless as the soul of achild. 

"Inshallah!! Now all is well!"

It was the deep voice of Yusuf Ali; and Lenox heard his cheery littlefriend, the Havildar, make answer, "True talk, brother; the gods favourthose who go forward!"

Cheered by the prospect of getting dry, and by the sun's mysteriouspower to exhilarate all things living, the whole party quickened theirpace. But in less than an hour fresh clouds had rolled up, blottingout the sun; and on the glacier they overtook the yaks and theirdrivers, lumbering soberly through the snow-drifts with true Orientaldisregard for time. 

The men chorussed voluble excuses; but since time meant life or death, Lenox waved them aside impatiently, and ordered the guide to go on, making his own tracks as best he might. The which he did, with thehelp of two others, pressed into service by promises of liberalbacksheesh, stepping out valiantly at the head of the mixed procession;his sister's remains--tied up in a wisp of turban--bobbing over hisshoulder; driving on before him a donkey followed by a goat. And theunerring instinct by which this despised creature of God avoided hiddenfissures and crevasses must needs be seen to be believed. 

The guides, keeping in the tracks of the animals, marked off dangerousplaces with their sticks; and behind them rode Lenox, muffled to theeyes in poshteen and Balaklava cap, his league of leg barely two feetoff the ground; his keen little pony--long since christened 'TheRat'--almost as trustworthy on dangerous ground as the donkey himself. And wherever he led, all self-respecting Kashmiri ponies wouldfollow, --even into a crevasse!

Through four mortal hours they plodded on, a strange procession ofmuffled figures, leaving in their wake a dark, contorted track, asthough some wounded thing had writhed its way upward through the frozensnow. 

And by one o'clock the crest was in sight! "The gods favour those whogo forward!" Chundra Sen had spoken truth. Another half hour wouldsee them through the worst; and Lenox--scarcely able to believe in hisgood fortune--urged The Rat to renewed exertion, and shouted to his mento hurry on. 

But the gods are nothing if not capricious; and the 'advanced guard, 'reaching the summit, found no promised land spread out below them, buta mass of blue-black cloud, heavy with snow, surging up the valley, with the rush of a tidal wave and the breath of an iceberg, blottingout creation as it came; till it shrouded the little band ofmen--'unconquering, yet unconquered'--in a sinister twilight, cold asDeath's own self. 

There was nothing to be said or done. They simply stood still, andwaited for the end:--the Asiatics with the phlegm of fatalism; Lenoxwith the stillness of despair. 

"Checkmate, " he muttered grimly. "Two hours of this will about finishus off. "

In two seconds his moustache was frozen to his face; his limbs numbed, so that movement became imperative. Mechanically he dismounted, stamped his feet, and beat his arms across his chest as the others weredoing; a proceeding about as effective as thimblefuls of water flung ona fire. For every moment the iron clutch of frost tightened andpenetrated; even, it seemed, to the life-blood in his veins. Butthrough its deadening influence the thought of Quita struck like aknife-thrust. "God help her!" his heart cried out in bitter rebellionagainst his own helplessness to shield her from pain. "It will hit herhard. But she has grit;--and her art. She will live it down. "

For five awful minutes the darkness held; and the men waited;--free yethelpless, like castaways on an open sea. Yet no snow fell. 

Suddenly Lenox was aware of Brutus rubbing against his leg, plainlydemanding what was wrong. He stooped and caressed the ugly head of hiseight years' companion and friend. "Rough luck on you, old chap. Younever asked to come. "

For answer Brutus licked his woollen glove. And as he straightenedhimself, Chundra Sen came up and saluted. 

"Captain Sahib, it is strange. No snow falls; and the darknessmoves--moves. May be it is not the storm itself; but a cloud that willpass. "

"I doubt it, Havildar, " Lenox answered, smiling at the characteristicsuggestion. Yet his eyes, half-blinded with snow-glare, peeredanxiously southward, and detected a change; a faint hint oftransparency, as though light were struggling through. 

The Gurkha detected it also. 

"Hazúr, behold!--The cloud _will_ pass. " His teeth flashed outexultant. "A good tale is not to be bought with cowries; and we shalltell this one in India before many weeks be out. "

Chundra Sen was right. With astonishing swiftness the twilight paledfrom grey to white; a streak of spectral sunlight quivered through, like life creeping back into the face of death; and the cloud rolledharmlessly over into the Yarkhun valley behind them. 

It was but a herald of the great battalion that billowed up an hourlater, enveloping glacier, peak, and crag, and sealing up the pass forseven months to come. 

But by then, they were clattering recklessly down the slope, helter-skelter, like a pack of children let out of school; slitheringover fissured glacier and moraine, sending loose boulders flying fromrock to rock; the Gurkhas shouting and laughing, the Kashmiri cooliesbreaking into weird snatches of song. Even The Rat lost his soberlittle head, and in scuttling over a glacier slope sat suddenly downupon his tail, dog fashion, landing Lenox on his feet, and sliding awayfrom under him, to the vociferous delight of every one but himself. Only the two Pathans and the Scot accepted reprieve as imperturbably asthey had accepted sentence of death; suggesting by their silence, inthe midst of excitement, the large reserves of strength common to thenatures of both. 

Before five they had sighted the willows and poplars of Darkót; and bysunset they were encamped outside the village, walled in with a ruggedamphitheatre of granite and limestone cliffs. Here they found the manin charge of the welcome caravan of supplies and heavy baggage, takinghis ease, a little puzzled, yet in no wise troubled at the Sahib'sdelay. 

Lenox, broken with fatigue, relief, and incipient illness, realised, ashe sank into his camp chair, that throughout the past week he had kepthimself going by pure force of will. And his record was a fair one, even as Frontier records go:--incessant marching in wet clothes, on aminimum of food, culminating in ten hours of severe exposure and theacutest anxiety he had ever known. And over and above all suchincidentals of the day's work, --achievement, in full measure, of thatwhich he had set out to do; not merely in respect of his mission, butin respect of that hidden struggle and victory, 'that weighed not ashis work, yet swelled the man's amount. ' For he knew now that by theGod-given power of sheer, unwearied resistance he had vanquished anevil the most insidious and alluring that can assail a man; knew thathe had put the accursed thing under his feet; and he meant to keep itthere. 

But the struggle, combined with hardship and privation, had left itsmark on him. The protests of Nature had been disregarded; and now shetook her revenge in the sledge-hammer fashion that is hers. 

By next morning the man's skin was like hot parchment, his limbs rigidwith pain, his brain verging on delirium; and before evening it wasclear that rheumatic fever had him in its relentless grip. 

The Gurkhas and Zyarulla were in despair. Chundra Sen, goaded byresponsibility for the safety of his officer, set out, straightway, bydouble marches for Srinagar, determined to cover the distance in tendays; while the Pathan, commanding a _charpoy_[1] from the headman ofthe village, remained to exorcise the 'fever devil' with the rude skilland limitless patience of his kind. 

But he reaped small reward for his pains. Racked with rheumatism andburnt up with fever, Lenox had almost reached the end of his tether;and through the awful hours of delirium, Zyarulla could only crouch, helpless, by the bedside; listening, listening to the hoarse, hurriedmutterings, of which he could understand nothing beyond the frequentrecurrence of the Mem-sahib's name. 

Each day life flickered more uncertainly in the great gaunt frame; andon the morning when Chundra Sen, with a dapper little doctor, set hisface towards Darkót, Zyarulla, kneeling beside his unheeding master, bowed his head upon his hands. 

"It is the will of God, " he muttered. But the formula carried noconviction to his heart, that whispered rather: "It is the work ofSheitan, the accursed. "

[1] String-bed. 

CHAPTER XXXV. 

 "Why was the pause prolonged, but that singing should issue thence? Why rushed the discords in, but that harmony should be prized!" --Browning. 

Quita Lenox lay back in a long low chair, lost in thought, her handsclasped behind her head, the folds of her dull-blue tea-gown trailingon the carpet. A cushion of darker blue threw into stronger relief thebrighter tints of her hair; and at her throat three rough lumps ofTibetan turquoise--recently sent by Lenox--hung on a fine gold chain. His last letter, full of the discovery of his Pass, lay open on herknee, --read and re-read till its contents were stamped upon her brain;and it seemed to her high time that a fresh one came to take its place. But the days slipped by--uneventful days, in which the long chairplayed a definite part--and no envelope in his hand-writing came tocheer her. 

Yet she was far removed from unhappiness. Her increasing pride in him, and in his achievement, prevented that. Only there were moments whenthe inner vision was too vivid; moments between sleep and waking whenpictures trooped unbidden through the corridors of her brain; whenneither sleep nor effort of will could shield her from that awfulvisualisation of the dreaded thing, which is the artist's penalty inthe day of trouble. At such times, the fear that he might slip out ofher life without knowledge of the great fact, that no amount ofrepetition can minimise, nor custom stale; without knowledge thatthrough his long love and constancy she had attained to the 'greatestcreative art of all, ' had almost dragged her out of bed at midnight tobegin the letter that should carry the word to him amid the sublimityof his glaciers and eternal silences. But always something strongerthan fear had restrained her; so that the weeks had dropped away one byone, like faded petals, and the secret that was to be the crowningglory of their new life together still lay hidden in her heart. 

The cheerful round of festivities common to an Indian Hill season hadpassed her by; and she was content to have it so. Between her canvasand her unpractised needle, between the companionship of Michael, andof the Desmonds--while they were 'up'--her days had gone softly, yetpleasantly and profitably in more respects than one. For it is in thepauses between times of activity and stress that the still small voiceof God speaks most clearly to the soul; that power is generated andgarnered against the hidden things that shall be. It is in the pausesthat we can, as it were, stand back a space from our own corner of thepicture we are so zealously making or marring, and catch anilluminating glimpse of the proportions of the whole. 

Thus it had been with Quita Lenox. In these four months of seeminginactivity, the large, underlying forces of life had been silently atwork in her, touching the impressionable spirit of her to 'fine issues'that the sure years would reveal. Nor had her time of quiet beenlacking in immediate results. A completed picture stood to her credit;and a drawer full of surprising achievements in the way of needlecraft;achievements so pathetically small that at times the sight of thembrought tears to her eyes. 

But this afternoon neither brush nor needle tempted her. In spirit shewas with her husband, trying by concentration of thought to bridge thespace between. But always her thoughts ended in one cry: If only--ifonly--he could get back in time!

Michael Maurice had stayed on at the Crow's Nest, possiblyfrom laziness, possibly for other reasons; and its littlestudio-drawing-room was as attractive, as untidy, and as eloquent ofQuita's personality as it had been sixteen months ago. It was lateAugust now; and a week's break in the rains had given the drenchedhills and those who dwelt upon them a foretaste of that elixir of lightand air which makes September the crowning month of the Himalayan year. And to Quita it gave promise that her days of waiting were numbered. In a week she would follow the Desmonds to Dera Ishmael, and remainwith them, at their urgent invitation, till her husband's return. Thefriendly smile of the sun after days of downpour and restless mistlifted her to renewed hope that in spite of the mountains he wouldsurely reach her in time. 

From the open door a stream of afternoon light barred the room withgold. Passing across her prostrate figure, it fell full upon hereasel, and upon the picture in which she had tried to express her ownsolution of the artist's eternal problem--Art or Love. It had beenbegun as a subject-picture, inspired by the impassioned cry of AuroraLeigh: "Oh, Art, my Art! Thou art much; but Love is more!" Thenbecause her taste leaned always to the actual, and because the picturewas to be a present for her husband, the woman's figure had grown intoa portrait of herself; a thing so living, so eloquent of her newappealing charm, that even Michael's critical spirit had been roused toenthusiasm. He had one quarrel only with her achievement, namely, thatit was not to be his own!

In detail, the picture was simplicity itself. Merely the woman besideher easel, turning eagerly away from it as if at the sound of afootstep; every line and curve of her athrill with expectancy, her eyesluminous with the dawn of a new truth, a new ecstasy of heart andspirit; while at her feet her palette lay broken in a dozen pieces, andher canvas had fallen, unheeded, to the ground. An open doorway behindher revealed a glimpse of sunlit verandah, trellis-work andhoneysuckle; revealed also an unmistakable length of shadow, --the headand shoulders of the man whose large, lonely personality had so takenpossession of her, as to transform her whole vision of life. And belowthe canvas, on the gilding of the frame, were graven the words: 'Loveis more. '

For all her delight in this last work of her hands, there were dayswhen the sight of it pricked her to an anguish of impatience, shadowedalways by the darker anguish of fear lest the ecstasy she had sovividly portrayed should be snatched untasted from out her grasp; lestthe footstep her heart hungered for should never come back into herlife. But she fought resolutely against such black moods, forMichael's sake no less than her own. His joy in getting her back haddone much to soften the pang of separation; and now, while she laywaiting and dreaming, --too lazy to pour out tea till he came--it washis footstep that put her dreams to flight. 

He had been out on the Kajiar road 'taking notes, ' and he flourished asketch-book at her by way of greeting. 

"Tea, _chérie_? _Ah, c'est bien_. I am thirsty!"

She flung out her left hand and took possession of the book. 

"Pour it out yourself, there's a dear; and mine too. "

"_Voilŕ donc_! What laziness!"

"Energetic people are privileged to be lazy--sometimes. "

He laughed, and obeyed her, setting a cup and plate within reach. 

"You seem to have been making the most of your privilege. Have youdone anything while I was out?"

"But yes. I have been possessing my soul in quietness; and--I havebeen talking to Eldred. "

He passed a caressing hand over her hair. 

"_Pauvre petite_! How much of that do you really believe?"

"Don't ask uncomfortable questions! At least it helps a little when Ifeel I can't wait any longer, and--I am almost sure it helps him too. I shall find that out when--_if_ he gets back. "

"Let 'ifs' alone, _ma belle_. They are gadflies of the devil'sbreeding. That great Scotchman of yours would work his way back toyou, if he had to go through hell to do it. _Moi, je le sais_. "

She flushed softly; and her eyes looked beyond his through the opendoorway, rapt and shining. 

"You _do_ believe in him now, Michel, " she said. "And you forgive him?He has made me so supremely happy. "

Michael shook his head. 

"Was I ever an altruist, _petite soeur_? If the man had not made youhappy, I should never have rested till I had you back again. As itis--" he shrugged his shoulders with an expressive turn of thehands--"one is glad--for your sake; and one makes the best of an emptyhouse. But, _mon Dieu_! it _is_ empty without you, Quita! You havelight and fire in you;--now, more than ever. You have temperament. You inspire a man. Your absence actually affects the quality of mywork. Absurd; but true! And as for my affairs--_nom de Dieu_, themoney slips away like water, but the bills never get paid! You saw howit was when you came. And in one little week you go again, with alight heart; while I return, _faute de mieux_, to my 'wallowing in themire!'"

"_Mon pauvre Michel_!" she said softly. "What a tragedy! You make mewish I was twins!"

But a smile gleamed through her tenderness; for, while she loved himdearly, she knew every turn and phase of his character; knew that thepicture of desolation, so feelingly drawn, was seen for the momentthrough the magnifying lens of self-pity. Yet her concern for him wasgenuine, deep-rooted, a habit dating from the days of pinafores andbroken toys. To keep Michael happy had, for long, been the chief partof her religion: the least of his troubles, real or imaginary, stillhad the ancient entry to her heart; and now she leaned impulsivelytowards him, elbows on knees, her chin in her hands, her eyes restingin his. 

"It is not true that I leave you lightly, _mon cher_; nor that I loveyou less because I have given myself to another--body and soul. Indeed, I think the very bigness of my feeling for him has made love godeeper with me in all directions, has opened my eyes to see that tolove means no less than changing the axis on which one's whole naturerevolves. There's the stumbling-block with us artists. We rebel byinstinct against anything that threatens to encroach upon our cherished_ego_; and excuse ourselves on the plea that it would undermine ourart. But that is not true;--oh, believe me it's not. "

Michael's shoulders went up again, and he smiled indulgently. Butbehind the smile lurked a shadow of gravity unusual in him. He hadbeen aware of hidden changes in her, but this was his first glimpseinto the depths. 

"Possibly not, _chérie_--for a woman, " he admitted grudgingly. "Butfor a man----"

"Yes, even for a man, dear ignoramus!" she broke in eagerly, settingher two hands upon his knees. "Love may fill more of a woman'shorizon; but it goes deeper with men, --of the right sort, even if theyare artists! Look at Browning. _He_ knew. A big brain may set you ona pinnacle, Michel; but a big love keeps you human, sets your pulsesbeating in tune with all the hidden harmonies of the world. "

A hot wave of shyness checked her. She withdrew her hands hastily, andsat upright. 

"_Tiens_! But I am preaching! A new vice, _n'est ce pas_?"

"New enough to be interesting, . . And forgivable! What's your text?"

"Need you ask? The first remark ever made upon the subject: 'It is notgood that the man should be alone. '"

A dull flush showed under Michael's sallow akin. 

"_C'est ŕ dire, il faut se ranger_!" he said with an embarrassed laugh. "Well . . . Find me a woman who understands and inspires me likeyourself, and it is possible, --I do not say probable, --that I may yetfulfil the whole duty of man. If one could only suggest a five years'contract . . !"

"Michel! You are incorrigible; and I have preached in vain! Besides, it is not a wife of my sort you need, I thought you found that out lastyear; and . . . I think so still. If not, why have you stayed onhere? And why did you make that exquisite pastel of her portrait?"

Michael's eyes seemed to demand an answer from the accusing picture;and there was an instant of silence. 

"I stayed on here, " he said at length, "chiefly because, lacking you, Iseem to lack initiative; and I painted that . . Well, as a memento ofmy best bit of work, and of a dream, more delectable than most . . . While it lasted; but none the less . . A dream. "

"Yet you have seen a good deal of her this season, one way and another. "

"Yes. In spite of the Button Quail!"

"And it would hurt you it she were to marry another man?"

Michael frowned. "There _is_ no other man, since Malcolm went home. "

"Is there any man at all, I wonder?"

Michael rose abruptly, and going over to Elsie's portrait stood beforeit, his hands clasped behind him. 

"I have wondered also, " he said on a rare note of gravity. "But youwomen are enigmas; even the simplest of you. "

"Ask her, Michel; ask her. Wondering is waste of time: and time islife. People so often forget that. "

Maurice did not answer. But Quita was well content: for she saw howElsie's violet-blue eyes were holding him, drawing him irresistiblyback to the old allegiance. Yet, had she known it, Elsie's eyes hadless to do with the matter than her own stimulating personality. Thesubtle development in her had not been without its effect on him. Hesaw her transfigured by the exquisite, self-effacing passion of thewoman; and found himself envying the man; though the eloquence of herappeal had, as usual, fired his imagination rather than his heart. 

Suddenly he swung round upon her, his face alight. 

"_Parbleu_, Quita, but you are right! You always are. And as there'sno time like now, I'll ask her to-day . . I have scarcely seen her thislast fortnight. But that shall be atoned for . . Later. Give me yourblessing, _ma belle_!"

Half-seriously, half in joke, he knelt beside her chair. But theentrance of the kitmutgar with a note brought him swiftly to his feet. 

"Talk of an angel! It is herself, " he exclaimed as he broke the seal. "My demure little Puritan meets me half-way after all!"

He scanned the first page at a glance, then, with a sound between alaugh and a curse, crumpled up the paper in his hand. 

"_Mon Dieu_ . . A pretty bit of comedy!"

"What is it now, _mon cher_?" Quita asked anxiously, guessing hisanswer. 

"It is Malcolm; no less. He reaps the reward of constancy; like thegood boy in a Sunday-school book! And she . . _eh bien_, she is quitecertain I shall be delighted to hear of her great good fortune. Verycharming! Very correct!"

"And you, Michel . . _you_?"

He shrugged his shoulders, and tossed the note into the fender. 

"_Comme ça_! It seems I am a negligible quantity. Possibly have beenall along. The notion does not comfort a man's natural vanity. But onthe whole . . " he paused; smiling at the concern in Quita's eyes, "onthe whole, _petite soeur_ . . . I am profoundly relieved! I shouldhave proposed . . Yes; and enjoyed a few weeks of Elysium. But it iscertain I should never have delivered myself permanently into the handsof a woman! After that, it u useless to ask for your blessing, _n'estce pas_?"

"Quite useless!"

But the hands stretched out to him belied her words; and as he kneltbeside her once more, she set them upon his shoulders and kissed hisforehead. 

"This time I give you up for good, Michel!" she said, smiling. "Atleast I have done my level best for you; so my conscience is clear. But it is written that 'no man may redeem his brother'; and I mighthave known that Providence was not likely to make an exception infavour of a woman!"

"Is it perhaps a step towards redemption if, on your account, I give upplaying with the _feu sacré_ of the heart, and confine myself to theonly form of it that the gods appear to have granted me?"

"_Dieu vous garde_, " she whispered, and kissed him again. 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

 "I have my lesson; understand The worth of flesh and blood at last. " --Browning. 

"Oh, Theo--it is too cruel. Too terrible! What on earth is one totell her?"

"Anything but the truth, " Desmond answered decisively, his gazereverting to the telegram in his hand. It was from the Resident ofKashmir; bald and brief, yet full of grim possibilities. 

"Captain Lenox dangerously ill at Darkót. Rheumatic fever. Doctorsent out. Will wire further news. Writing. "

Desmond read and re-read the words mechanically, an anxious frownbetween his brows. Then, looking up again, he encountered his wife'seyes, heavy with tears; and his arm enfolded her on the instant. 

"Bear up, my darling, like the plucky woman you are, " he commandedgently, his lips against her cheek. "It's not the worst. By God'smercy we may get him back yet. You must keep on upholding her a littlelonger; that's all. I know it has been a strain for you, --this lastfortnight; so soon after your own affair too. "

For they themselves had been enriched by a new life, a new link in thechain that bound them--a bright-haired daughter not yet four months old. 

Honor did not answer at once; but leaned upon him, choking back hersobs, soothed by the magnetism of his hand and voice, that seemedalways to leave things better than they found them. 

When her tears were under control, she drew herself up, brushing themfrom her cheeks and lashes. 

"Yes, it has been a strain, " she admitted. "And I did so hope this hadbrought news I could give her, at last. You don't see her as I do, Theo, lying there day after day, so frail and white and patient. Quitapatient! Can you picture it? I quite long for a flash of her oldperversity. She has almost left off speaking of him. But the eternalquestion in her eyes haunts me; and I feel half ashamed of my goldentime with you, when I see her going through it alone, poor darling; hernatural joy in the child shadowed and broken by the anxiety and longingthat are eating her heart out, and holding her back from health. Isthere nothing I can tell her, that would be truth, yet not all thetruth?"

Desmond knitted his brows again, pondering. 

"Go to her now, " he said. "Tell her we've heard by wire that he issafely over the Darkót, but he may be delayed in getting on to Kashmir, and we hope for more news within the week. If she asks to see thewire, say you're sorry, but I tore it up. "

He did so on the spot, dropping the shreds of paper reflectively amongthe smouldering logs upon the hearth; while Honor hurried to thesick-room, with her fragment of news: the room in which Lenox hadalmost died of cholera, and in which Quita's ring had been restored toher finger sixteen months before. 

She lay in it now, propped up among frilled pillows, an etherealisededition of herself; her hair divided into two plaits, one lying overeach shoulder; the sweeping curve of her lashes shadowing her cheek;her eyes resting on a small dark head that nestled in the hollow of herarm. For, to Quita's intense satisfaction, the child had Eldred'sblack hair, and the clear Northern eyes that held all she knew, or asyet cared to know, of heaven. 

Her delight at the inadequate tidings of her husband was greater thanHonor had dared to expect. For she could not know how the wakefulnight watches, and the hours of enforced quiet, had been haunted bythat nightmare dread of the mountains, which Eldred's expurgatedaccounts of certain vicissitudes had justified rather than dispelled. But now--now he was through the worst of them, within easy distance ofKashmir; and she felt as a prisoner may feel when the doors swing wide, and he finds himself once more lord of light and space. 

"Oh, Baby, think of it!" she whispered in ecstasy to the unheedingmorsel of life in her arms. "He is coming--actually coming! Nothingcan delay him very long now. "

But the slow days multiplied into weeks; and still he did not come; andthe scanty news from Kashmir was not hopeful enough to be passed on toher--yet. Then, as she grew stronger, and more openly bewildered atthe silence and delay, Desmond decided to speak to her himself. Andwhile the tale was still upon his lips, while Quita sat listening toit, white and tearless, his hand grasping her own, a merciful fatebrought her an envelope quaveringly addressed in pencil, containingword of definite progress at last, and an assurance that once he couldset foot to ground nothing should hold him back. 

Ten days later the message, "Starting this morning, " flashed throughspace to Dera Ishmael from Kashmir; and after that each hour broughthim nearer. A second flash from Lahore; a third from Jhung; andDesmond, sending on a spare horse, rode down to the Indus to meet hisfriend, in Oriental fashion, 'at the edge of the carpet. '

It was a gaunt, weather-beaten figure of a man that stepped out of theferry-boat and grasped his hand; but there was that in his bearing andin his unshadowed eyes that told Desmond the chief of what he wished toknow. For the rest, the greeting between them was of their race andkind. 

"Well, old chap, how are you?"

"Deuced glad to see you back again. "

"And--Quita?"

"Deuced glad also, I suspect. "

"Uncommonly kind of you both keeping her all this while. "

"Kind? It's been a privilege seeing so much of her. We shall grudgegiving her up. "

And Desmond bestowed a reflective glance on the man who guessed nothingof the revelation in store for him. 

Their talk riding back to the station was fitful and fragmentary. Allthat remained to be said--and there was a good deal of it--would comeout bit by bit, at odd moments, mainly under the influence of tobacco. In the meantime, their mutual satisfaction went deeper than speech; andit was enough. 

At the drawing-room door they parted. 

"You'll find all you need in there, I think, " Desmond said, on a noteof profound understanding; and Lenox, putting a strong hand uponhimself, pushed aside the heavy curtain and stood, at last, before hiswife. 

With a low cry, and arms outflung, she came to him; and that firstrapture of reunion, of the heart's passionate upheaval andrevealing--the more intense for the muteness of it--was a rapturesacred to themselves alone; not to be pried upon or set down. Suchmoments--come they but once in a lifetime, to one among a hundred--areGod's reiterate answers to the problem of creation. The man or womanwho has passed that way will never ask the soul's most witheringquestion: To what end was I born? 'The rest may reason and welcome. 'They are of the few who know. 

Lenox and Quita swept headlong, as it were, to the crest of a wave, dropped presently back to earth. Then he set her a little away fromhim, almost at arm's-length, the better to feast his eyes upon thesight of her; and so became aware of the subtle change perceptible inher letters:--some exquisite quality, the fruit of long waiting, crowned by the miracle of motherhood; an appreciable softening of thelips; a triumph of the essential woman over mere line and curve thatbrought her near to actual beauty. But it was the new depth andtenderness in her eyes that drew and held him; eyes luminous, as neverbefore, with the pride, the exaltation, of a consummateself-surrender, --not of necessity, but of free choice, the woman'sutmost gift to her own one lover and compeer in all the world; if so bethat she is privileged to find him, and if so be that he himselfaspires to the larger claim. Eldred Lenox had so aspired; and, inconsequence, had attained. Her mute confession of it stirred him tospeech. 

"I believe I _have_ won the whole of you at last--you very woman, " hesaid almost under his breath. 

"And I know it, " she answered in the same tone. "Do you remembersaying that day you were angry: 'If you _will_ make it a case ofmastery----!' Well, it is a case of mastery--absolute and permanent. "

She spoke truth. At that moment, and indeed for many years after, shewould have walked, at his bidding, into the heart of a furnace. Hedrew her close again. 

"No, no, lass. I hope it's a case of love and comradeship on an equalfooting, --as you have seen it in this house; the rarest thing in theworld between a man and woman. "

Her smile brought into play the dimple that he loved. 

"How one needs you at every turn, to keep the balance of things! Butcome over to my easel. I have something to show you. "

Very deliberately she lifted the draperies that hid the picture, and alow sound broke from him. Then he stood gazing upon it, --absorbed, captivated; and whereas, a moment since, the woman had triumphed, nowall the artist in her thrilled at his tribute of silence, knowing itfor the highest praise. 

"A bit of pure inspiration, " he said at last. "It lives and breathes!"

"That is your doing, more than mine. And I am glad it pleases you; forit is a present, and--a confession!"

"You did it simply for me?"

"For who else, in earth or heaven, dear and dense one?" she demanded, laughing; and was effectually put to silence. "Wasn't it just like meto throw all my heart into a portrait of myself?" she added, as hereleased her. 

"It was enchanting of you; that's all _I_ know. But see here, lass, there must be no question of murdering half your personality on myaccount. I am grasping. I want both of you, --artist and woman. "

"Dear heart, you've taken arbitrary possession of as many of me asthere are! And indeed, I'd be puzzled to swear to the exact number. Iseem to have let you in for three sorts of wives already! Butseriously, Eldred, I have come to one conclusion in the long months Ihave had for thinking things over. I believe you were right in sayingit might be best for me to give up painting men's portraits. Notaltogether: I don't think I could, unless you insisted! But I won'tmake it a speciality, as I have done; and I'll be more circumspect inmy methods, and in my choice of subjects. Will that do?"

He looked full at her for a moment; his keen eyes melting into wells oftenderness. 

"My darling--what's come to you?" was all he said. 

"A spirit of understanding, I hope, " she answered sweetly. "But you'llfind plenty of the old unreasonable Quita effervescing underneath!_Par exemple_--on the heels of my great renunciation, the first thing Iwant to do is a portrait of Major Desmond for my dear Honor, --if I may?"

"If you may! What next?" But being a man and human, he was obviouslygratified. "You could suggest nothing that would please me better. You'll make a fine thing of it; and as for your methods, 'get inside'Desmond for all you're worth. You'll do no harm in _that_ quarter!"

"Harm?" she flashed out, half indignant. "Has it ever, in all of yourknowledge of me, gone as far as that?"

He could not lie to her; neither would he betray Dick. 

"Did such a possibility never occur to you?" he suggested, evadingdirect reply. 

But she was not to be thwarted. 

"I asked you a question, _mon cher_. "

"And that is my answer. "

"A question is not an answer. " Then intuition, and his evidentdiscomfiture, enlightened her. "_Mon Dieu_, Eldred! Yon are neverthinking--of Dick?"

He frowned. "What put that into your head?"

"Your manner; and something he wrote to me while he was away. Youheard, of course? He said he had told you the good news. "

"What good news? When?"

"Weeks ago. Before he came back off leave. "

"I had no letter. Must have been mislaid while I was ill. What's up?Has he got a command?"

"Yes. And better than that. He is going to be married. "

"By Jove! That's first-rate. Good old Dick! But what was it he saidto you?"

"I'll show you the letter. Such a charming one. He began, 'DearFriend, ' which wasn't like him. It puzzled me. And he ended by sayinghe felt sure I should be glad to know how much of his present happinesshe owed to his intimacy with me. So you see, dearest, I did noirretrievable harm. "

"No, mercifully not, thanks to Dick's uprightness, and his happytemperament. But he might have been quite another sort; like myself, for instance. By the time I had known you two weeks, Quita, the damagewas permanent. Even if there had been no word of love between us, Ishould never have given a thought to another woman--after that. "

The quietness of his tone carried conviction, and her arms went out tohim. 

"Bless you, bless you, my own man, " she murmured into the lapel of hiscoat. "I can never thank God enough that I came out to India and wonyou back. "

Weak as he still was from the pain and prostration of his terribleillness, the exquisite completeness of her surrender almost unmannedhim; and she felt him tremble through all his big frame. That rousedthe mother in her. 

"Darling, how thoughtless of me! You are not strong enough yet forthis sort of thing. Let me get you some wine--please. "

"Wine? Nonsense, I'm all right. Desmond gave me a peg. "

"Come to a chair, then. "

She drew him towards one; but he gently forced her into it, sinking onone knee beside her, with a sigh of satisfaction. 

"That's good. I begin to realise that I am actually home!"

"And I begin to realise what a wreck of yourself you are, _mon pauvre_. Wait till I've tyrannised over you for a month or so! Then we must getlong leave. "

And taking his head between her hands, she cherished it, smiling intohis eyes; the passion of the wife deepened and hallowed by theprotective tenderness of the mother. When and how should she tell him?That was the question in her mind. A paralysing shyness, for which shespurned herself, suffused her at the thought; and behind the shynesslurked a great longing to know how he would receive her culminatingrevelation. But in his present state she dreaded a shock forhim, --even a shock of joy. She would wait a little longer for thegiven moment; and then . . . . 

"The hair on your temples has gone quite silver, " she lamented, caressing it with light finger-tips. "It is all those terriblemountains; and I hope you've had enough of them now to keep you quietfor a time. But I begin to dread Sir Henry Forsyth. He hasn't gotanother 'mission' up his sleeve, has he?"

She spoke laughingly, but his eyes were grave; and taking her two handshe prisoned them in his own. 

"Quita, my brave lass, " he said gently. "After all that has justpassed between us, I can tell you no less than the truth, and leave youto give the casting vote. I am afraid the mountains are bound to playa big part in our immediate future, unless you seriously prefer that Ishould give up all idea of political work in those parts, and stick tothe Battery. "

"And if I _do_ seriously prefer it?"

"Your decision will be mine. "

He spoke so steadily that she would fain have believed in hisindifference as to the result. But the art of self-deception was notone of her accomplishments. She suppressed a sigh. 

"Dear, there is only one decision possible. But for me you might neverhave put your hand to that plough. It was the one good that came toyou through my crowning act of folly; and I'll not undo it, whatever itmay mean--for me. "

He thanked her with his eyes; and the mute homage in them was dearer toher than a score of kisses. When he tried to speak, she forestalledhim. 

"You have said it all, Eldred. I understand. I only want--more facts. Is it Gilgit? And when?"

"Next year, I'm afraid. They want us to re-establish theAgency--Travers and myself. I was up there, you see, before I foundyou again. We should be quite alone, at the start, with just a doctorand our Kashmiri soldiers. "

"And I--it would be impossible?"

He pressed her hands. 

"For the first few years--certainly. Everything would be raw; and thework incessant and absorbing. But later on, who can tell? We mightsee what could be done. "

"And the nearest I could get to you, so as to live more or less withinreach?"

"Srinagar. That's about twenty days' march from Gilgit. I could do itin ten, to get to you!" he added, smiling. "Spare time would bescarce, though; and in the winter we should be quite cut off by snow. "

"Oh, Eldred!"

"I should hate that no less than you, be sure. But when things got abit more settled, some sort of arrangement might be possible, at leastfor part of the summer; if you could really stand the isolation and thelife. "

"Stand it? Of course I could. I should love it. "

His eyes lit up. 

"You have pluck enough for half a dozen! But you don't look as strongas you did. There's a fragile air about you that troubles me. I neversaw it before. "

The faint colour in her cheeks invaded her temples. It was the givenmoment; long enough delayed in all conscience. Yet it found herpalpitating--unprepared. 

"You mustn't be troubled. " She plunged desperately; unsure of whatwould come next. "It will pass. I am growing stronger every day. "

"Stronger? Good Lord! You haven't been ill too, and I never knew it?"

"No--oh, no! Not ill--that is . . . Not exactly. I mean . . . "

Confusion submerged her. His shoulder--the woman's legitimaterefuge--was conveniently close; and she buried her blushes in it. Atthat a suspicion of the truth thrilled through him, like an electriccurrent. 

"Quita--look up--speak to me!" he besought her; his voice low, and notquite steady. "Is it possible . . ?"

"Darling, of course it is, " she whispered back, without stirring. "Only--will you ever forgive me? I've saddled you with two women now, as if one wasn't bother enough!"

For answer he strained her closer; and so knelt for the space of manyseconds; stunned, momentarily, by that deep-rooted, elemental joy inthe transmission of life, which, in men of fine fibre, is tempered withamazement and awe; a sense of poignant, personal contact with the OpenSecret of the world. 

At last he spoke; and his words held no suggestion of the emotion thatuplifted him. 

"When? How old . . . How long ago?"

"Seven weeks ago. The second of October. "

"Great Heaven! The day I was nearly done for; the day I crossed thePass. And I never dreamed . . . How it was with you. "

Then, very gently, she found her head lifted from its resting-place;his eyes searching her own with an insistence not to be denied. 

"Quita, you must have realised--all this before I started?"

"Yes. "

"And you let me go without a word! By the Lord, I think I had theright to know. "

Her lips trembled a little at the reproach in his tone; but she did notavert her eyes. 

"Of course you had the right, " she acknowledged with a flash of her oldfrankness. "But things were going crooked just then. It all seemed sostrange, so difficult to speak of; and I thought if you were delayed itwould save you from anxiety, not to know. Besides--I confess I knew itwould mean . . . A great deal to you; and I wanted to win you all myown self, before I told you. There! That's the whole truth. Can youforgive me?"

"Forgive you, my darling? To-day of all days! I am at your feet. "

She drew a deep breath. "That is quite wrong! But I can't pretend notto be proud of it; though in theory I object to pedestals as much asever! And now----" she laid both hands upon him, her eyes full oflaughter and tenderness. "Now--don't you want to come and see--theother woman?"

At that, his gravity went to pieces. 

"Woman indeed! Bless her heart. Naturally I do. Hasn't she achieveda name yet?"

"No, poor little heathen. I told her she must wait for you; though thematter was settled long ago. What else could we call her--but Honor?And I pray she may be worthy of the name. Both the Desmonds will standfor her. I thought you would wish it; for, indeed, without their greatgoodness to us both she might never have found her way into the worldat all! Now--come. "

He raised her to her feet, and together they entered the room where, ina railed cot, the unconscious herald of a larger joy, a more sacredintimacy, lay sleeping:--a creature of flower-soft tints and curves, who, in the sublime wisdom of babyhood, was concerned for nothing onearth but her own inspired devices for self-development. 

For long the two stood speechless before that astonishing, yetinevitable, third; that miracle of incorporate self-expression, wherebya man and woman behold their hidden spirits that have so passionatelyclung together across the gateless barrier of individual being, 'visibly here commingled and made flesh. ' Then Lenox put out a handand caressed the small soft head, reverently, cautiously, as if toverify its actuality. At his touch the child stirred; the dark lasheslifted; and in that instant of revealing, the truth came home to himthat, by his will, a living soul, a thing of mysterious and infinitepotentialities, had been added to the world's sum of life. 

"See--she has your eyes, " said Quita, tenderly triumphant; and for thesecond time she looked into his own through a mist of tears. "My lastpicture pleases you even better than the other one?" she added; andstooping, he kissed her lips. 

"It lifts you into a new kingdom, Quita; and doesn't he honestly seemto you worth all the rest put together?"

"But yes, _mon ami_. She is my masterpiece--our masterpiece, " sheanswered very low.