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diff --git a/40142.txt b/40142.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 3f1bb00..0000000 --- a/40142.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11458 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Miss Stuart's Legacy, by Flora Annie Steel - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Miss Stuart's Legacy - -Author: Flora Annie Steel - -Release Date: July 4, 2012 [EBook #40142] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISS STUART'S LEGACY *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by -Google Books (University of California) - - - - - - - - - - - -Transcriber's Notes: - - 1. Page scan source: - http://books.google.com/books?id=UGopAQAAIAAJ - (University of California) - - 2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe]. - - - - - - - Miss Stuart's Legacy - - - - By - - Flora Annie Steel - - AUTHOR OF - 'ON THE FACE OF THE WATERS,' ETC. - - - - - London - William Heinemann - 1900 - - - - - -_All rights reserved_ - - - - - - - MISS STUART'S LEGACY - - - - CHAPTER I. - - -An Indian railway station in the first freshness of an autumn dawn, -with a clear decision of light and shade, unknown to northern -latitudes, lending a fictitious picturesqueness to the low-arched -buildings festooned with purple creepers. There was a crispness in the -air which seemed to belie the possibility of a noon of brass; yet the -level beams of the sun had already in them a warning of warmth. - -The up-country mail had just steamed out of the station after -depositing a scanty store of passengers on the narrow platform, while -the down-country train, duly placarded with the information that it -carried the homeward-bound mail, had shunted in from the siding where -it had been patiently awaiting the signal of a clear line. The engine -meanwhile drank breathlessly at the tank, where, in a masonry tower -overhead, a couple of bullocks circled round and round, engaged in -raising the water from the well beneath to the reservoir beside them. -Round and round sleepily, while the primeval wooden wheel creaked and -clacked, and the clumsy rope-ladder with its ring of earthen pots let -half their contents fall back into the bowels of the earth; round and -round dreamily, with the fresh gurgle of the water in their ears, and -the blindness of leathern blinkers in their eyes; round and round, as -their forebears had gone for centuries in the cool shade of sylvan -wells. What was it to the patient creatures whether they watered a -snorting western demon labelled "homeward mail," or the chequered -mud-fields where the tender wheat spikelets took advantage of every -crack in the dry soil? It was little to them who sowed the seed, or -who gave the increase, so long as the goad lay in some one's hands. So -much the cattle knew, and in this simple knowledge were not far behind -the comprehension of their driver, who, wrapped in his cotton sheet, -lay dozing while he drove. - -The sweetmeat-seller dawdled by, pursued even at dawn by his pest of -flies. The water-carriers lounged along uttering their monotonous -chant, "Any Hindu drinkers? Any Mussulman drinkers?" while in their -van, dusky hands stretched out holding metal cups and bowls, from the -very shape of which the religion of the owners might be inferred, -owners sitting cheek by jowl in third-class compartments with a gulf -unfathomable, impassable, between them in this world and the next. The -lank yellow dogs crept among the wheels, licking a precarious meal -from the grease-boxes. The grey-headed carrion-crows sat in lines on -the wire fencing with beaks wide open in unending yawns. Nothing else -appeared to mark the passage of time; indeed the absence of hurry on -all sides gave the scene a curious unreality to Western eyes, a -feeling which was plainly shown in the expression of a young girl who -stood alone beside a small pile of luggage. - -"A new arrival," remarked a tall man in undress uniform, who was -leaning against the door of a first-class compartment, and talking to -its occupants. - -"Yes, to judge by complexion and baggage," was the reply. "You'd -hardly believe it, but Kate was as trim once; now!--just look at the -carriage!" - -A gay laugh came from behind a perfect barrier of baths, bundles, and -bassinettes. "We hadn't four babies to drag about in those days, -George, and I can assure Major Marsden that I'm not a bit ashamed of -them, or my complexion. George, dear! do for goodness' sake get baby's -bottle filled with hot water at the engine; if he doesn't have -something to eat he will cry in ten minutes, and then you will have to -take him." - -While George, with the proverbial docility of the Anglo-Indian husband -and father, strolled off on his errand, the feminine voice came into -view in the shape of a cheerful round little woman with a child in her -arms and another clinging to her dress. She looked with interest at -the girl on the platform. "She seems lonely, doesn't she?" - -Major Marsden frowned. He had been thinking the same thing, though he -was fond of posing as a man devoid of sentiment; a not unusual -affectation with those who are conscious of an over-soft heart. "I -wonder what she is doing here," he said, kicking his heels viciously -against the iron step of the carriage. - -A twinkle of mischief lurked in his companion's blue eyes as she -replied: - - - "'What are you doing here, my pretty maid?' - 'Going a-marrying, sir,' she said. - - -Can't you see the square wooden box which betrays the wedding cake?" - -"Then if you want to do a Christian act,--and you ladies love -aggressive charity--just step out of your car as _dea ex machine_, and -take her home again. India is no place for Englishwomen to be married -in." - -"Now don't go on! I know quite well what you are going to say, and I -agree,--theoretically. India is an ogre, eating us up body and soul; -ruining our health, our tempers, our morals, our manners, our babies." - -The laugh died from her lips at the last word, for the spectre of -certain separation haunts Indian motherhood too closely to be treated -as a jest. Instinctively she held the child tighter to her breast with -a little restless sigh; a short holiday at home, and then an empty -nest,--that was the future for her! So she went on recklessly: "Oh, -yes! Of course we are all bad lots,--neither good mothers, nor good -wives." - -"My dear Mrs. Gordon! I never said one or the other. I only remarked -that Englishwomen had no business in India." - -"What's that?" asked George, returning with the bottle. - -"Only Major Marsden in a hurry to get rid of me," replied his wife. - -"Don't believe her, Gordon! For all-embracing generalities, -convertible into rigid personalities at a moment's notice, commend me -to you, Mrs. Gordon. But there, I regret to say, goes the last bell." - -The train moved off in a series of dislocations, which, painful to -witness, were still more painful to endure, and Philip Marsden was -left watching the last nod of George Gordon's friendly head, with that -curious catching at the heart which comes to all Anglo-Indians as they -say good-bye to the homeward-bound. He was contented enough, happy in -his work and his play; yet the feeling of exile ran through it -all,--as it does always, till pension comes to bid one leave the -interests and friends of a lifetime. Then, all too late, the glamour -of the East claims the heart, in exchange for the body. - -The girl was still standing sentinel by her luggage, and as he passed -their eyes met. In sudden impulse he went up and offered help if she -required it. His voice, singularly sweet for a man, seemed to make the -girl realise her own loneliness, for her lips quivered distinctly. "It -is father! I expected him to meet me, and he has not come." - -"Should you know him if you saw him?" She stared, evidently surprised, -so he went on quickly, "I beg your pardon! I meant that you might not -have seen him for some time, and--" - -"I haven't seen him since I was a baby," she interrupted, with a sort -of hurt dignity; "but of course I should know him from his -photograph." - -"Of course!" He scanned her face curiously, thinking her little more -than a baby now; but he only suggested the possibility of a telegram, -and went off in search of one, returning a minute afterwards with -several. Behind him came the stationmaster explaining, with the -plentiful plurals and Addisonian periods dear to babudom, that without -due givings of names it was unpermissible, not to say non-regulation, -to deliver telegrams. - -"I forgot you couldn't know my name," said the girl frankly, when a -rapid scrutiny had shown that none were addressed to her. "I'm Belle -Stuart; my father lives at Faizapore." - -"Not Colonel Stuart of the Commissariat?" - -"Yes! Do you know him?" - -A radiant smile lit up her face with such a curve of red lips, and -flash of white teeth, that the spectator might well have been infected -by its wholesome sweetness into an answering look. Major Marsden's -eyes, however, only narrowed with perplexed enquiry as he said -bluntly, "Yes, slightly." - -"Then perhaps father sent you to fetch me?" - -This time he relaxed; confidence is catching. "I'm afraid not; but -possibly if he had known I was to be here he might. At all events I -can make myself useful." - -"How?" - -"I can get you a _gharri_--that is a carriage--and start you for -Faizapore. It is sixty miles from here as you know." - -She bent down to pick up her rugs. "I did not know. You see I expected -father." - -Philip Marsden felt impelled to consolation. "He has been delayed. -Most likely there has been"--in his haste to put forward a solid -excuse he was just about to say "an accident," but floundered instead -into a bald "something to detain him." - -"There generally _is_ something to detain one in every delay, isn't -there?" she asked dryly; adding hastily, "but it is very kind of you -to help. You see I have only just arrived in India, so I am quite a -stranger." - -"People generally _are_ strangers when they first arrive in a new -country aren't they?" retorted her companion grimly. Then as his eyes -met her smiling ones, he smiled too and asked with a kinder ring in -his voice, if there were anything else he could do for her. - -"I'm _so_ hungry," she said simply. "Couldn't you take me to get -breakfast somewhere? I don't see a refreshment-room, and I hate going -by myself." - -"There is the _dak_ bungalow, but," he hesitated for an instant and -stood looking at her, as if making up his mind about something; then -calling some coolies he bade them take up the luggage. "This way -please, Miss Stuart; you will have to walk about half a mile, but you -won't mind that either, I expect." - -In reply she launched out, as they went along the dusty road, into -girlish chatter about the distances she could go without fatigue, the -country life at home which seemed so very far off now, and the new -existence on which she was just entering. - -"You are not in the least like your sisters," he said suddenly. - -She laughed. "They aren't my real sisters, you see. Father married -again, and they are my stepmother's children. There are five of -them--three girls and two boys, besides Charlie who is only six years -old--but then he is my brother--my half-brother I mean. It's very -funny, isn't it? to have so many brothers and a mother one has never -seen. But of course I have their photographs." - -He said he was glad of that; yet when he had seen her safely started -at breakfast, he retired to the verandah under excuse of a cigar, and -found fault with Providence. Briefly, he knew too much of the reality, -not to make poor Belle's anticipations somewhat of a ghastly mockery. -"Poor child," he thought, "how much easier life would be to some of -us, if like Topsy, we growed. What business has that girl's father to -be a disreputable scamp? For the matter of that what business has a -disreputable scamp to be any girl's father? It's the old problem." - -Belle meanwhile eating her breakfast with youthful appetite felt no -qualms. Life to her was at its brightest moment. This coming out to -India in order to rejoin her father had been the Hegira of her -existence, with reference to which all smaller events had to be -classified. His approval or disapproval had been her standard of right -and wrong, his mind and body her model of human perfection; and so far -distance had enabled Colonel Stuart to do justice to this pedestal; -for it is easy to touch perfection in a letter, especially when it -only extends to one sheet of creamlaid note-paper. Most of us have -sufficient principal for such a small dividend. - -"I knew father had not forgotten," she said calmly, when an abject -badge-wearer was discovered asleep under a castor-oil bush, and proved -to be the bearer of a note addressed in the familiar bold flourish to -Miss Belle Stuart. "You see he had made all the arrangements, and I am -not to start till the heat of the day is over." - -"Then I will resign my charge, and say good-bye." - -When they had shaken hands he went round to the other verandah where -her baggage lay, and looked at the wooden box. Was it a wedding-cake? -Even that might be better than life in the home to which she was -going, though, for all he knew, the latter might suit her admirably. -Then he went and kicked his heels at the station in order to be out of -the way, for the bungalow only boasted one room. - - - - - CHAPTER II. - - -The dawn of another day was just breaking, when the rattle and clatter -which had formed an accompaniment to Belle's wakeful dreams all night -long, ceased at the last stage out from Faizapore. Belle stepped out -of the _palki-gharri_ to stretch her cramped limbs, and looked round -her with eyes in which sleep still lingered. - -A mud village lay close to the road, and from an outlying hut the -ponies, destined to convey her the remaining five miles, struggled -forth reluctantly. The coachman was furtively pulling at some one -else's pipe; a naked anatomy, halt and blind of an eye, dribbled water -from an earthen pot over the hot axles; two early travellers were -bathing in a pool of dirty water. Belle standing in the middle of the -glaring white highway, instinctively turned to where, in the distance, -a slender church-spire rose above the bank of trees on the horizon. -_That_ was familiar!--_that_ she understood. Born in India, and -therefore a daughter of the soil, she could not have been further -removed in taste and feeling from the toiling self-centred cosmogony -of the Indian village in which she stood, had she dropped into it from -another planet. So, alien in heart, she passed through the tide of -life which sets every morning towards a great cantonment, looking on -it as on some strange, new picture. Beyond all this, among people who -ate with forks and spoons and went to church on Sundays, lay the life -of which she had dreamed for years. The rest was a picturesque -background; that was all. - -A final flourish of an excruciating horn, gateposts guiltless of -gates, a ragged privet hedge curving intermittently to a bright blue -house set haphazard, cornerwise, in a square dusty expanse,--and the -journey was over. - -It was not only her cramped limbs that made Belle feel weak and -unsteady as she stood before the seemingly deserted house. Suddenly, -from behind a projecting corner, came a wrinkled beldame clad in dingy -white bordered with red. With one hand she grasped a skinny child -dressed in flannel night garments of Macgregor tartan, with the other -she held up her draggling petticoats and salaamed profusely, thus -displaying a pair of bandy, blue-trousered legs. - -Belle looked at her with distinct aversion. "I think I have made a -mistake," she said; "this can't be Colonel Stuart's house." - -The woman grinned from ear to ear. "Ar'l right, missy _ba_. _Mem -sahib_ comin'. This b'y sonny _baba_." She broke in on the whining -wail of her voice (which made Belle think of a professional beggar) to -apostrophise her charge with loud-tongued abuse for not saying good -morning to his "sissy." - -Belle gasped. Could this dirty dark boy be her brother Charlie? Then a -sudden rush of pity for the little fellow whose big black eyes met -hers with such distrust, made her stoop to kiss him. But the child, -reluctant and alarmed, struck at her face with his lean brown fingers -and then fled into the house howling, followed full tilt by his aged -attendant. - -Belle would have felt inclined to cry, if the very unexpectedness of -the attack, joined to the sight of the ayah's little bandy legs in hot -pursuit, had not roused her ever-ready sense of humour. She laughed -instead, and in so doing showed that she could hold her own with life; -for no one throws up the sponge until the faculty of coming up -smiling, even at one's own discomfiture, has been lost. And while she -laughed, a new voice asserted itself above the howls within; a voice -with, to Belle's ears, a strangely novel intonation, soft yet -distinctly _staccato_, sharpening the vowels, clipping the consonants, -and rising in pitch at the end of each sentence. It heralded the -advent of a tall, stout lady in a limp cotton wrapper, who straightway -took Belle to a languidly-effusive embrace, while she poured out an -even flow of wonderings, delights, and endearments. The girl, with the -reserve taught by long years of homelessness, felt embarrassed at the -warm kisses and tepid tears showered upon her; then, ashamed of her -own unresponsiveness, tried hard to realise that this was really the -great event,--the homecoming to which she had looked forward ever -since she could remember. She felt vexed with herself, annoyed at her -own failure to reach high pressure point. Yet she was not conscious of -disappointment, and gave herself up willingly to the voluble welcomes -of three slender, dark-eyed girls, who presently came running in, clad -like their mother in limp cotton wrappers. They sat beside her on the -bare string bed in the bare room which looked so cheerless to Belle's -English eyes, and chattered, fluttered, and pecked at her with little -kisses, like a group of birds on a branch. - -Mrs. Stuart was meanwhile drying her ready tears on a coarse, -highly-scented pocket handkerchief, giving orders for boundless -refreshments, and expressing her joy in alternate English and -Hindustani. Belle, beset on all sides by novelty, found it difficult -to recognise which language was being spoken, so little change was -there in voice or inflection. At last, amid the babel of words and -embraces, she managed to enquire for her father. The question produced -a sudden gravity, as if some sacred subject had been introduced. In -after years she recognised this extreme deference to the housemaster -as typical of the mixed race, but at the time, it made her heart beat -with a sudden fear of evil. - -"Colonel Stuart is very well, thank you," replied her stepmother, -showing a distinct tendency to reproduce the coarse handkerchief. "He -will, I am sure, be very pleased to see you;--indeed that is one -reason why I am glad myself. Though, of course, I welcome you for your -own sake too, my darling girl. I am only a stepmother, I know, but I -will allow no difference between you and my own three. So I told the -mess-president yesterday--'My daughters cannot go to your ball, -Captain Jenkins,' I said, 'unless Belle goes also.' So, of course, he -sent you an invitation." Mrs. Stuart had a habit of saying "of course" -as if she agreed plaintively with the decrees of Providence. - -"But when"--began Belle, her mind far from balls. - -"To-night," chorused the three girls; a chorus followed by voluble -solos adjuring her to put on her smartest frock, because all the men -were frantic to see the original of the photograph which, it appeared, -had been duly handed round for inspection and admiration. Belle -neither blushed nor felt indignant; her face fell however when she -found that her father would not be up for another two hours, but the -bated breath with which they spoke of his morning sleep prevented her -from rebellion. Those two hours seemed an eternity, and as she sat -waiting for him in the dim drawing-room, her heart beat with almost -sickening force at each sound. - -Unconscious as yet of disappointment, of anything save not unpleasant -surprise, she still was conscious of an almost pathetic insistence -that father _must_ be the father of her dreams. - -A mellow voice from the window calling her by name startled her from -her watch by the door. She turned, to see a tall figure in scarlet and -gold standing against the light which glittered on a trailing sword. - -There was no doubt this time. With a cry of "Father? oh yes, you are -father!" she was in his arms. To him also came the re-incarnation of a -half-forgotten dream. The fair, slim, white-robed girl standing in the -dim shadows, made the years vanish and youth return. "Good God, child, -how like you are to your poor mother!" he faltered, and the ring in -his voice made his daughter feel as if life held no more content. - -Despite years of dissipation Colonel Stuart was still a singularly -fine-looking man; well set up, and if a trifle fat in his -dressing-gown, no more than portly in a tightly-buttoned tunic. He had -always had a magnificent way with women, a sort of masterful -politeness, a beautiful overbearing condescension, which the majority -of the sex described as the sweetest of manners. And now, inspired by -his little girl's undisguised admiration, he excelled himself, -discoursing on his delight in having her with him, and on the -impossibility of thanking Heaven sufficiently for the care it had -taken of her. On this last point he spoke in the same terms that he -was accustomed to use towards his hostess at the conclusion of a -visit; that is to say, with the underlying conviction that she had -only done her duty. He drew a touching picture of his own forlornness, -when, as a matter of fact, the very thought of her had passed so -completely out of his life, that her death would only have caused an -unreal regret. His eloquence however brought conviction to himself. -So, to all intents and purposes, he became a fond father, because he -felt as if he had been one. After all, Belle, even had she known the -truth, would have no real cause for distress. We have no lien on the -past of another, or on the future either; the present is all we can -claim, and that only to a certain limited extent. - -In truth it would have required little self-deception to convince any -one that Belle had always been an abiding factor in life. She was a -daughter any man might well have been proud to possess. Tall and -straight, clear-eyed and bright, with wholesome thoughts and tastes -expressed in every feature. As she brought a cup of tea to her father, -her face alight with pleasure, her eyes brilliant with happiness, she -looked the picture of all an English girl ought to be. - -"Thank you, my dear," said the Colonel viewing the offering dubiously. -"I think,--I mean,--I should prefer a peg,--a B. and S.,--a brandy and -soda. The fact is I had a confounded bad night, and it might do me -good, you know." - -He was faintly surprised at finding himself making excuses for what -was a daily habit; but it was delightful to bask in the tender -solicitude of Belle's grey eyes, as he poured out, and drank the dose -with an air of accurate virtue. Once more he imposed on himself; on -every one in fact but the servant, who, with the forethought of -laziness, sat outside with the brandy-bottle lest he should be -summoned again. And when, finally, the Colonel rode off to his -committee on his big Australian charger, Belle thought the world could -never have contained a more magnificently martial figure. That this -gorgeous apparition should condescend to wave its hand to her at the -gate, was at once so bewildering and so natural, that all lesser -details faded into insignificance before this astounding realisation -of her dreams. - -This was fortunate, for many were the readjustments necessary ere the -day was over. Breakfast, where Belle sat blissfully at her father's -side, revealed two handsome, overdressed young men redolent of scent -and sleek as to hair. These the Miss Van Milders, still in rumpled -wrappers, introduced as their brothers Walter and Stanley, adding by -no means covert chaff about "store clothes," whereat the young fellows -giggled like girls, and Belle became almost aggressively sisterly in -her manner. Walter was in tea, or rather had been so; as the -plantation appeared to be undergoing transmutation into a limited -Company, in order, Belle was told, to produce a dividend. Stanley was -reading for some examination, after which somebody was to do something -for him. It was all very voluble and vague. Meanwhile they stayed at -home quite contentedly; satisfied to lounge about, play tennis, and -keep a tame mongoose. - -Towards the end of the meal, however, a red-haired youth slouched into -the room, thrust an unwilling hand into Belle's when introduced as -"your cousin Dick," and then sat down in silence with all the open -awkwardness of an English schoolboy. Afterwards, whenever Belle's cool -grey eyes wandered to that corner, they met a pair of fiery brown ones -also on the reconnoitre. - -Besides these present relations there were others constantly cropping -up in conversation; and of them Belle had enough ere the day was done. -The young men chattered over their cigarettes on the verandah; the -girls chattered over Belle's boxes, which they insisted on unpacking -at once; Mrs. Stuart chattered of, and to her servants. It was a -relief when, after luncheon, the whole house settled into the silence -of siesta, though Belle herself was far too excited to rest. - -Dinner brought a bitter disappointment in Colonel Stuart's absence; -for she had excused herself from the ball on plea of fatigue, in the -hopes of an evening with her father. It was Cousin Dick who, as they -sat down to table, answered the expectation in Belle's face. "The -Colonel never dines on ball nights, he goes to mess. You see, the -girls bobbing up and down annoy him, and it is beastly to see people -bolting their food in curl-papers." - -"I'd speak grammar if I were you," retorted Mildred Van Milder, -flushing up. Her fringe was a perpetual weariness to her, sometimes -demanding the sacrifice of a dance in order to allow hair-curlers to -do their perfect work. - -"And I wouldn't wear a fringe like a poodle," growled Dick; whereat -Mrs. Stuart plaintively wondered whence he got his manners, and wished -he was more like her own boys. - -Poodles or no poodles, when the dancing-party appeared ready for the -fray, Belle could hardly believe her eyes. The sallow-faced girls of -the morning in their limp cotton wrappers were replaced by admirable -copies of the latest French fashion-prints. Their elaborately-dressed -hair, large dark eyes, and cream-coloured skins (to which art had lent -a soft bloom denied by nature under Indian skies), joined to the -perfect fit of their gowns, compelled attention. Indeed, when Maud, to -try the stability of a shoe, waltzed round the room with her brother, -Belle was startled at her own admiration for their lithe, graceful, -sensuous beauty. - -"I'll tell you what it is," cried Mabel, the eldest of the three; -"you'll have a ripping good time tonight, Maudie. I never saw you look -so cheek." She meant _chic_, but the spelling was against her. As for -Mrs. Stuart, she appeared correctly attired in black satin and bugles. -The girls saw to that, suppressing with inexorable firmness the good -lady's hankering after gayer colours and more flimsy stuffs. - -Left alone with Cousin Dick, Belle pretended to read, while in reality -she was all ears for the sound of returning wheels. It was nearly ten -o'clock, and, to her simple imagination, time for her father to come -home. The clock struck, and Dick, who had been immersed in a book at -the further corner of the room, laid it aside, and bringing out a -chessboard began to set the men. He paused, frowned, passed both hands -through his rough red hair, and finally asked abruptly if she played. -A brief negative made him shift the pieces rapidly to a problem, and -no more was said. Again the clock struck, and this time Dick came and -stood before her. He was a middle-sized, broad-shouldered youth about -her own age, with a promise of strength in face and figure. "You had -better go to bed," he said still more abruptly. "The Colonel won't be -home till morning. It isn't a bit of good your waiting for him." - -This was the second time that he had stepped in to her thoughts, as it -were, and Belle resented the intrusion. "Don't let me keep you up," -she replied. "I'd just as soon be alone." - -"Then you'll have your wish, I expect," he answered coolly, as he -swept the chessmen together and left the room. - -Some two hours after Belle woke from sleep to the sound of an -impatient voice. "Bearer! Bearer! _peg lao_, quick! Hang it all, Raby! -you must, you shall stop and give me my revenge. You've the most -cursed good luck--" - -"Father!" She rose from her chair with cheeks flushed like those of a -newly-awakened child. The tall, fair young man who stood beside -Colonel Stuart turned at the sound of her voice, then touched his -companion on the arm. "Some one is speaking to you." - -"God bless my soul, child! I thought you were at the ball. Why didn't -you go?" His tone was kind, if a little husky, and he stretched a -trembling hand towards her. - -"I waited to see you, father," she replied, laying hers on his arm -with a touch which was a caress. - -The tall young man smiled to himself. "Will you not introduce me to -your daughter, Colonel?" he said with a half-familiar bow towards -Belle. - -Colonel Stuart looked from one to the other as if he had never seen -either of them before. "Introduce you,--why not? Belle, this is John -Raby: a fellow who has the most infernal good luck in creation." - -"I have no inclination to deny the fact at _this_ moment," interposed -the other, bowing again. - -The implied compliment was quite lost on Belle, whose eyes and ears -were for her father only. "I waited for you," she said with a little -joyous laugh, "and fell asleep in my chair!" - -Once more the Colonel looked from one to the other. The mere fact of -his daughter's presence was in his present state confusing, but that -she should have been waiting for him was bewildering in the extreme. -How many years ago was it that another slim girl in white had gazed on -him with similar adoration? - -"You had better go to bed now," he said with almost supernatural -profundity. "Good night. God bless you." - -"Let me stay, please, father. I'm not a bit tired," she pleaded. - -He stood uncertain, and John Raby drew out his watch with a -contemptuous smile. "Half-past one, Colonel; I must be off." - -"Hang it all!" expostulated the other feebly. "You can't go without my -revenge. It ain't fair!" - -"You shall have it sometime, never fear. Good night, Miss Stuart; we -can't afford to peril such roses by late hours." - -Again his words fell flat, their only result being that he looked at -her with a flash of real interest. When he had gone Belle knelt beside -her father's chair, timidly asking if he was angry with her for -sitting up. - -"Angry!" cried the Colonel, already in a half doze. "No, child! -certainly not. Dear! dear! how like you are to your poor mother." The -thought roused him, for he stood up shaking his head mournfully. "Go -to bed, my dear. We all need rest. It has been a trying day, a very -trying day." - -Belle, as she laid her head on the pillow, felt that it had been so -indeed; yet she was not disappointed with it. She was too young to -criticise kindness, and they had all been kind, very kind; even -Charlie had forgotten his first fright; and so she fell asleep, -smiling at the remembrance of the old _ayah's_ bandy legs. - - - - - CHAPTER III. - - -Early morning in the big bazaar at Faizapore. So much can be said; but -who with pen alone could paint the scene, or who with brush give the -aroma, physical and moral, which, to those familiar with the life of -Indian streets, remains for ever the one indelible memory? The -mysterious smell indescribable to those who know not the East; the air -of sordid money-getting and giving which pervades even the children; -the gaily-dressed, chattering stream of people drifting by; but from -the grey-bearded cultivator come on a lawsuit from his village, to the -sweeper, besom in hand, propelling the black flood along the gutter, -the only subject sufficiently interesting to raise one voice above the -universal hum, is money. Even the stalwart herdswomen with their -kilted skirts swaying at each free bold step, their patchwork bodices -obeying laws of decency antipodal to ours, even they, born and bred in -the desert, talk noisily of the _ghee_ they are bringing to market in -the russet and black jars poised on their heads; and if _ghee_ be not -actually money, it is inextricably mixed up with it in the native -mind. - -All else may fade from the memory; the glare of sunlight, the -transparent shadows, the clustering flies and children round the -cavernous sweetmeat-shops, the glitter of brazen pots, and the -rainbow-hued overflow from the dyers' vats staining the streets like a -reflection of the many-tinted cloths festooned to dry overhead. Even -the sharper contrasts of the scene may be forgotten; the marriage -procession swerving to give way to the quiet dead, swathed in muslins -and bound with tinsel, carried high on the string bed, or awaiting -sunset and burial in some narrow by-way among green-gold melons and -piles of red wheat. But to those who have known an Indian bazaar well, -the chink of money, and the smell of a chemist's shop, will ever -remain a more potent spell to awaken memory than any elaborate -pictures made by pen or pencil. - -On this particular morning quite a little crowd was collected round -the doorway leading to the house of one Shunker Das, usurer, -contractor, and honorary magistrate; a man who combined those three -occupations into one unceasing manufacture of money. In his hands pice -turned to annas, annas to rupees, and rupees in their turn to fat. For -there is no little truth in the assertion that the real test of a -_buniah's_ (money-lender's) wealth is his weight, and the safest guard -for income-tax his girth in inches. - -Nevertheless a skeleton lay hidden under Shunker Das's mountain of -prosperous flesh; a gruesome skeleton whose bones rattled ominously. -Between him and the perdition of a sonless death stood but one life; a -life so frail that it had only been saved hitherto by the expedient of -dressing the priceless boy in petticoats, and so palming him off on -the dread Shiva as a girl. At least so said the _zenana_ women, and so -in his inmost heart thought Shunker Das, though he was a prime -specimen of enlightened native society. But on that day the fateful -first decade during which the Destroyer had reft away so many -baby-heirs from the usurer's home was over; and amid countless -ceremonies, and much dispensation of alms, the little Nuttu, with his -ears and nose pierced like a girl's, had been attired in the _pugree_ -and _pyjamas_ of his sex. Hence the crowd closing in round the Lala's -Calcutta-built barouche which waited for its owner to come out. Hence -the number of professional beggars, looking on the whole more fat and -well-liking than the workers around them, certainly more so than a -small group of women who were peeping charily from the door of the -next house,--a very different house from Shunker Das's pretentious -stucco erection with its blue elephants and mottled tigers frescoed -round the top storey, and a railway train, flanked by two caricatures -of the British soldier, over the courtyard doorway. This was a tall, -square, colourless tower, gaining its only relief from the numerous -places where the outer skin of bricks had fallen away, disclosing -the hard red mortar beneath; mortar that was stronger than stone; -mortar that had been ground and spread long years before the word -"contractor" was a power in India. Here in poverty, abject in all save -honour, dwelt Mahomed Lateef, a Syyed of the Syyeds;[1] and it was his -hewers of wood and drawers of water who formed the group at the door, -turning their lean faces away disdainfully when the baskets of dough -cakes, and trays of sweet rice were brought out for distribution from -the idolater's house. - -The crowd thickened, but fell away instinctively to give place to a -couple of English soldiers who came tramping along shoulder to -shoulder, utterly unconcerned and unsympathetic; their Glengarry caps -set at the same angle, the very pipes in their mouths having a drilled -appearance. Such a quiet, orderly crowd it was; not even becoming -audible when Shunker Das appeared with little Nuttu, the hero of the -day, who in a coat of the same brocade as his father's, and a _pugree_ -tied in the same fashion, looked a wizened, changeling double of his -unwieldy companion. The barouche was brilliant as to varnish, vivid as -to red linings, and the bay Australians were the best money could buy; -yet the people, as it passed, took small notice of the Lala, lolling -in gorgeous attire against the Berlin-wool-worked cushion which he had -bought from the Commissioner's wife at a bazaar in aid of a cathedral. -They gave far more attention to a hawk-eyed old man with a cruel, -high-bred face, who rode by on a miserable pony, and after returning -the Lala's contemptuous salutation with grave dignity, spat solemnly -into the gutter. - -This was Mahomed Lateef, who but the day before had put the -talisman-signet on his right hand to a deed mortgaging the last acre -of his ancestral estate to the usurer. Yet the people stood up with -respectful _salaams_ to him, while they had only obsequious grins for -the other. Indeed, one old patriarch waiting for death in the sun, -curled up comfortably, his chin upon his knees, on a bed stuck well -into the street, nodded his head cheerfully and muttered "Shunker's -father was nobody," over and over again till he fell asleep; to dream -perchance of the old order of things. - -Meanwhile the Lala waited his turn for audience at the District -Officer's bungalow. There were many other aspirants to that honour, -seated on a row of cane-bottomed chairs in the verandah, silent, -bored, uncomfortable. It is an irony of fate which elevates the chair -in India into a patent of position, for nowhere does the native look -more thoroughly out of place than in the coveted honour. As it is he -clings to it, notably with his legs; those thin legs round whose -painful want of contour the tight cotton pantaloons wrinkle all too -closely, and which would be so much better tucked away under dignified -skirts in true Eastern fashion. But the exotic has a strange -fascination for humanity. Waiting there for his turn, the Lala -inwardly cursed the Western morality which prevented an immediate and -bribe-won entry; but the red-coated badge-wearers knew better than to -allow even a munificent shoe-money to interfere with the roster. The -harassed-looking, preoccupied official within had an almost uncanny -quickness of perception, so the rupees chinked into their pockets, but -produced no effect beyond whining voices and fulsome flattery. - -"Well, Lala-ji! and what do _you_ want?" asked the representative of -British majesty when, at last, Shunker Das's most obsequious smile -curled out over his fat face. There was no doubt a certain brutality -of directness in the salutation, but it came from a deadly conviction -that a request lay at the bottom of every interview, and that duty -bade its discovery without delay. The abruptness of the magistrate was -therefore compressed politeness. As he laid down the pen with which he -had been writing a judgment, and leant wearily back in his chair, his -bald head was framed, as it were, in a square nimbus formed by a -poster on the wall behind. It was four feet square, and held, in -treble columns, a list of all the schedules and reports due from his -office during the year to come. That was his patent of position; and -it was one which grows visibly, as day by day, and month by month, law -and order become of more consequence than truth and equity in the -government of India. - -The Lala's tact bade him follow the lead given. "I want, _sahib_," he -said, "to be made a _Rai Bahadur_." - -Now _Rai Bahadur_ is an honorific title bestowed by Government for -distinguished service to the State. So without more ado Shunker Das -detailed his own virtues, totalled up the money expended in public -utility, and wound up with an offer of five thousand rupees towards a -new Female Hospital. The representative of British majesty drew -diagrams on his blotting-paper, and remarked, casually, that he would -certainly convey the Lala's liberal suggestion about the hospital to -the proper authorities; adding his belief that one Puras Ram, who was -about to receive the coveted honour, had offered fifteen thousand for -the same purpose. - -"I will give ten thousand, _Huzoor_" bid the usurer, with a scowl -struggling with his smile; "that will make seventy-five thousand in -all; and Tota Mull got it for building the big tank that won't hold -water. If it cost him fifty thousand, may I eat dirt; and I ought to -know for I had the contract. It won't last, _Huzoor_; I know the stuff -that went into it." - -"Tota Mull had other services." - -"Other services!" echoed Shunker fumbling in his garments, and -producing a printed book tied up in a cotton handkerchief. "See my -certificates; one from your honour's own hand." - -Perhaps the District Officer judged the worth of the others by the -measure of his own testimonial, wherein, being then a "griff" of six -months' standing, he had recorded Shunker's name opposite a list of -the cardinal virtues, for he set the book aside with a sad smile. Most -likely he was thinking that in those days his ambition had been a -reality, and his liver an idea, and that now they had changed places. -"I am glad to see your son looking so well," he remarked with pointed -irrelevance. "I hear you are to marry him next month, and that -everything is to be on a magnificent scale. Tota Mull will be quite -eclipsed; though his boy's wedding cost him sixty-five thousand,--he -told me so himself. Accept my best wishes on the occasion." - -"_Huzoor!_ I will give fifteen thou--" British majesty rose gravely -with the usual intimation of dismissal, and a remark that it was -always gratified at liberality. Shunker Das left the presence with his -smile thoroughly replaced by a scowl, though his going there had -simply been an attempt to save his pocket; for he knew right well that -he had not yet filled up the measure of qualification for a _Rai -Bahadur_-ship. - -While this interview had been going on, another of a very different -nature was taking place outside a bungalow on the other side of the -road, where Philip Marsden stood holding the rein of his charger and -talking to Mahomed Lateef, whose pink-nosed pony was tied to a -neighbouring tree. - -The old man, in faded green turban and shawl, showed straight and tall -even beside the younger man's height and soldierly carriage. -"_Sahib_," he said, "I am no beggar to whine at the feet of a stranger -for alms. I don't know the _sahib_ over yonder whose verandah, as you -see, is crowded with such folk. They come and go too fast these -_sahibs_, nowadays; and I am too old to tell the story of my birth. If -it is forgotten, it is forgotten. But you know me, Allah be praised! -You feel my son's blood there on your heart where he fell fighting -beside you! Which of the three was it? What matter? They all died -fighting. And this one is Benjamin; I cannot let him go. He is a -bright boy, and will give brains, not blood, to the Sirkar, if I can -only get employment for him. So I come to you, who know me and mine." - -Philip Marsden laid his hand on the old man's shoulder. "That is true. -Khan _sahib_. What is it I can do for you?" - -"There is a post vacant in the office, _Huzoor!_ It is not much, but a -small thing is a great gain in our poor house. The boy could stay at -home, and not see the women starve. It is only writing-work, and -thanks to the old mullah, Murghub Admed is a real _khush nawis_ -(penman). Persian and Arabic, too, and Euclidus, and Algebra; all a -true man should know. If you would ask the _sahib_." - -"I'll go over now. No, no, _Khan sahib!_ I am too young, and you are -too old." - -But Mahomed Lateef held the stirrup stoutly with lean brown fingers. -"The old help the young into the saddle always, _sahib_. It is for you -boys to fight now, and for us to watch and cry 'Allah be with the -brave!'" - -So it happened that as Shunker Das drove out of the District Officer's -compound, Major Marsden rode in. Despite his scowl, the usurer stood -up and _salaamed_ profusely with both hands, receiving a curt salute -in return. - -British majesty was now in the verandah disposing of the smaller fry -in batches. "Come inside," it said, hastily dismissing the final lot. -"I've only ten minutes left for bath and breakfast, but you'll find a -cigar there, and we can talk while I tub." - -Amid vigorous splashings from within Major Marsden unfolded his -mission, receiving in reply a somewhat disjointed enquiry as to -whether the applicant had passed the Middle School examination, for -otherwise his case was hopeless. - -"And why, in Heaven's name?" asked his hearer impatiently. - -The magistrate having finished his ablutions appeared at the door in -scanty attire rubbing his bald head with a towel. "Immutable decree of -government." - -"And loyalty, family, influence--what of them?" - -A shrug of the shoulders,--"Ask some one else. I am only a -barrel-organ grinding out the executive and judicial tunes sent down -from headquarters." - -"And a lively discord you'll make of it in time! But you are wrong. A -man in your position is, as it were, trustee to a minor's estate and -bound to speak up for his wards." - -"And be over-ridden! No good! I've tried it. Oh lord! twelve o'clock -and I had a case with five pleaders in it at half-past eleven. Well, -I'll bet the four-anna bit the exchange left me from last month's pay, -that my judgment will be upset on appeal." - -"I pity you profoundly." - -"Don't mention it; there's balm in Gilead. This is mail-day, and I -shall hear from my wife and the kids. Good-bye!--I'm sorry about the -boy, but it can't be helped." - -"It strikes me it will have to be helped some day," replied Major -Marsden as he rode off. - -Meanwhile a third interview, fraught with grave consequences to this -story, had just taken place in the Commissariat office whither Shunker -Das had driven immediately after his rebuff, with the intention of -robbing Peter to pay Paul; in other words, of getting hold of some -Government contract, out of which he could squeeze the extra rupees -required for the purchase of the _Rai Bahadur_-ship; a proceeding -which commended itself to his revengeful and spiteful brain. As it so -happened, he appeared in the very nick of time; for he found Colonel -Stuart looking helplessly at a telegram from headquarters, ordering -him to forward five hundred camels to the front at once. - -Now the Faizapore office sent in the daily schedules, original, -duplicate, and triplicate, with commendable regularity, and drew the -exact amount of grain sanctioned for transport animals without fail; -nevertheless a sudden demand on its resources was disagreeable. So, as -he had done once or twice before in this time of war and rumours of -wars, the chief turned to the big contractor for help; not without a -certain uneasiness, for though a long course of shady transactions had -blunted Colonel Stuart's sense of honour towards his equals, it had -survived to an altogether illogical extent towards his inferiors. Now -his private indebtedness to the usurer was so great that he could not -afford to quarrel with him; and this knowledge nurtured a suspicion -that Shunker Das made a tool of him, an idea most distasteful both to -pride and honour. No mental position is more difficult to analyse than -that of a man, who having lost the desire to do the right from a -higher motive, clings to it from a lower one. Belle's father, for -instance, did not hesitate to borrow cash from monies intrusted to his -care; but he would rather not have borrowed it from a man with whom he -had official dealings. - -Shunker Das, however, knew nothing, and had he known would have -credited little, of this survival of honour. It seemed impossible in -his eyes that the innumerable dishonesties of the Faizapore office -could exist without the knowledge of its chief. Bribery was to him no -crime; nor is it one to a very large proportion of the people of -India. To the ignorant, indeed, it seems such a mere detail of daily -life that it is hard for them to believe in judicial honesty. Hence -the ease with which minor officials extort large sums on pretence of -carrying the bribe to the right quarter; and hence again comes, no -doubt, many a whispered tale of corruption in high places. - -"I shall lose by this contract, _sahib_," said the Lala, when the -terms had been arranged; "but I rely on your honour's generous aid in -the future. There are big things coming in, when the Protector of the -Poor will doubtless remember his old servant, whose life and goods are -always at your honour's disposal." - -"I have the highest opinion of,--of your integrity, Lala _sahib_," -replied the Colonel evasively, "and of course shall take it,--I mean -your previous services--into consideration, whenever it--it is -possible to do so." The word integrity had made him collapse a little, -but ere the end of the sentence he had recovered his self-esteem, and -with it his pomposity. - -The Lala's crafty face expanded into a smile. "We understand each -other, _sahib_, and if--!" here he dropped his voice to a confidential -pitch. - -Five minutes after Colonel Stuart's debts had increased by a thousand -rupees, and the Lala was carefully putting away a duly stamped and -signed I.O.U. in his pocket-book; not that he assigned any value to -it, but because it was part of the game. Without any distinct idea of -treachery, he always felt that Lukshmi, the goddess of Fortune, had -given him one more security against discomfiture when he managed to -have the same date on a contract and a note of hand. Not that he -anticipated discomfiture either. In fact, had any one told him that he -and the Colonel were playing at cross-purposes, he would have laughed -the assertion to scorn. He had too high an opinion of the perspicacity -of the _sahib-logue_, and especially of the _sahib_ who shut his eyes -to so many irregularities, to credit such a possibility. - -So he drove homewards elate, and on the way was stopped in a narrow -alley by an invertebrate crowd, which, without any backbone of -resistance, blocked all passage, despite the abuse he showered around. -"Run over the pigs! Drive on, I say," he shouted to the driver, when -other means failed. - -"Best not, Shunker," sneered a little gold-earringed Rajpoot amongst -the crowd, "there's a sepoy in yonder shooting free." - -The Lala sank back among his cushions, green with fear. At the same -moment an officer in undress uniform rode up as if the street were -empty, the crowd making way before him. "What is it, _havildar_ -(sergeant)?" he asked sharply, reining up before an open door where a -sentry stood with rifle ready. - -"Private Afzul Khan run amuck, _Huzoor!_" - -Major Marsden threw himself from his horse and looked through the door -into the little court within. It was empty, but an archway at right -angles led to an inner yard. "When?" - -"Half an hour gone--the guard will be here directly, _Huzoor!_ They -were teasing him for being an Afghan, and saying he would have to -fight his own people." - -"Any one hurt?" - -"Jeswunt Rai and Gurdit Singh, not badly; he has--seven rounds left, -_sahib_, and swears he won't be taken alive." - -The last remark came hastily, as Major Marsden stepped inside the -doorway. He paused, not to consider, but because the tramp of soldiers -at the double came down the street. "Draw up your men at three paces -on either side of the door," he said to the native officer. "If you -hear a shot, go on the house-top and fire on him as he sits. If he -comes out alone, shoot him down." - -"Allah be with the brave!" muttered one or two of the men, as Philip -Marsden turned once more to enter the courtyard. It lay blazing in the -sunshine, open and empty; but what of the dim archway tunnelling a row -of buildings into that smaller yard beyond, where Afzul Khan waited -with murder in his heart, and his finger on the trigger of his rifle? -There the Englishman would need all his nerve. It was a rash attempt -he was making; he knew that right well, but he had resolved to attempt -it if ever he got the opportunity. Anything, he had told himself, was -better than the wild-beast-like scuffle he had witnessed not long -before; a hopeless, insane struggle ending in death to three brave -men, one of them the best soldier in the regiment. The remembrance of -the horrible scene was strong on him as his spurs clicked an even -measure across the court. - -It was cooler in the shadow, quite a relief after the glare. Ah!... -just as he had imagined! In the far corner a crouching figure and a -glint of light on the barrel of a rifle. No pause; straight on into -the sunlight again; then suddenly the word of command rang through the -court boldly. "Lay down your arms!" - -The familiar sound died away into silence. It was courage against -power, and a life hung on the balance. Then the long gleam of light on -the rifle wavered, disappeared, as Private Afzul Khan stood up and -saluted. "You are a braver man than I, _sahib_," he said. That was -all. - -A sort of awed whisper of relief and amazement ran through the crowd -as Philip Marsden came out with his prisoner, and gave orders for the -men to fall in. Two Englishmen in mufti had ridden up in time for the -final tableau; and one of them, nodding his head to the retreating -soldiers, said approvingly, "That is what gave, and keeps us India." - -"And that," returned John Raby pointing to Shunker Das who with -renewed arrogance was driving off, "will make us lose it." - -"My dear Raby! I thought the moneyed classes--" - -"My dear Smith! if you think that when the struggle comes, as come it -must, our new nobility, whose patent is plunder, will fight our -battles against the old, I don't." - -They argued the point all the way home without convincing each other, -while Time with the truth hidden in his wallet passed on towards the -Future. - - - - - CHAPTER IV. - - -Had any one, a week before his daughter arrived, told Colonel Stuart -that her presence would be a pleasant restraint upon him, he would -have been very angry. Yet such was the fact. Her likeness to her -mother carried him back to days when his peccadilloes could still be -regarded as youthful follies, and people spared a harsh verdict on -what age might be expected to remedy. Then her vast admiration gave a -reality to his own assumptions of rectitude; for the Colonel clung -theoretically to virtue with great tenacity, in a loud-voiced, -conservative "d---- you if you don't believe what I say" sort of -manner. He also maintained a high ideal in regard to the honour of -every one else, based on a weak-kneed conviction that his own was -above suspicion. - -He was proud of Belle too, fully recognising that with her by his side -his grey hairs became reverend. So he pulled himself up to some small -degree, and began to sprinkle good advice among the younger men with -edifying gravity. As for Belle she was supremely happy. No doubt had -she been "earnest" or "soulful" or "intense" she might have found -spots on her sun with the greatest ease; but she was none of these -things. At this period of her existence nothing was further from her -disposition than inward questionings on any subject. She took life as -she found it, seeing only her own healthy, happy desires in its dreary -old problems, and remaining as utterly unconscious that she was -assimilating herself to her surroundings as the caterpillar which -takes its colour from the leaf on which it feeds. For a healthy mind -acts towards small worries as the skin does towards friction; it -protects itself from pain by an excess of vitality. It is only when -pressure breaks through the blister that its extent is realised. - -In good truth Belle's life was a merry one. The three girls were -good-nature itself, especially when they found the new arrival -possessed none of their own single-hearted desire for matrimony. Her -stepmother, if anything, was over-considerate, being a trifle inclined -to make a bugbear of the girl's superior claims to her father's -affection. The housekeeping was lavishly good, and men of a certain -stamp were not slow to avail themselves of the best mutton and prawn -curry in Faizapore. Where the money came from which enabled the -Stuarts to keep open house, they did not enquire. Neither did Belle, -who knew no more about the value of things than a baby in arms. As for -the Colonel, he had long years before acquired the habit of looking on -his debts as his principal, and treating his pay as the interest. So -matters went smoothly and swiftly for the first month or so, during -which time Belle might have been seen everywhere in the company of the -three Miss Van Milders, cheerfully following their lead with a serene -innocence that kept even the fastest of a very fast set in check. Once -or twice she saw Philip Marsden, and was rallied by the girls on her -acquaintance with that solitary misogynist. Mrs. Stuart, indeed, went -so far as to ask him to dinner, even though he had not called, on the -ground that he was the richest man in the station, and Belle's -interests must not be neglected though she was only a stepdaughter. -But he sent a polite refusal, and so the matter dropped; nor to Mrs. -Stuart's open surprise did Belle make any other declared conquest. - -Yet, unnoticed by all, there was some one, who long before the first -month was out, would willingly have cut himself into little pieces in -order to save his idol from the least breath of disappointment. So it -was from Cousin Dick's superior knowledge of Indian life that Belle -learnt many comforting, if curious excuses for things liable to ruffle -even her calm of content. - -Poor Dick! Hitherto his efforts in all directions had resulted in -conspicuous failure; chiefly, odd though it may seem, because he -happened to be born under English instead of Indian skies. In other -words, because he was not what bureaucracies term "a Statutory -Native." His mother, Mrs. Stuart's younger sister, had run away with a -young Englishman who, having ruined himself over a patent, was keeping -soul and body together by driving engines. In some ways she might have -done worse, for Smith senior was a gentleman; but he possessed, -unfortunately, just that unstable spark of genius which, like a -will-o'-the-wisp leads a man out of the beaten path without guiding -him into another. The small sum of money she brought him was simply so -much fuel to feed the flame; and, within a few months of their -marriage, the soft, luxurious girl was weeping her eyes out in a -miserable London lodging, while he went the rounds with his patent. -There Dick was born, and thence after a year or two she brought them -both back to the elastic house, the strong family affection, and -lavish hospitality which characterise the Eurasian race. Not for long, -however, since her husband died of heat-apoplexy while away seeking -for employment, and she, after shedding many tears, succumbed to -consumption brought on by the fogs and cold of the north. So, -dependent on various uncles and aunts in turn, little Dick Smith had -grown up with one rooted desire in the rough red head over which his -sleek, soft guardians shook theirs ominously. Briefly, he was to be an -engineer like his father. He broke open everything to see how it -worked, and made so many crucial experiments that the whole family -yearned for the time when he should join the Government Engineering -College at Roorkee. And then, just when this desirable consummation -was within reach, some one up among the deodars at Simla, or in an -office at Whitehall, invented the "Statutory Native," and there was an -end of poor Dick's career; for a Statutory Native is a person born in -India of parents habitually resident and domiciled in the country. -True, the college was open to the boy for his training; but with all -the Government appointments awarded to successful students closed to -him by the accident of his birth, his guardians naturally shook their -heads again over an expensive education which would leave him, -practically, without hope of employment. For, outside Government -service, engineers are not, as yet, wanted in India. He might, of -course, had he been the son of a rich man, have been sent home to pass -out as an Englishman through the English college. As it was the boy, -rebellious to the heart's core, was set to other employment. Poor -Dick! If his European birth militated against him on the one side, his -Eurasian parentage condemned him on the other. After infinite trouble -his relations got him a small post on the railway, whence he was -ousted on reduction; another with a private firm which became -bankrupt. The lad's heart and brains were elsewhere, and as failure -followed on failure, he gave way to fits of defiance, leading him by -sheer excess of energy into low companionship and bad habits. At the -time of Belle's arrival he was trying to work off steam as an unpaid -clerk in his uncle's office when a boy's first love revolutionized his -world; love at first sight, so enthralling, so compelling, that he did -not even wonder at the change it wrought in him. Belle never knew, -perhaps he himself did not recognise, how much of the calm content of -those first few months was due to Dick's constant care. A silent, -unreasoning devotion may seem a small thing viewed by the head, but it -keeps the heart warm. Poor, homeless, rebellious Dick had never felt -so happy, or so good, in all his life; and he would kneel down in his -hitherto prayerless room and pray that she might be kept from sorrow, -like any young saint. Yet he had an all-too-intimate acquaintance with -the corruption of Indian towns, and an all-too-precocious knowledge of -evil. - -Belle in her turn liked him; there was something more congenial in his -breezy, tempestuous, nature than in the sweetness of her stepbrothers, -and unconsciously she soon learnt to come to him for comfort. "Charlie -tells such dreadful stories," she complained one day, "and he really -is fond of whisky-and-water. I almost wish father wouldn't give him -any." - -"The governor thinks it good for him, I bet," returned Dick stoutly. -"I believe it is sometimes. Then as for lies! I used to tell 'em -myself; it's the climate. He'll grow out of it, you'll see; I did." - -Now Dick's truthfulness was, as a rule, so uncompromising that Belle -cheered up; as for the boy, his one object then was to keep care from -those clear eyes; abstract truth was nowhere. - -The next time Sonny _baba_ was offered a sip from his father's glass, -he refused hastily. Pressure produced a howl of terror; nor was it -without the greatest difficulty that he was subsequently brought to -own that Cousin Dick had threatened to kill him if he ever touched a -"peg" again. Luckily for the peace of the household this confession -was made in the Colonel's absence, when only Mrs. Stuart's high, -strident voice could be raised in feeble anger. The culprit remained -unrepentant; the more so because Belle assoilzied him, declaring that -Charlie ought not to be allowed to touch the horrid mixture. Whereupon -her stepmother sat and cried softly with the boy on her lap, making -both Belle and Dick feel horribly guilty, until, the incident having -occurred at lunch, both the sufferers fell asleep placidly. When Belle -returned from her afternoon ride she found Mrs. Stuart in high good -humour, decanting a bottle of port wine. "You frightened me so, my -dear," she said affectionately, "that I sent for the doctor, and he -says port wine _is_ better, so I'm glad you mentioned it." And Belle -felt more guilty than ever. - -These afternoon rides were Dick's only trouble. He hated the men who -came about the house, and more especially the favoured many who were -allowed to escort the "Van" as Belle's three stepsisters were -nick-named. It made him feel hot and cold all over to think of her in -the company which he found suitable enough for his cousins. But then -it seemed to him as if no one was good enough for Belle,--he himself -least of all. He dreamed wild, happy dreams of doing something brave, -fine, and manly; not so much from any desire of thereby winning her, -but because his own love demanded it imperiously. For the first time -the needle of his compass pointed unhesitatingly to the pole of right. -He confided these aspirations to the girl, and they would tell each -other tales of heroism until their cheeks flushed, and their eyes -flashed responsive to the deeds of which they talked. One day Dick -came home full of the story of Major Marsden and the Afghan sepoy; and -they agreed to admire it immensely. After that Dick made rather a hero -of the Major, and Belle began to wonder why the tall quiet man who had -been so friendly at their first meeting, kept so persistently aloof -from her and hers. He was busy, of course, but so were others, for -these were stirring times. The arsenal was working over hours, and all -through the night, long files of laden carts crept down the dusty -roads, bearing stores for the front. - -To all outward appearance, however, society took no heed of these wars -or rumours of wars, but went on its way rejoicing in the winter -climate which made amusement possible. And no one in the station -rejoiced more than Belle. Major Marsden, watching her from afar, told -himself that a girl who adopted her surroundings--and such -surroundings!--so readily, was not to be pitied. She was evidently -well able to take care of herself; yet, many a time, as he sat playing -whist while others were dancing, he caught himself looking up to see -who the partner might be with whom she was hurrying past to seek the -cooler air of the gardens, where seats for two were dimly visible -among the coloured lanterns. - -For the most part, however, Belle's partners were boys, too young to -have lost the faculty of recognising innocent unconsciousness. But one -night at a large ball given to a departing regiment, she fell into the -hands of a stranger who had come in from an outstation in order to -continue a pronounced flirtation which Maud Van Milder had permitted -during a dull visit to a friend. That astute young lady having no -intention of offending permanent partners for his sake, handed him -over to Belle for a dance, and the latter, failing to fall in with his -step during the first turn, pleaded fatigue as the easiest way of -getting through the penance. - -Philip at his whist, saw her pass down the corridor towards the -garden; and, happening to know her companion, played a false card, -lost the trick, and apologised. - -"Time yet, if we look out," replied his partner; but this was exactly -what the Major could not do, and the rubber coming swiftly to an end, -he made an excuse for cutting out, and followed Belle into the garden, -wondering who could have introduced her to such a man. To begin with -he was not fit for decent society, and in addition he had evidently -favoured the champagne. Philip had no definite purpose in his pursuit, -until from a dark corner he heard Belle's clear young voice with a -touch of hauteur in it. Then the impulse to get her away from her -companion before he had a chance of making himself objectionable, came -to the front, joined to an unexpected anger and annoyance. - -"I have been looking for you everywhere, Miss Stuart. You are wanted," -said Philip going up to them. - -"Hallo, Marsden! what a beast you are to come just as we were gettin' -confidential--weren't we?" exclaimed Belle's companion with what was -meant to be a fascinating leer. She turned from one face to the other; -but if the one aroused dislike and contempt, the air of authority in -Major Marsden's touched her pride. - -"Who wants me?" she asked calmly. - -"Who!" echoed her partner. "Come, that's a good one! We both want you; -don't we, Marsden?" - -Luckily for the speaker Philip recognised his own imprudence in -risking an altercation. The only thing to be done now, was to get the -girl away as soon as possible. - -"Exactly so;" he replied, crushing down his anger, "Miss Stuart can -choose between us." - -Belle rose superbly. - -"You seem to forget I can go alone." And alone she went, while her -partner shrieked with noisy laughter, avowing that he loved a spice of -the devil in a girl. - -Philip moodily chewing the end of his cheroot ere turning in felt that -the rebuff served him right, though he could not restrain a smile as -he thought of Belle's victorious retreat. By that time, however, -subsequent facts had enlightened her as to Philip's possible meaning, -and the sight of her former partner being inveigled away from waltzing -to the billiard room by the senior subaltern, made her turn so pale -that John Raby, on whose arm she was leaning, thought she was afraid. - -"He won't be allowed to come back, Miss Stuart," he said consolingly. -"And I apologise in the name of the committee for the strength of the -champagne." - -Belle's mouth hardened. "There is no excuse for that sort of thing. -There never can be one." - -He looked at her curiously. - -"I wouldn't say that, Miss Stuart. It is a mistake to be so stern. For -my part I can forgive anything. It is an easy habit to acquire--and -most convenient." - - -Belle, however, could not even forgive herself. She lay tossing about -enacting the scene over and over again, wondering what Major Marsden -must think of her. How foolish she had been! Why had she not trusted -him? Why had he not made her understand? - -Being unable to sleep, she rose, and long ere her usual hour was -walking about the winding paths which intersected the barren desert of -garden where nothing grew but privet and a few bushes of oleander. -This barrenness was not Dame Nature's fault, for just over the other -side of the wide white road John Raby's garden was ablaze with -blossom. Trails of Marechale Niel roses, heavy with great creamy cups, -hung over the low hedge, and a sweet English scent of clove-pinks and -mignonette was wafted to her with every soft, fitful gust of wind. She -felt desperately inclined to cross the intervening dust into this -paradise, and stood quite a long time at the blue gate-posts wondering -why a serpent seemed to have crept into her own Eden. The crow's -long-drawn note came regularly from a _kuchnar_ tree that was sheeted -with white geranium-like flowers; the Seven Brothers chattered noisily -among the yellow tassels of the cassia, and over head, against the -cloudless sky, a wedge-shaped flight of cranes was winging its way -northward, all signs that the pleasant cold weather was about to give -place to the fiery furnace of May; but Belle knew nothing of such -things as yet, so the vague sense of coming evil, which lay heavily on -her, seemed all the more depressing from its unreasonableness. A -striped squirrel became inquisitive over her still figure and began -inspection with bushy tail erect and short starts of advance, till it -was scared by the clank of bangles and anklets as a group of Hindu -women, bearing bunches of flowers and brazen _lotahs_ of milk for -Seetlas' shrine, came down the road; beside them, in various stages of -toddle, the little children for whom their mothers were about to beg -immunity from small-pox. Of all this again Belle knew nothing; but -suddenly, causelessly, it struck her for the first time that she ought -to know something. Who were these people? What were they doing? Where -were they going? One small child paused to look at her and she smiled -at him. The mother smiled in return, and the other women looked back -half surprised, half pleased, nodding, and laughing as they went on -their way. - -Why? Belle, turning to enquire after the late breakfast, felt -oppressed by her own ignorance. In the verandah she met the bearer -coming out of the Colonel's window with a medicine bottle in his hand. -Did her ignorance go so far that her father should be ill and she not -know of it? "Budlu!" she asked hastily, "the Colonel _sahib_ isn't -ill, is he?" - -The man, who had known her mother, and grown grey with his master, -raised a submissive face. "No, missy _baba_, not ill. Colonel _sahib_, -he drunk." - -"Drunk!" she echoed mechanically, too astonished for horror. "What -_do_ you mean?" - -"Too much wine drunk,--very bad," explained Budlu cheerfully. - -She caught swiftly at the words with a sense of relief from she knew -not what. "Ah, I see! the wine last night was bad, and disagreed with -him?" - -"Damn bad!" Budlu's English was limited but not choice. She remarked -on it at the breakfast-table, repeating his words and laughing. None -of the girls were down, but Walter and Stanley giggled; and the latter -was apparently about to say something facetious, when his words -changed into an indignant request that Dick would look out, and keep -his feet to himself. - -"Was it you I kicked?" asked Dick innocently. "I thought it was the -puppy." Then he went on fast as if in haste to change the subject: "I -often wonder why you don't learn Hindustani, Belle. You'd be ashamed -not to speak the lingo in other countries. Why not here? I'll teach -you if you like." - -"There's your chance, Belle!" sneered Stanley, still smarting from -Dick's forcible method of ensuring silence. "He really is worth ten -rupees a month as _moonshee_, and 'twill save the governor's pocket if -it goes in the family." - -An unkind speech, no doubt; yet it did good service to Dick by -ensuring Belle's indignant defence, and her immediate acceptance of -his offer; for she was ever ready of tongue, and swift of sympathy, -against injustice or meanness. - -So the little incident of the morning passed without her understanding -it in the least. Nevertheless Dick found it harder and harder every -day to manipulate facts, and to stand between his princess and the -naked, indecent truth. Her curiosity in regard to many things had been -aroused, and she asked more questions in the next four days than she -had asked in the previous four months; almost scandalizing the Van -Milder clan by the interest she took in things of which they knew -nothing. It was all very well, the girls said, if she intended to be a -_zenana_-mission lady, but without that aim it seemed to them barely -correct that she should know how many wives the _khansamah_ (butler) -had. As for the boys, they rallied her tremendously about her -Hindustani studies, for, like most of their race, they prided -themselves on possessing but a limited acquaintance with their mother -tongue; Walter, indeed, being almost boastful over the fact that he -had twice failed for the Higher Standard. Then the whole family -chaffed her openly because she had a few sensible talks with John -Raby, the young civilian; and when she began to show a certain -weariness of pursuing pleasure in rear of the "Van," insisted that she -must be in love with him without knowing it. - -"I don't like Raby," said Mildred, the youngest and least artificial -of the sisters. "Jack Carruthers told me the governor had been -dropping a lot of money to him at _ecarte_." - -"I don't see what you and Mr. Carruthers have to do with father's -amusements," flashed out Belle in swift anger. "I suppose he can -afford it, and at least he never stints you,--I mean the family," she -added hastily, fearing to be mean. - -"Quite true, my dear! He's a real good sort, is the governor, about -money, and he can of course do as he likes; but Raby oughtn't to -gamble; it isn't form in a civilian. You needn't laugh, Belle, it's -true; it would be quite different if he was in the army." - -"Soldiers rush in where civilians fear to tread," parodied Belle -contemptuously. "I wish people wouldn't gossip so. Why can't they -leave their neighbours alone?" - -Nevertheless that afternoon she stole over to the office, which was -only separated from the house by an expanse of dusty, stubbly grass, -and seeing her father alone in his private room comfortably reading -the paper, slipped to his side, and knelt down. - -"Well, my pretty Belle," he said caressing her soft fluffy hair, "why -aren't you out riding with the others?" - -"I didn't care to go; then you were to be at home, and I like that -best. I don't see much of you as a rule, father." - -Colonel Stuart's virtue swelled visibly, as it always did under the -vivifying influence of his daughter's devotion. "I am a busy man, my -dear, you must not forget that," he replied a trifle pompously; "my -time belongs to the Government I have the honour to serve." The girl -was a perfect godsend to him, acting on his half-dead sensibilities -like a galvanic battery on paralysed nerve-centres. He was dimly -conscious of this, and also of relief that the influence was not -always on him. - -"I know you are very busy, dear," she returned, nestling her head on -his arm, as she seated herself on the floor. "That's what bothers me. -Couldn't I help you in your work sometimes? I write a very good hand, -so people say." - -Colonel Stuart let his paper fall in sheer astonishment. "Help me! why -my dear child, I have any number of clerks." - -"But I should like to help!" Her voice was almost pathetic; there was -quite a break in it. - -Her father looked at her in vague alarm. "You are not feeling ill, are -you, Belle? Not feverish, I hope, my dear! It's a most infernal -climate though, and one can't be too careful. You'd better go and get -your mother to give you five grains of quinine. I can't have you -falling sick, I can't indeed; just think of the anxiety it would be." - -Belle, grateful for her father's interest, took the quinine; but no -drug, not even poppy or mandragora, had power to charm away her -restless dissatisfaction. Dick's office was no sinecure, and even his -partial eyes could not fail to see that she was often captious, almost -cross. It came as a revelation to him, for hitherto she had been a -divinity in his eyes; and now, oh strange heresy! he found himself -able to laugh at her with increased, but altered devotion. Hitherto he -had wreathed her pedestal with flowers; now he kept the woman's feet -from thorns, and the impulse to make their pathways one grew stronger -day by day. She, unconscious of the position, added fuel to the flame -by choosing his society, and making him her confidant. Naturally with -one so emotional as Dick, the crisis was not long in coming, and -music, of which he was passionately fond, brought it about in this -wise; for Belle played prettily, and he used to sit and listen to her -like the lover in Frank Dicksee's _Harmony_, letting himself drift -away on a sea of pleasure or pain, he scarcely knew which. So, one -afternoon when they were alone in the house together, she sat down to -the piano and played Schubert's _Fruehlingslied_. The sunshine lay like -cloth of gold outside, the doves cooed ceaselessly, the scent of the -roses in John Raby's garden drifted in through the window with the -warm wind which stirred the little soft curls on Belle's neck. The -perfume of life got into the lad's brain, and almost before he knew -it, his arms were round the girl, his kisses were on her lips, and his -tale of love in her ears. - -It was very unconventional of course, but very natural,--for him. For -her the sudden rising to her full height with amazement and dislike in -her face was equally natural, and even more unforeseen. The sight of -it filled poor Dick with such shame and regret, that his past action -seemed almost incredible to his present bewilderment. "Forgive me, -Belle," he cried, "I was mad; but indeed I love you,--I love you." - -She stood before him like an insulted queen full of bitter anger. "I -will never forgive you. How dare you kiss me? How dare you say you -love me?" - -The lad's combativeness rose at her tone. "I suppose any one may dare -to love you. I'm sorry I kissed you, Belle, but my conduct doesn't -alter my love." - -His manner, meant to be dignified, tended to bombast, and the girl -laughed scornfully. "Love indeed! You're only a boy! what do you know -about love?" - -"More than you do apparently." - -"I'm glad you realise the fact if _that_ is what you call love." - -"At any rate I'm older than you." - -The retort that he was old enough to know better rose to Belle's lips, -but a suspicion that this childish squabbling was neither correct nor -dignified, made her pause and say loftily, "How can you ask me to -forgive such a mean ungentlemanly thing?" - -The last epithet was too much for Dick; he looked at her as if she had -struck him. "Don't say that, Belle," he said hoarsely. "It's bad -enough that it's true, and that you don't understand; but don't say -that." He leant over the piano and buried his face in his hands in -utter despair. For the first time a pulse of pity shot through the -storm of physical and mental repulsion in the girl's breast, but she -put it from her fiercely. "Why shouldn't I say it if it is true?" - -"Because you are kind; always so good and kind." - -Again the pity had to be repulsed, this time still more harshly. "You -will say next that I've been too kind, that I encouraged you, I -suppose; that would put the finishing touch to your meanness." - -This speech put it to Dick's patience; he caught her by both hands, -and stood before her masterful in his wrath. "You shall not say such -things to me, Belle! Look me in the face and say it again if you dare. -You know quite well how I love and reverence you; you know that I -would die rather than offend you. I forgot everything but you,--I lost -myself,--you know it." - -The thrill in his voice brought a new and distinctly pleasurable sense -of power to the young girl, and, alas! that it should be so, made her -more merciless. "I prefer actions to words. You have insulted me and I -will never speak to you again." She regretted this assertion almost as -it was uttered; it went too far and bound her down too much. She was -not always going to be angry with poor Dick surely? No! not always, -but for the present decidedly angry, very angry indeed. - -"Insult!" echoed Dick drearily, letting her hands slip from his. -"There you go again; but fellows do kiss their cousins sometimes." - -Had there been any grown-up spectators to this scene they must have -laughed at the full-blown tragedy of both faces, and the alternate -bathos and pathos of the pleas. They were so young, so very young, -this girl and boy, and neither of them really meant what they said, -Belle especially, with her vicious retort: "I am not your cousin, and -I'm glad of it. I'm glad that I have nothing to do with you." - -As before her harshness overreached itself, and made a man of him. -"You want to put me out of your life altogether, Belle," he said more -steadily, "because I have made you angry. You have a right to be -angry, and I will go. But not for always. You don't wish that -yourself, I think, for you are kind. Oh Belle! be like yourself! say -one kind word before I go." - -Again the consciousness of power made her merciless, and she stood -silent, yet tingling all over with a half-fearful curiosity as to what -he would say next. - -"One kind word," he pleaded; "only one." - -He waited a minute, then, with a curse on his own folly in expecting -pity, flung out of the room. So it was all over! A genuine regret came -into the girl's heart and she crept away miserably to her own room, -and cried. - -"I wonder Dick isn't home to dinner," remarked Mrs. Stuart when that -meal came round. "I do hope he isn't going back to his old habit of -staying out. He heard to-day that his application for a post in the -Salt Department was refused, and he has no patience like my own boys. -I do hope he will come to no harm." - -The empty chair renewed Belle's remorseful regret. - -"Well! I can't have him kicking his heels in my office much longer," -remarked the Colonel crossly. "The head-clerk complains of him. -Confound his impudence! he actually interfered in the accounts the -other day, and showed regular distrust. I must have good feeling in -the office; that's a _sine qua non_." - -"Oh, Dick's got a splendid opinion of himself," broke in Stanley. "He -had the cheek to tell Raby yesterday that he played too much _ecarte_ -with--" The speaker remembered his audience too late. - -Colonel Stuart grew purple and breathless. "Do you mean to say that -the boy,--that _boy_--presumed to speak to Raby,--to _my friend_ -Raby--about his private actions? Lucilla! What is the world coming -to?" - -This was a problem never propounded to his wife save under dire -provocation, and the answer invariably warned him not to expect his -own high standard from the world. This time she ventured upon a timid -addition to the effect that rumour did accuse Mr. Raby of playing -high. - -"And if he does," retorted the Colonel, "he can afford to pay. Raby, -my dear, is a fine young fellow, with good principles,--deuced good -principles, let me tell you." - -"I am very glad to hear it, Charles, I'm sure; for it would be a pity -if a nice, clever, young man, who would make any girl a good husband, -were to get into bad habits." - -"Raby is a man any girl might be proud to marry. He is a good fellow." -He looked at Belle, who smiled at him absently; she was wondering -where Dick could be. - -"Raby isn't a Christian," remarked Mabel. "He told us yesterday he was -something else. What was it, Maud?" - -"An erotic Buddhist." - -"Esoteric," suggested Belle. - -"It's all the same. He said we were the three Thibetan sisters and he -worshipped us all. But we know who it is, don't we?" - -"How you giggle, girls!" complained Colonel Stuart fretfully. "Belle -never giggles. Dear child, I will teach you _ecarte_ this evening. It -will amuse you." - -It amused him, which was more to the purpose; in addition it prevented -him from falling asleep after dinner, which he was particularly -anxious not to do that evening. So they played until, just as the -clock was striking ten, a step was heard outside, and Colonel Stuart -rose with a relieved remark that it must be John Raby at last. The -opening door, however, only admitted truant Dick with rather a flushed -face. "From Raby," he said handing a note to his uncle. "I met the man -outside." - -The scowl, which the sight of the culprit had raised on Colonel -Stuart's face, deepened as he read a palpable excuse for not coming -over to play _ecarte_. It seemed inconceivable that Dick's -remonstrance could have wrought this disappointment; yet even the -suggestion was unpleasant. He turned on his nephew only too anxious to -find cause of quarrel. It was not hard to find, for Dick was -manifestly excited. "At your old tricks again, sir?" said his uncle -sternly. "You've been drinking in the bazaar." - -Now Dick, ever since the day on which Belle had come to him in -distress over Charlie's abandonment to "pegs," had forsworn liquor, as -he had forsworn many another bad habit. Even when driven to despair, -he had not flown to the old anodyne. But his very virtue had been his -undoing, and a single stiff tumbler of whisky and water, forced on him -by a friend who was startled by his looks as he returned fagged from a -wander into the wilderness, had gone to his unaccustomed head in a -most unlooked-for degree. The injustice of the accusation maddened -him, and he retorted fiercely: "I haven't had so much to drink as you -have, sir." - -"Don't speak to your uncle like that, Dick," cried Mrs. Stuart -alarmed. "You had better go to bed, dear; it is the best place for -you." - -"Leave the room, you dissipated young meddler," thundered the Colonel -breaking in on his wife's attempt to avert a collision. It was the -first time Belle had witnessed her father's passion, and the sight -made her cling to him as if her touch might soothe his anger. - -Dick, seeing her thus, felt himself an outcast indeed. "I've not been -drinking," he burst out, beside himself with jealousy and rage. "The -man who says I have is a liar." - -"Go to bed, sir," bawled his uncle, "or I'll kick you out of the room. -I'll have no drunkards here." - -Luckless Dick's evil genius prompted an easy retort. "Then you'd -better go first, sir; for I've seen you drunk oftener than you've seen -me!" - -The next instant he was at Belle's side pleading for disbelief. "No, -no, Belle! it's a lie! I am mad--drunk--anything--only it is not -true!" His denial struck home to the girl's heart when the angry -assertion might have glanced by. A flash of intelligence lit up the -past: she recollected a thousand incidents, she remembered a thousand -doubts which had made no impression at the time; and before Colonel -Stuart's inarticulate splutterings of wrath found words, her eyes met -Dick's so truthfully, so steadily, that he turned away in despair, in -blank, hopeless despair. - -"Why to-morrow?" he cried bitterly in answer to his uncle's order to -leave the room instantly and the house to-morrow. "There's no time -like the present, and I deserve it. Good-bye, Aunt Lucilla; you've -been very kind, always; but I can't stand it any longer. Good-bye, all -of you!" - -He never even looked at Belle again; the door closed and he was gone. - -"Poor, dear Dick!" remarked Mrs. Stuart in her high complaining -voice. "He always had a violent temper, even as a baby. Don't fret -about it, my dear,"--for large tears were slowly rolling down Belle's -cheeks--"He will be all right to-morrow, you'll see; and he has really -been steadiness itself of late." - -"He wasn't anything to speak of either," urged Mildred with her usual -good-nature. "Only a little bit on, and I expect he had no dinner." - -"Dinner or no dinner, I say he was drunk," growled Colonel Stuart -sulkily. "No one lies like that unless he is,--that's my experience." - -But Belle scarcely realised what they said. Her heart was full of -fear, and though sleep came with almost unwelcome readiness to drive -thought away, she dreamt all night long that some one was saying, "One -kind word, Belle, only one kind word," and she could not speak. - - - - - CHAPTER V. - - -Outside the parallelograms of white roads centred by brown stretches -of stubbly grass, and bordered by red and blue houses wherein the -European residents of Faizapore dwelt after their kind, and our poor -Belle lay dreaming, a very different world had been going on its way -placidly indifferent, not to her only, but to the whole colony of -strangers within its gates. The great plains, sweeping like a sea to -the horizon, had been ploughed, sown, watered, harvested: children had -been born, strong men had died, crimes been committed, noble acts -done; and of all this not one word had reached the alien ears. Only -the District Officer and his subaltern, John Raby, bridged the gulf by -driving down every day to the court-house, which lay just beyond the -boundaries of the cantonment and close to the native city; there, for -eight weary hours, to come in contact with the most ignoble attributes -of the Indian, and thence to drive at evening heartily glad of escape. -In the lines of the native regiment Philip Marsden went in and out -among his men, knowing them by name, and sympathising with their -lives. But they too were a race apart from the tillers of soil, the -hewers of wood and drawers of water, who pay the bills for the great -Empire. - -Even old Mahomed Lateef came but seldom to see the Major _sahib_ since -he had been forced to send his Benjamin to Delhi, there, in a hotbed -of vice and corruption, to gain a livelihood by his penmanship. The -lad was employed on the staff of a red-hot Mahometan newspaper -entitled "The Light of Islam," and spent his days in copying blatant -leaders on to the lithographic stones. Nothing could exceed the lofty -tone of "The Light of Islam." No trace of the old Adam peeped through -its exalted sentiments save when it spoke of the Government, or of its -Hindu rival "The Patriot." Then the editor took down his dictionary of -synonyms, and, looking out all the bad epithets from "abandoned" to -"zymotic," used them with more copiousness than accuracy. Sometimes, -however, it would join issue with one adversary against another, and -blaze out into fiery paragraphs of the following order: - - -We are glad to see that yet once more "The Patriot," forgetting its -nonsensical race-prejudice for the nonce, has, to use a colloquialism, -followed our lead in pertinently calling on Government for some worthy -explanation of the dastardly outrage perpetrated by its minions on a -virtuous Mahometan widow, &c, &c. - - -And lovers of the dreadful, after wading through a column of abuse, -would discover that the ancestral dirt of an old lady's cowhouse had -been removed by order of the Deputy Commissioner! Yet the paper did -good: it could hardly do otherwise, considering its exalted -sentiments; but for all that the occupation was an unwholesome one for -an excitable lad like Murghub Ahmed. While his fingers inked -themselves hopelessly over the fine words, his mind also became -clouded by them. The abuse of language intoxicated him, until -moderation seemed to him indifference, and tolerance sympathy. He took -to sitting up of nights composing still more turgid denunciations; and -the first time "The Light of Islam" went forth, bearing not only his -hand-writing, but his heart's belief on its pages, he felt that he had -found his mission. To think that but four months ago he had wept with -disappointment because he was refused the post of statistical writer -in a Government office! Between striking averages, and evolving -Utopias, what a glorious difference! He thanked Providence for the -change, though his heart ached cruelly at times when he could spare -nothing from his modest wage for the dear ones at home. He had a wife -waiting there for him; ere long there might be a child, and he knew -her to be worse fed than many a street-beggar. It seemed to him part -of the general injustice which set his brain on fire. - -"Words! Nothing but words," muttered old Mahomed Lateef as he lay -under the solitary _nim_ tree in his courtyard and spelt out "The -Light of Islam" with the aid of a huge horn-rimmed pair of spectacles. -"Pish! '_The pen is mightier than the sword!_' What white-livered fool -said that? The boy should not have such water in his veins unless his -mother played me false. God knows! women are deceitful, and full of -guile." - -This was only his habit of thought; he had no intention of casting -aspersions on his much respected wife Fatma Bibi, who just then -appeared with a hookah full of the rankest tobacco. "I shall send for -the boy, oh Fatma Bi!" said the stern old domestic tyrant. "He is -learning to say more than he dare do, and that I will not have. He -shall come home and do more than he says--ha! ha!" Fatma Bi laughed -too, and clapped her wrinkled hands, while the shy girl, dutifully -doing the daughter-in-law's part of cooking, turned her head away to -smile lest any one should accuse her of joy because _he_ was coming -back. - -So Mahomed Lateef covered a sheet of flimsy German note-paper, bought -in the bazaar, with crabbed Arabic lettering, and the women rejoiced -because the light of their eyes was coming back. And after all the lad -refused stoutly to return. He wrote his father a letter, full of the -most trite and beautiful sentiments, informing his aged parent that -times had changed, the old order given place to the new, and that he -intended to raise the banner of _jehad_ (religious war) against the -infidel. The women cried _Bismillah_, and Mahomed Lateef, despite his -annoyance at the disobedience, could not help, as it were, cocking his -ears like an old war-horse. Yet he wrote the lad a warning after his -lights, which ran thus: - - -God and His prophet forbid, oh son of my heart, that I should keep -thee back, if, as thou sayest, thou wouldst raise the banner of -_jehad_. If a sword be needed, I will send thee mine own friend; -but remember always what the mullah taught thee, nor confound the -three great things,--the Dur-ul-Islam, the Dur-ul-Husub, and the -Dur-ul-Ummun.[2] Have at the Hindu pigs, especially any that bear -kindred to Shunker's fat carcase; he hath cheated me rascally, and -built a window overlooking my yard for which I shall have the law of -him. But listen for the cry of the muezzin, and put thy sword in the -scabbard when its sound falls on thine ear, remembering 'tis the House -of Protection, and not the House of the Foe. If thou goest to China, -as perhaps may befall, seeing the _sahibs_ fight the infidel there, -remember to cool thy brother's grave with tears. Meanwhile, play -singlestick with Shahbaz Khan the Mogul, and if thou canst get the old -Meean _sahib_, his father, on his legs, put the foils into his hand, -rap him over the knuckles once, and he will teach thee more in one -minute than his son in five. - - -Then the old Syyed lay down on his bed under the _nim_ tree, and Fatma -Bi fanned the mosquitoes from him with a tinsel fan, and talked in -whispers to Nasibun, the childless wife, of the deeds their boy was to -do, while Haiyat Bi, the young bride, busy as usual, found time to dry -her tears unseen. A fire burning dim in one corner of the courtyard -was almost eclipsed by the moon riding gloriously in the purple-black -sky overhead. From the other side of the high partition wall came the -dull throbbing of the _dholki_ (little drum) and an occasional wild -skirling of pipes. The marriage festivities in Shunker Das's house had -begun, and every day some ceremony or other had to be gone through, -bringing an excuse for having the _maransunis_ (female musicians) in -to play and sing. High up near the roof of the sugar-cake house with -its white filigree mouldings gleamed the objectionable window. Within -sat the usurer himself conferring with his jackal, one Ram Lal, a man -of small estate but infinite cunning. It was from no desire of -overlooking Mahomed Lateef's women that Shunker Das frequented the -upper chamber. He had other and far more important business on hand, -necessitating quiet and the impossibility of being overheard. Even up -there the two talked in whispers, and chuckled under their breath; -while in the courtyard below the delicate child who stood between -Shunker and damnation ate sweetmeats and turned night into day with -weary, yet sleepless, eyes. - -The moon, shining in on the two courtyards, shone also on the church -garden, as Major Marsden after going his rounds turned his horse into -its winding paths. A curious garden it was, guiltless of flowers and -planted for the most part with tombstones. Modern sanitation, stepping -in like Aaron's rod to divide the dead from the living, had ceased to -use it as a cemetery; but the records of long forgotten sorrows -remained, looking ghostly in the moonlight. The branch of a rose-tree -encroaching on the walk caught in the tassel of Major Marsden's -bridle, and he stooped to disentangle it. Straightening himself again, -he paused to look on the peaceful scene around him and perceived that -some one, a belated soldier most likely, was lying not far off on a -tombstone. The horse picked its way among many a nameless grave to -draw up beside a figure lying still as if carved in stone. - -"Now, my man, what's up?" said Major Marsden dismounting to lay a -heavy hand on its shoulder. The sleeper rose almost automatically, and -stood before him alert and yet confused. "Dick Smith! What on earth -brings you here?" - -The boy could scarcely remember at first, so far had sleep taken him -from his troubles. Then he hung his head before memory. "I'm leaving -Faizapore, and came here--to wait for daylight; that's all." - -But the moonlight on the tombstone showed its inscription, "Sacred to -the memory of John Smith"; and Philip Marsden judged instantly that -there was trouble afoot; boys do not go to sleep on their father's -graves without due cause. Some scrape no doubt, and yet--. His dislike -to Colonel Stuart made him a partisan, and he was more ready to -believe ill of the elder, than of the younger man. - -"Don't be in a hurry," he said kindly. "There's something wrong of -course, but very few scrapes necessitate running away." - -"There's nothing to make me run away," replied Dick, with a lump in -his throat as he unconsciously contrasted this stranger's kindness -with other people's harshness; "but go I must." - -"Where?" - -The question roused the sense of injury latent for years. "Where? How -do I know? I tell you there's nothing for me to do anywhere--nothing! -And then, when a fellow is sick of waiting, and runs wild a bit, they -throw it in his teeth, when he has given it all up." - -It was not very lucid, but the lad's tone was enough for Philip -Marsden. "Come home with me," he said with a smile full of pity; "and -have a real sleep in a real bed. You don't know how different things -will seem to-morrow." - -Dick looked at his hero, thought how splendid he was, and went with -him like a lamb. - -Next morning when the boy with much circumlocution began to tell the -tale of his troubles, Major Marsden felt inclined to swear. Would he -never learn to mistrust his benevolent impulses, but go down to his -grave making a fool of himself? A boy and girl lovers' quarrel,--was -that all? Yet as the story proceeded he became interested in spite of -himself. "Do you mean to tell me," he said incredulously, "that Miss -Stuart is absolutely ignorant of what goes on in that house?" - -Dick laid his head on the table in sheer despair. "Ah Major, Major!" -he cried, "I told her--I--you should have seen her face!" He burst -into incoherent regrets, and praises of Belle's angelic innocence. - -"It appears to me," remarked Major Marsden drily, "to be about the -best thing that could have happened. Fiction is always unsafe. -Belle,--as you call her--must have found it out sooner or later. The -sooner the better, in my opinion." - -"You wouldn't say that if you knew her as I do," explained the other -eagerly; "or if you knew all that I do. There will be a smash some day -soon, and it will kill Belle outright. Ah! if I hadn't been a fool and -a brute, I might have stayed and perhaps kept things from going -utterly wrong." - -"Then why don't you go back?" asked his hearer impatiently. - -"I can't! He won't have me in the office again. You don't know what -mischief is brewing there." - -"Thank you, I'd rather not know; but if you're certain this move of -yours is final,--that is to say if you don't want to kiss and make -friends with your cousin--[Poor Dick writhed inwardly, for he had kept -back the full enormity of his offence]--then I might be able to help -you in getting employment. They are laying a new telegraph-line to the -front, and, as it so happens, a friend wrote to me a few days ago -asking if I knew of any volunteers for the work." - -The lad's face brightened. "Telegraphs! oh, I should like that! I've -been working at them these two years, and I think--but I'm not -sure--that I've invented a new--" - -"All right," interrupted Major Marsden brusquely; "they can try you, -at any rate. You can start tonight; that settles it. Now you had -better go round and get your things ready." - -Dick writhed again in mingled pride and regret. "I can't; I've said -good-bye to them all; besides, I left a bundle of sorts in the bazaar -before I went--there." - -Philip Marsden shrugged his shoulders, remarking that the boy might do -as he liked, and went off to his work; returning about two o'clock, -however, to find Dick asleep, wearied out even by a half-night's -vigil of sorrow. "How soft these young things are," he thought, as -he looked down on the sleeping boy, and noticed a distinctly damp -pocket-handkerchief still in the half-relaxed hand. A certain scorn -was in his heart, yet the very fact that he did notice such details -showed that he was not so hard as he pretended. He went into the -rough, disorderly room where he spent so many solitary evenings, lit a -cigar, and walked about restlessly. Finally, telling himself the while -that he was a fool for his pains, he sat down and wrote to Belle -Stuart in this wise:-- - - -My Dear Miss Stuart,--At the risk of once more being meddlesome, I -venture to tell you that your cousin, Dick Smith, goes off to -Beluchistan to-night as telegraph overseer. It is dangerous work, and -perhaps you might like to see him before he leaves. If so, by riding -through the church garden about six o'clock you will meet him. He -doesn't know I am writing, and would most likely object if he did; but -I know most women believe in the duty of forgiveness. Yours truly, -P. H. Marsden. - -P.S. If you were to send a small selection of warm clothing to meet -him at the bullock train office it, at any rate, could not fail to be -a comfort to him. - - -Belle read this rather brusque production with shining eyes and a -sudden lightening of her heart. Perhaps, as she told herself, this -arose entirely from her relief on Dick's account; perhaps the -conviction that Major Marsden could not judge her very harshly if he -thought it worth while to appeal to her in this fashion, had something -to do with it. The girl however did not question herself closely on -any subject. Even the dreadful doubt which Dick's mad words had raised -the night before had somehow found its appointed niche in the orderly -pageant of her mind where love sat in the place of honour. Was it -true? The answer came in a passionate desire to be ignorant, and yet -to protect and save. Very illogical, no doubt, but very womanly; to a -certain extent very natural also, for her father, forced by the -circumstances detailed in the last chapter to retire early to bed, had -arisen next morning in a most edifying frame of mind, and a somewhat -depressed state of body. He was unusually tender towards Belle, and -spoke with kindly dignity of unhappy Dick's manifest ill-luck. These -dispositions therefore rendered it easy for Belle to make excuses in -her turn. Not that she made them consciously; that would have argued -too great a change of thought. The craving to forget and forgive was -imperative, and the sense of wrong-doing which her innate truthfulness -would not allow to be smothered, found an outlet in self-blame for her -unkindness to dear Dick. As for poor father--: the epithets spoke -volumes. - -"There is your cousin," said Major Marsden to Dick as Belle rode -towards them through the overarching trees in the church garden. -"Don't run away; I asked her to come. You'll find me by the bridge." - -The lad was like Mahomet's coffin, hanging between a hell of remorse -and a heaven of forgiveness, as he watched her approach, and when she -reined up beside him, he looked at her almost fearfully. - -"I'm sorry I was cross to you, Dick," she said simply, holding out her -hand to him. The clouds were gone, and Dick Smith felt as if he would -have liked to stand up and chant her praises, or fight her battles, -before the whole world. They did not allude to the past in any way -until the time for parting came, when Dick, urged thereto by the -rankle of a certain epithet, asked with a furious blush if she would -promise to forget--everything. She looked at him with kindly smiling -eyes. "Good-bye, dear Dick," she said; and then, suddenly, she stooped -and kissed him. - -The young fellow could not speak. He turned aside to caress the horse, -and stood so at her bridle-rein for a moment. "God bless you for that, -Belle," he said huskily and left her. - -Belle, with a lump in her own throat and tearful shining eyes, rode -back past the bridge where Philip Marsden, leaning over the parapet, -watched the oily flow of the canal water in the cut below. He looked -up, thinking how fair and slim and young she was, and raised his hat -expecting her to pass, but she paused. He felt a strange thrill as his -eyes met hers still wet with tears. - -"I have so much to thank you for, Major Marsden," she said with a -little tremor in her voice, "and I do it so badly. You see I don't -always understand--" - -Something in her tone smote Philip Marsden with remorse. "Please not -to say any more about it, Miss Stuart. _I_ understand,--and,--and,-- -I'm glad you do not." Thinking over his words afterwards he came to -the conclusion that both these statements had wandered from the truth; -but how, he asked himself a little wrathfully, could any man tell the -naked, unvarnished, disagreeable truth with a pair of grey eyes soft -with tears looking at him? - -Dick, of course, raved about his cousin for the rest of the evening, -and besought the Major to send him confidential reports on the -progress of events. In his opinion disaster was unavoidable, and he -was proceeding to detail his reasons, when Major Marsden cut him short -by saying: "I would rather not hear anything about it; and I should -like to know, first, if you are engaged to your cousin?" - -Dick confessed he was not; whereupon his companion told him that he -would promise nothing, except, he added hastily, catching sight of -Dick's disappointed face, to help the girl in any way he could. With -this the boy professed to be quite content; perhaps he had grasped the -fact that Philip Marsden was apt to be better than his word. And -indeed a day or two after Dick's departure Marsden took the trouble to -go over and inquire of John Raby what sort of a man Lala Shunker Das, -the great contractor, was supposed to be. - -The young civilian laughed. "Like them all, not to be trusted. Why do -you ask?" He broke in on the evasive answer by continuing, "The man is -a goldsmith by caste. I suppose you know that in old days they were -never allowed in Government service. As the proverb says, 'A goldsmith -will do his grandmother out of a pice.' But if the Lala-ji gives you -trouble, bring him to me. I've been kind to him, and he is grateful, -in his way." - -Now the history of John Raby's kindness to Lala Shunker Das was -briefly this: he had discovered him in an attempt to cheat the revenue -in the matter of income-tax, and had kept the knowledge in his own -hands. "Purists would say I ought to report it, and smash the man," -argued this astute young casuist; "but the knowledge that his ruin in -the matter of that _Rai Bahadur_-ship hangs by a thread will keep the -old thief straighter; besides it is always unwise to give away power." - -That to a great extent was the keynote of John Raby's life. He coveted -power, not so much for its own sake as for the use he could make of -it. For just as some men inherit a passion for drink, he had inherited -greed of gain from a long line of Jewish ancestry. The less said of -his family the better: indeed, so far as his own account went, he -appeared to have been born when he went to read with a celebrated -"coach" at the age of sixteen. Memory never carried him further in -outward speech; but as this is no uncommon occurrence in Indian -society, the world accepted him for what he appeared to be, a -well-educated gentleman, and for what he was, a man with a pension for -himself and his widow. His first collector, a civilian of the old -type, used to shake his head when John Raby's name was mentioned, and -augur that he would either be hanged or become a Chief Court Judge. -"He was in camp with me, sir," this worthy would say, "when a flight -of wild geese came bang over the tent. I got a couple, the last with -the full choke; and I give you my word of honour Raby never lifted his -eyes from the _buniah's_ book he was deciphering in a petty bond -case!" - -In truth the young man's faculty for figures, and his aptitude for -discovering fraud, partook of the nature of genius, and gained him the -reputation of being a perfect _shaitan_ (devil) among the natives. -Philip Marsden, associated with him on a committee for the purchase of -mules, learnt to trust his acumen implicitly, and became greatly -interested in the clear-headed, well-mannered young fellow who knew -such a prodigious amount for his years; pleasant in society too, -singing sentimental songs in a light tenor voice, and having a store -of that easy small-talk which makes society smooth by filling up the -chinks. Being a regular visitor of Colonel Stuart's house John Raby -saw a good deal of Belle, and liked her in a friendly, approving -manner; but, whatever Mrs. Stuart may have thought, he had no more -intention of marrying a penniless girl than of performing a -pilgrimage, or any other pious act savouring of the Middle Ages. - -"By the way, I haven't seen the Miss Van Milders or their mother -lately," remarked Major Marsden one day to him, as they came home from -their committee together and met Belle going out for her afternoon -ride by herself. - -"Oh, they've gone to Mussoorie; Belle's keeping house for her father." - -"Alone?" - -"Yes, alone; queer _menage_, ain't it? I believe the girl thinks -she'll reform the Colonel; and he _is_ awfully fond of her, but--" The -younger man shook his head with a laugh. It jarred upon Philip Marsden -and he changed the subject quickly. So she had elected to stay with -her father! Well, he admired her courage, and could only hope that she -would not have to pay too dearly for it. - - - - - CHAPTER VI. - - -Lala Shunker Das having discarded all clothing save a scarf of white -muslin tied petticoat-wise round his loins, lay on a wooden bed -perched high on the topmost platform of his tall house. But even there -the burning breezes of May brought no relief from the heat; and he lay -gasping, while his faithful jackal Ram Lal pounded away with lean -brown knuckles at his master's fat body. The _massage_ seemed to do -little good, for he grunted and groaned dismally. In truth the Lala -ached all over, both in body and soul. A thousand things had conspired -against him: his last and most expensive wife (after spending a -fortune in pilgrimages) had committed the indiscretion of presenting -him with a girl baby; his grandmother having died, he had been forced -much against his will to shave his head; his greatest rival had been -elevated to the Honorary Magistracy and (adding injury to insult) been -associated with him on a _bunch_ (bench), and justice grown in bunches -is not nearly so remunerative to the grower as single specimens. These -were serious ills, but there was one, far more trivial, which -nevertheless smarted worst of all; perhaps because it was the most -recent. - -That very morning Shunker Das, as behoved one of his aspirations, had -testified to his loyalty by attending the usual parade in honour of -the Queen's birthday. On previous occasions he had driven thither in -his barouche, but ambition had suggested that an appearance on -horseback would show greater activity, and please the Powers. So he -bought a cast horse from the cavalry regiment just ordered on service, -and having attired himself in glittering raiment, including a -magnificent turban of pink Benares muslin, he took his place by the -flagstaff. People congratulated him warmly on his confidential charger -which, even at the _feu de joie_, seemed lost in philosophic -reflections. Shunker Das waxed jubilant over the success of his -scheme, and was just giving himself away in magnificent lies, when the -bugle sounded for "close order" preparatory to a few words from the -General to the departing cavalry regiment. On this the war-horse -pricked up its ears, and starting off at a dignified trot rejoined its -old companions, while the Lala, swearing hideously, tugged vainly at -the reins. Arrived at the line the conscientious creature sidled down -it, trying vainly to slip into a vacant place. Failing of success, the -intelligent beast concluded it must be on orderly duty, and just as -the Lala was congratulating himself on having finished his involuntary -rounds, his horse, turning at right angles, bounded off to rejoin the -General's staff. Away went the Lala's stirrups. He must have gone too, -despite his clutch on the mane, had not the streaming end of his -_pugree_ caught in the high crupper-strap and held fast. So stayed, -fore and aft, he might have reached the goal in safety, had not the -General, annoyed by the suppressed tittering around him, lost -patience, and angrily ordered some one to stop that man. Whereupon a -mischievous aide-de-camp gave the word for the "halt" to be sounded. -Confused out of everything save obedience, the charger stopped dead in -his tracks, and the Lala shot over his head, still in a sitting -posture. On being relieved of his burden, the co-ordination "stables" -apparently came uppermost in the horse's mind, for it walked away -slowly, bearing with it the end of the Lala's turban still fastened in -the crupper. He, feeling a sudden insecurity in his headgear, and -being, even in his confusion, painfully conscious of his baldness, -clung to the lower folds with both hands. At this slight check, the -charger, not to be baulked, set off at a canter, and over rolled the -fat Lala, heels in air. Then, and not till then, one roar of laughter -rent the air. For as he lay there on his back, kicking like a turned -turtle, the _pugree_ began to unwind like a ball of thread, while the -Lala held on like grim death to the lower portion. Not until the last -fold had slipped through his fingers and a quarter of a mile or so of -pink muslin was fluttering across the parade ground, did he realise -the position, and struggling to his seat pass his hand over his bald -head with a deprecating smile. - -"Go out, Raby, and pick him up," gasped the General aching with -laughter. "You're in political charge, aren't you?" - -But Philip Marsden, who happened to be on staff duty that day, was -already pouring in oil and wine to the Lala's hurt dignity when the -young civilian came up with nonchalant courtesy. "_Shahbash, sahib!_" -he said, "you sat him splendidly, and that last prop would have undone -a Centaur." - -The Lala, grinned a ghastly smile, and Philip Marsden turned -impatiently, saying aside: "Get him home, do! He looks so helpless -with his bald head; it seems a shame to laugh." - -John Raby raised his eyebrows. "The General shall lend him his -carriage. That will soothe his wounded vanity." - -So the Lala, with his head tied up in a red pocket-handkerchief, went -home in the big man's barouche, and the spectators of his discomfiture -laughed again at the recollection of it. - -"You ought to be the editor of a native newspaper, Marsden," remarked -John Raby. "You would be grand on the unsympathetic Anglo-Indian. But -if I'd seen the Viceroy himself being unwound like a reel of cotton I -must have chuckled." - -"No doubt," replied the other laughing himself. "Yet I am sure a keen -sense of the ludicrous is unfortunate in a conquering race. We English -always laugh when policy should make us grave; that is why we don't -succeed." - -"Perhaps; for myself I prefer to grin. As some one says, humour is the -religion of to-day. Those who believe in eternity have time for tears. -We others,--why we cry '_Vogue la galere!_'" - -Lala Shunker Das, however, without any abiding belief in a future -state, was in no laughing mood as he lay under Ram Lal's -manipulations, listening captiously to his items of bazaar rumour. - -"And they say, Lal-ji, that the Sirkar thinks of transferring Colonel -Estuart _sahib_." - -Shunker Das sat up suddenly and scowled. "Transfer Estuart -_sahib!_--why?" - -Ram Lal redoubled his exertions on the new portion of the Lala's frame -thus brought within reach, until the latter, uttering dismal groans, -sank back to his former position. "They say," he continued calmly, -"that the Sirkar is beginning to suspect." - -"Fool! idiot! knave!" growled his master, gasping at the furious -onslaught on his fat stomach. "'Tis all thy bungling. Have I not bid -thee not go so fast? Times have changed since the Commissariat -_sahibs_ sat in their verandahs, and one could walk a file of twenty -camels round and round the house until they counted the proper number. -But remember! 'Tis thou who goest to the wall, not I. That's the -compact. Shunker finds the money, Ramu runs the risk." - -"Have I forgotten it, Lala-ji?" replied the other with some spirit. -"Ramu is ready. And 'tis Shunker's part to look after the wife and -children when I'm in jail; don't forget that! The master would do -better if he were bolder. This one would have made much in that fodder -contract, but your heart was as water; it always is." - -"And if Estuart is transferred; what then?" - -"If the branch be properly limed, the bird sticks. Is it limed? Such -things are the master's work, not mine." - -"Ay! limed right enough for _him_. But the money, Ramu, the money! It -will take months to lay the snare for a new man, and the war will be -over." The Lala positively wept at the idea. - -Ram Lal looked at him contemptuously. "Get what is to be got from this -_sahib_, at any rate; that's my advice." - -The very next day Lala Shunker Das drove down to the Commissariat -office, intent on striking a grand blow. - -Things had been going on better than could have been expected in the -large, empty house, where Belle, thinner and paler as the days of -intense heat went by, did the honours cheerfully. It was not without a -struggle that she had been allowed to remain with her father. Mrs. -Stuart had prophesied endless evil, beginning with a bad reputation -for herself as stepmother; but prudential reasons had given their -weight in favour of the girl's earnest desire. To make light of the -heat, and avoid flight to the hills, was a great recommendation for a -civilian's wife, and that, Mrs. Stuart had decreed, was to be Belle's -fate. So with many private injunctions to the _khansamah_ not to allow -the Miss _sahib_ to interfere too much in the management, the good -lady had, as usual, taken herself and her family to Mussoorie. Shortly -after they left Fate played a trump for Belle by sending a slight -attack of malarious fever to the Colonel. He was always dreadfully -alarmed about himself, and a hint from the doctor about the -consequences of over-free living, reduced him to toast and water for a -week, and kept him from mess for three. Belle was in a heaven of -delight; and she was just enjoying the sight of her father actually -drinking afternoon tea, when Budlu came in to say the Lala-ji wanted -to see the Colonel. - -"Don't go, father," pleaded Belle. "It's only that horrid fat man; -tell him to come again." - -John Raby, who often strolled across about tea-time, looked at Colonel -Stuart and smiled. He knew most things in the station; among others -how unpleasant a visitor Shunker Das might be to his host, and not -being ill-natured, he chimed in with the girl by offering to see the -man himself. - -The Lala, leaning back magnificently in his barouche, felt a sudden -diminution of dignity at the sight of John Raby. "Bruises all right, -Lala?" asked the young man cheerfully, and Shunker's dignity sank -lower still. "They ought to give you that _Rai Bahadur_-ship for the -way you stuck to him; by George, they should! We don't often get men -of your stamp, Lala, with estates in every district,--do we? So you -want to see the Colonel; what for?" he added suddenly and sternly. - -"_Huzoor!_" bleated the fat man. "I,--I came to inquire after his -honour's health." - -"Much obliged to you! He is better; and I really think if you were to -come, say this day fortnight, he might be able to see you." - -Shunker Das hesitated, fear for his money making him brave. "There -were rumours," he began, "that my good patron was about to be -transferred." - -"Sits the wind in that quarter," thought Raby, amused. "My dear Lala," -he said, "it's absolutely untrue. Your eighty thousand is quite safe, -I assure you." - -"_Huzoor!_" - -"Good-bye, Lala-ji--this day fortnight," and he returned to his cup of -tea in high good-humour. Then he sat and played _ecarte_ with the -Colonel for an hour while Belle worked and watched them carelessly. - -"That makes fifteen," remarked the young man as he rose to go, -whereupon Colonel Stuart assented cheerfully, for he had won that -evening; and Belle looked up with a smiling farewell, unconscious and -content. She lived in a fool's paradise, hugging the belief that her -presence was the charm; as though Niagara was to be stemmed by a -straw, or the habit of years by a sentiment. As time wore on, the few -remaining ladies fled before that last awful pause ere the rains -break, when a deadly weariness settles on all living things. Belle, -feeling shy among so many men, ceased to go out except on the rare -occasions when she could persuade her father to accompany her. But, -though he still adhered to his habit of dining at home, he was moody -and out of sorts. He, too, had heard rumours of transfer, and that -meant the possibility of disaster not to be faced with composure. -Restless and irritable, he began to relieve the great craving which -took possession of him by all sorts of stimulant and narcotic drugs. -And one day came an almost illegible note from him, bidding Belle not -wait dinner for him. She felt instinctively that this was the -beginning of trouble; nor was she wrong, for though Colonel Stuart was -full of excuses the next evening, he never even sent a note the day -after that. So Belle ate her solitary dinners as best she might, and -though she often lay awake till the small hours of the morning brought -an altercation between Budlu and her father, she never sat up for him, -or made any effort to meet him on his return. From this time, brutal -though it may seem to say so, poor Belle's presence in the house, so -far from being an advantage, became a distinct drawback. But for it, -Colonel Stuart would have yielded to the mad craze for drink which -generally beset him at this time of the year; and after a shorter or -longer bout, as the case might be, have been pulled up short by -illness. Instead of this, he tried to keep up appearances, and drugged -himself with chloral and laudanum till the remedy grew worse than the -disease so far as he himself was concerned. It served, however, to -hide the real facts from his daughter; for he met her timid protests -by complaints of ill-health, assertions that he knew what was best for -him, and absolute refusal to call in a doctor. - -She grew alarmed. The long, silent days spent in brooding over her -father's altered demeanour were too great a strain on her nerves, and -she began to exaggerate the position. Her thoughts turned again and -again to Dick; if he were there! ah, if he were only there! No one who -has not had in extreme youth to bear anxiety alone, can fully -understand the horror of silence to the young. Belle felt she must -speak, must tell some one of her trouble; it seemed to her as if her -silence was a sort of neglect, and that some one must be able to do -something to set matters straight. But who? She hesitated and shrank, -till one day her father broke down and began to cry piteously in the -middle of his ordinary abuse of the servants at lunch. A stiff glass -of whisky-and-water restored his anger effectually, and he made light -of the incident; but that evening, when Philip Marsden came in late to -dress for dinner he found a note awaiting him from Belle. - -She, having received no answer, had been expecting him all the -afternoon, and as time passed began to wonder at her own temerity in -writing. Dick, it is true, had bidden her look on Major Marsden as one -willing to help if needs be; but what could Dick know? She went out, -after a pretence of dinner, to the little raised platform in the -garden where chairs were set every evening for those who preferred it -to the house. Belle liked it far better; the purple arch of sky, -spangled with stars save where the growing moon outshone them, rested -her tired eyes, and the ceaseless quiver of the cicala prevented her -from thinking by its insistence. Suddenly her half-doze was -interrupted by a voice asking for the Miss _sahib_, and she stood up -trembling and uncertain. Why had she sent for him, and what should she -say now that he had come? - -"I came as soon as I could, Miss Stuart," said Major Marsden, -formally, as their hands met. "But I was out all day, and had a guest -to entertain at mess." He stopped, dismayed at her appearance, and -added in quite a different tone, "I am afraid you are ill." - -She did indeed look ghastly pale in the moonlight, her eyes full of -appeal and her lips quivering; yet her shyness had gone with the first -look at his face, and she felt glad that she had sent for him. "It is -father," she began, then could say no more for fear of breaking down. - -The trivial words brought back the recollection of that first meeting -with her months before, when she had made the same reply to his offer -of help; and as he stood waiting for her to master the fast-rising -sobs, a remorse seized him with the thought that surely some of this -pain might have been prevented somehow, by some one. - -"You must think me very silly," she murmured hastily. - -"I think you are overdone," he replied, "and I don't expect you've had -any dinner. Now have you?" - -A smile struggled to her face. "I don't think I had,--much." - -"Then I will tell the _khansamah_ to bring you something now." - -The full-blown tragedy of life seemed to have departed. She even -wondered at her own tears as she sipped her soup, and told him of her -troubles with a lightening heart. "Budlu says he never saw father like -this before," was the climax, and even that did not seem a hopeless -outlook. - -"Could he not take leave?" suggested Major Marsden at once; leave -being the panacea for all ills in India. - -"That's what I want to know. I begged him to go, but the very idea -excites him. Would it harm him officially? Is there any reason why he -should not?" - -Dick's words of warning recurred to Major Marsden unpleasantly. "None -that I know of," he replied. "I will go round to Seymour's to-morrow, -and get him to bundle you both off to the hills. You want change as -much as your father. In a month's time you will be laughing at all -these fears." - -"I think you are laughing at them now," said Belle wistfully. - -"Am I? Well, I promise not to laugh at you any more, Miss Stuart." He -stood up, tall and straight, to say good-bye. - -"Isn't that rather a rash promise, Major Marsden?" - -"I don't think so. Anyhow I make it, and I'm very glad you sent for -me. Considering how little you knew of me,--and how disagreeable that -little had been--it was kind." - -"I know a great deal of you," she replied, smiling softly. "Dick has -told me a lot,--about the brevet,--and the intelligence-work--and the -Afghan sepoy--" - -"And the men in buckram too, I suppose? I'm afraid Dick is not to be -trusted. Did he tell you how the man escaped next day, and I got a -wigging?" - -"No!" cried Belle indignantly. "Did he?--Did you, I mean?--what a -shame!" - -"On the contrary, it was quite right. I'll tell you about it some day, -if I may. Meanwhile, good-bye, and don't starve; it really doesn't do -any good!" - -She watched him jingle down the steps, thinking how like an overgrown -school-boy he looked in his mess-jacket. So life was not a tragedy -after all, but a serio-comedy in which only the monologues were -depressing and dull. She went in and played the piano till it was time -to go to bed. Yet nothing had really changed, and Fate marched on -relentlessly as before. We make our own feelings, and then sit down to -weep or smile over them. - -The very next afternoon Colonel Stuart was brooding silently over -nothing at all in his private office-room, passing the time, as it -were, out of mischief, till he went to dine with John Raby. For the -latter, with a sort of contemptuous kindness, put the drag of an -occasional game of _ecarte_ on to the Colonel's potations. Sitting in -the dusk his face looked wan and haggard, and, despite his profound -stillness, every nerve was wearied and yet awake with excitement; as -might be seen from his unrestrained start when Shunker Das came into -the room unannounced; for the office-hours being over the _chuprassie_ -had departed. - -"Well, what is it now?" he cried sharply. "I saw you this morning. -Haven't you got enough for one day? Am I never to have any peace?" - -An angry tone generally reduced his native visitors to submission, but -the Lala was evidently in no mood for silence. He had taken up a small -contract that morning, the earnest-money of which lay for the time in -Colonel Stuart's safe. Since then he had heard casually that a -long-expected source of profit over which he had often talked with the -Colonel, and for which he had even made preparations, had slipped -through his fingers. In other words, that all the mule-transport was -to be bought by a special officer. "I've come, _sahib_," he blurted -out, sitting down unasked, "to know if it is true that Mardsen _sahib_ -has the purchase of mules." - -"And if he has, what the devil is it to you, or to me?" The man's -arrogance was becoming unbearable, and Colonel Stuart was a great -stickler for etiquette. - -"Only this; that if you are not going to deal fairly by me, you -mustn't count on my silence; that's all!" - -"Go and tell the whole bazaar I owe you money, you black scoundrel," -cried his hearer, annoyed beyond endurance by the man's assumption of -equality. "I'll pay you every penny, if I sell my soul for it, curse -you!" - -"Eighty thousand rupees is a tall price, _sahib_," sneered the Lala. -"And how about the contracts, and the commission, and the general -partnership? Am I to tell that also?" - -The Colonel stared at him in blank surprise. God knows in his queer -conglomerate of morality it was hard to tell what elementary rock of -principle might be found; yet to a certain extent honour remained as -it were in pebbles, worn and frayed by contact with the stream of -life. "General partnership! you black devil, what do you mean?" - -"Mean!" echoed the Lala shrilly. "Why, the money I've lent you, _paid_ -you for each contract; the commission I've given your clerks; the -grain your horses have eaten; the--" - -The Colonel's right hand was raised above his head; the first coarse -rage of his face had settled into a stern wrath that turned it white. -"If you stop here another instant, by God I'll kill you!" - -The words came like a steel-thrust, and the Lala without a word turned -and fled before the Berserk rage of the Northman; it is always -terrible to the Oriental, and the Lala was a heaven-sent coward. - -"Stop!" cried the Colonel as the wretched creature reached the door. -He obeyed and came back trembling. "Take your money for the contract -with you; it's cancelled. I won't have it in the house. Take it back -and give me the receipt I gave you; give it me, I say." The Colonel, -fumbling at the lock of the safe, stuttered and shook with excitement. -"Take 'em back," he continued, flourishing a roll of notes. "The -receipt!--quick! out with it!--the receipt for the three thousand five -hundred I gave you this morning!" - -"_Huzoor! Huzoor!_ I am looking for it; be patient one moment!" -The Lala's quivering fingers blundered among the papers in his -pocket-book. - -"Give it me, or, by heaven, I'll break every bone in your body!" His -hand came down with an ominous thud on the table. - -"I will give it, _sahib_,--I have it,--here--no--ah! praise to the -gods!" He shook so that the paper rustled in his hand. Colonel Stuart -seized it, and tearing it to bits, flung the pieces in the waste paper -basket at his feet. "There goes your last contract from me, and -there's the door, and there's your money!" As he flung the notes in -the man's face they went fluttering over the floor, and he laughed -foolishly to see them gathered up in trembling haste. - -"Gad!" he muttered as he sank exhausted into a chair, "there isn't -much fear of Shunker so long as I've a stick in my hand. Hullo! what's -that? Something rustled under the table. Here, Budlu! quick, lights! -It may be a snake! Confound the servants; they're never to be found!" - -He stopped and drew his hand over his forehead two or three times. -Just then Budlu, entering with the lamp, stooped to pick something -from the floor. It was a note for a thousand rupees, crisp and -crackling. - -Colonel Stuart looked at it in a dazed sort of way, then burst into a -roar of laughter and put it in his pocket-book. "My fair perquisite, -by Jove! and it will come in useful to-night at _ecarte_. Budlu, give -me the little bottle. I must steady my nerves a bit if I'm to play -with Raby." - - - - - CHAPTER VII. - - -People who talk of the still Indian night can scarcely do so from -experience, for, especially during the hot weather, darkness in the -East is vocal with life. The cicala shrills its loudest, the birds are -awake, and the very trees and plants seem to blossom audibly. Go round -an Indian garden at sunset and it is a sepulchre; the roses shrivelled -in their prime, the buds scorched in the birth, the foliage beaten -down by the fierce sun. Visit it again at sunrise and you will find it -bright with blossom, sweet with perfume, refreshed with dew. That is -the work of night; what marvel then if it is instinct with sound and -movement! Never for one hour does silence fall upon the world. The -monotonous beat of some native musician's drum goes on and on; a -village dog barks, and is answered by another until seventy times -seven; a crow takes to cawing irrelatively; the birds sing in -snatches, and the Indian cock, like that of scriptural story, crows -for other reasons besides the dawn. - -The long-legged rooster who habitually retired to sleep on the summit -of Colonel Stuart's cook-room, had, however, legitimate cause for his -vociferations, and dawn was just darkening the rest of the sky when -the sudden flapping of his wings startled the horse of an early -wayfarer who came at a walk down the Mall. - -It was Philip Marsden setting out betimes for a two days' scour of the -district in search of the very mules out of which Shunker Das had -hoped to make so much profit. Most men, carrying ten thousand rupees -with them, would have applied for a treasure-chest and a police guard; -but Major Marsden considered himself quite sufficient security for the -roll of currency notes in his breast-pocket. As he quieted the -frightened horse, his close proximity to the Commissariat office -reminded him that he had forgotten to apply for a certain form on -which he had to register his purchases; the omission would entail -delay, so he anathematised his own carelessness and was riding on, -when a light in the office-windows attracted his attention. It was -early for any one to be at work, but knowing how time pressed in all -departments under the strain of war, he thought it not improbable that -some energetic _babu_ was thus seeking the worm of promotion, and -might be able to give him what he required. Dismounting, lest his -horse's tread should disturb the sleepers in the house by which he had -to pass, he hitched the reins to a tree, and made his way towards the -office; not without a kindly thought of the girl, forgetful of care, -who lay sleeping so near to him that, unconsciously, he slackened his -step and trod softly. He had been as good as his word, and that very -day the doctor was to go over and prescribe immediate change. Change! -he smiled at the idea, wondering what change could stem the course of -the inevitable. - -As he drew near he saw that the light came, not from the office, but -from its chief's private room. He hesitated an instant; then a -suspicion that something might be wrong made him go on till he could -see through the open door into the room. Thefts were common enough in -cantonments, and it was as well to make sure. Through the _chick_ he -could distinctly see a well-known figure seated at the writing-table, -leaning forward on its crossed arms. - -"Drunk!" said Philip Marsden to himself with a thrill of bitter -contempt and turned away. The bearer would find the Colonel and put -him decently to bed long before the girl was up. Poor Belle! The -little platform where she had stood but the night before was faintly -visible, bringing a recollection of her pale face and sad appeal. "It -is father,"--the first words she had ever said to him; the very first! -He retraced his steps quickly, set the _chick_ aside, and entered the -room. The lamp on the table was fast dying out, but its feeble flicker -fell full on the Colonel's grey hair, and lit up the shining gold lace -on his mess-jacket. Silver, and gold, and scarlet,--a brilliant show -of colour in the shabby, dim room. A curious smell in the air and a -great stillness made Philip Marsden stop suddenly and call the sleeper -by name. In the silence which followed he heard the ticking of a -chronometer which lay close to him. He called again, not louder, but -quicker, then with swift decision passed his arm round the leaning -figure and raised it from the table. The grey head fell back inertly -on his breast, and the set, half-closed eyes looked up lifelessly into -his. - -"Dead," he heard himself say, "dead!"--dead, not drunk. As he stood -there for an instant with the dead man's head finding a resting-place -so close to his heart, the wan face looking up at him as if in a mute -appeal, a flame of bitter regret for his own harsh judgment seemed to -shrivel up all save pity. The great change had come, to end poor -Belle's anxieties. And she? Ah! poor child, who was to tell her of it? - -He lifted the head from his breast, laying it once more, as he had -found it, on the crossed arms; then looked round the room rapidly. An -empty bottle of chloral on the table accounted for the faint sickly -smell he had noticed. Was it a mistake? If not, why? Perhaps there was -a letter. Something at any rate lay under the nerveless hands, -powerless now to defend their secret. Philip Marsden took the paper -from them gently and turned up the expiring lamp till it flared -smokily. The blotted writing was hard to read, yet easy to understand, -for it told a tale too often written; a tale of debt, dishonour, -remorse, despair. Ten thousand rupees borrowed from the safe, and an -unsigned cheque for the amount, drawn on no one, but payable to the -Government of India, lying beside the dead man in mute witness to the -last desire for restitution in the poor stupefied brain. A pile of -official letters were scattered on the floor as if they had fallen -from the table. All save one were unopened, but that one contained a -notification of Colonel Stuart's transfer. Major Marsden drew a chair -to the table and deliberately sat down to think. - -Something must be done, and that quickly, for already the merciless -light of day was gaining on the darkness. "And there is nothing hid -that shall not be made manifest;" the words somehow recurred to his -memory bringing another pulse of pity for poor Belle. What was to be -done? The answer came to him suddenly in a rush, as if it had all been -settled before. Why had Fate sent him there with more than enough -money to save the girl from shame? Money that was his to use as he -chose, for he could repay it twenty times over ere nightfall. Why had -Fate mixed the girl's life with his, despite his efforts to stand -aloof? Why had she sent for him? Why,--why was he there? The dead -man's keys lay on the table, the sum owed was clearly set down in -black and white, the safe close at hand. What was there, save a -personal loss he could well afford, to prevent silence? And he had -promised help-- - -When the hastily-summoned doctor came in a few minutes later the -bottle of chloral still lay on the table, but the blotted paper and -the cheque were gone. The lamp had flared out, and a little heap of -grey ashes on the hearth drifted apart as the doors and windows were -flung wide open to let in all the light there was. - -"He has been dead about two hours," said the doctor. "Over-dose of -chloral, of course. I forbade it from the hospital, but he got it -elsewhere." - -They had laid the dead man on the floor, and the grey dawn falling on -his face made it seem greyer still. The native servants huddled -trembling at the door; the two Englishmen stood looking down upon the -still figure. - -"There is always the fear of an over-dose," said Philip Marsden -slowly, "or of some rash mistake." - -The doctor met his look comprehensively. "Exactly! who can tell? -Unless there is circumstantial evidence, and I see none as yet. Anyhow -he was not responsible, for he has been on the verge of _delirium -tremens_ for days." - -"Then you give the benefit of the doubt?" - -"Always, if possible." - -Again the wind of dawn fanning the dead man's hair drifted the grey -ashes further apart. - -"He had better stay here," continued the doctor. "Moving him might -rouse the poor girl, and there's no need for that as yet. By the way, -who is to tell her? There isn't a lady or a parson in the place." - -"I suppose I must," returned Philip after a pause. "I think it might -be best, since she confided her trouble to me. But couldn't I get some -sort of a woman from barracks just to stay with her?" - -"Right; you're a thoughtful fellow, Marsden. Take my buggy and go to -the sergeant-major; his wife will know of some one. I'll stay till you -return in case she wakes; and look here, as you pass send a man about -the coffin. The funeral must be this evening, and--" - -Philip Marsden fled from the dreary details of death with a remark -that the doctor could send a messenger. He was no coward, yet he felt -glad to escape into the level beams of the rising sun. As he drove -down along the staring white roads he asked himself more than once why -he had interfered to save a girl he scarcely knew from the knowledge -of her father's dishonour; and if he could find no sufficient reason -for it he could find no regret either. It had been an impulse, and it -was over. He had kept his word to Dick, and done his best to drive -care from those clear eyes,--what beautiful eyes they were! - -"Och then!" cried Mrs. O'Grady, the sergeant-major's wife, who, -hastily roused from her slumbers, came out into the verandah in scanty -attire, "and is the swate young leddy alone? It's meself wud go at -wanst but that I'm a Holy Roman, surr, and shud be talkin' of the -blessed saints in glory. An' that's not the thing wid a Prothestant in -his coffin." - -Despite his anxiety her hearer could not repress a smile. "I don't set -so much store by religious consolation, Mrs. O'Grady. It's more a -kind, motherly person I want." - -"Then, Tim!" cried the good lady, appealing to her spouse who had -appeared in shirt and trousers, "Mrs. Flanigan wud be the woman, but -that she's daily expectin' her tinth--" - -"Isn't there some kindly person who's seen trouble?" hastily -interrupted the Major. - -"Ah, if it's the throuble you're wantin', take little Mrs. Vickary. A -Baptist and a widder,--more by token twice; bore with two dhrunken -bastes, Major, like a blissed angel, and wud be ready to spake up for -anny one." - -Major Marsden, with a recollection of Widow Vickary's sad face as -nurse by a comrade's sick bed, pleaded for a younger and brighter one. -Thereupon the serjeant-major suggested poor Healy's Mary Ann, but his -wife tossed her head. "What the men see in that gurrll, surr, I can't -say; but she'll go, and cheerful, wid her little boy; a swate little -boy, surr, like thim cherubs with a trumpet--for her father she come -to live wid died of the fayver a month gone, and her man is waiting to -be killed by thim Afghans somewhere." - -So Major Marsden, driving back with poor Healy's Mary Ann and the -cherub wielding a piece of sugarcane as trumpet, found Belle still -sleeping. - -Then together, in the fresh early morning, they broke the sad tidings -to the girl. How, it does not much matter, for words mean nothing. We -say, "He is dead," many and many a time, carelessly, indifferently. -Then comes a day when the sentence is fraught with wild despair and -helpless pain. The sun seems blotted out, and the world is dark. Yet -the words are the same, nor can pen and ink write them differently. - -"Let me see that he is dead! Oh, let me see him!" was her cry; so they -took her across to the shabby room where everything stood unchanged -save for the sheeted figure on the string bed. The gardener had strewn -some roses over it and the sun streamed in brightly. The sight brought -no real conviction to Belle. It all seemed more dreamlike than ever. -To fall asleep, as she had done, in the turmoil of life, and to wake -finding the hush of death in possession of all things! She let Philip -Marsden lead her away passively like a child, and all through the long -day she sat idle and tearless, with her hands on her lap, as if she -were waiting for something or some one. Yet it was a busy day in that -quiet, empty house; for in India death comes rudely. Many a time has -the father to superintend the making of the little coffin, while the -mother stitches away to provide a daintier resting-place for the -golden head that is used to frills and lace; until, in the dawn, those -two go forth alone to the desolate graveyard, and he reads the Church -service as best he can, and she says "Amen" between her sobs. There -was none of this strain for Belle, nothing to remind her of the -inevitable; so she wondered what they wanted of her when, as the glare -of sunset reddened the walls of her room, Major Marsden came and -looked at her with pitying eyes. "It is time we were starting, Miss -Stuart," he said gently. - -"Starting! where?" - -"We thought you would like to go to the cemetery, and I have arranged -to drive you down. It will be a military funeral, of course." - -She rose swiftly in passionate entreaty. "Ah no, no! not so soon! he -is not dead! Oh I cannot, I cannot!" Then seeing the tender gravity of -his face, she clasped her hands on his arm and begged to see _him_ -once more,--just to say good-bye. - -He shook his head. "It is too late--it is best not." - -"But I have no dress,--it can't be--" she pleaded vainly. - -"Every one will be in white as you are," he returned with tears he -could not check in his eyes. "Come! it will be better for you by and -by." He laid his hand on her clasped ones. She looked in his eyes -doubtfully, and did as she was bidden. - -"We will drive out a bit first," said Philip, when she had taken her -seat by his side in the tall dog-cart that seemed so out of keeping -with its dismal office. "We have plenty of time for I thought the air -would do your head good,--and,--it was best for you to be away just -now." - -Better, and best! As if anything could make any difference now! "You -are very kind," she said in dull recognition of his care. - -Philip Marsden never forgot that drive; the memory of it remained with -him for years as a kind of nightmare. The girl in her white dress and -sailor hat as he had seen her at many a tennis-party; the great bank -of clouds on the horizon telling of welcome rain; the little squirrels -leaping across the white road; the cattle returning homewards amid -clouds of dust; the stolid stare of the natives as they passed by. It -was almost a relief to stand side by side before an open grave -listening to an even, disciplined tramp audible above the muffled -drums coming nearer and nearer. - -A dingy brick wall bleached to mud-colour shut out all view, but high -up in the sky, above the fringe of grey tamarisk trees, a procession -of flame-edged clouds told that, out in the west, Nature was -celebrating the obsequies of day in glorious apparel. Suddenly _The -Dead March_ struck up, loud and full, bringing to Philip Marsden's -memory many a sword-decked coffin and riderless charger behind which -he had walked, wondering if his turn would come next. The music ceased -with a clash of arms at the gate; and after a low-toned order or two -the procession appeared in narrow file up the central path. The white -uniforms looked ghostly in the deepening shadows; but through a break -in the trees a last sunbeam slanted over the wall, making the spikes -on the officers' helmets glow like stars. - -Belle's clasped yet listless fingers tightened nervously as the -Brigade-Major's voice rose and fell in monotonous cadence about "our -dear brother departed." It seemed to her like a dream; or rather as if -she too were dead and had no tears, no grief, nothing but a great -numbness at her heart. Then some one put a clumsily-made cross of -white flowers into her hands, bidding her lay it on the coffin, bared -now of the protecting flag; and she obeyed, wondering the while why -other people should have thought of these things when she had not, and -thinking how crooked it was, and how much better she could have made -it herself. Perhaps; for the hands that twined it were not used to -such woman's work. It was Philip Marsden's task, also, to throw the -first handful of earth into the grave, and draw Belle's arm within his -own before the salutes rang out. They startled the screaming parrots -from their roost among the trees, and sent them wheeling and flashing -like jewels against the dark purple clouds. - -"Was it never going to end?" she thought wearily as they waited again, -and yet again, for the rattle of the rifles. Yet she stood heedlessly -silent, even when the band struck into quick time and the cheerful -echo of the men's answering footsteps died away into the distance. - -"Take her home," said the doctor, who with John Raby had remained to -see the grave properly filled in. "I'll call round by and by with a -sleeping draught; that will do her more good than anything." - -As they drove back she complained, quite fretfully, of the cold, and -her companion reined in the horse while he wrapped his military coat -round her, fastening it beneath her soft dimpled chin with hands that -trembled a little. She seemed to him inexpressibly pitiful in her -grief, and his heart ached for her. - -"It is going to rain, I think," she said suddenly, with her eyes fixed -on the dull red glow barred by heavy storm clouds in the west; adding -in a lower tone, "Father will get wet!" - -Major Marsden looked at her anxiously and drove faster, frightened at -the dull despair of her tone. He had meant to say good-bye at the -door, but he could not. How could he leave her to that unutterable -loneliness? And yet what good could he do beyond beguiling her to take -a few mouthfuls of food? Poor Healy's Mary Ann proved helpless before -a form of grief to which she was utterly unaccustomed, and as her -presence seemed to do more harm than good Philip Marsden sent her into -the next room, where she nursed her boy and wept profusely. He sat -talking to Belle till long after the mess-hour, and then, when he did -turn to go, the sight of her seated alone, tearless and miserable in -the big, empty room was too much for his soft heart. He came back -hastily, bending over her, then kneeling to look in her downcast face, -and take her cold little hands into his warm ones and say kind words -that came from his very heart. Perhaps they brought conviction, -perhaps the touch of his hand assured her of sympathy, for suddenly -her dull despair gave way; she laid her head on his shoulder and cried -pitifully, as children cry themselves to sleep. - -With the clasp of his fingers on hers and his breath stirring her soft -curly hair, Philip Marsden's heart beat fast and his pulses thrilled. -His own emotion startled and perplexed him; he shrank from it, and yet -he welcomed it. Did he love her? Was this the meaning of it all? - -"How good you are," she whispered, trying to regain her composure. -"What should I have done without you?" Her unconsciousness smote him -with regret and a great tenderness. - -"There are plenty who will be kind to you," he answered unsteadily. -"Life holds everything for you yet, my dear; peace, and happiness, and -love." - -Love! Did it hold his for her? he asked himself again as he walked -homewards in the dark. Love! He was quite a young man still, only two -and thirty, yet he had deliberately set passion and romance from him -years before. Poverty had stood between him and the realisation of a -dream till, with the sight of his ideal profoundly happy as some one -else's wife, had come distrust and contempt for a feeling that -experience showed him did not, could not last. Why, therefore, should -it enter into and disturb his life at all? Friendship? ah, that was -different! Perhaps the future held a time when he would clasp hands -with a life-companion; a woman to be the mistress of his home, the -mother of his children. But Belle! poor little, soft Belle Stuart, -with her beautiful grey eyes! He seemed to feel the touch of her hand -in his, the caress of her hair on his lips; and though he laughed -grimly at himself, he could not master the joy that took possession of -him at the remembrance. Dear little Belle! Amidst the doubt and -surprise which swept over him as he realised his own state of mind, -but one thing gave him infinite satisfaction,--he had saved her from -the far more lasting trouble of her father's disgrace. Friend, or -lover, it had been a good deed to do, and he was glad that he had done -it. Nothing could alter that. And while he slept, dreaming still of -his clasp on the little cold yet willing hand, an official envelope -lay on the table beside him mocking his security. He opened it next -morning, to lay it aside with a curse at his own ill luck, though it -was only a notification that Major P. H. Marsden would carry on the -current duties of the Commissariat office till further orders. He had -half a mind to go over to the Brigade office and get himself excused: -a word or two about his other work would do it; but his pride rose in -arms against any shirking for private reasons. Besides, there might be -nothing wrong in Colonel Stuart's accounts, and even if there was, he -would be the best man to find it out. Yet he walked up and down the -verandah a prey to conflicting desires, bitterly angry with himself -for hesitating an instant. Common sense told him that it might be as -well for one less biassed than he was by previous knowledge to -undertake the scrutiny, that it was scarcely fair for him to go to the -task with a foregone conclusion in his mind; but pride suggested that -he could not trust himself to decide fairly even now. How could he, -when he was bitterly conscious of one overmastering desire to save -Belle? Then came the thought that if she was indeed what in his heart -he believed her to be, if her steadfastness and straightforwardness -were more than a match for his own, then the very idea of his refusing -the task would be an offence to her. After that, nothing could have -prevented him from placing himself with open eyes in a position from -which, in common fairness to himself and others, he ought to have -escaped. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII. - - -A few days after Colonel Stuart's death John Raby was making up his -accounts in a very unenviable frame of mind, though the balance on the -right side was a large one. As a rule this result would have given him -keen pleasure; for though he was as yet too young to enjoy that -delight of dotage, the actual fingering of gold, he inherited the -instinct too strongly not to rejoice at the sight of its equivalent in -figures. There were two reasons for his annoyance. First, the -constantly recurring regret of not being able to invest his savings as -he chose. With endless opportunities for turning over a high -percentage coming under his notice, it was galling to be restricted by -the terms of his covenant with Government from any commercial -enterprise. Not that he would have scrupled to evade the regulation -had the game been worth the candle; but as yet it was not. By and by, -when his capital warranted a plunge, he had every intention of risking -his position, and, if need be, of throwing it up. But for this -justification he must wait years, unless indeed Fate sent him a rich -wife. Heiresses however are scarce in India, and furlough was not yet -due. So John Raby had to content himself with four per cent, which was -all the more annoying when he remembered that Shunker Das was making -forty out of the very indigo business on which he had tried to evade -the income-tax. Sooner or later John Raby intended to have his finger -in that pie, unless some more fortunate person plucked the plum out -first. - -The other reason for his annoyance arose from the fact, clearly -demonstrated by his neat system of accounts, that over nine thousand -rupees of his balance were the proceeds of _ecarte_ played with a man -who had had the confidence to make him his executor. The young -civilian had no qualms of conscience here either; it had been a fair -fight, the Colonel considering himself quite as good at the game as -his antagonist. But somehow the total looked bad beside that other -one, where intricate columns of figures added themselves into a row of -nothings for the widow and orphans. Not a penny, so far as the -executor could see, after paying current debts. About Madame and the -black-and-tans, as he irreverently styled her family, he did not much -concern himself; but for Belle it was different. He liked the girl, -and had often told himself that the addition of money would have made -her an excellent wife; just the sort one could safely have at home; -and that to a busy man meant much. The thought that Philip Marsden -with his large fortune showed a disposition to annex the prize -lessened his regrets for her poverty, and yet increased them. Why, he -asked himself savagely, did nice girls never have money? The only -gleam of satisfaction, in short, to be yielded by the balance was the -remembrance that his possession of the nine thousand rupees prevented -Lala Shunker Das from absorbing it. As a matter of fact his -executorship had proved a wholesome check on the usurer's outcries, -and it gave the young man some consolation to think that no one could -have managed the Lala so well as he did. The smile raised by this -remembrance lingered still when Major Marsden walked, unannounced, -through the window in unceremonious Indian fashion. - -"Hullo," said John Raby, "glad to see you. Miss Stuart is much better -to-day." - -There was no reason why this very pleasant and natural remark should -annoy his hearer, but it did. It reminded him that John Raby had -acquired a sort of authority over the dead man's daughter by virtue of -his executorship. Neither of them had seen her since the day of the -funeral, for she had been hovering on the verge of nervous fever; but -the responsibility of caring for her had fallen on John Raby and not -on Philip Marsden. John Raby, and not he, had had to make all the -necessary arrangements for her comfort and speedy departure to the -hills as soon as possible; for Mrs. Stuart had collapsed under the -shock of her husband's death, and the rapid Indian funeral had made -the presence of the others impossible. So Philip Marsden felt himself -to be out in the cold, and resented it. - -"The nurse told me so when I inquired just now," he replied shortly. - -"I'm to see her this afternoon when she comes back from her drive. -I've sent for Shunker Das's carriage." - -Major Marsden frowned. "You might have chosen some one else's, surely. -He ruined her father." - -"Not at all; he lent him money. Some one had to do it." - -"Well, it's a grim world, and her drive can't be more so than the last -she had." The remembrance evidently absorbed him, for he sat silent. - -"You're looking used up, Marsden," said the other kindly. "Anything -the matter?" - -"Yes." - -"Well, if it has to do with the Commissariat business I don't wonder. -The Colonel's private affairs are simply chaos." He pointed to the -piles of papers on and below the table with a contemptuous smile. - -Major Marsden shook his head. "The public ones are in fairly good -order. I'm surprised at the method; but of course he had good clerks; -and then the system of checks--" - -"Make it possible to be inaccurate with the utmost accuracy. What's -wrong?" - -Philip Marsden moved uneasily in his chair and gave an impatient sigh. -"I suppose I've got to tell you, because you're the man's executor; -but I don't want to." - -"Never do anything you don't want, my dear fellow; it's a mistake. You -don't know what will please other people, and you generally have a -rough guess at your own desires." - -"I don't suppose this will please you, the fact is there is a deficit -of four thousand five hundred rupees in the private safe of which -Colonel Stuart kept the key." - -"Is that all?" - -"All! Surely it is enough?" - -"Quite enough; but I'm not exactly surprised." - -"Then I am," returned the Major emphatically. "In fact I don't believe -there really is any deficit at all. Do you think Shunker Das is the -sort of man to make a false claim?" - -"Not unless he has fallen upon fair proofs," said the other coolly. -"What claim does he make?" - -"He says he paid in three thousand five hundred the very day of -Colonel Stuart's death and produces a receipt. Another thousand was -paid in by some one else the day before. It seems odd that this should -just make up the deficiency." - -"But you have no proof that these are actually the notes missing?" - -"Curiously enough I have. Contrary to what one would have expected, -Colonel Stuart made a practice of writing the numbers of notes -received in a private ledger, and none of the four entered as having -been given by Shunker are to be found. Now, as you were Stuart's -friend, and are his executor, do you know of any large payment made to -any one within two days of his death? It limits itself, you see, to -that time." - -"Nothing to account for three thousand five hundred," returned John -Raby a little hastily. "Let's stick to Shunker's claim first; it may -be false. You say he holds a receipt?" - -"Yes, and gives the numbers of the notes also." - -"Right?" - -"All but one. The book gives a 3 where he gives a 5; but natives often -confuse figures." - -John Raby nodded, and leant back in his chair thinking. "I believe the -notes were paid," he said at last, "and if they are not to be found, -the inference, I'm afraid, is clear. The Colonel _borrowed_ them." - -"I don't believe it," returned the Major slowly. He had been drawing -diagrams idly on a piece of paper and now threw aside the pen with -decision. "I don't believe it," he repeated, "and I'll tell you why; -I'd rather not tell you, as I said before, but as you're his executor -I must. When I found him dead that morning there was a paper,--it -wasn't a mistake, you understand"--his hearer nodded again--"and -in it he had set down the reasons, or want of reasons, clearly -enough. I haven't got the paper; I burnt it. I suppose I ought to -have kept it, but it seemed a pity at the time. Anyhow the total he -had,--borrowed--was close on ten thousand." - -"Ten! you said there was only--" - -"Just so; you see, as luck would have it, I had money with me at the -time. So I replaced it." - -"Ten thousand?" - -"No; to be strictly accurate nine thousand seven hundred and fifty. -Well,--you needn't stare so, Raby! Why the devil shouldn't I if I -chose?" - -John Raby gave a low whistle. "You must be awfully fond of Belle," he -said after a pause. - -Philip flushed a deep angry red. Ever since the possible necessity for -giving his action to the world had dawned upon him he had known what -comment would be made; but the knowledge did not lessen its sting. -"Don't you think we had better keep Miss Stuart's name out of the -conversation? I merely tell you this to show that I have good reasons -for supposing that there is some chicanery, or confusion--" - -"I beg your pardon! exactly so," assented John Raby with a smile. "I -am as anxious as you can be to keep her out of it; and so, as -executor, I'll undertake to refund the deficiency at once. There may -be some mistake, but it is best to have no inquiry." - -"I hardly see how that is to be prevented, for of course I had to -report the matter." - -John Raby literally bounded from his chair in unrestrained vexation. -"Reported it! my dear Marsden, what the devil!--Oh, I beg your pardon, -but really, to begin with, you cut your own throat." - -"What else could I do?" asked the other quietly. "You forget I am in -charge of the office." - -"Do?" returned his hearer, pausing in his rapid pacing of the room. -"Ah, I don't suppose _you_ could do anything else; but I'm not so -high-flown myself, and I can't see the good of chucking ten thousand -rupees into the gutter for the sake of a sentiment, and then chucking -the sentiment after it. For the girl adored her father, and I warn -you--" - -"If we can't keep off that subject I'll go," interrupted Philip -rising. "I thought you might know something. Colonel Stuart dined with -you that last evening, if you remember." - -The civilian needed no reminder; indeed for the last ten minutes he -had been distractingly conscious of a note for a thousand rupees lying -in his despatch-box which might throw-some light on the mysterious -disappearances. "Yes," he replied, "he did, and,--I see what you are -thinking of, Marsden--he played _ecarte_ too; but to tell the truth, -he was so fuddled and excited that I refused to go on, and sent him -home. See what comes of benevolence. If I had let him play and rooked -him, he wouldn't have had the opportunity of brooding over -difficulties and putting an end to them. Again, you see there's -nothing so unsafe as unselfishness." - -Philip, remembering the notice of transfer he had found open by the -dead man's side, wondered if matters might not have turned out -differently had it been viewed by the calm light of day. - -"Well, it can't be helped now," continued the speaker. "I don't -approve of what has been done, but I'll do my best,--in fact I'm bound -as executor--to clear the matter up. Though I'm sure I don't know -where the inquiry may not lead me. It's an infernal nuisance, nothing -less! Well, hand me over the papers and--I suppose you've no objection -to my searching the office?" - -"None; the Colonel's room is as he left it. I was afraid of noise so -near the house." The speaker frowned at his own words, annoyed to find -how thought for Belle crept into all his actions. - -"So far, good. And look here, Marsden, if you value that girl's -opinion go and tell her the downright truth. She will be able to see -you this afternoon." - -A piece of sound advice meant kindly, which had the not unusual effect -of making the recipient hesitate about a course of action on which he -had almost decided. In after years, when he considered the tangled -clew Fate held at this time for his unwinding, he never hesitated to -say, "Here I went wrong;" but at the time it seemed of small -importance whether he saw the girl that day or the next. And once more -the assumption of authority on John Raby's part irritated him into -contradiction. "It will be a pity to disturb Miss Stuart's first day," -he replied stiffly, and rode away. - -The young civilian shrugged his shoulders. Philip Marsden wasn't a bad -fellow on the whole, but a prig of the first water. Imagine any one -gifted with a grain of common sense acting as he had done! Why, if he -wanted the girl's good graces, had he not paid up the rest of the -money and finished the whole affair? It was a long price to pay, of -course, but it was better than giving ten thousand for nothing. Only a -morbid self-esteem could have prevented him. Really, the sense of duty -to be found in some people was almost enough to engender a belief in -original sin. The mere struggle for existence could never have -produced such a congeries of useless sentiment. - -He threw himself into a chair determining to have a quiet cigar before -tasking his brain with further thought about what he had just heard. -But the first glance at the daily paper which had just come in made -him throw it from him in disgust; for it contained a fulsomely -flattering notice extolling Major Marsden at the expense of Colonel -Stuart, and openly hinting at discrepancies in the accounts which the -former officer was determined to bring home to the latter. The style -betrayed the hand of some clerk toadying for promotion; but style or -no style, the matter was clear, and to be read by the million. It all -came from Marsden's infernal sense of duty, and John Raby had half a -mind to spoil his little game by sending the paper over to Belle as -usual. But with all his faults he was not a spiteful man, or one -inclined to play the part of dog-in-the-manger. Consequently when Lala -Shunker Das's carriage went over for Belle the _chuprassi_ in charge -only carried a bouquet; the newspaper remained behind, keeping company -with John Raby and magnanimity. - -Belle never noticed the omission, for she was still strangely -forgetful and indifferent; even when she drove along the familiar -road, she hardly remembered anything of her last dismal ride. Only one -or two things showed distinctly in the midst of past pain; such -trivial things as a crooked cross of flowers, and screaming parrots in -a stormy sky. The rest had gone, to come back,--the doctor told John -Raby--ere long; just now the forgetfulness was best, though it showed -how narrowly she had escaped brain-fever. So nobody spoke of the past, -and while Philip was cherishing the remembrance of that first day, and -using it to build up his belief in her trust, she was not even -conscious that he had been the kindest among many kind. - -Meanwhile Philip Marsden had not found himself in a bed of roses. The -impossibility of seeing Belle left him a prey to uncertainty, and if -he was ready fifty times a day to admit that he was in love, there -were quite as many times when he doubted the fact. Yet love or no -love, he was strenuously eager to save her from trouble; so his relief -at finding the office in good order had been great. In regard to -matters which had been in Colonel Stuart's own hands he naturally felt -safe; the discovery of the deficiency therefore had been a most -unpleasant shock, the more so because he saw at once that inquiry -might make it necessary for him to betray his own action. He wearied -himself fruitlessly with endeavours to discover any error, but the -thought of hushing the matter up never occurred to him as possible. To -some men it might have been a temptation; to him it was none, so he -deserved no credit on that score. He told himself again that if Belle -were what he deemed her, she would see the necessity of a report also; -but then he was reckoning on perfection, and poor Belle, as it so -happened, was in such a state of nervous tension that she was utterly -incapable of judging calmly about anything relating to her father. - -She lay on the sofa after she returned from her drive, feeling all the -dreariness of coming back to everyday life, and, in consequence, -exalting the standard of her loss till the tears rolled quietly down -her cheeks. Whereupon poor Healy's Mary Ann, full of the best -intentions, brewed her a cup of tea, and sent over the road for the -newspaper, which she imagined had been forgotten. The master of the -house was out for his evening ride, and thus it came to pass that when -he called on his way home, he found Belle studying the misleading -paragraph with flushed cheeks and tearful eyes. "What does it mean?" -she asked tempestuously. "What is it that he dares to say of father?" - -With her pretty, troubled face looking into his John Raby washed his -hands of further magnanimity. He refused to play the part of -Providence to a man who could not look after his own interests, and -whom, in a vague way, he felt to be a rival. So, considering Belle -only, he told the modified truth, making as light as he could of the -deficiency, and openly expressing his regret that it should ever have -been reported, the more so because Major Marsden himself believed -there was some mistake. This consolation increased her indignation. - -"Do you mean to say," she cried, trembling with anger and weakness, -"that he has dragged father's name in the dirt for a mistake? Why -didn't he come to me, or to you? _We_ would have told him it was -impossible. But he always misjudged father; he hated him; he never -would come here. Ah yes! I see it all now! I understand." - -The "we" sounded sweetly in the young man's ears, but its injustice -was too appalling to be passed over. He felt compelled to defence. For -a moment he thought of telling the whole truth, but he reflected that -Philip had a tongue as well as he, and that no one had a right to make -free with another man's confidence. Consequently his palliation only -referred to the culprit's well-known inflexibility and almost morbid -sense of duty; all of which made Belle more and more angry, as if the -very insistence on such virtues involved some depreciation of their -quality in the dead man. - -"I do not care what happens now," she said vehemently. "I know well -enough that nothing he can say will harm father's good name; but I -will never forgive him, never! It is no use excusing him; all you say -only makes it more unnecessary, and cruel, and,--and stupid. I will -never forgive him; no, never!" - -And all that night she lay awake working herself into a fever, mental -and bodily, by piling up the many evidences in favour of her theory as -to Philip's long-cherished enmity. He had never called, never spoken -to them when all the world beside had been friendly. His very kindness -to Dick was tainted; for had he not sided with the boy against her -father? Once the train of thought started, it was easy to turn the -points so that there seemed no possibility of its following any other -line than the one she laid down for it as she went along. Finally, to -clinch the matter, memory served her a sorry trick by suddenly -recalling to her recollection Philip Marsden's gloomy face when -she had told him who she was on their first meeting at the -railway-station. She sat up in bed with little hot hands stretched -into the darkness. "O father! father! I was the only one who loved -you,--the only one!" A climax at once of sorrow and consolation which -somehow soothed her to sleep. - -Now, while she was employed in blackening his character, Philip -Marsden was crediting her with all the cardinal virtues. He had not -seen the daily paper, for reasons which put many other things out of -his head for the time being. He had no idea when he wilfully went to -play racquets that evening instead of following Raby's advice of -seeing Belle, that he was throwing away his last chance of an -interview; but as he sat outside the court, cooling himself after the -game, an urgent summons came from the orderly-room. Ten minutes after -he was reading a telegram bidding the 101st Sikhs start to the front -immediately. Farewell to leisure; for though the regiment had been -under warning for service and in a great measure prepared for it, the -next forty-eight hours were ones of exceeding bustle. Philip, harassed -on all sides, had barely time to realise what it meant; and, despite a -catch at his heart when he thought of Belle, the blood ran faster in -his veins from the prospect of action. His own certainty, moreover, -was so great, that it seemed almost incredible that one, of whose -sympathy he felt assured, should see the matter with other eyes. -Nevertheless he was determined to tell her all at the first -opportunity; and often, as he went untiringly through the wearisome -details of inspection, his mind was busy over the interview to come; -but the end was always the same, and left him with a smile on his -face. - -John Raby happened to be standing in the verandah when, between pillar -and post, Philip found that vacant five minutes which he had been -chasing all day long. - -"Can't see you, I'm afraid," he returned, cheerfully, to the inquiry -for Miss Stuart. "The fact is she has worried herself into a fever -over that paragraph. I don't wonder; it was infernal!" - -"What paragraph?" asked Philip innocently. - -John Raby looked at him and laughed, not a very pleasant kind of -laugh. "Upon my soul," he said, "you _are_ an unlucky beggar. I begin -to think it's a true case, for you've enough real bad luck to make a -three-volume-course of true love run rough! So you haven't seen it? -Then I'll fetch it out. The paper is just inside." - -Philip, reining in his restive horse viciously, read the offending -lines, punctuating them with admonitory digs of his heels and tugs at -the bridle as the charger fretted at the fluttering paper. He looked -well on horseback, and the civilian, lazily leaning against a pillar, -admired him, dangling sword, jingling spurs, and all. He folded the -paper methodically against his knee and handed it back. "And Miss -Stuart believed all that?" he asked quietly. - -"Women always believe what they see printed. She is in an awful rage, -of course; but I warned you, Marsden, you know I did." - -"You were most kind. Will you tell Miss Stuart, when you see her, that -I called to say good-bye and that I was sorry,--yes! you can say I was -sorry, for the cause of her fever." His tone was bitterness itself. - -"Look here, Marsden," said the other, "don't huff; take my advice this -time and write to her." - -"Do you think the belief of women extends to what they see written? I -didn't know you had such a high opinion of the sex, Raby! Well, -good-bye to you, and thanks." - -"Oh, I shall be down to see the 101st march out. Five A.M., isn't it?" - -Philip nodded as he rode off. All through that last night in -cantonments he was angry with everything and everybody, himself -included. Why had he meddled? What demon had possessed the Brigadier -to put him in charge of the Commissariat office? Why had not this -order for the front come before? Why had it come now? What induced the -_babu_ who penned that paragraph to be born? And why did a Mission -school teach him the misuse of adjectives? He was still too angry to -ask himself why he had not taken John Raby's advice; that touched too -closely on the real mistake to be acknowledged yet awhile. - -The gloom on his face was not out of keeping with the scene, as the -regiment marched down the Mall at early dawn while the band played -_Zakhmi_, that plaintive lament of the Afghan maiden for her wounded -lover. Yet there was no pitiful crowd of weeping women and children, -such as often mars the spectacle of a British regiment going on -service. The farewells had all been said at home, and if the women -wept in the deserted lines, the men marched, eyes front without a -waver, behind the sacred flag borne aloft by the tall drum-major, -whose magnificent stature was enhanced by an enormous high-twined -turban. Close at his heels went two men waving white silver-mounted -whisks over the Holy Grunth, watchful lest aught might settle on the -sacred page which lay open on a yellow satin cushion borne by four -sergeants. There, plainly discernible even by the half-light, was -inscribed in broad red and black lettering the sure guide through -death to life for its faithful followers. Then, separated by a wide -blank from the book in front and the men behind, rode the Colonel. -Finally, shoulder to shoulder, marched as fine a body of men as could -be seen east or west, with dexterously knotted turbans neutralising -the least difference in height, so that the companies came by as if -carved out of one block. - -It was a stirring sight, making the blood thrill, especially when, at -the turn of the road leading to barracks, the bands of the British -regiments formed in front to play their fellow soldiers out of the -station, and the Sikhs broke into their old war cry, "_Jai! Jail -guru-ji ke Jai!_ (Victory, victory, our Teachers' victory)." It -mingled oddly with the--strains of "The Girl I left Behind Me." - -A little group of horsemen waited for the last farewells at the -cantonment boundary, and one of them riding alongside told Philip -Marsden that a clue had been found, and the truth would be made -manifest. The conventional answer of pleasure came reluctantly, but as -the hands of the two men met, the gloomy, troubled face looked almost -wistfully into the clever, contented one. "You are very good to her, -Raby; I know that; good-bye." The workmanlike groans and shrieks of -the fife and drum replaced the retiring bands, and as cheer after -cheer greeted the final departure Philip Marsden felt that John Raby -was left completely master of the situation. - -That evening, twenty miles out among the sandhills, he put his pride -in his pocket, impelled thereto by a persistent gnawing at his heart, -and followed the advice of writing to Belle; an honest, if somewhat -hard letter, telling her, not of his good deeds, but the truth of -those which seemed to her bad. Ten days after at Peshawar, with the -last civilised post he was to see for many weeks, his letter came back -to him unopened and re-addressed in a shaky hand. - -The heart-ache was better by that time. "She might have afforded me -the courtesy of an envelope," he said as he threw the letter into the -camp-fire. - - - - - CHAPTER IX. - - -The clue spoken of by John Raby lay in the note for a thousand rupees -with which Colonel Stuart had paid a portion of his card debts during -his last deal in the great game. It proved to be not only one of the -missing notes, but, as luck would have it, the very one about the -number of which uncertainty existed. The figures stood as the Colonel -had written them; so the mistake lay with the usurer, if it was really -a mistake. John Raby lit a cigarette and meditated, with the list -before him; but beyond an odd persistency in threes and fives, the -figures presented no peculiarity. So he set the problem aside till he -could tackle it on the spot where it had arisen; for he was a great -believer in scenery as an aid to the senses. - -The day was almost done, however, ere he found leisure for the task; -nevertheless, fatigued as he was, he set to work methodically and was -rewarded by the immediate discovery that uncertainty existed as to the -number of another note, the one which had been paid in by some one -else. The entry had been blotted by the hasty closing of the ledger, -and though it read like 159934, it was quite conceivable that it might -be something else. Again those threes and fives! Idly enough he wrote -the two uncertainties on a sheet of paper, and sat staring at them -till suddenly a suggestion came to him, making him re-write the number -given by Shunker in close imitation of the dead man's bold black -figures, and then deliberately blot it by placing it in the ledger. -The result bore so close a resemblance to the blurred entry that his -quick brain darted off in a wonder how the usurer had got hold of the -number of a note which he had not paid in. No reasonable explanation -suggesting itself, he began a systematic search in the waste paper -basket; the scraps there would at least tell him on what work the -Colonel had been engaged during his last day. He knew that Shunker had -had an interview with him in the morning, but that did not account for -the shreds of a receipt for three thousand five hundred maunds of -grain which he found almost on the top. An old receipt dated some -months back; three thousand five hundred too--an odd coincidence! So -far good; the next thing was to have a sight of Shunker's face before -he had time to hear rumours or make plans. - -The summons to come up for an interview early next morning rather -pleased the Lala, for he received it while at the receipt of custom, -when it added to his importance in the eyes of the wedding guests who -sat watching a nautch girl sidle, like a pouter pigeon, over a strip -of dirty carpet. She was stout to obesity; her oiled hair was -plastered so as to narrow her forehead to a triangle; her voluminous -skirts ended just under the arms in a superfluity of bust. She held -one fat hand to her cheek persistently as if in the agonies of -toothache, while she yelled away as if the dentist had failed to -comfort her. Yet the best native society of Faizapore had sat there -for an hour and a half with the impassive faces of the Asiatic bent on -amusement; a face which surely will make Paradise dull work for the -_houris_. - -"Yea! I will come to Raby if he needs me," assented the rich man, -turning with a spiteful chuckle to his right hand, where old Mahomed -Lateef sat solemn and dignified. "See you, Khan _sahib_, how even the -Sirkar favours money?" - -"When I was young, Oh Shunker!" retorted the other grimly, "the hands -of Nikalsane and Jan Larnce held the sword too tight to leave room for -the rupees." - -"Ay! when you Khans of Kurtpore brought fifty swords to flash behind -theirs, without payment. Swords are bought nowadays, and those who -lack money must e'en go to the wall." - -The old Mahomedan's eyes flared. "_Mashallah_, oh _buniah-ji_, if they -go to the wall in my poor house they will find swords enow! But -yesterday a hut fell--I mean 'twas pulled down for repairs--and we -came on five Persian blades![3] Ready to use, O Lala-ji; no spot or -blemish of rust. Haply they may help back the rupees some day." - -Shunker moved uneasily in his chair, and the guests sank again into -silence, broken only by the occasional tributary hiccup which native -etiquette demands for the memory of dinner. The stars shone overhead, -and a great trail of smoke from the brazier of oil and cotton-seed -seemed to mix itself up with the Milky Way. Little Nuttu, the hero of -the feast, had fallen asleep in his chair, his baby bride being -engaged in cutting her teeth elsewhere. A group of younger men, -squatted in the far corner round a flaring paraffin lamp, talked -vociferously in a mixed jargon of "individual freedom," "political -rights," and "representative government." And no one laughed or cried -at anything; neither at the nautch girl with her unmentionable songs, -nor the spectacle of people discussing freedom while engaged in taking -it away from two harmless infants. - -So the night wore on in dull dissipation, leaving Shunker at a -disadvantage when he came to confront the young civilian's clear-cut, -clean-shaven face in the morning. - -"You have made a mistake, Lala-ji," he began, opening fire at once; "a -serious mistake about the notes you claim to have left with Colonel -Stuart." So much, at least, was certain; John Raby, however, saw more -in the unrestrained start of alarm which the surprise evoked. "It -isn't so very serious," he continued blandly; "nothing for you to be -so frightened about, Lala-ji; we all make mistakes at times. By the -way, did you keep your original memorandum of the numbers in English -or Mahajani [accountant's character]?" "In Mahajani, _Huzoor_," -bleated Shunker, and John Raby smiled. For this diminished the -possibility of clerical error enormously; indeed it was to settle this -point that he had sent for the usurer. "So much the better for you," -he went on carelessly, "and if you will bring the paper to me this -evening, say about six, I'll see if we can get the error in your claim -altered. You have interchanged a five and a three in one number, and -it is as well to be accurate before the inquiry commences. It will be -a very stringent one. By the by, what time did you last see Colonel -Stuart?" - -But the usurer was prepared this time, and when he finally bowed -himself out, John Raby was as much in the dark as ever in regard to -the details of a plot which he felt sure had been laid. - -All day long in a sort of under-current of thought he was busy -ransacking memory and invention for a theory, coming back again and -again, disheartened, to the half-tipsy laugh with which Colonel Stuart -had given him the note, declaring it was a windfall. A windfall! what -could that mean! Had Shunker given it back? Then there must have been -a second interview; but none of the servants could speak to one. He -went over early to the office and sat in the dead man's chair trying -to piece things together. The shadows were beginning to cling to the -corners ere the usurer was announced, and something in the scared -glance he gave towards the tall figure in the seat of office convinced -John Raby that the man was reminded of another and similar visit to -that room. The quaver in hand and voice with which he produced his -day-book, and said that the _Huzoor's_ number was right after all, -clinched the matter. - -"I suppose," remarked the young man coolly, "you were confused by the -other note." A random shot, but it struck home! - -"_Huzoor!_" faltered the fat man. - -John Raby looked him full in the face, and went one better; poker was -a game of which he was passionately fond. "The other note with the -threes and the fives which you saw,--which you got when,--I mean the -second time you came here--when you brought the receipt for the grain -which he destroyed--By Jove!" He threw his hand up, and a light came -into his face. "Fool not to see it before--the receipt,--the _wrong_ -receipt of course." - -"But he never gave me the money; I swear he didn't!" protested -Shunker, completely off his guard. - -His hearer broke into a fit of cynical laughter. "Thank you, Shunker, -thank you! Of course he gave you the money: I see it all; and as one -of the numbers were different, you improved on your original -memorandum, thinking you had made a mistake. Stay,--number 150034 -wasn't your note. By Jove! he must have given you back the whole roll -of four thousand five hundred by mistake. You're a bigger blackguard -than I thought!" - -"No, no!" cried the usurer, beside himself with fear of this -_shaitan_. "Only three! I swear it! I only picked up three." - -"Thank you again, Lala. You picked up three. Let me see; how was it?" -The young man rose, pacing the room quickly and talking rapidly. -"Stuart must have taken four from the safe. The windfall! by George! -the windfall. The Colonel must have thought Shunker had only taken -two. Well! you're a nice sort of scoundrel," he went on, stopping -opposite the usurer and viewing him with critical eyes. "So you gave -him the wrong receipt on purpose, and now claim a second payment, is -that it?" - -Shunker collapsed to the floor as if every bone had left his body. "I -didn't,--I'll swear by holy Ganges, by my son's head--I didn't mean -it. I thought he would kill me, and I gave him the wrong receipt in my -hurry. Oh, sir, I swear--" - -"Let go my legs, you fool, or I shall! Stand up, and don't let your -teeth chatter. I'm not going to kill you. So you weren't even a good -scoundrel, Shunker, only a pitiful fortune-finder. Having done a -clever trick by mistake, you thought it safe to claim the money again, -as the only witness was dead. And it was safe, but for that chance of -the other note! It was hard luck, Lala-ji, hard luck!" - -There was something almost uncanny in John Raby's jeering smile as he -threw himself into a chair and began to light one of his eternal -cigarettes. The fact being that he was elated beyond measure at his -own success, and unwilling to detract, as it were, from his own skill -by any hint of carelessness on the other side. - -"And now, Shunker," he asked, his chief attention being apparently -given to his tobacco, "what do you intend to do?" Coolly as he spoke, -he was conscious of inward anxiety; for he had rapidly reviewed the -position, and confessed himself impotent should the usurer regain the -courage of denial, since any attempt to prove the facts must bring to -light his own possession of the unlucky note. His best chance -therefore was to work on the Lala's terror without delay. - -"I throw myself on your honour's mercy," quavered the usurer in a dull -despairing tone, knowing by experience that it was but a broken reed -on which to rely. - -"You don't deserve any; still there are reasons which incline me to be -lenient. Your son is young to be deprived of a father's care; besides, -as the Colonel _sahib's_ executor, I do not wish to have a committee -of inquiry in the office. You understand?" - -"_Sahib_, I understand." This eminently sensible view of the matter -was as welcome as it was unexpected. - -"Therefore I shall be content if you withdraw your claim, in some -credible way of course. Equally, of course, you will sign a -confession, which I will burn when--" - -"But, _sahib_, how--?" - -"Not another word. I particularly do not wish to know what you are -going to do; but I haven't lived seven years in India without being -aware how things _can_ be burked." - -"If the _sahib_ would only tell me--" - -"I tell you to burke it! Why, man, if I only had _your conscience_ all -things would be possible; I'd make money even out of this. I'll help -you so far. You have somehow or another to restore certain notes, the -numbers of which are known. I happen to have traced one of these -already, and you happen to have got hold of a wrong one. I will -exchange. If you haven't got it about you,--ah! I see you have; that -is a great saving of trouble." - -A quarter of an hour later John Raby wrote a few lines to Major -Marsden's successor enclosing a thousand-rupee note which he had found -in an unexpected place in Colonel Stuart's office, adding his belief -that the others would doubtless turn up ere long, and suggesting a few -days' grace in order that a thorough search might be made. - -"Never lie if you can help it," he said to himself sardonically. "That -dear old prig Marsden would be shocked at my squaring this business, -though at one stage of the proceedings he tried to do so himself. What -the devil would be the good of an inquiry to any living soul? And as -I've lost a thousand in avoiding one, no one could accuse me of -interested motives. Marsden and I row in the same boat, and if I had -had as much money as he has!-- Well, she is a dear little girl, and -that's a fact." - -He called on the dear little girl after leaving the office, and -comforted her greatly by general expressions of hope. They made her -almost more grateful to him than any certainty would have done, for -they showed a more perfect trust in her father's integrity. So even -the young man's caution told in his favour, and he went home very well -satisfied with himself, to await the final explanation that was to -emanate from the Lala's fertile brain. The notes would be found -somewhere, no doubt; or else in looking over his accounts he would -discover a like sum owing to Government which would cause the -disappearance of the apparent deficiency. - -But amid all his terror, the Lala had noted John Raby's assertion -that, given a certain conscience, he could make money out of the -restitution; and these idle words stood between him and many a -solution of the difficulty. His soul (if he had one) was full of hate, -a sense of defeat, and a desire for revenge. If only he could devise -some plan by which he could retain the plunder, especially that -thousand-rupee note the white-faced _shaitan_ had given him in -exchange! - -Dawn found him still in the upper chamber alone with his faithful -jackal. There was determination in his face and dogged resistance in -Ram Lal's. - -"Fool!" whispered the usurer. "If I fall, where art thou? And I swear -I will let the whole thing go. I have money,--thou hast none. It is -only a year without opium or tobacco, Ramu, and the wife and children -well cared for meanwhile. Are you going to back out of the agreement, -unfaithful to salt?" - -"A year is ten years without opium, Lala; and there is no need for -this. I am the scapegoat, it is true, but only for safety." - -"Son of owls!" cursed the usurer, still under his breath. "It is for -safety, thy safety as well as mine. For if thou wilt do as I bid thee, -it will tie that _shaitan's_ hands; and if they be not tied, they will -meddle. Besides, the _sahib-logue_ are never satisfied without a -scapegoat, and if some one go not to jail they will inquire; and then, -Ramu, wilt thou fare better? 'Twill be longer in the cells, that is -all. Opium can be smuggled, Ramu! See, I promise five rupees a month -to the warder, and a big caste dinner when thou returnest from the -father-in-law's house [a native euphemism for the jail]. And listen, -Ramu--" - -So the whispered colloquy went on and on through the hot night, and -during the course of the next day John Raby was asked to sign a -search-warrant for the house of one Ramu Lal, who was suspected by his -master, Shunker Das, of having stolen the missing notes from Colonel -Stuart's office-table. For a moment the young man, taken aback by this -unexpected turn of affairs, hesitated; but reflection showed him that, -for all he could prove to the contrary, the crime might have been -committed. At least there would be time enough for interference at a -later stage of the proceedings. So Ramu and his house were searched; a -note for five hundred rupees was found on his person, and two previous -convictions against him promptly produced by the police. - -The discovery of but one, and that the smallest, note gave John Raby -the key to Shunker's plan; for if it could be proved that the money -had been stolen after it had been duly handed over to the Commissariat -officer, the Lala's claim would remain intact. Thus he would be the -gainer by exactly three thousand rupees. Some of this would of course -go towards indemnifying the scapegoat; but Ramu was notoriously the -contractor's jackal, and bound to take such risks. - -What was to be done? It was maddening to be outwitted in this manner, -but after all no one was really the worse for it. Ramu had evidently -been squared: Shunker was bound to escape in any case; and Government -had gained all round. Practically speaking, he and Marsden were the -only sufferers; the latter in having paid up ten thousand rupees which -the authorities must otherwise have lost; he, in having restored one -thousand out of his honest earnings. Besides, he had forced Shunker to -disgorge another five hundred; in fact, but for him and his _ecarte_ -the fraud could not have been discovered. Surely that was enough for -any man to do; especially as one disclosure must lead to another, and -in that case Government would have to pay Marsden back his money. All -of which devious but straightforward arguments ended in John Raby -taking care that the case should be tried in another court; which it -was and successfully. Ram Lal, confronted by a mass of evidence -ingeniously compounded after native fashion from truth and -falsehood,--from the denials of honest people who could not possibly -have seen anything, and the assertions of those who were paid to have -seen everything,--pleaded guilty to having watched his master give the -money to Colonel Stuart, who, being in a hurry, had placed it in an -envelope-box on the writing-table, whence Ramu, returning after dark, -had taken it "in a moment of forgetfulness" [the usual native excuse]. - -Here the Lala interrupted the Court to say in a voice broken by -emotion that Ramu was a faithful servant, a very faithful servant -indeed. - -So the jackal got eighteen months for the theft, and Shunker drove -down next morning to the jail on a visit of inspection and took the -opportunity of presenting one of the warders with five rupees. - -The net result of the whole affair, from a monetary (that is to say -from John Raby's) point of view, being that Shunker gained three -thousand rupees, the Government six thousand and odd, while Philip -Marsden lost over nine, and he himself forfeited one. He did not count -other gains and losses; not even when a day or two after the trial he -stood, with Belle's hand in his, saying good-bye to her ere she -departed to the hills. The _gharri_ waited with its pile of luggage -outside in the sunlight; poor Healy's Mary Ann, who was to accompany -her to Rajpore, was arranging the pillows and fussing over the -position of the ice-box which was to ensure comfort. - -"I can't thank you," said the girl tearfully, her pretty eyes on his. -"I wish I could, but I can't." - -"Perhaps you may,--some day," he replied vaguely, wishing it were -possible. "After all I did nothing; it was clear from the first that -there was a mistake." - -"Some people did not see the clearness," she returned bitterly. "So -your kindness,--and--and confidence--were all the more welcome. I -shall never forget it." - -Once more the young civilian was driven, by sheer keenness of -perception, to the position of an outsider who, seeing the game, sees -the odds also. "If I were you I'd forget all about it," he said, more -earnestly than was his wont. "It has been a bad dream from beginning -to end. When we all come back from the wars with a paucity of limbs -and a plethora of medals we can begin afresh. You look surprised. The -fact is I've just accepted a political berth with one of the forces, -and am off at once. I am glad; Faizapore will be dull when you are -gone." - -"What a nice young gentleman a' be, miss," said poor Healy's Mary Ann -when he had seen them safely stowed away, and with a plunge and a wild -tootle of the coachman's horn they were dashing out of the gate. "So -cheerful like. He must a' suffered a deal 'imself for to keep up 'is -sperrits so in trouble. It's wonderful what one gets used to." - -"He has been very good to me,--and to father," replied Belle softly. - - - - - CHAPTER X. - - -A cold wind swept down the Peirak valley, driving the last leaves from -the birch trees, which, filling the gully, crept some short way up the -steep ascent to the Pass, where the ridges of grey-blue slate seemed -almost a part of the staring blue sky against which they showed like a -serrated line of shadow. Nearer at hand the slopes of withered bent -were broken by sharp fang-like rocks gathering themselves in the -distance into immature peaks and passes. Here and there a patch of -dirty snow, having borne the burden and heat of summer, lay awaiting a -fresh robe of white at the hands of the fast-coming winter. Already -the round black tents of the pasture-seeking tribes were in full -retreat to the plains, and the valley lay still and silent, without -even the sweep of a hawk in its solitary circle, or the bird-like -whistle of a marmot sunning itself on the rocks. Ere long the snow -would wrap all in its soft white mantle, and the bunting, paired with -its own shadow, flicker over the glistening drifts. - -Notwithstanding the lateness of the season the Peirak was not utterly -deserted. In a sheltered bit behind a cluster of rocks sat two young -men. One, despite the sheepskin coat and turban-wound peaked cap of -the Afghan, showed unmistakable signs of alien blood in the steady -gaze of a pair of brown eyes, and a white line of clean skin where the -fur collar met his neck. It was our old friend Dick Smith, and he was -on the watch for the last British regiment which was to cross the Pass -in order to strengthen the little garrison beyond, before winter set -her silver key upon the mountains. His companion carried his -nationality in his face, for even when Afzul Khan had condescended to -wear the uniform of a Sikh soldier no one could have mistaken the -evidence of his long, straight nose and cruel, crafty expression, in -which, however, lurked little hint of sensuality. - -"You are deeply interested in this particular regiment," remarked Dick -in fair Pushtu. "What's up, Afzul?" - -"Nothing, _Huzoor_. A fool who called himself my relative took service -once with your Sirkar. Mayhap in this regiment--God knows! It does not -matter if it was." - -The studied indifference made his hearer smile. "You are a queer lot, -you Pathans," he said lazily. "Not much family affection; not much -welcome for a long-lost brother, eh, Afzul?" - -"The Presence should remember there are Pathans and Pathans. He has -not seen my people; they are not here." He spread a well-shaped -nervous hand emphatically east, west, and south. - -"Tarred with the same brush north, I expect," muttered the Englishman -to himself. - -Afzul Khan frowned. "These are my enemies," he went on. "But for the -Sirkar,--_chk!_" He gave a curious sound, half click, half gurgle, and -drew an illustrative finger across his throat. It was rather a ghastly -performance. - -"Then why stop?" - -Afzul Khan plucked at the withered bents carelessly. "Because--because -it suits this slave; because the merciful Presence is my master; -because I may as well wait here as anywhere else." - -"What are you waiting for?" - -He showed all his long white teeth in a grin. "Promotion, _Huzoor_. It -should come speedily, since but yesterday the _sahib_ said I was worth -all the rest of the gang." - -"I must be more careful. Where the dickens did you pick up English, -Afzul?" - -"From you, _Huzoor_." A statement so irredeemably fictitious that it -made Dick thoughtful. - -"You're sharp enough, Heaven knows; but I don't understand why you -wanted to learn signalling. Are you going to give up your _jezail_ and -become a _babu?_" - -Afzul Khan fingered the matchlock which lay beside him. "I have -changed my mind," he said shortly. "I will leave it to the Presence to -bring down fire from Heaven; _I_ bring it from this flash-in-the-pan." - -"Now what can you know about Prometheus?" - -He shook his head. "The Presence speaks riddles. The fire comes to -some folk, to many of the _sahibs_--to you, perhaps. God knows! The -Pathans are different. Our work is fighting." - -Dick, looking at his companion's sinewy strength, thought it not -unlikely. "While we are waiting, Afzul," he said idly, "tell me the -finest fight you ever were in. Don't be modest; out with it!" - -"Wherefore not? Victory is Fate, and only women hang their heads over -success. The best fight, you say? 'Twas over yonder to the north. -There is a dip; but one way up and down. Twenty of us Barakzais and -they were fifteen; but they were ahead of us in count, for, by Allah! -their wives were so ugly that we didn't care to carry them off." - -"Why should you?" - -"'Twas a feud. Once, God knows when, a Budakshan Nurzai carried off -one of ours and began it. If the women ran out, we killed the men -instead. So it was a moonlight night, and the fifteen were fast -asleep, snoring like hogs. By Allah! my heart beat as we crept behind -the rocks on our bellies, knowing that a rolling stone might waken -them. But God was good, and _chk!_ they bled to death, like the pigs -they were, before their eyes were wide open." - -Dick Smith stared incredulously. "You call that the best fight you -ever were in? I call it--" The epithet remained unspoken as he started -to his feet with a shout. "By George! I see the glitter. Yonder, -Afzul! by the turn. Hurrah! hurrah!" - -He was off at long swinging strides, careless of the fact that the -Pathan never moved. The latter's keen eyes followed the lad with a -certain regret, and then turned to the straggling file of soldiers now -plainly visible. - -"Marsden _sahib_ with the advance guard," he muttered. "Why did I give -in to those cursed hawk's eyes when my bullet was all but in his -heart! _Wah-illah!_ his bravery made me a coward, and now my life is -his. But I will return it, and then we shall cry quits. Yonder's the -_subadar_. By God! my knife will be in his big belly ere long, and -some of those gibing Punjabis shall jest no more." - -So he watched them keenly with a fierce joy, while Dick tore down the -hill, to be brought, by an ominous rattle among the rifles below, to a -remembrance of his dress. Then he waited, hands down, in the open, -until the advance guard came within hail of his friendly voice; when -he received the whole regiment with open arms, as if the Peirak were -his special property. Perhaps he had some right to consider it so, -seeing that he was the only Englishman who had ever attempted to make -those barren heights his head-quarters. But, as he explained to Philip -Marsden, while they climbed the narrow gully hemmed in by -perpendicular rocks which led to the summit, the breaks in -communication from storms and other causes had been so constant, that -he had cut himself adrift from head-quarters at Jumwar in order to be -on the spot, and so avoid the constant worry of small expeditions with -an escort; without which he was not allowed to traverse the unsettled -country on either side. - -"Here I am safe enough," he said with a laugh; "and if I could only -get my assistant, a Bengali _babu_, to live at the other hut I have -built on the northern descent, we could defy all difficulties. But he -is in such a blind funk that if I go out he retires to bed and locks -the door. The only time he is happy is when a regiment is on the -road." - -"Then his happiness is doomed for this year,--unless you use -discretion and come on with us to Jumwar. I doubt your being safe here -much longer." - -Dick shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps not, and of course I shall have -to cut and run before the snow; but I like the life, and it gives me -time. I've been at work on a field-instrument--" here his eyes lit up, -and his tongue ran away with him over insulators and circuits. - -Major Marsden looked at the lad approvingly, thinking how different he -was from the slouching sullen boy of six months back. "I'm afraid I -don't understand, Dick," he said with a half-smile; "but I've no doubt -it will be very useful, if, as you say, it enables you to tap the -wires anywhere with speed and certainty." - -Dick gave a fine blush. "I beg your pardon, but these things get into -my head. It will work though, I'm sure of it. I'd show you if it was -here, but I left it at the other shanty. There's a stretch of low -level line across the Pass where I was testing it." - -The half-aggrieved eagerness in his voice made Philip smile. They were -sitting together under the lee of a rock on the summit while a halt -was called, in order to give time for the long caravan-like file, -encumbered by baggage ponies, to reach the top and so ensure an -unbroken line during the descent. For in these mountain marches the -least breach of continuity is almost certain to bring down on the -detached portion an attack from the robbers who are always on the -watch for such an opportunity. - -"You had best come with us, Dick," said Philip, returning to the point -after a pause. - -"No! The fact is I want to be certain of the communication until you -are safe in Jumwar. Those two marches, between your next camp and the -city, are risky. I have my doubts of the people." - -"Doubts shared by head-quarters apparently, for the chief got a -telegram yesterday to await orders at Jusraoli. I expect they are -going to send to meet us from Jumwar." - -"I wish I'd known in time," replied Dick lightly; "in that case there -is not much reason for staying. Yet I don't know; I'd rather stick on -till I am forced to quit." - -"That won't be long; the snow's due already, and you are coming on -with us so far in any case, aren't you?" - -Dick sat idly chucking stones and watching them leap from point to -point of the cliffs below him. "I don't think I shall, if you are to -be in camp Jusraoli for some days. You see, my _babu_ is no use, and -something might turn up. I'll see you across the Pass and come back. I -could join you later on if I made up my mind to cut." He lay back with -his arms under his head and looked up into the brilliant blue -cloudless sky. "Major," he said suddenly, after a pause, "do you know -that you have never asked after Belle?" - -"Haven't I? The fact is I had news of her lately. Raby wrote to me a -few days ago." - -"I wouldn't trust Raby if I were you. Did he tell you that Belle -hadn't a penny and was trying to be independent of charity by -teaching?" - -"I am very sorry to hear it." - -Dick sat up with quite a scared look on his honest face. "I thought -there must be something wrong between you two by her letters," he said -in a low voice; "but I didn't think it was so bad as that. What is -it?" - -"Really, my dear boy, I don't feel called upon to answer that -question." - -"It's beastly impertinent, of course," allowed Dick; "but see here, -Major, you are the best friend I have, and she,--why, I love her more -dearly every day. So you see there must be a mistake." - -The logic was doubtful, but the faith touched Philip's heart. "And so -you love her more than ever?" he asked evasively. - -"Why not? I seem somehow nearer to her now, not so hopelessly beneath -her in every way. And I can help her a little by sending money to Aunt -Lucilla. _She_ wouldn't take a penny, of course. But they tell me that -when my grandfather,--I mean my mother's father--dies I might come in -for a few rupees; so I have made my will leaving anything in your -charge for Belle. You don't mind, do you?" - -Philip Marsden felt distinctly annoyed. Here was fate once again -meddling with his freedom. "I'm afraid I do. To begin with, I may be -lying with a bullet through me before the week's out." - -"So may I. Look on it as my last request, Major. I'd sooner trust you -than any one in the wide world. You would be certain to do what I -would like." - -"Should I? I'm not so sure of myself. Look here, Dick! I didn't mean -to tell you, but perhaps it is best to have it out, and be fair and -square. The fact is we are rivals." He laughed cynically at his -hearer's blank look of surprise. "Yes,--don't be downcast, my dear -fellow; you've a better chance than I have, any day, for she dislikes -me excessively; and upon my word, I believe I'm glad of it. Let's talk -of something more agreeable. Ah, there goes the bugle." - -He started to his feet, leaving Dick a prey to very mixed emotions, -looking out with shining eyes over the dim blue plains which rolled up -into the eastern sky. It must be a mistake, he felt. His hero was too -perfect for anything else; and she? Something seemed to rise in his -throat and choke him. So nothing further was said between them till on -the northern skirts of the hills they stood saying good-bye. Then Dick -with some solemnity put a blue official envelope into his friend's -hand. "It's the will, Major. I think it's all right; I got the _babu_ -to witness it. And of course the--the other--doesn't make any -difference. You see I shall write and tell her it is all a mistake." - -The older man as he returned the boyish clasp felt indescribably mean. -"Don't be in a hurry, Dick," he said slowly. "You can think it over -and give it me when you join us, for join us you must. I won't take it -till then, at all events. As for the other, as you call it, the -mistake would be to have it changed. Whatever happens she will never -get anything better than what you give her, Dick--never!--never! -Good-bye; take care of yourself." - -As he watched the young fellow go swinging along the path with his -head up, he told himself that others beside Belle would be the losers -if anything happened to Dick Smith; who, for all the world had cared, -might at that moment have been lying dead-drunk in a disreputable -bazaar. "There is something," he thought sadly, "that most men lose -with the freshness of extreme youth. It has gone from me hopelessly, -and I am so much the worse for it." And Dick, meanwhile, was telling -himself with a pang at his heart that no girl, Belle least of all, -could fail in the end to see the faultlessness of his hero. - - - - - CHAPTER XI. - - -The sun had set ere Dick reached the narrowest part of the defile -where, even at midday, the shadows lay dark; and now, with the clouds -which had been creeping up from the eastward all the afternoon -obscuring the moon, it looked grim and threatening. He was standing at -an open turn, surprised at the warmth of the wind that came hurrying -down the gully, when the low whistling cry of the marmot rang through -the valley and died away among the rocks. A second afterwards the -whizz of a bullet, followed by the distant crack of a rifle, made him -drop in his tracks and seek the shelter of a neighbouring boulder. -Once again the marmot's cry arose, this time comparatively close at -hand. To answer it was the result of a second's thought, and the -silence which ensued convinced Dick that he had done the right thing. -But what was the next step? Whistling was easy work, but how if he met -some of these musical sentries face to face? Perhaps it would be wiser -to go back. He had almost made up his mind to this course when the -thought that these robbers, for so he deemed them, might out of pure -mischief have tampered with his beloved wires came to turn the balance -in favour of going on. A disused path leading by a _detour_ to the -southern side branched off about a mile further up; if he could reach -that safely he might manage to get home without much delay. Only a -mile; he would risk it. Creeping from his shelter cautiously he -resumed his way, adopting the easy lounging gait of the hill-people; -rather a difficult task with the inward knowledge that some one may be -taking deliberate aim at you from behind a rock. More than once, as he -went steadily onwards, the cry of a bird or beast rose out of the -twilight, prompting his instant reply. "If they would only crow like a -cock," he thought, with the idle triviality which so often accompanies -grave anxiety, "I could do that first-class." - -Yet he was fain to pause and wipe the sweat from his face when he -found himself safely in the disused track, and knew by the silence -that he was beyond the line of sentries. A rough road lay before him, -but he traversed it rapidly, being anxious to get the worst of it over -before the lingering light deserted the peaks. As he stood on the -summit he was startled at the lurid look of the vast masses of cloud -which, rolling up to his very feet, obscured all view beyond. They -were in for a big storm, he thought, as he hurried down the slopes at -a break-neck pace; with all his haste barely reaching the shanty in -time, for a low growl of thunder greeted his arrival, and as he pulled -the latch a faint gleam of light showed him the empty room. He called -loudly; darkness and silence: again, as he struck a match; light, but -still silence. Quick as thought, Dick was at the signaller, and the -electric bell rang out incongruously. _Tink-a-tink-a-tink_ was echoed -from the eastward. But westward? He waited breathlessly, while not a -sound returned to him. Communication was broken; the wires had -possibly been cut, and Dick stood up with a curiously personal sense -of injury. His wires tampered with out of sheer mischief! Yet stay! -Might it not be something more? Where the devil had the _babu_ hidden -himself? After fruitless search an idea struck him, and he signalled -eastward once more. "Repeat your last message, giving time at which -sent." With ears attuned to tragedy Dick awaited the reply. "6 P.M. To -north side. 'Will send cocoa-nut oil and curry stuff by next mail.'" - -The echo of Dick's laughter, as he realised that but an hour or so -before the _babu_ had been putting the telegraph to commissariat uses, -was the last human sound the shanty was to hear for many a long day. -For the next moment's thought roused a sudden fear. The _babu_ had -doubtless gone over the Pass with the troops for the sake of company; -that was natural enough, but if he was still in the north shanty -awaiting Dick's return, why had he not answered the signal sent -westward? It could not be due to any break in the wire, unless the -damage had been done after dark, for he had been able to telegraph -eastward not so long ago. Was there more afoot than mere mischief? - -It was not a night for a dog to be out in, and as Dick stood at the -door he could see nothing but masses of cloud hurrying past, softly, -silently. Then suddenly a shudder of light zig-zagged hither and -thither, revealing only more cloud pierced by a few pinnacles of rock. - -Not a night for a dog certainly; but for a man, with a man's work -before him? Belle would bid him go, he knew. A minute later he had -closed the door behind him, and faced the Pass again. Ere he reached -the end of the short ascent it was snowing gently; then, with a -furious blast, hailing in slanted torrents that glittered like -dew-drops in the almost ceaseless shiver of the silent lightning. -Everything was so silent, save for the wind which, caught and twisted -in the gullies, moaned as if in pain. Ah! was that the end of all -things? Round him, in him, through him, came a blaze of white flame, -making him stagger against the wall of rock and throw up his hands as -if to ward off the impalpable mist which held such a deadly weapon. -Half-blinded he went on, his mind full of one thought. If that sort of -thing came again, say when he was passing the snow-bridge, could a man -stand it without a start which must mean instant death? The question -left no room for anything save a vague wonder till it was settled in -the affirmative. Then the nickname of "lightning-_wallahs_," given by -the natives to the telegraph-clerks, struck him as being happy, and -Afzul's reference to fire from heaven passed through his mind. More -like fire from hell surely, with that horrible sulphurous smell, and -now and again a ghastly undertoned crackle like the laughter of -fiends. There again! Wider this time, and followed by a rattle as of -musketry. But the snow which was now sweeping along in white swirls -seemed to shroud even the lightning. Horrible! To have so much light -and to be able to see nothing but cloud, and the stones at your feet. -How long would he see them? How long would it be before the snow -obliterated the path, leaving him lost? He stumbled along, tingling to -his very finger-tips, despite the cold which grew with every -explosion. The very hair on his fur coat stood out electrified, and -his brain swam with a wild excitement. On and on recklessly, yet -steadily; his footsteps deadened by the drifting snow, until he stood -at the threshold of shelter and threw open the door of the shanty. - -Great Heaven, what was this! The _babu_, green with fear, working the -signaller, while Afzul Khan, surrounded by six or seven armed Pathans, -stood over him with drawn knife. "Go on, you fool!" he was saying, -"your work is nearly finished." - -The full meaning of the scene flashed through Dick Smith's excited -brain quicker than any lightning. Treachery was at work, with a coward -for its agent. His revolver was out in a second, and before the -astonished group had time to grasp the unexpected interruption, the -_babu's_ nerveless fingers slipped from the handles, as with a gasping -sob, rising above the report, he sank in a heap on the floor. - -"By God and His Prophet!" cried Afzul, carried away, as men of his -kind are, by the display of daredevil boldness which is their -unattained ideal of bravery. "Yea, by the twelve Imaums, but it was -well done." - -"Liar, traitor, unfaithful to salt!" cried Dick, whose extraordinary -appearance and absolutely reckless behaviour inspired his hearers with -such awe that for the moment they stood transfixed. The revolver was -levelled again, this time at Afzul, when the memory of other things -beside revenge sobered the lad, and a flash of that inspiration which -in time of danger marks the leader of men from his fellows made him -throw aside the weapon and fold his arms. "No!" he said coolly, "I am -faithful. I have eaten the salt of the Barakzais; they are my -friends." - -"Don't hurt the lad," cried Afzul, not a moment too soon, for cold -steel was at Dick's throat. "God smite you to eternal damnation, -Haiyat! Put up that knife, I say. The lad's words are true. He has -eaten of our salt, and we of his. He hath lived among us and done no -harm to man or maid. By Allah! the lightning has got into his brain. -Bind him fast; and mark you, 'twill be worse than death for him to lie -here helpless, knowing that the wires he made such a fuss about have -lured his friends to death. I know his sort. Death?--this will be -seventy hells for him; and we can kill him after, if needs be." - -Dick, as he felt the cords bite into his wrists and ankles, ground his -teeth at the man's jeering cruelty. "Kill me outright, you devils!" he -cried, struggling madly. It was the wisest way to ensure life, for the -sight of his impotent despair amused his captors. - -"Give him a nip of his own brandy, Haiyat, or he will be slipping -through our fingers," said one, as he lay back exhausted. - -"Not I; the bottle's near empty as it is." - -Tales of his boyhood about drunken guards and miraculous escapes -recurred to Dick's memory, and though he felt to the full the -absurdity of mixing them up with the present deadly reality, the -slenderest chance gave at least room for hope. "There is plenty more -in the cupboard," he gasped. "The key is in my pocket." - -"True is it, O Kareem, that the Feringhi infidel cannot die in peace -without his _sharab_," remarked Haiyat virtuously. But he did not fail -with the others to taste all the contents of the cupboard, even to a -bottle of Pain-killer which had belonged to the _babu_. Meanwhile -Dick, lying helpless and bound, felt a fierce surge of hope and -despair as he remembered that behind those open doors lay something -which could put an end to treachery. Five minutes with his -field-instrument in the open, and, let what would come afterwards, he -would have done his work. The thought gave Dick an idea which, if -anything, increased the hopelessness of his position, for the only -result of his offer to work the wires on condition of his life being -saved, was to drive Afzul, who saw his dread of Dick's getting his -hands on the instrument in danger of being over-ruled, into settling -the question, once and for all, by severing the connection with a -hatchet. - -"I know him better than that," he said; "he would sit and fool us -until he had given warning. Let him lie there; if he has sense, he -will sleep." - -There was something so significant in his tone that Dick felt wisdom -lay in pretending to follow the advice. He strained his ears for every -whispered word of the gang as they crouched round the fire, and -gathered enough to convince him that the sudden change of plan at -head-quarters had endangered some deep-laid scheme of revenge, and -that Afzul Khan, believing Dick had gone on to the camp, had suggested -a false telegram in order to lure the regiment into the open. A -frantic rage and hate for the man who had suggested such a devilish -prostitution of what constituted Dick's joy and pride roused every -fibre of the lad's being. Lecoq, that greatest of examples to -prisoners, declares that given time, pluck, and a cold chisel, the man -who remains a captive is a fool. But how about the cold chisel? Dick's -eyes, craftily searching about under cover of the failing fire-light, -saw many things which might be useful, but all out of reach. - -"I am cold," he said boldly; "bring me a rug or move me out of the -draught." - -They did both, in quick recognition of his spirit, and, with a laugh -and an oath to the effect that the dead man would be a warm -bed-fellow, dragged him beside the wretched _babu_ and threw a -sheepskin rug over both. Dick's faint hope of some carpenter's tools -in the far corner fled utterly: but his heart leaped up again as he -remembered that his cowardly subordinate had always gone about armed -with revolvers and bowie-knives. Rifling a dead man's pockets with -your hands tied behind your back is slow work, but the rug covered a -multitude of movements. Half an hour afterwards Dick's feet were free, -and with the knife held fast between his heels he was breaking his -back in obstinate determination of some time and somehow severing the -rope upon his wrists. Some time and somehow--it seemed hours; yet when -he managed at last with bleeding hands to draw the watch from his -pocket he found it was barely two o'clock. Hitherto his one thought -had been freedom; now he turned his mind towards escape. There was -still plenty of time for him to reach the camp ere dawn found the -regiment on the move; but the risks he might have to run on the way -decided him, first of all, to try and secure his field-instrument from -the cupboard. He lay still for a long time wondering what to do next, -furtively watching Afzul Khan as he busied himself over the fire, -while the others dozed preparatory to the work before them. Having -possessed himself also of the dead _babu's_ revolver, Dick felt -mightily inclined to risk all by a steady shot at Afzul, and immediate -flight. But the remembrance of those sentries on the downward road -prevented him from relying altogether on his speed of foot. Yet Dick -knew his man too well to build anything on the chance of either wine -or weariness causing Afzul to relax his watch. It had come to be a -stand-up fight between these two, a state of affairs which never fails -to develop all the resources of brain and body. Dick, keenly alive to -every trivial detail, noticed first a longer interval in the -replenishing of the fire, and then the fact that but a few small logs -of wood remained in the pile. Thereafter, whenever Afzul's right hand -withdrew fresh fuel, Dick's left under cover of the noise made free -with more. The sheepskin rug had shelter for other things than a dead -body and a living one. - -"It burns like a fat Hindoo," muttered the Pathan, sulkily, as the -last faggot went to feed the flame. "Lucky there is more in the -outhouse, or those fools would freeze to death in their sleep." - -Dick's heart beat like a sledge-hammer. His chance, the only chance, -had come! Almost before the tall figure of the Pathan, after stooping -over him to make sure that he slept, had ceased to block the doorway, -Dick was at the cupboard. A minute's, surely not more than a minute's -delay, and he was outside, safe and free, with the means of warning -carefully tucked inside his fur coat. - -Too late! Right up the only possible path came Afzul, carrying a great -armful of sticks. To rush on him unprepared, tumble him backwards into -a snowdrift alongside, deal him a crashing blow or two for quietness' -sake and cram his _pugree_ into his mouth, was the work of a minute; -the next he was speeding down the descent with flying feet. The storm -was over, and the moon riding high in the heavens shone on a white -world; but already the darkness of the peaks against the eastern sky -told that the dawn was not far off. - -The first dip of the wires, he decided, was too close for safety, -besides the drifts always lay thickest there. The next, a mile and a -half down the valley, was best in every way; and as he ran, the keen -joy of victory, not only against odds but against one man, came to him -with the thought of Afzul Khan gagged and helpless in the snow. -But he had reckoned without the cold; the chill night air which, -finding its way through the open door, soon roused the sleepers by the -ill-replenished fire. Haiyat, waking first, gave the alarm, and the -discovery of their leader half suffocated in the snowdrift followed -swiftly. Yet it was not until the latter, slowly recovering speech, -gasped out a warning, that the full meaning of their prisoner's escape -was brought home to them. - -"After him! Shoot him down!" cried Afzul, staggering to his feet. "He -can bring fire from heaven! If he touches the wires all is lost. Fool -that I was not to kill him, the tiger's cub, the hero of old! Curse -him, true son of Byramghor, born of the lightning!" So with wild -threats, mingled with wilder words of wonder and admiration, Afzul -Khan, still dazed by the blows Dick had dealt him, stumbled along in -rear of the pursuit. - -The latter's heart knew its first throb of fear when the signal he -sent down the severed wire brought no reply. After all, was the -outcome of long months of labour, the visible embodiment of what was -best in him, about to fail in time of need? Again and again he -signalled, urgently, imperiously, while his whole world seemed to wait -in breathless silence. Failure! No, no, incredible, impossible; not -failure after all! Suddenly, loud and clear, came an answering trill, -bringing with it a joy such as few lives know. A shout from above, a -bullet whistling past him; scarcely fair that, when his hands were -busy, and his mind too, working methodically, despite those yelling -fiends tearing down the slope. "_Major from Dick--treachery_." -Something like a red-hot iron shot through his leg as he knelt on the -cliff, a clear mark against the sky. Lucky, he thought, it was not -through his arm. "_For God's sake_--" He doubled up in sudden agony -but went on "_Stand fast_." - -There was still a glint of life left in him when Afzul Khan, -coming up behind the butchers, claimed the death-blow. Their eyes met. -"Fire--from--heaven!" gasped Dick, and rolled over dead. The Pathan -put up his knife gloomily. "It is true," he said with an oath. "I knew -he was that sort; he has beaten us fairly." - -An hour afterwards, heralded by winged clouds flushed with the -ceaseless race of day, the steady sun climbed the eastern sky and -looked down brightly on the dead body of the lad who had given back -his spark of divine fire to the Unknown. Perhaps, if bureaucracy had -not seen fit to limit genius within statutory bounds, Dick Smith might -have left good gifts behind him for his generation, instead of taking -them back with him to the storehouse of Nature. And the sun shone -brightly also on Belle Stuart's bed; but not even her dreams told her -that her best chance of happiness lay dead in the snow. She would not -have believed it, even if she had been told. - - - - - CHAPTER XII. - - -It was a walled garden full of blossoming peach-trees, and chequered -with little rills of running water beside which grew fragrant clumps -of golden-eyed narcissus. In the centre was a slender-shafted, -twelve-arched garden-house, with overhanging eaves, and elaborate -fret-work, like wooden lace, between the pillars. On the sides of the -stone dais on which the building stood trailed creepers bright with -flowers, and in front of the open archway serving as a door lay the -harmonious puzzle of a Persian carpet rich in deep reds and yellows. -Easy-chairs, with a fox-terrier curled up on one of them, and a low -gipsy table ominously ringed with marks of tumblers, showed the -presence of incongruous civilisation. - -From within bursts of merriment and the clatter of plates and dishes, -without which civilisation cannot eat in comfort, bore witness that -dinner was going on. Then, while the birds were beginning to say -good-night to each other, the guests came trooping out in high -spirits, ready for coffee and cigars. All, with one exception, were in -the _khaki_ uniform which repeated washing renders, and always will -render, skewbald, despite the efforts of martial experts towards a -permanent dye. Most of the party were young and deeply engrossed by -the prospect of some sky-races, which, coming off next day, were to -bring their winter sojourn at Jumwar to a brilliant close. One, a -lanky boy with pretensions to both money and brains, was drawing down -on himself merciless chaff by a boastful allusion to former stables he -had owned. - -"Don't believe a syllable he says," cried his dearest friend. "I give -you my word they were all screws. Stable, indeed! Call it your -tool-chest, Samuel, my boy." - -Lieutenant Samuel Johnson, whose real name of Algernon, bestowed on -him by his godfathers and godmothers in his baptism, had been voted -far too magnificent for everyday use, blinked his white eyelashes in -evident enjoyment of his own wit as he retorted: "Well, if they were -screws I turned 'em myself. You buy yours ready made." - -"Well done, Samivel! Well done! You're improving," chorused the others -with a laugh. - -"You might lend me that old jest-book, Sam, now that you've got -a new one," replied his opponent calmly. "I'm running short of -repartees,--and of cigars, too, bad cess to the Post! By Jove! I wish -I had the driving of those runners; I'd hurry them up!" - -"Man does not live by cigars alone. I'm dead broke for boots," -interrupted another, looking disconsolately at the soles and uppers -which not all the shameless patching of an amateur artist could keep -together. - -"I have the best of you there," remarked some one else. "I got these -at Tom Turton's sale. They wouldn't fit any one else." - -"Yes, poor Tom had small feet." - -There was a pause among the light-hearted youngsters as if the grim -Shadow which surrounded that blossoming garden had crept a bit nearer. - -"This is delightful," said John Raby, the only civilian present, as he -lay back in his easy-chair which was placed beyond the noisy circle. -His remark was addressed to Philip Marsden, who leaned against one of -the octagonal turrets which like miniature bastions flanked the -platform. "I shall be quite sorry to leave the place," continued Raby. -"It's a perfect paradise." - -In truth it was very beautiful. The pink and white glory of the peach -blossoms blent softly into the snow-clad peaks, now flushed by the -setting sun; while a level beam of light, streaming in through a -breach in the wall, lit up the undergrowth of the garden, making the -narcissus shine like stars against the dark green shadows. - -"Doubtless," remarked Philip, "--for a Political who comes with the -swallows and summer. You should have seen it in January,--shouldn't -he, boys?" - -"Bah! the usual 'last Toosday' of 'Punch!' The hardships of -campaigning indeed! _Perdrix aux choux_ and cold gooseberry tart for -dinner; an idyllic mess-house in a peach-garden; coffee and iced pegs -to follow." - -"Well, sir," cried a youngster cheerfully, "if you had favoured us in -winter we would have given you stewed Tom in addition. It was an -excellent cat; we all enjoyed it, except Samuel. You see it was his -favourite _miaow_, so he is going to give the stuffed skin to an aged -aunt, from whom he expects money, in order to show that he belongs to -the Anti-Vivisection League." - -"A certain faint regard for the verities is essential to a jest," -began Samuel, affecting the style of his illustrious namesake. - -"I wish some one would remove the mess-dictionary," interrupted the -other. "The child will hurt himself with those long words some day." - -"Bad for you, if they did," grinned a third. "D'ye know he actually -asked me last mail-day if there were two f's in affection. _Whoo -hoop!_" Closely pursued by the avenger he leapt the low balustrade, -and the garden resounded to much boyish laughter, as one by one the -youngsters joined the chase. - -"Remarkably high spirits," yawned John Raby, "but a trifle reminiscent -of a young gentleman's academy. They jar on the _dolce far niente_ of -the surroundings." - -"We were glad enough of the spirits a few months ago," replied Philip -significantly. "The _dolce far niente_ of semi-starvation requires -some stimulant." - -"That was very nearly a _fiasco_, sending you over the Pass so late. -Lucky for you the Politicals put the drag on the Military in time." - -"Lucky, you mean, that poor Dick Smith managed to send that telegram. -I've often wondered how he did it. The story would be worth hearing; -he was one in a thousand." - -"You always had a leaning towards that red-headed boy; now I thought -him most offensive. He--" - -"_De mortuis_," quoted the Major with a frown. - -"Those are the ethics of eternity combined with a sneaking belief in -ghosts. But I mean nothing personal. He was simply a disconcerting -sport, as the biologists say, from the neutral-tinted Eurasian, and I -distrust a man who doesn't look his parentage; he is generally a fraud -or a monstrosity." - -"That theory of yours is rather hard on development, isn't it?" said -Philip with a smile. - -"Only a stand in favour of decency and order. What right has a man to -be above his generation? It is extremely inconvenient to the rest of -us. If he is successful, he disturbs our actions; if he uses us as a -brick wall whereon to dash out his brains, he disturbs our feelings. -To return to Dick Smith; the whole affair was foolhardy and -ridiculous. If I had been Political then I should certainly have -refused to allow that camping-out on the Pass; and so he would -probably have been enjoying all that money, instead of dying miserably -just when life became worth having." - -"What money?" asked Philip Marsden hastily. - -"Didn't you hear? It was in the papers last week,--haven't seen them -yet perhaps? Some distant relation of his father's died in England, -leaving everything to Smith senior or his direct male heirs; failing -them, or their assigns, to charity. So as no one had made a -will,--paupers don't generally--some dozens of wretched children will -be clothed in knee-breeches or poke-bonnets till Time is no more." - -In the pause which ensued Philip Marsden felt, as most of us do at -times, that he would have given all he possessed to put Time's dial -back a space, and to be standing once more on the northern slope of -the Peirak with Dick's hand in his. "_There's the will, Major; it -doesn't make any difference, you know_." The words came back to him -clearly, and with them the mingled feeling of proud irritation and -resentful self-respect which had made him set the blue envelope aside, -and advise a more worldly caution. Temper, nothing but temper, it -seemed to him now. "There was a will," he said at last, in a low -voice. "Dick spoke to me of one when we came over the Pass together. -You see there was a chance of his getting a few rupees from old -Desouza." - -John Raby threw away the end of his cigarette with an exclamation. "By -George, that's funny! To make a will in hopes of something from a man -who died insolvent, and come in for thirty thousand pounds you knew -nothing about! But where is the will? It was not among his papers, for -strangely enough the people had not looted much when the Pass opened -and we went over to search. Perhaps he sent it somewhere for safe -custody. It would make a difference to Belle Stuart, I expect, for -he--well, he was another victim." - -"I think,--in fact I am almost sure,"--the words came reluctantly as -if the speaker was loth to face the truth,--"that he had the will with -him when he died. He showed it me--and--Raby, was every search made -for the body?" - -His hearer shrugged his shoulders. "As much as could be done in a -place like that. For myself I should have been surprised at success. -Think of the drifts, the vultures and hyenas, the floods in spring. Of -course it may turn up still ere summer is over, but I doubt it. What a -fool the boy was to carry the will about with him! Why didn't he give -it to some one else who was less heroic?" - -"He could easily have done that, for I tell you, Raby, he was worth a -dozen of us who remain," said Philip bitterly, as he stood looking -over the peach-blossom to the lingering snows where Dick had died. -"Well, good-night. I think I shall turn in. After all there is no fool -like an old fool." - -The civilian followed his retreating figure with a good-natured smile. -"He really was fond of that youngster," he said to himself. "The mere -thought of it all has made him throw away half of the best cigar on -this side the Peirak. By Jove! I won't give him another; it is too -extravagant." - -The next morning Philip Marsden came over to the Political quarters, -and with a remark that last night's conversation had borne in on him -the necessity for leaving one's affairs in strict business order, -asked John Raby to look over the rough draft of a will. - -"Leave it with me," was the reply, given with the usual easy -good-nature. "It appears to me too legal, the common fault of -amateurs. I'll make it unimpeachable as Caesar's wife, get one of my -_babus_ to engross it, and bring it over ready for you to fill up the -names and sign this afternoon. No thanks required; that sort of thing -amuses me." - -He kept his promise, finding Philip writing in the summer-house. "If -you will crown one kindness by another and can wait a moment, I will -ask you to witness it," said the latter. "I shall not be a moment -filling it in." - -"The advantage of not cutting up good money into too many pieces," -replied his friend smiling. - -"The disadvantage perhaps of being somewhat alone in the world. There, -will you sign?" - -"Two witnesses, please; but I saw Carruthers in his quarters as I came -by; he will do." - -John Raby, waiting to perform a kindly act somewhat to the prejudice -of his own leisure, for he was very busy, amused himself during Major -Marsden's temporary absence by watching a pair of doves with pink-grey -plumage among the pink-grey blossom. Everything was still and silent -in the garden, though outside the row of silvery poplar trees swayed -and rustled in the fitful gusts of the wind. Suddenly a kite soaring -above swooped slightly, the startled doves fled scattering the petals, -and the wind, winning a way through the breach in the wall, blew them -about like snowflakes. It caught the paper too that was lying still -wet with ink, and whirled it off the table to John Raby's feet. "I -hope it is not blotted," he thought carelessly, as he stooped to pick -it up and replace it. - -A minute after Major Marsden, coming in alone, found him, as he had -left him, at the door, with rather a contemptuous smile on his face. -"Carruthers is not to be had, and I really have not the conscience to -ask you to wait any longer," said the Major. - -John Raby was conscious of a curious sense of relief. In after years -he felt that the chance which prevented him from signing Philip -Marsden's will as a witness came nearer to a special providence than -any other event in his career. Yet he replied carelessly: "I wish I -could, my dear fellow, but any other person will do as well. I have to -see the Mukdoom at five, and I start at seven to prepare your way -before you in true Political style. Can I do anything else for you?" - -"Put the will into the Political post-bag for safety when I send it -over," laughed Philip as they shook hands. "Good-bye. You will be a -lion at Simla while we are still doing duty as sand-bags on the -scientific frontier; diplomacy wins nowadays." - -"Not a bit of it. In twenty years, when we have invented a gun that -will shoot round a corner, the nation which hasn't forgotten the use -of the bayonet will whip creation, and we shall return to the belief -that the man who will face his fellow, and lick him, is the best -animal." - -"In the meantime, Simla for you and service for us." - -"Not a bit of that, either. Why, the British Lion has been on the -war-trail for a year already. It's time now for repentance and a -transformation-scene; troops recalled, _durbar_ at Peshawar, the Amir -harlequin to Foreign Office columbine, Skobeloff as clown playing -tricks on the British public as pantaloon." - -"And the nameless graves?" - -"Principle, my dear fellow," replied John Raby with a shrug of his -shoulders, "is our modern Moloch. We sacrifice most things to it,--on -principle. By the bye, I have mislaid that original of the will -somehow; possibly my boy packed it up by mistake, but if I come across -it I'll return it." - -"Don't bother,--burn it. 'Tis no good to any one now." - -"Nor harm, either,--so good-bye, warrior!" - -"Good-bye, diplomatist!" - -They parted gaily, as men who are neither friends nor foes do part -even when danger lies ahead. - -That same evening the homeward bound post-runner carried with him over -the Peirak Major Marsden's will leaving thirty thousand pounds to -Belle Stuart unconditionally. It was addressed to an eminently -respectable London firm of solicitors, who, not having to deal with -the chances of war, would doubtless hold it in safe custody until it -was wanted. The testator, as he rode the first march on the Cabul -road, felt, a little bitterly, that once more he had done his best to -stand between her and care. Yet it must be confessed that this feeling -was but as the vein of gold running through the quartz, for pride and -a resentful determination that no shadow of blame should be his, -whatever happened, were the chief factors in his action. Nor did he in -any way regard it as final. The odds on his life were even, and if he -returned safe from the campaign he meant to leave no stone unturned in -the search for Dick Smith's body. Then, if he failed to find the will, -it would be time enough to confess he had been in the wrong. - -John Raby, as he put the bulky letter in the Political bag according -to promise, felt also a little bitter as he realised that Belle with -thirty thousand pounds would come as near perfection in his eyes as -any woman could. And then he smiled at the queer chance which had put -him in possession of Major Marsden's intention; finally dismissing the -subject with the cynical remark that perhaps a woman who was -sufficiently fascinating to make two people leave her money ere she -was out of her teens might not be a very safe possession. - - - - - CHAPTER XIII. - - -In the tiny drawing-room of a tiny house, wedged in between a huge -retaining wall and the almost perpendicular hill-side, Belle Stuart -sat idly looking out of the window. Not that there was anything to -see. The monsoon fogs swept past the stunted oaks, tipped over the -railings, filled the verandah, crept in through the crevices, and -literally sat down on the hearth-stone; for the room was too small, -the thermometer too high, and humanity too poor, to allow of a fire. -Without, was a soft grey vapour deadening the world; within, was a -still more depressing atmosphere of women, widow's weeds, and -wrangling. - -On her lap lay the newspaper filled, as usual, with items from the -frontier. To many a woman that first sheet meant a daily agony of -relief or despair; to Belle Stuart it was nothing more than a history -of the stirring times in which she lived, for with Dick's sad end, and -John Raby's return to reap rewards at Simla, she told herself that her -personal interest in the war must needs be over. A passing pity, -perhaps, for some one known by name, a kindly joy for some chance -acquaintance, might stir her pulses; but nothing more. Yet as she sat -there she was conscious of having made a mistake. Something there was -in the very paper lying on her lap which had power to give keen pain; -even to bring the tears to her eyes as she read the paragraph over -again listlessly. - - -Severe Fighting in the Terwan Pass. Gallant Charge of the 101st Sikhs. -List Of Officers Killed, Wounded, and Missing.--The telegram which -reached Simla a few days ago reporting a severe skirmish in the Terwan -has now been supplemented by details. It appears that a small force -consisting of some companies of the 101st Sikhs, the 24th Goorkhas, -the 207th British Infantry, and a mule battery, were sent by the old -route over the Terwan Pass in order to report on its practical use. No -opposition was expected, as the tribes in the vicinity had come in and -were believed to be friendly. About the middle of the Pass, which -proved to be far more difficult than was anticipated, a halt had to be -made for the purpose of repairing a bridge which spanned an almost -impassable torrent. The road, which up to this point had followed the -right bank of the river, now crossed by this bridge to the left in -order to avoid some precipitous cliffs. Here it became evident that -the little force had fallen into an ambuscade, for firing immediately -commenced from the numerous points of vantage on either side. The -Goorkhas, charging up the right bank, succeeded in dislodging most of -the enemy and driving them to a safe distance. From the advantage thus -gained they then opened fire on the left bank, managing to disperse -some of the lower pickets. Owing, however, to the rocky and almost -precipitous nature of the ground the upper ones were completely -protected, and continued to pour a relentless fire on our troops, who -were, for the most part, young soldiers. During the trying inaction -necessary until the bridge could be repaired,--which was done with -praiseworthy rapidity despite the heavy fire--Major Philip Marsden, of -the 101st Sikhs, volunteered to attempt the passage of the torrent -with the object of doing for the left bank what the Goorkhas had done -for the right. - -Accordingly the Sikhs, led by this distinguished officer, rushed the -river in grand style, how it is almost impossible to say, save by -sheer pluck and determination, and after an incredibly short interval -succeeded in charging up the hill-side and carrying picket after -picket. A more brilliant affair could scarcely be conceived, and it is -with the very deepest regret that we have to report the loss of its -gallant leader. Major Marsden, who was among the first to find -foothold on the opposite bank, was giving directions to his men when a -bullet struck him in the chest. Staggering back almost to the edge of -the river, he recovered himself against a boulder, and shouting that -he was all right, bade them go on. Lost sight of in the ensuing -skirmish, it is feared that he must have slipped from the place of -comparative safety where they left him and fallen into the river, for -his helmet and sword-belt were found afterwards a few hundred yards -down the stream. None of the bodies, however, of those lost in the -torrent have been recovered. Nor was it likely that they would be, as -the stream here descends in a series of boiling cataracts and swirling -pools. In addition to their leader, whose premature death is greatly -to be deplored, the Sikhs lost two native officers, and thirty-one -rank and file. The Goorkhas-- - - -But here Belle's interest waned and she let the paper fall on her lap -again. One trivial thought became almost pitifully insistent, "I wish, -oh, how I wish I had not sent back that letter unopened!" As if a -foolish girlish discourtesy more or less would have made any -difference in the great tragedy and triumph of the man's death. For it -was a triumph; she could read that between the lines of the bald -conventional report. - -"There's Belle crying, actually crying over Major Marsden," broke in -Maud's cross voice from a rocking-chair. Now a rocking-chair is an -article of furniture which requires a palatial apartment, where its -obtrusive assertion of individual comfort can be softened by distance. -In the midst of a small room, and especially when surrounded by four -women who have not rocking-chairs of their own, it conduces to nervous -irritation on all sides. "You talk about disrespect, mamma," went on -the same injured voice, "just because I didn't see why we shouldn't go -to the Volunteer Ball in colours, when he was only our stepfather; but -I call it really nasty of Belle to sit and whimper over a man who did -his best to take away the only thing except debts that Colonel -Stuart--" - -"Oh, do hold your tongue, Maudie!" cried Mabel. "I'm getting sick of -that old complaint. I don't see myself why we shouldn't wear our pink -tulles. It would be economical to begin with, and, goodness knows, we -have to think of the rupees, annas, and paisas nowadays." - -Here Maud, who was not really an ill-tempered girl, became overwhelmed -by the contemplation of her own wrongs, and began to sob. "I -never--wore--a year-behind-fashion dress before, and--when I suggest -it--just to save the expense--I'm told I'm heartless. As if it was my -fault that mamma's settlement was so much waste paper, and that our -money went to pay--" - -"Really, Maud, you are too bad," flared up her youngest sister. "If it -was any one's fault, it was Uncle Tom's, for not being more careful. -The governor was awfully good to us always. Ah, things were very -different then!" - -This remark turned on the widow's ready tears. "Very different indeed. -Three in the kitchen, and I wouldn't like to say how many in the -stable. And though I don't wish to repine against Providence, yet caps -are so expensive. I can't think why, for they are only muslin; but -Miss Crowe says she can't supply me with one that is really respectful -under five rupees." - -"It is all very well for you to talk, Mabel," insisted Maud from the -rocking-chair; "you have a settlement of your own in prospect." - -"So might you," retorted the other, "if you were wise, instead of -wasting your time over men who mean nothing, like that handsome -Captain Stanley." - -"Yes!" yawned Mildred. "It is the stubby Majors with half-a-dozen -motherless children growing up at home who marry." - -Mabel flushed through her sallow skin and in her turn became tearful; -for in truth her _fiance_ was but too accurately described in these -unflattering terms. "It is not your part to jeer at me for sacrificing -myself to the interests of you girls. In our unfortunate position it -is our duty to avail ourselves of the chances left us, and not to go -hankering after penniless probationers in the Post-Office." - -Yet one more recruit for pocket-handkerchief drill rushed to the -front, though more in anger than sorrow. "If you are alluding to -Willie Allsop," retorted Mildred fiercely, "I dare say he will be as -well off as your Major some day. At any rate I'm not going to perjure -myself for money, like some people." - -"Oh, girls, girls!" whimpered the widow plaintively, "don't quarrel -and wake Charlie, for the doctor said he was to be kept quiet and not -excited. Really, misfortunes come so fast, and things are so dear,--to -say nothing of Parrish's Chemical Food for Charlie--that I don't know -where to turn. If poor Dick had but lived! It was too bad of those -nasty Afghans to kill the dear boy just as he was getting on, and -being so generous to me. I always stood up for Dick; he had a warm -heart, and people don't make their own tempers, you know." - -Belle, who had been sitting silent at the window, clasping and -unclasping her hands nervously, felt as if she must stifle. "I wish," -she said in a low voice, "you would let me go on teaching as I did in -the winter. Why should we mind, even if there are old friends here -now? I am not ashamed of working." - -Her remark had one good effect. It healed minor differences by the -counter irritation of a general grievance, and the upshot of a -combined and vigorous attack was that there had been quite enough -disgrace in the family already, without Belle adding to it. Of course, -had she been able to give lessons in music or singing, the suggestion -might have been considered, since the flavour of art subdued the -degradation; but the idea of teaching the children of the middle class -to read and write was hopelessly vulgar. It was far more genteel to -become a _zenana_-lady, since there the flavour of religion disguised -the necessity. Belle, trying to possess her soul in patience by -stitching away as if her life depended on it, found the task beyond -her powers. "I think I'll go out," she said in a choked voice. "Oh, -yes! I know it's raining, but the air will do me good; the house is so -stuffy." - -"It's the best we can afford now," retorted Maud. - -"And the position is good," suggested Mrs. Stuart feebly. - -"Belle doesn't care a fig for position, mamma," snapped up her -daughter. "She would have liked one of those barracks by the bazaar -where nobody lives." - -"We might have got up a scratch dance there," remarked Mildred in -tones of regret. "Oh, not _now_, mamma, of course; but by and by when -things got jollier." - -"I don't believe they ever will get jollier," came in gloomy prophecy -from the rocking-chair, as Belle escaped gladly into the mist and -rain. Six weeks, she thought; was it only six weeks since the -maddening, paralysing drip, drip, drip of ceaseless raindrops had been -in her ears? And yet these experienced in hill-weather spoke -cheerfully of another six weeks to come. Would she ever be able to -endure being the fifth woman in that ridiculous little room for all -those days? What irritated her most was the needlessness of half the -petty worries which went to make up the dreary discomfort. The -extravagant clinging to the habits of past opulence, the wastefulness, -resulting in the want of many things which might have made life more -pleasant; the apathy content to grumble and do nothing, while she felt -her spirits rise and her cheeks brighten even from her rapid walk -through the driving mist. The rain had lessened as she paused to lean -over the railings which protected a turn of the road where it was -hollowed out from the hill-side; sheer cliff on one side, sheer -precipice on the other. Up to her very feet surged the vast grey sea -of mist, making her feel as if one more step would set her afloat on -its shoreless waste. Yet below that dim mysterious pall lay, she well -knew, one of the fairest scenes on God's earth, smiling doubtless in a -sunshine in which she had no part. Then suddenly, causelessly, the -words recurred to her--"_The world is before you yet; it holds life, -and happiness, and love_." Who had said them? Even now it cost her an -effort to remember clearly the events following on the shock of her -father's death. The effort was so painful that she avoided it as a -rule; but this time the memory of Philip Marsden's kindness came back -sharply, and the trivial remorse about the letter rose up once more to -take the front place in her regrets until driven thence by one vague, -impotent desire to have the past back again. Looking down into the -impalpable barrier of cloud through which a pale gleam of light -drifted hither and thither, she could almost fancy herself a -disembodied spirit striving after a glimpse of the world whence it had -been driven by death; so far away did she feel herself from those -careless days at Faizapore, from the kindly friends, the-- - -"Miss Stuart! surely it is Miss Stuart!" cried a man's voice behind -her. She turned, to see John Raby, who, throwing the reins of his pony -to the groom, advanced to greet her, his handsome face bright with -pleasure. His left arm was in a sling, for he had been slightly -wounded; to the girl's eyes he had a halo of heroism and happiness -round him. - -"I am so glad!" she said, "so glad!" - -As they stood, hand in hand, a sunbeam struggling through the cloud -parted the mist at their feet. Below them, like a jewelled mosaic, -lay the Doon bathed in a flood of light; each hamlet and tree, each -silver torrent-streak and emerald field, seemingly within touch, so -clear and pellucid was the rain-washed air between. Further away, like -fire-opals with their purple shadows, flashed the peaks of the -Sewaliks, and beyond them shade upon shade, light upon light, the -mother-of-pearl plain losing itself in the golden setting of the sky. - -"I am in for luck all round," cried John Raby in high delight. "That -means a break in the rains, and a fortnight of heaven for me,--if fate -is kind--" - -But Belle heard nothing; one of those rare moments when individuality -seems merged in a vast sympathy with all things visible and invisible -was upon her, filling her, body and soul, with supreme content. - -"Are you not coming in?" she asked, when, after walking slowly along -the Mall, they reached the path which led downward to the little -drawing-room and the four women. - -"I will come to-morrow," he replied, looking at her with undisguised -admiration in his eyes. "Today it is enough to have seen you. After -all, you were always my great friend,--you and your father." - -"Yes, he was very fond of you," she assented softly; and with her -flushed cheeks and the little fluffy curls by her pretty ears all -glistening with mist drops, showed an April face, half smiles, half -tears. - - - - - CHAPTER XIV. - - -Two months later found Belle Raby sitting in the shade of a spreading -deodar-tree, placidly knitting silk socks for her husband, who, -stretched on the turf beside her, read a French novel. - -Pages would not satisfactorily explain how this sequence of events -came about, because pages would not suffice to get at the bottom of -the amazing, unnatural ignorance of first principles which enables a -nice girl to marry a man towards whom she entertains a rudimentary -affection, and afterwards, with the same contented calm, to acquiesce -in the disconcerting realities of life. Belle was not the first girl -who chose a husband as she would have chosen a dress; that is to say, -in the belief that it will prove becoming, and the hope that it will -fit. Nor was she (and this is the oddest or the most tragic part in -the business) the first or the last girl who, after solemnly perjuring -herself before God and man to perform duties of which she knows -nothing, and to have feelings of which she has not even dreamed, is on -the whole perfectly content with herself and her world. In fact Belle, -as she looked affectionately at her lounging spouse, felt no shadow of -doubt as to the wisdom of her choice; so little has the mind or heart -to do with the crude facts of marriage, so absolutely distinct are the -latter from the spiritual or sentimental love with which ethical -culture has overlaid the simplicity of nature to the general confusion -of all concerned. - -"Upon my life, Paul de Kock is infinitely amusing!" remarked John -Raby, throwing the book aside and turning lazily to his young wife. -"Worth twice all your Zolas and Ohnets, who _will_ be serious over -frivolity. Our friend here has an inexhaustible laugh." - -"I'm sure I thought him dreadfully stupid," replied Belle simply. "I -tried to read some last night." - -"I wouldn't struggle to acquire the art of reading Paul de Kock, my -dear," said John Raby with a queer smile. "It's not an accomplishment -necessary to female salvation. The most iniquitous proverb in the -language is that one about sauce for the goose and the gander. Say -what you will, men and women are as different in their fixings as -chalk from cheese. Now I,--though I am domestic enough in all -conscience--would never be contented knitting socks as you are. By the -way, those will be too big for me." - -"Who said they were meant for you?" retorted Belle gaily. "Not I!" - -"Perhaps not with your lips; but a good wife invariably knits socks -for her husband, and you, my dear Belle, were foreordained from the -beginning of time to be a good wife,--the very best of little wives a -man ever had." - -"I hope so," she replied after a pause. "John, it is all very well -here in holiday time to be lazy as I am, but by and by I should like -to be a little more useful; to help you in your work, if I could; at -any rate to understand it, to know what the people we govern think, -and say, and do." - -Her husband sat up, dangling his hands idly between his knees. "I'm -not sure about the wisdom of it. Personally I have no objection; -besides, I hold that no one has a right to interfere with another -person's harmless fancies; yet that sort of thing is invariably -misunderstood in India. First by the natives; they think a woman's -interest means a desire for power. Then by the men of one's own class; -they drag up 'grey mare the better horse,' &c. How I hate proverbs! -You see, women out here divide themselves, as a rule, betwixt balls -and babies, so the men get _clique_. I don't defend it, but it's very -natural. Most of us come out just at the age when a contempt for -woman's intellect seems to make our beards grow faster, and we have no -clever mixed society to act as an antidote to our own conceit. Now a -woman with a clear head like yours, Belle, you are much cleverer than -I thought you were, by the way, is sure with unbiassed eyes to see -details that don't strike men who are in the game,--unpleasant, -ridiculous details probably,--and that is always an offence. If you -were stupid, it wouldn't matter; but being as you are, why, discretion -is the better part of valour." - -"But if I have brains, as you say I have, what am I to do with them?" -cried Belle, knitting very fast. - -"There are the balls,--and the babies; as Pendennis said to his wife, -'_Tout vient a ceux qui savent attendre_.' By the way, I wonder where -the dickens the postman has gone to to-day? It's too bad to keep us -waiting like this. I'll report him." - -"_Tout vient--!_" retorted Belle, recovering from a fine blush. "Why -are you always in such a hurry for the letters, John? I never am." - -"No more am I," he cried gaily, rising to his feet and holding out his -hand to help her. "I never was in a hurry, except--" and here he drew -her towards him in easy proprietorship--"to marry you. I was in a -hurry then, I confess." - -"You were indeed," said the girl, who but a year before had felt -outraged by the first passionately pure kiss of a boy, as she -submitted cheerfully to that of a man whose love was of the earth, -earthy. "Why, you hardly left me time to get a wedding-garment! But it -was much wiser for you to spend the rest of your leave here, than to -begin work and the honeymoon together." - -"Much nicer and wiser; but then you are wisdom itself, Belle. Upon my -soul, I never thought women could be so sensible till I married you. -As your poor father said the first time we met, I have the devil's own -luck." - -He thought so with the utmost sincerity as he strolled along the turfy -stretches beyond the deodars, with his arm round his wife's waist. The -devil's own luck, and all through no management of his own. What -finger had he raised to help along the chain of fatality which had -linked him for life to the most charming of women who ere long would -step into a fortune of thirty thousand pounds? On the contrary, had he -not given the best of advice to Philip Marsden? Had he not held his -tongue discreetly, or indiscreetly? Finally, what right would he have -had to come to Belle Stuart and say, "By an accident, I have reason to -suppose that you are somebody's heiress." For all he knew the -sentimental fool might have made another will. And yet when two days -later the dilatory postman brought in the English mail, John Raby's -face paled, not so much with anxiety, as with speculation. - -"Have you been running up bills already?" he asked, lightly, as he -threw an unmistakably business envelope over to her side of the table -along with some others. - -"You wouldn't be responsible, at all events," she replied with a -laugh, "for it is addressed to Miss Belle Stuart." - -"I am not so sure about that," he retorted, still in the same jesting -way. "It is astonishing how far the responsibility of a husband -extends." - -"And his rights," cried Belle, who in a halfhearted way professed -advanced opinions on this subject. - -"My dear girl, we must have some compensation." - -He sat reading, or pretending to read, his own letters with phenomenal -patience, while his wife glanced through a long crossed communication -from her step-sisters; he even gave a perfunctory attention to several -items of uninteresting family news which she retailed to him. He had -foreseen the situation so long, had imagined it so often, that he felt -quite at home and confident of his self-control. - -"John!" came Belle's voice, with a curious catch in it. - -"What is it, dear? Nothing the matter, I hope? You look startled." He -had imagined it so far; but he knew the next minute from her face that -he had under-rated something in her reception of the news. She had -risen to her feet with a scared, frightened look. "I don't -understand," she said, half to herself; "it must be a mistake." Then -remembering, apparently, that she no longer stood alone, she crossed -swiftly to her husband's side, and kneeling beside him thrust the open -letter before his eyes. "What does it mean, John?" she asked -hurriedly. "It is a mistake, isn't it?" - -His hand, passed round her caressingly, could feel her heart bounding, -but his own kept its even rhythm despite the surprise he forced into -his face. "It means," he said, at length,--and the ring of triumph -would not be kept out of his voice--"that Philip Marsden has left you -thirty thousand pounds." - -"Left _me!_--impossible! I tell you it is a mistake!" - -Now that the crisis was over, the cat out of the bag, John Raby knew -how great his anxiety had been, by the sense of relief which found -vent in a meaningless laugh. "Lawyers don't make mistakes," he -replied. "It is as clear as daylight. Philip Marsden has left you -thirty thousand pounds! By Jove, Belle, you are quite an heiress!" - -She stood up slowly, leaning on the table as if to steady herself. -"That does not follow," she said, "for of course I shall refuse to -take it." - -Her husband stared at her incredulously. "Refuse thirty thousand -pounds,--are you mad?" He need not have been afraid of under-doing his -part of surprise, for her attitude took him beyond art into untutored -nature. - -"It is an insult!" she continued in a higher key. "I will write to -these people and say I will not have it." - -"Without consulting me? You seem to forget that you are a married -woman now. Am I to have no voice in the matter?" His tone was instinct -with the aggressive quiet of one determined to keep his temper. -"Supposing I disapproved of your refusal?" he went on, seeing from her -startled look that he had her unprepared. - -"Surely you would not wish--" - -"That is another question. I said, supposing I disapproved of the -refusal. What then?" - -Standing there in bewildered surprise, the loss of her own -individuality made itself felt for the first time, and it roused the -frightened resentment of a newly-caught colt. "I do not know," she -replied, bravely enough. "But you would surely let me do what I -thought right?" - -"Right! My dear girl, do stick to the point. Of course if there were -urgent reasons _against_ your taking this money--" - -"But there are!" interrupted Belle quickly. "To begin with, he had no -right to leave it to me." - -"I beg your pardon. The law gives a man the right to leave his money -to any one he chooses." - -"But he had no right to choose me." - -"I beg your pardon again. It is not uncommon for a man to leave his -money to a woman with whom he is in love." - -"In love!" It was Belle's turn to stare incredulously. "Major Marsden -in love with me! What put that into your head?" - -He shrugged his shoulders impatiently. "My dear child, even if you -didn't know it before,--and upon my soul you are unsophisticated -enough for anything--surely it is patent now. A man doesn't leave -thirty thousand to any woman he happens to know." - -For the first time Belle flinched visibly and her face paled. "All the -more reason for refusing, surely," she replied in a low tone, after a -pause. "You could not like your wife--" - -"Why not? It isn't as if you had cared for him, you know." - -The blood which had left her cheeks came back with an indignant rush. -"Care for him! Can't you see that makes it doubly an insult?" - -"I'm afraid not. It makes it much more sentimental, and -self-sacrificing, and beautiful, on his part; and I thought women -admired that sort of thing. I know that leaving money to the girl who -has jilted you is a stock incident in their novels." - -"I did not jilt Philip Marsden. I refuse to admit the incident into my -life. I don't want to vex you, John, but I must do what I think -right." - -Her husband, who had walked to the window and now stood looking out of -it, paused a moment before replying. "My dear Belle," he said at last, -turning to her kindly, "I hate on principle to make myself -disagreeable to any one, least of all to my wife, but it is best you -should know the truth. The law gives that money to me, as your -husband. You see, you married without settlements. Now, don't look -like a tragedy-queen, dear, for it never does any good. We have to -accept facts, and I had nothing to do with making the law." - -"You mean that I have no power to refuse?" cried Belle with her eyes -full of indignant tears. - -"I'm afraid so. But there is no reason why I should stand on my -rights. I should hate to have to do so, I assure you, and would far -rather come to a mutual understanding. Honestly, I scarcely think the -objections you have urged sufficient. Perhaps you have others; if so, -I am quite willing to consider them." - -The curious mixture of resentment, regret, and remorse which rose up -in the girl's mind with the mere mention of Major Marsden's name, made -her say hurriedly, "Think of the way he treated father! If it was only -for that--" The tears came into her voice and stifled it. - -John Raby looked at her gravely, walked to the window again, and -paused. "I fancied that might be one, perhaps the chief reason. -Supposing you were mistaken; supposing that Marsden was proved to have -done his best for your father, would it make any difference?" - -"How can it be proved?" - -"My dear Belle, I do wish you would stick to the point. I asked you if -your chief objection would be removed by Major Marsden's having acted -throughout with a regard for your father's reputation which few men -would have shown?" - -"I should think more kindly of him and his legacy certainly, if such a -thing were possible." - -"It is possible; and, as I said before, it is best in all things to -have the naked, undisguised truth. I would have told you long ago if -Marsden hadn't given it me in confidence. But now I feel that respect -for his memory demands the removal of false impressions. Indeed, I -never approved of his concealing the real facts. They would have been -painful to you, of course; they must be painful now--worse luck to it; -but if it hadn't been for that idiotic sentimentality of poor -Marsden's you would have forgotten the trouble by this time." - -Belle, with a sudden fear, the sort of immature knowledge of the end -to come which springs up with the first hint of bad tidings, put out -her hand entreatingly. "If there is anything to tell, please tell it -me at once." - -"Don't look so scared, my poor Belle. Come, sit down quietly, and I -will explain it all. For it is best you should not remain under a -wrong impression, especially now, when,--when so much depends on your -being reasonable." - -So, seated on the sofa beside her husband, Belle Stuart listened to -the real story of her father's death and Philip Marsden's generosity. -"Is that all?" she asked, when the measured voice ceased. It was -almost the first sign of life she had given. - -"Yes, dear, that is all. And you must remember that the trouble is -past and over,--that no one but we two need ever suspect the truth--" - -"The truth!" Belle looked at him with eyes in which dread was still -the master. - -"And he was not accountable for his actions, not in any way himself at -the time," he continued. - -With a sudden sharp cry she turned from him to bury her face in the -sofa cushions. "Not himself at the time!" Had he ever been himself? -Never, never! How could a dishonoured, drunken gambler, dying by his -own act, have been, even for a moment, the faultless father of her -girlish dreams! And was that the only mistake she had made; or was the -world nothing but a lie? Was there no truth in it at all, not even in -her own feelings? - -"I am so sorry to have been obliged to give you pain," said her -husband, laying his hand on her shoulder. "But it is always best to -have the truth." - -His words seemed a hideous mockery of her thoughts, and she shrank -impatiently from his touch. - -"You must not be angry with me; it is not my fault," he urged. - -"Oh, I am not angry with you," she cried, with a petulant ring in her -voice as she raised herself hastily, and looked him full in the face. -"Only,--if you don't mind--I would so much rather be left alone. I -want to think it all out by myself,--quite by myself." - -The hunted look in her eyes escaped his want of sympathy, and he gave -a sigh of relief at her reasonableness. "That is a wise little woman," -he replied, bending down to kiss her more than once. "I'll go down the -_khud_ after those pheasants and won't be back till tea. So you will -have the whole day to yourself. But remember, there is no hurry. The -only good point about a weekly post is that it gives plenty of time to -consider an answer." - -That, to him, was the great point at issue; for her the foundations of -the deep had suddenly been let loose, and she had forgotten the -question of the legacy. Almost mechanically she gave him back his -farewell kiss, and sat still as a stone till he had left the room. -Then, impelled by an uncontrollable impulse, she dashed across to the -door and locked it swiftly, pausing, with her hand still on the key, -bewildered, frightened at her own act. What had she done? What did it -mean? Why had her one thought been to get away from John, to prevent -his having part or lot in her sorrow? Slowly she unlocked the door -again, with a half impulse to run after him and call him back. But -instead of this she crept in a dazed sort of way to her own room and -lay down on the bed to think. Of what? Of everything under the sun, it -seemed to her confusion; yet always, when she became conscious of any -clear thought, it had to do, not with her father or Philip Marsden, -but with her own future. Was it possible that she had made other -mistakes? Was it possible that she was not in love with John? Why else -had she that wild desire to get rid of him? The very suggestion of -such a possibility angered her beyond measure. Her life, as she had -proudly claimed, was not a novel; nothing wrong or undignified, -nothing extravagant or unseemly should come into it; and it was surely -all this not to be in love with one's lawful husband! It was bad -enough even to have had such a suspicion after a bare fortnight of -wedded life; it was absurd, ridiculous, impossible. So as the day -passed on, all other considerations were gradually submerged in the -overwhelming necessity of proving to herself that she and John were a -most devoted couple. As tea-time approached she put on a certain -tea-gown which her lord and master was pleased to commend, and -generally prepared to receive the Great Mogul as husbands should be -received. Not because she had come to any conclusion in regard to that -locking of the door, but because, whatever else was uncertain, there -could be no doubt how a husband _should_ be treated. For, as some one -has said, while a man tolerates the marriage-bond for the sake of a -particular woman, the latter tolerates a particular man for the sake -of the bond. - -So Belle poured out the tea and admired the pheasants, to John Raby's -great contentment; though in his innermost heart he felt a little -manly contempt for the feminine want of backbone which rendered such -pliability possible. Only once did she show signs of the unstilled -tempest of thought which lay beneath her calm manner. It was when, -later on in the evening during their nightly game of _ecarte_, he -complimented her on some _coup_, remarking that her skill seemed -inherited. Then she started as if the cards she was handling had stung -her, and her face flushed crimson with mingled pain and resentment; -yet in her homeless life she had necessarily learned betimes the give -and take required in most human intercourse. The fact was that already -(though she knew it not) her husband was on his trial, and she could -no longer treat his lightest word or look with the reasonable -allowances she would have accorded to a stranger. A man is seldom -foolish enough to expect perfection in a wife; a woman from her -babyhood is taught to find it in her husband, and brought up to -believe that the deadliest sin a good woman can commit is to see a -spot in her sun. She may be a faithful wife, a kindly companion, a -veritable helpmate; but if the partner of her joys and sorrows is not, -for her, the incarnation of all manly virtues, or at least the man she -would have chosen out of all the world, her marriage must be deemed a -failure. Love, that mysterious young juggler, is not there to change -duty into something which we are told is better than duty, and so the -simple, single-hearted performance of a simple, perfectly natural -contract becomes degradation. - -Belle, confused yet resentful, lay awake long after her husband slept -the sleep of the selfish. Her slow tears wetted her own pillow -quietly, decorously, lest they might disturb the Great Mogul's -slumbers. Yet she could scarcely have told why the tears came at all, -for a curious numbness was at her heart. Even the thought of her dead -father had already lost its power to give keen pain, and she was in a -vague way shocked at the ease with which her new knowledge fitted into -the old. The fact being, that now she dared to look it full in the -face without reservation, the loving compassion, the almost divine -pity which had been with her ever since the day when poor Dick had -first opened her eyes to the feet of clay, seemed no stranger, but a -familiar friend. Then Philip Marsden! Dwell as she might on her own -ingratitude, his kindness seemed too good a gift to weep over; and -again she stretched out her hands into the darkness, as she had done -on the night when her anger had risen hot against the man she -misjudged; but this time it was to call to him with a very passion of -repentance, "_Friend, I will take this gift also. In this at least you -shall have your way_." - -"By George, Belle!" said John Raby next morning, when she told him -that she had made up her mind to take the legacy without demur, "you -are simply a pearl of women for sense. I prophesy we shall be as happy -as the day is long, always." - -And Belle said she hoped so too. But when he fell to talking joyously -of the coming comforts of sweet reasonableness and thirty thousand -pounds, in the life that was just beginning for them, her thoughts -were busy with schemes for spending some at least of the legacy in -building a shrine of good deeds to the memory of her friend,--surely -the best friend a woman ever had. She was bound by her nature to -idealise some one, and the dead man was an easier subject than the -living one. - - - - - CHAPTER XV. - - -Murghub Ahmad, with nothing on but a waistcloth, his high narrow -forehead bedewed with the sweat which ran down his hollow cheeks like -teardrops, was fanning the flame of his own virtue with windy words in -the dark outhouse which he designated the editor's room. Four square -yards of court beyond constituted the printing office of the _Jehad_, -a bi-weekly paper of extreme views on every topic under the sun. For -the proprietors of _The Light of Islam_ having a wholesome regard to -the expense of libels, had dispensed with the young man's eloquence as -being too fervid for safety. So, Heaven knows by what pinching and -paring, by what starvation-point of self-denial, the boy had saved and -scraped enough to buy a wretched, rotten handpress, and two used up -lithographic stones. With these implements, and a heart and brain full -of the fierce fire of his conquering race, he set to work with the -utmost simplicity to regenerate mankind in general, and the Government -of India in particular, by disseminating the smudged results of his -labours on the poor old press among his fellow-subjects; for the most -part, it is to be feared, free, gratis, and for nothing. Poor old -press! No wonder it creaked and groaned under Murghub Ahmad's thin -straining arms; for it had grown old in the service of Government, and -on the side of law and order. Generation after generation of prisoners -in the district jail had found a certain grim satisfaction and -amusement in producing by its help endless thousands of the forms -necessary for the due capture and punishments of criminals yet to -come. Reams and reams of paper had they turned out as writs of arrest, -warrants for committal, charge-sheets, orders for jail discipline, or, -joyful thought, memos of discharge. And now order and discipline were -unknown quantities in its life. Perhaps the change was too much for -its constitution; certain it is that it became daily more and more -unsatisfactory in regard to the complicated Arabic words with which -its present owner loved to besprinkle his text. Then the damp, -overworked stones refused to dry, even under the boy's hot feverish -hands; and he lost half his precious time in chasing the shifting -sunlight round and round the narrow courtyard in order to set the ink. -Something there was infinitely pathetic about it all; especially on -the days when, with the look of a St. Sebastian in his young face, the -lad could stay his hard labour for a while, and rest himself by -folding the flimsy sheets within the orthodox green wrapper where a -remarkably crooked crescent was depicted as surrounded by the beams of -the rising sun. False astronomy, but excellent sentiment! Then there -was the addressing for the post. Most of the packets bore the -inscription _bearing_; but one, chosen with care, and cunningly -corrected with a deft pen, never failed to carry the requisite stamp -above the quaint address: _To my respectable and respected father, -Khan Mahommed Lateef Khan, in the house of the Khan of Khurtpore, Sudr -Bazaar, Faizapore_. Which is much as though one should address a -Prince of the Blood to Tottenham Court Road. - -Then, with the precious parcels in his arms, and one copy in his -bosom, he would joyfully lock the door above which "Press of the Jehad -Newspaper" was emblazoned in English, and make his way to some cheap -cook-house, where, in honour of the occasion, he would purchase a -farthing's worth of fried stuff to eat with his dry dough cakes. -Thereafter he would repair to the steps of a mosque, or to one of the -shady wells which still linger in the heart of cities in India, in -order to discuss his own views and writings with a group of young men -of his own age. For in that large town, with its strange undercurrents -of new thoughts and aims underlying the steady stream of humanity -towards the old beliefs, Murghub Ahmad was not without his audience, -nor even his following. He had the sometimes fatal gift, greater than -mere eloquence, of leading the minds of his hearers blindfold by some -strange charm of voice and personality; and when, as often happened, -discussion took the form of harangue, the slow-gathering, stolid crowd -used to wake up into muttered approbation as the familiar watchwords -of their faith were presented to them in new and bewildering forms. - -It was the eve of Mohurrim, the great feast and fast of orthodox and -unorthodox Mahomedans; an occasion which claimed more zeal than usual -from the young reformer. On the morrow the paper shrines of the dead -Hussan and Hussain, which were now being prepared in many a quiet -courtyard, would be borne through the streets in triumph, followed by -excited crowds of the faithful. And, as sometimes happens, it was -Dussarah-tide also, and the Hindus held high festival as well as the -Mahomedans. A simple thing enough to Western minds, accustomed to the -idea of wide thoroughfares and religious toleration; a very different -affair in the tortuous byeways of a native town, and among the ancient -antagonisms. It was critical at the best of times, and this year -doubly, trebly so, for with the newly-granted franchise of municipal -government, the richer Hindus out-numbered the Mahomedans in the -committee which had power to direct the route open to each procession. -So the cry of favouritism went forth, and as the gaudy paper streamers -were being gummed to the frail bamboo frames, many a dark face grew -darker with determination to carry the sacred symbol where he chose; -yea, even into the midst of the cursed idol-worshipping crew, despite -all the municipal committees and fat, bribing usurers in the world. - -The _Jehad_ was full of sublime wrath and valiant appeals for justice -to high Heaven, because a certain connecting alley between two of the -big bazaars had been closed to the Mahomedans and given to the Hindus. -True, another, and equally convenient, connection, had been allowed -the former; but for many years past the procession of _tazzias_ had -struggled through that particular alley, and the innovation was -resented as an insult. East and west, mankind is made the same way. It -was astonishing how many imperious demands on the resources of -Providence this trivial change aroused in Murghub Ahmad. He called for -justice, mercy, and religious freedom, for the stars as witness, for -the days of Akbar. On the other hand, a rival print with an -unpronounceable title, clamoured for Bikramajeet, the hero-king of -old, for Hindu independence and the sword. Either faction, it may be -observed, asked for those things in others of which they had least -themselves, after the way of factions all over the world. - -Thus many a quarterstaff was being diligently whittled that evening, -and down in the butchers' quarter even deadlier weapons were being -talked of openly by its inhabitants, the most truculent of all the -mixed races and trades with which rulers have to deal. John Raby, -doing his judicial work in the big court-house outside the town, felt, -with that sharp, half-cunning perception of concealed things which he -possessed so pre-eminently, that there was mischief brewing, and drove -round by the executive official's house in order to tell him so. The -latter assured him that the newly-elected municipal committee were -fully alive to the necessity for precautions; whereat the young man -shrugged his shoulders and said he was glad to hear it. He mentioned -it casually to Belle with a sneer, which he did not allow himself in -public, at the crass stupidity of needlessly setting race against race -by premature haste to confer the blessings of vestrydom on India. And -Belle agreed, since, even with the limited experience of the past -year, she had learnt a sort of reverence for the old ways, which seem -so irredeemably bad to the unsympathetic philanthropy of the West. - -For a whole year had passed since the fateful letter announcing the -legacy had come to disturb the foundations of her world. It had had -surprisingly little effect on her, chiefly because she was determined -that her life must run in one ordered groove. There must be no mistake -or fiasco, nothing but what she considered decent, orderly, virtuous. -Uninteresting, no doubt; but it is nevertheless true that a very large -number of women are born into the world with an unhesitating -preference for behaving nicely; women who can no more help being -longsuffering, cheerful, and self-forgetful, than they can help being -the children of their parents. Her husband's clear sight had early -seen the expediency of concealing from her the radical difference -between her view of life and his own. He even felt pleased she should -think as she did; it was so much safer, and more ladylike. In his way -he grew to be very fond of her, and there was scarcely any friction -between them, since, moved by a certain gratitude for the change her -money had wrought in his prospects, he gave her free play in -everything that did not interfere with his settled plans. Half the -said money was already invested in Shunker Das's indigo concern, and -John Raby was only awaiting its assured success to throw up his -appointment and go openly into trade; but of this Belle knew nothing. -She had money enough and to spare for all her wishes, and that was -sufficient for her; indeed, on the whole, she was happy in the larger -interests of her new life. The tragic, poverty-stricken, yet contented -lives of the poor around her had a strange fascination for the girl, -and the desire to see and understand all that went to make up the -pitiful sum-total of their pleasures, led her often, on her solitary -morning rides (for John was an incurable sluggard) through the alleys -and bazaars of the great city. In the latter, the people knowing in a -dim way that she was the judge _sahib's_ wife, would _salaam_ -artificially, but in the back streets both women and children smile on -her, much to her unreasoning content. - -So the morning after her husband's sarcasm over the mistakes of his -seniors, she determined, in the confidence of ignorance, to see -something of the processions; and with this intention found herself, -about seven o'clock, in the outskirts of the town. Here the deserted -appearance of the streets beguiled her into pushing on and on, until -close to the big mosque a blare of conches, and the throbbing of -ceaseless drums mingled with cries, warned her of an advancing -procession. Wishing to watch it unobserved, she turned her horse into -a side alley and waited. - -As in all countries, a rabble of boys, sprung Heaven knows whence, -formed the advance guard. Behind them came an older, yet more -mischievous crowd of men flourishing quarterstaves and shouting -"Hussan! Hussain!" Next emerged into the square, a swaying, top-heavy -_tazzia_, looking every instant as though it must shake to pieces, and -behind it more quarterstaves and more _tazzias_, more shouts, and more -dark faces streaming on and on to overflow into the square, until the -procession formed a part only of the great crowd. So absorbed was she -in watching the swooping out of each successive _tazzia_, like some -gay-plumaged bird from the intricate windings of the way beyond, that -she failed to notice the current settling towards her until the -vanguard of urchins was almost at her horse's hoofs. Then she -recognised the disconcerting fact that she had taken refuge in the -very path of the procession. Turning to escape by retreat, she saw the -further end of the alley blocked by a similar crowd; only that here -the shouts of "_Dhurm! Dhurm! Durga dei! Gunga_ (the faith, the faith! -the goddess Durga! Ganges!)" told of Hindu fanaticism. - -She was, in fact, in the very alley which both sides claimed as their -own. Bewildered, yet not alarmed, for her ignorance of religious -ecstasy made her presuppose deference, she turned her horse once more, -and rode towards the advancing _tazzias_ at a foot's-pace. The look of -the crowd as she neared it was startling, but the cry of "_Jehad! -Jehad!_ Death to the infidel!" seemed too incredible for fear; and ere -the latter came with the conviction that not even for a judge _sahib's -mem_ would the stream slacken, a young man, his gaunt face encircled -by a high green turban, rushed to the front and seized her horse by -the bridle. - -"No words! Dismount yourself from steed and follow your preserver. We -war not with women." The effect of these stilted words uttered in -tones of intense excitement was somehow ludicrous. "Smile not! Be -nimble, I entreat. Unhorse yourself, and follow, follow me." - -The vision of a hideous leering face leading the quarterstaves decided -her on complying. The next instant she felt herself thrust into a dark -entry, and ere the door closed, heard a scream of terrified rage from -her horse, as some one cut it over the flank with his staff. The -outrage made her temper leap up fiercely, and she felt inclined to -confront the offender; but before she could reach the door it was shut -and hasped in her face. - -Then the desire to escape from darkness and see--see something, no -matter what--possessed her, and she groped round for some means of -exit. Ah! a flight of steep steps, black as pitch, narrow, broken; she -climbed up, and up, till a grating in the wall shed a glimmer of light -on the winding stair; up further, till she emerged on a balcony -overlooking the street, whence she could see far into the alley on one -side and into the square on the other. Beneath her feet lay a small -empty space edged by the opposing factions hurrying into collision. - -"Give way! Give way, idolaters! Hussan! Hussain! _Futeh Mahommed_ -(Victory of Mahomed)," yelled the _tazzia_-bearers. - -"_Jai, Jai, Durga Devi, de-jai!_ Give way, killers of kine," shouted -the Hindus. - -For an instant or two Belle's horse, hemmed in by the advancing -crowds, kept the peace by clearing a space between them with head and -heels; then, choosing the least alarming procession, it charged the -Hindus, breaking their ranks as, maddened by terror it plunged and -bit. Only for a moment, however, for the packed mass of humanity -closing in round it, held it harmless as in a vice. - -"The charger of Pertap!"[4] cried a huge rice-husker with ready wit, -as he leapt to the saddle, and coming rather to grief over the -crutches, raised a roar of derision from the other side. He scowled -dangerously. "Come on, brothers!" he cried, digging his heels -viciously into the trembling, snorting beast. "Down with the cursed -slayers of kine. This is Durga-ji's road,--_Dhurm! Dhurm!_" - -"Hussan,--Hussain!" - -Then the dull thud of heavy blows seemed to dominate the war of words, -and business began in earnest as a Mahomedan, caught behind the ear, -fell in his tracks. It was not much of a fight as yet, for in that -narrow street the vast majority of the crowd could do nothing but -press forward and thus jam activity into still smaller space, until -the useless sticks were thrown aside, and the combatants went at each -other tooth and nail, but unarmed. So they might have fought out the -wild-beast instinct of fighting, but for the fact that the Hindus, -with commendable foresight, had headed their procession by athletes, -the Mahomedans by enthusiast. So, inch by inch, surging and swaying, -yelling, cursing, yet doing comparatively little harm, the combatants -drifted towards the square until the wider outlet allowed a larger -number of the Mahomedans to come into play, and thus reverse the order -of affairs. Once more the _tazzias_, surrounded by their supporters, -carried the lane, and swept back the red-splashed figure of Durga -amidst yells of religious fury. So the battle raged more in words than -blows. Belle, indeed, had begun to feel her bounding pulses steady -with the recognition that, beyond a few black eyes and broken heads, -no harm had been done, when a trivial incident changed the complexion -of affairs in an instant. - -The foremost _tazzia_, which had borne the brunt of conflict and come -up smiling after many a repulse, lost balance, toppled over, and went -to pieces, most likely from the inherent weakness of its architecture. -The result was startling. A sudden wave of passion swept along the -Mahomedan line, and as a young man sprang to the pilaster of the -mosque steps and harangued the crowd, every face settled into a deadly -desire for revenge. - -"Kill! Kill! Kill the idolaters--_Jehad! Jehad!_"--the cry of -religious warfare rang in an instant from lip to lip. And now from -behind came a fresh burst of enthusiasm, as a body of men naked to the -waist pushed their way towards the front with ominous glint of -sunlight on steel as they fought fiercely for place. - -"Room! Room for the butchers! Kill! Kill! Let them bleed! let them -bleed!" - -The shout overbore the high ringing voice of the preacher, but Belle, -watching with held breath, saw him wave his hand towards the lane. -Slowly, unwillingly at first, the crowd gave way; then more rapidly -until a roar of assent rose up. "The butchers, the butchers! Kill! -Kill!" - -Belle gasped and held tight to the railing, seeing nothing more but -the tide of strife beneath her very feet. Red knives, gleaming no -longer, straining hands, and every now and again a gurgle and a human -head disappearing to be trodden under foot. Heaven knows how weapons -come in such scenes as these,--from the houses,--passed to the front -by willing hands--snatched from unwilling foes who fall. In a second -it was knife against knife, murder against murder. "_Durga! Durga -devi!_ Destroy! Destroy!" "Hussan! Hussain! Kill! Kill!" Then -suddenly, a rattle of musketry at the far end of the square, where, -cut off from the actual conflict by an impenetrable crowd, a strange -scene had been going on unobserved. Two or three mounted Englishmen -unarmed, but sitting cool and square on their horse sat the head of a -company of Mahomedan and Hindu sepoys who stood cheek by jowl, calm, -apparently indifferent, their carbines still smoking from the recent -discharge. About them was a curious stillness, broken only by the -sound of more disciplined feet coming along at the double. A glint of -red coats appears behind, and then a police-officer, the sunlight -gleaming on his silver buckles, gallops along the edge of the rapidly -clearing space, laying about him with the flat of his sword, while -yellow-trousered constables, emerging Heaven knows from what safe -shelter, dive in among the people, whacking vigorously with the -traditional truncheon of the West. A rapid order to the sepoys, an -instant of marking time as the company forms, then quick march through -an unresisting crowd. As they near the combatants a few brickbats are -thrown: there is one free fight over the preacher: and then the great -mass of mankind falls once more into atoms, each animated by the -instinct of self-preservation. Five minutes more, and the processions -have gone on their appointed ways with the loss of some chosen -spirits, while the ghastly results are being hurried away by -fatigue-parties recruited from the bystanders. - -"Only one round of blank cartridge," remarked John Raby, as the Deputy -Commissioner rode forward ruefully to inspect the damage. "Ten minutes -more, and it wouldn't have been so easy, for the fighting would have -reached the square, and once a man begins--Great God! what's that?" - -He was out of the saddle staring at a horse that was trying to stagger -from the gutter to its feet. Perhaps in all his life he had never felt -such genuine passion as then; certainly Belle herself was never so -near to loving her husband as when she saw the awful fear come into -his face at the sight of the riderless steed. She had been waiting for -him to come nearer before calling for assistance, and now the thought -of her past danger and its meaning almost choked her voice. "I'm not -hurt! Oh, John! I'm not hurt," she cried, stretching her hands towards -him. - -He looked up to see her on the balcony, and his relief, as it often -does, brought a momentary resentment. "Belle! What the devil--I mean, -why are you here?" - -Now that it was all over, she felt disagreeably inclined to cry; but -something in his voice roused her pride and urged her to make light of -what had happened, and so avoid being still more conspicuous. "I'll -come down and explain," she replied with an effort. - -"Wait! I'll be with you in a moment. Which is the door?" As he paused -to kiss her before helping her down the dark stair, Belle passed the -happiest moment of her married life. Physically and morally she felt -crushed by the scenes she had witnessed, and his calm, half-callous -strength seemed a refuge indeed. - -"Not across the square," whispered the police-officer as he was about -to take her the shortest route. "That poor brute must be shot." - -John Raby raised his eyebrows a little, but took the hint. Women were -kittle cattle to deal with; even the best of them like Belle. Who, for -instance, would have thought of any one with a grain of sense getting -into such a position? Underneath all his kindness lay a certain -irritation at the whole business, which he could not conceal. - - - - - CHAPTER XVI. - - -Belle, recovering from the shock healthily, looked for a like -forgetfulness in her husband, but she was disappointed. "There is -nothing to make such a fuss about, John," she said, when a few days -brought no cessation of his regret at her having been mixed up in such -a scene. "It hasn't hurt me, you see; and as for the notoriety, people -will soon forget all about it." - -"At any rate it shows you that I was right in saying that the -philanthropical dodge doesn't do in the wife of an official," he -replied moodily. "A thing like that might do a man a lot of harm." - -"I can't see how; besides, there isn't much philanthropy in watching -men--Oh, John! don't let us talk of it any more. It makes me feel ill; -I want to forget all about it." - -"But you can't. I don't want to be disagreeable, Belle; but have you -ever considered that there must be a trial, and that you, as an -eye-witness, must--" - -She turned pale, and clutched the arm of her chair nervously. - -"No! I see you haven't,--that's always the way with women. They want -all the fun of the fair without the responsibility. The ring-leaders -will be tried for their lives of course; eight of the poor beggars -were killed, and two more are dying, so they must hang some one. You -had a box-seat, so to speak, and are bound to give your evidence." - -"But I could only see the tops of their heads. I couldn't possibly -recognise--" - -"You must have seen and heard that fool of a preacher, my dear child. -That's the worst of it; if you hadn't studied the language it would -have been different. As I said before, it all comes of taking what you -call an interest in the people. I don't see how you are to get out of -being called on for evidence, and I tell you honestly I'd have given -pounds to prevent you putting yourself in such a position. It may mean -more than you think." - -"But I couldn't give evidence against that boy," said Belle in a very -low voice. "I told you, John, I thought it was he who,--who--" - -"It doesn't matter a straw if he did help you. The question is, if he -excited the crowd. Of course he did, and with your predilection for -abstract truth, you would say so, I suppose, even if it was,--well, -unwise." - -"What,--what would the punishment be?" she asked after a pause. - -He looked at her with unfeigned surprise. "Really, Belle! you surely -see that some one must be hanged? The question is, who?" - -"But he used such long words." - -He had been quarrelling with a cigarette during the conversation, and -now threw it away impatiently. "You are certainly a very ingenuous -person, Belle. On the whole, perhaps you _had_ better stick to the -truth. You couldn't manage anything else satisfactorily." - -"Of course I shall stick to the truth, John," she replied hotly. - -"Well, I don't want to be disagreeable, you know; but in your place I -shouldn't, and that's a fact." - -"Why?" she asked, in a startled voice. - -"For many reasons. To begin with, the boy comes of decent folk; -Marsden used to swear by the father. There were three brothers in the -regiment, and one of them saved the Major's life, or something of that -sort. Why, Belle, what's the matter?" - -She had risen, and was now fain to catch at his outstretched hand to -steady herself. Why, she scarcely knew; finding the only explanation -in an assertion, made as much for her own edification as his, that her -nerves must be out of order. - -"Nerves!" he echoed, as he placed her with half contemptuous kindness -in his chair, and brought her a scent-bottle. "I'll tell you what it -is, dear, no woman should have both nerves and conscience. It's too -much for one frail human being. It is no use my advising you to forget -all about this wretched business, or to suppress the disagreeable -parts; and yet, in your place, I should do both." - -"Oh, John!" - -"Yes, I should, from a sense of duty,--to myself first, and then to -society. What will be gained by hanging that blatant windbag of a -boy?" - -Murghub Ahmad, who, in his cell awaiting trial, was meanwhile -comforting himself with the belief that the fate of nations depended -on his life or death, would no doubt have resented this opinion -bitterly. Yet it was all too true. The evil lay much further back than -the utterance of the half-realised words which had poured from his -lips like oil on the flame. He had said things as wild, as subversive -of the law, dozens of times before, and nothing had happened; no one -had taken any notice of it. And now! The boy buried his face in his -hands, and tried to think if he was glad or sorry for martyrdom. - -Mahomed Lateef, stern and indignant, hurried from far Faizapore to see -his Benjamin, and in the sight of the pale half-starved face forgot -his anger, and pledged his last remaining credit to engage an English -lawyer for his son's defence. And then he girt his old sword about -him, counted over the precious parchments of olden days, and the still -more precious scraps of modern note-paper, which were all that was -left to his honour, and thus armed set off to see the big Lord _sahib_ -at Simla. He came back looking years older, to await, as they bade -him, the usual course of law and order. - -So it came to pass that as her husband had foretold, Belle found -herself one day saying in a low voice: "I heard him call on the people -to fight. I saw him wave his hand towards the Hindus." - -"You mean,--pray be careful Mrs. Raby, for it is a point of great -importance--that, as the butchers were coming up, you saw the prisoner -wave them on to the conflict?" - -"I cannot say if that was his intention. I saw him wave his hand." - -"As they were passing?" - -"As they were passing." - -"Should you say,--I mean, did it give you the impression that he was -encouraging them, urging them on?" - -Belle Raby, before she answered, looked across the court at the boy, -then at her husband, who with a slight frown, sat twiddling a pen at -the Government Advocate's table. "It did. I think it would have given -that impression to any one who saw it." And with these words every one -knew the case was virtually at an end so far as Murghub Ahmad was -concerned. - -"Roman matrons are not in it," thought John Raby as he flung the pen -from him impatiently; "and yet she will regret it all her life, and -wonder if she didn't make a mistake, or tell an untruth, to the end of -her days. O Lord, I'm glad I wasn't born a woman! They won't hang him, -if that's any consolation to you, my dear," he said as they drove -home; "though upon my word, it isn't your fault if they don't. I'm -beginning to be a bit afraid of you, Belle. Your conscientiousness -would run me out of that commodity in a week; but I suppose some -people are born that way." - -The fresh wind blew in her face, the sun was shining, the little -squirrels skipping over the road. The memory of that drive to her -father's funeral returned to her, sharply, with a sort of dim -consciousness that something else in her life was dying, and would -have to be buried away decently ere long. "Why didn't you tell me -before that he would not be hanged?" she asked in a dull voice. - -"Why? For many reasons. For one, I thought you might be more merciful, -and,--but there's an end of it! They'll give him fourteen years over -in the Andamans. By George, the boy will learn that the tongue is a -two-edged sword! Pity he wasn't taught it before." - -Perhaps it was. At all events Mahomed Lateef, his father, went back to -his sonless house with a vague sense of injustice not to be lost this -side the grave, and a palsied shake of his head only to be stilled by -death. Not to stay there long, however, for he was ousted even from -that dull refuge by the necessity for selling it in order to redeem -his pledges. So he flitted drearily to his last hold on life. A scrap -of land between the Indus and the sand-hills, where, if the river ran -high, the flooding water raised a crop, and if not the tiller must -starve,--or go elsewhere; if only to the six feet of earth all men may -claim whereon to sow the seed for a glorious resurrection. - -About a month after the trial John Raby came home from office, not -exactly in a bad temper, but in that cynical, contemptuously-patient -frame of mind which Belle began to see meant mischief to the -hero-worship she still insisted on yielding to her husband. - -"I've brought you something to read," he said coolly, laying a -newspaper on the table and taking up the cup of tea she had poured out -for him. "As that unfortunate trial has led to this premature -disclosure, I think it only fair to ask you what you would rather I -did in the matter. Honestly, I don't much care. Of course I would -rather have had a little more time; but as the native papers have got -hold of the business I'm quite ready, if you prefer it, to throw up -my appointment to-morrow. However, read it,--on the second page I -think--and skip the adjectives." - -"Well?" he asked, as after a time she laid down the newspaper, and -stared at him in a bewildered sort of way. "The main facts are true, -if that is what you mean. I was lucky enough to hit on that indigo -business; it will pay cent per cent if properly worked." - -"I thought," she replied in a toneless voice, "that it was -against,--the rules." - -"Exactly so; but you see I haven't the slightest intention of -remaining in the service. I never had, if once I got an opportunity, -and I've got it." - -"But the rules?" - -"Bother the rules! I am not going to buy a pig in a poke to please -propriety. That part of it is done, and I think it is always best to -let by-gones be by-gones. If you like me to send in my papers to-day, -I'll do it; if not I shall hang on for a time, and defy them. Why -should one lose twelve hundred a month for an idea? I do my work quite -as well as I did, and there won't be any necessity for personal -supervision down in Saudaghur till next spring. But as I said before, -if you have scruples,--why, you brought the money, and I'm deeply -grateful, I assure you. Don't look scared, my dear; I'll insure my -life if you are thinking of the pension of a civilian's widow!" - -"Don't laugh, John; I can't stand it. Have any more of the native -papers been writing,--things like that?" And she shivered a little as -she spoke. - -"No, that's the first; but the others will follow suit. They were -desperately indignant about the Mohurrim riot. That is why I wanted--" - -Belle stood up, and stretched her hands out appealingly to her -husband, "Don't say it. Oh, please don't say it! You don't,--you can't -mean it!" - -He came across to her, taking her hands in his. "That's not -consistent, Belle; you're always for having the truth. I do mean it. -What harm would you have done to anybody by toning down what you saw? -For the matter of that, what harm have I done to any one by investing -money in indigo? None, absolutely none! However, it is no use talking -about it; we should never agree; people seldom do on these points. But -you ought to know by this time that I never mean to hurt your feelings -in any way. So which is it to be,--dignity or impudence?" - -And Belle, as he kissed her, felt helpless. It was like being -smothered in a feather bed, all softness and suffocation. - -"Well, I'm waiting. Am I not a model husband? Now don't begin to cry -when it's all over; perhaps it is best as it is, for I shall have to -build you a house, Belle. Think of that; a house of your very own! And -look here! you can go in for doing good to your heart's content when -you are no longer the wife of an official. Cheer up! There's a good -time coming, and you have to decide if it's to come now, or next -spring." - -"How can you ask?" she said, breaking from him hurriedly, to walk up -and down the room, twisting her fingers nervously. "We must go,--go at -once." - -"Very well. It's a little hasty; but remember it's your doing, not -mine; and for goodness' sake, you poor, little, conscience-stricken -soul, don't cry at getting your own way." - - - - - CHAPTER XVII. - - -John Raby's announcement that he was about to leave the service fell -like a thunderbolt on his old friend Shunker Das, for that astute -gentleman had sketched out a very different programme in which the -_shaitan sahib_ was to figure as chief actor. Indeed, when the latter -had first come nibbling round the indigo prize, Shunker had, as it -were, asked him to dine off it, chuckling in his sleeve the while at -the idea of getting his enemy into the toils. But then he knew nothing -of the thirty thousand pounds, which the young civilian rightly -considered a sufficient insurance against any punishment for breaking -the rules of his covenant. So all the Lala's deft hounding of the -native papers on the track of "disgraceful corruption and disregard of -law on the part of Mr. John Raby of the Civil Service" had simply -resulted in bringing a personal supervision, destructive of -account-cooking, into the business. - -He went down to Saudaghur shortly after the Rabys, and nearly had a -fit over the calm decision with which the young Englishman took -possession of the field. New machines were being imported, new vats -built, new contracts made with growers throughout a large stretch of -the district. On all sides Shunker found himself forestalled, -outpaced, left in the cold. He would dearly have liked to break -absolutely with this shrewd, unmerciful partner; yet to indulge this -desire meant loss, for the Lala, despite his hatred of the work, was -not blind to John Raby's supreme capability for making the business -pay. He was torn asunder by rage at having been outwitted, and -admiration for the wit which had effected the task. He came home one -day to the square block of a house he owned on the outskirts of -Saudaghur village, cursing freely, and longing for some covert means -of relieving his spite. The recipient of his curses took them with -stolid indifference. She was a dark-browed, deep-chested lump of a -woman, engaged in cooking the Lala's dinner in a dutiful, -conscientious sort of way, while she kept one eye on a solid -two-year-old boy who was busy over a pumpkin rind. This was Kirpo, the -absent Ram Lal's wife, who had been sent to occupy this empty house of -the Lala's for several reasons. Chiefly because it was out of the way -of scandal, and it had pleased Shunker to combine pleasure with the -business of supporting her during her husband's imprisonment; -wherefore, is one of those problems of human perversity best left -alone. Kirpo herself had merely adopted the surest way of securing -comfort and a pair of gold bangles, during this unpleasing interlude, -and in her heart was longing to return to her rightful owner; but not -without the bangles. There was, however, considerable divergence of -opinion between her and the Lala on this point, resulting, on the one -side, in her refusal to retire discreetly before the off chance of any -remission of her husband's sentence which might induce a premature -appearance; and, on the other, in Shunker's half alarmed desire to let -her risk her nose by discovery. Neither of them being altogether in -earnest, and each anxiously awaiting symptoms of capitulation in the -other. - -"I don't care for your words, Lala-_ji_," she retorted in answer to -his abuse. "We women have to eat curses, aye! and blows too; but we -get our own way for all that. I mean to have the bangles, so the -sooner you unstomach them the better." Her black brows met in -determination as Shunker consigned her and all her female ancestors to -unspeakable torments. "If you say much more I'll have the evil eye -cast on that sickly Nuttu of yours. Mai-Bishen does it. You take seven -hairs--" - -"Be silent, she-devil!" shouted the Lala turning green. "What ails you -to give the mind freedom on such things? Lo! I have been good to you, -Kirpo, and the boy there,--would mine were like him!" - -Kirpo caught the child in her arms, covering him with kisses as she -held him to her broad brown breast. "Thine! Pooh! thou art a poor body -and a poor spirit, Shunker. Afraid for all thy big belly; afraid of -Raby-_sahib!_ Look you, I will go to him: nay, I will go to his _mem_, -who loves to see the black women, and she will make you give me the -bangles." - -Now Shunker's evil disposition partook of the nature of an am[oe]ba. -That is to say, no sooner did a suggestion of food dawn upon it, than -straightway the undefined mass of spite shot out a new limb in that -direction. Kirpo's words had this effect upon him. After all why -should she not go to see the _mem?_ How angry the _shaitan_ would be -if he knew that his, Shunker's mistress, had had an interview with the -stuck-up English girl. What business, too, had she to bring her -husband money when her father was bankrupt? Rare sport indeed to -chuckle over when Raby put on his airs. "By the holy water of Gunga!" -he cried, "thou shalt go, Kirpo, as my wife. No one will know. Silks -and satins, Kirpo, and sheets held up for thee to scuttle through so -that none may see! Aha! And I have to take off my shoes at the door, -curse him!" He lay back and chuckled at the bare idea of the petty, -concealed insult of which no one but himself would know. - -Kirpo looked at him in contemptuous dislike. "If I was a bad woman -like thy friends in the bazaar I would not go, for they say she is -easy to deceive and kind; but I am not bad. It is you who are bad. -So I will go; but with the bangles, and with the boy too, in a -_khim-khab_ (cloth of gold) coat. 'Twill be as thy son. Lala-_ji_, -remember, so thou wouldst not have him look a beggar." - -Her shrill laughter rang through the empty house, making an old woman -glance upwards from the lower court. "Kirpo should go home," muttered -the hag, "or she will lose her nose like Dhundei when they let her -husband out of gaol by mistake. A grand mistake for poor Dhunnu! oho! -oho!" - -"Kirpo Devi," returned the Lala, with a grin of concentrated -wickedness. "Thou shalt have the bangles, and then thou shall go see -the _mem_ first, and to damnation after. Mark my words, 'tis a true -saying." For another suggestion of evil had sprung into vision, and he -already had a feeler out to seize it. - -Two days later he sat on the same bed grinning over his own -cleverness, yet for all that disconcerted. Kirpo had fled, with her -boy and her bangles. That he had expected, but he was hardly prepared -to find a clean sweep of all his brass cooking-pots into the bargain. -He cursed a little, but on the whole felt satisfied, since his spite -against Belle Raby had been gratified and Kirpo got rid of, at the -price of a pair of deftly lacquered brass bangles. He grinned still -more wickedly at the thought of the latter's face when she found out -the trick. - -As he sat smoking his pipe a man looked in at the door. A curiously -evasive, downcast figure in garments so rumpled as to suggest having -been tied up in tight bundles for months; as indeed they had been, -duly ticketed and put away in the store-rooms of the gaol. - -"Holy Krishna!" muttered the Lala, while drops of sweat at the thought -of the narrow escape oozed to his forehead, "'tis Ramu himself." - -And Ramu it was, scowling and suspicious. "Where's my house?" he asked -after the curtest of greetings. - -Unfortunately for the truth Shunker Das had answered this question in -anticipation many times. So he was quite prepared. "Thy house, oh -Ramu? If she be not at home, God knoweth whither she hath gone. I -sent her here, for safety, seeing that women are uncertain even when -ill-looking; but she hath left this security without my consent." - -His hearer's face darkened still more deeply as he looked about him in -a dissatisfied way. "I went straight to Faizapore; they said she was -here." He did not add that he had purposely refrained from announcing -his remission (for good conduct) in order to see the state of affairs -for himself. - -Shunker meanwhile was mentally offering a cheap but showy oblation to -his pet deity for having suggested the abstraction of the brass pots -to Kirpo. "I say nothing, Ramu," he replied unctuously; "but this I -know, that having placed her here virtuously with an old mother, who -is even now engaged in work below, she hath fled, nor stayed her hand -from taking things that are not hers. See, I am here without food -even, driven to eat it from the bazaar, by reason of her wickedness; -but I will call, and the old mother will fetch some; thou must be -hungry. Hadst thou sent word, Ramu, the faithful servant should have -had a feast from the faithful master." - -Ramu and he looked at each other steadily for a moment, like two dogs -uncertain whether to growl or to be friends. - -"Fret not because of one woman, Ramu," added his master peacefully. -"Hadst thou sent word, she would have been at home doubtless. She is -no worse than others." - -"She shall be worse by a nose," retorted his hearer viciously. Whereat -the Lala laughed. - -He sat talking to his old henchman till late on into the night, during -the course of his conversation following so many trails of that -serpent, his own evil imaginings, that before Ramu, full of fresh -meats and wines, had fallen asleep, Shunker Das had almost persuaded -himself, as well as the husband, that Kirpo's disappearance had -something to do with gold bangles and a series of visits to the -_shaitan sahib_ in the rest-house, where, until their own was -finished, the Rabys were living. - -This scandalous suggestion found, to Ramu's mind, a certain -corroboration next day; for on his way to the station in order to -return to Faizapore, he came full tilt on his wife, also hurrying to -catch the train. The gold bangles on her wrists, and the fact of her -having remained in Saudaghur after leaving the Lala's house, pointed -to mischief. He flew at her like a mad dog, too angry even to listen. -Now the station of Saudaghur was a good two miles from the town, and -the road a lonely one; so that the enraged husband had no -interruptions, and finally marched on to his destination, leaving his -wife, half dead, behind a bush; a brutal, but not uncommon occurrence -in a land where animal jealousy is the only cause of women's -importance. That evening John Raby, riding back from a distant village -in the dusk, was nearly thrown at the rest-house gates by a sudden -swerve of his horse. - -"_Dohai! Dohai! Dohai!_" The traditional appeal for justice rose to -high heaven as a female figure started from the shadow, and clutched -his bridle. It was Kirpo, with a bloody veil drawn close about her -face. - -The young man swore, not unnaturally. "Well, what's the matter?" he -cried angrily; past experience teaching him the hopelessness of -escaping without some show of attention. "I'm not a magistrate any -longer, thank God! Go to the police, my good woman. Oh!" he continued, -in contemptuous comprehension, as the woman, clutching fiercely with -both hands, let go her veil, which falling aside, showed a noseless -face; "'tis your own fault, no doubt." - -"The Lala! the Lala!" shrieked Kirpo. "'Tis his doing." - -"Shunker Das?" asked John Raby, reining up his horse in sudden -interest. - -"Yes, Shunker Das! He gave me the gold bangles for going to see your -_mem_ and pretending to be his wife. He did it. The ill-begotten son -of a hag, the vile offspring of a she-devil!" - -So, with sobs and curses, she poured the whole tale of her wrong into -the young man's ear. He listened to it with wonderful patience. "All -you want, I suppose, is to punish your husband?" he asked, when she -paused for breath. - -"No!" almost yelled the woman. "The Lala! the Lala! I could choke him -on his own flesh." - -John Raby laughed. These half savages had certainly most expressive -methods of speech, a pity their actions were not as forcible. "Wait -here," he said quietly. "I'll send you out a note for the native -magistrate; but mind! no word of your visit to my wife. I'm not going -to have that all over the place." - -Kirpo squatted down at the gate-post, wrapping the bloody veil round -her once more; a habit she would have to grow into with the years. -Not a stone's throw from this ghastly figure, in the large bare -sitting-room of the rest-house, which she had decorated to the best of -her ability with Indian draperies disposed after the fashion of the -West, sat Belle in a low wicker chair. A tea-table bright with silver -and china awaited the master's return, while a pile of music scattered -on the open piano showed her recent occupation. "There you are at -last, John!" she said. "Cold isn't it?--quite Christmas weather; but -your tea is ready." - -"And what has my wife been doing with herself all day?" he asked, with -the complacent affection which invariably sprang up at the sight of -his own home comfort. - -"Oh, I? Working, and reading, and practising as usual. There's a very -interesting article on the morality of the Vedas in the _Nineteenth -Century_. It seems wonderfully pure." - -"A little more sugar, if you please, and one of those cakes with the -chocolate, dear," was the reply, given with a stretching of the limbs -into the curves of a cushioned chair. "Do you know, Belle, India is a -most delightful country. If Blanche Amory had lived here she would not -have had to say, '_Il me faut des emotions_.' They sit at the gate, so -to speak, and the contrasts give such a zest to life. You, with that -white gown and all the accessories (as the studio-slang has it) are -like _pate de foie_ after the black bread of the Spartans. If you have -done your tea, go to the piano, there's a dear girl, and play me a -valse; _Reves d'Amour_ for choice; that will put the truffles to the -_pate_." - -Kirpo squatting at the gate, waiting for vengeance, heard the gay -notes. "What a noise!" she said to herself; "no beginning or end, just -like a jackal's cry. I wish he would send the letter." - -It came at last; and Kirpo, for one, always believed that to it she -owed the fact that Ramu was caught, tried, sentenced, and imprisoned -for a whole year; for as she used to say, in telling the tale to her -cronies, "I hadn't a cowrie or an ornament left, so it would have been -no use complaining to the police." - -The Lala, too, impressed a like belief on the indignant Ramu. "'Tis -true enough," he said, "that it is tyranny to deny a man his right to -teach his wife caution; but there!--she went straight to Raby _sahib_, -and now you are in for a whole year without a friend to stand treat, -my poor Ramu." - -Ram Lal's teeth chattered at the prospect of desertion. "But you will -stand by me still, master?" he asked piteously. - -"Wherefore, Ramu? Even a _buniah_ leaves old scores alone when there -is a receipt-stamp on the paper," chuckled the usurer. "Pray that thou -hast not the same warder, oh my son! and come back to me, if thou -wilst, when the time is over." He happened to be in high good spirits -that morning owing to a slip on John Raby's part in regard to the -signing of some contract which promised to put rupees into the Lala's -private pocket. So much so, that he went to the rest-house in order to -gloat over the prospect in his unconscious partner's presence. It was -the first time that the latter had seen him since Kirpo's appeal and -confession, for John Raby had purposely avoided an interview until the -trial, with its possibility of unpleasantness, was over. Now he calmly -shut the door, and made the practical joker acquire a thorough and yet -superficial knowledge of the ways of the ruling race, finishing up by -a contemptuous recommendation to vinegar and brown paper. - -"I've been fighting your battles, dear," he said, coming into his -wife's room, and leaning over to kiss her as she lay resting on the -sofa. A pile of dainty lace and muslin things on the table beside her, -told tales for the future. - -"My battles, John? I didn't know I had any enemies here." Or any -friends she might have added, for those three months in the rest-house -had been inexpressibly lonely; her husband away all day, and no white -face within fifty miles. - -"Enemies? No, Belle, I should say not; but I have, and what's mine's -yours, you know." Then, half amused, half irritated, he told her of -Kirpo's visit. - -Her eyes sought his with the puzzled look which life was beginning to -put into them. "I suppose it was intended as an insult," she said; -"but when a man has half a dozen wives, some married one, some another -way, it,--it doesn't seem to matter if they are married or not." - -"My dear!" cried he, aghast. "I do hope you haven't been reading my -French novels." - -She smiled, a trifle bitterly. "No; they bore me. It's the gazeteer of -this district which is to blame. How many kinds of marriage? I forget; -one is called a kicking-strap, I know. It is a mere question of names -all through. What difference can it make?" - -John Raby walked up and down the room in, for him, quite a disturbed -manner. "I'm sorry to hear you speak that way, Belle. It's always a -mistake. If you can't see the insult, you will at least allow that it -confirms what I have always maintained, the undesirability of mixing -yourself up with a social life that doesn't fit in with ours. It has -put me into rather a hole at all events." - -"A hole, John? What do you mean?" - -"Why, even the Lala won't work with me after this, and I must take all -the risk; there isn't much of course; but somehow I've been hustled -all through. First by that foolish trial--" - -"I thought we had agreed to leave that alone, John?" interrupted his -wife with a heightened colour. - -"True, O queen! And you needn't be afraid, Belle. You and the babies -shall be millionaires, billionaires if you like." And a speech like -this, accompanied as it was by the half-careless, half-affectionate -glance she knew so well, would start her self-reproach on the road to -that sanctuary from all her vague puzzles; the fixed belief that she -and John were the most attached of couples. - -It would, nevertheless, be almost impossible to over-colour the -absolute loneliness of the girl's life at this time. Her husband away -from dawn till sundown, her only companions a people whose uncouth -_patois_ she hardly understood, whose broad simplicity of purpose and -passion positively confused her own complexity. It was utter -isolation, combined with the persistent reflection that close by in -the native town, humanity went to and fro full to the brim with the -same emotions of joy and sorrow, hope and fear, though the causes were -different. It made her feel as if she had dropped from another world; -and being, from physical causes, fanciful, she often thought, when -looking over the wide level plain, without one tree to break its -contour, which stretched away from her to the horizon, that, but for -the force of gravity, she could walk over its visible curve into -space. One of her chief amusements was what her husband laughingly -called her _jardin d'acclimatisation_; a dreary row of pots where, in -defiance of a daily efflorescence of Glaubers salt, she coaxed a dozen -or so of disheartened pansies into producing feeble flowers half the -size of a wild heart's-ease. She was extremely patient, was Belle -Raby, and given to watering and tending all things which she fancied -should adorn a woman's house and home; and among them gratitude. -Scarcely a day passed but the thought of Philip Marsden's ill-requited -kindness set this irreclaimable hero-worshipper into metaphorically -besprinkling his grave with her tears, until countless flowers of fact -and fancy grew up to weave a crown for his memory, a frame for his -virtues. The extent to which she idealised him never came home to her, -for the fact of his having passed finally from life prevented her from -having to decide his exact position in her Pantheon. Another thing -which intensified her inclination to over-estimate the benefits she -had received at Philip's hands was her husband's evident desire for -complete silence on this subject. Naturally in one so impulsively -generous as Belle, this seemed to make her remembrance, and her -gratitude, all the more necessary. - -So time passed until, as women have to do, she began to set her house -in order against life or death. To-day, to-morrow, the next day, -everything familiar, commonplace,--and then? How the heart beats in -swift wonder and impatience even though the cradle may be the grave! - -A hint of spring was in the air; that sudden spring which in Northern -India follows close on the first footsteps of the new year. Belle, -with a light heart, sat sorting her husband's wardrobe, and laying -aside in camphor and peppercorns, things not likely to be required; -for who could tell how long it might be ere she could look after -John's clothes again? As she paused to search the pockets of a coat, a -building sparrow hopped across the floor to tug at a loose thread in -the pile of miscellaneous garments among which she was sitting, and a -bright-eyed squirrel, hanging on the open door, cast watchful glances -on a skein of Berlin wool, which appeared utterly desirable for a -nest. The whole world, she thought, seemed preparing for new life, -working for the unknown, and she smiled at the fancy as she began -methodically to fold and smooth. More carefully than usual, for this -was John's political uniform, and the sight of it invariably brought -her a pang of regret for the career that had been given up. Suddenly -her half-caressing fingers distinguished something unusual between the -linings; something that must have slipped from the pocket, for she had -to unrip a rough mend in the latter ere she could remove a sheet of -thin paper folded in two, smooth, uncrushed. - -The writing startled her; it was Philip Marsden's, and she sat there -for a minute staring at it blankly. In after years the smell of -camphor always brought her back to that moment of life; the sunlight -streaming on the floor beside her, the twittering bird, the watchful -squirrel. - -The draft of a will,--surely _the_ will--and yet! How came it in her -husband's pocket, in the coat that he must have worn? Then he had -known--he _must_ have known about the money! Money! Yes, the one -passion she had ever seen on his face; the one love-- - -The sparrow came back again and again robbing one life for another. -The squirrel, emboldened at her silence, made off with its heart's -desire; but still poor Belle lay in a dead faint on the floor. And -there she might have remained, with the accusing paper in her hand to -face her husband, had not pain, sharp compelling pain, roused her. To -what? To a new life, to something beyond, yet of herself, something to -defy fate and carry hope and fear from the present to the future. - -A vague understanding of her own position came to her as she lay -slowly gathering consciousness, until she rose to her feet and looked -round her almost fearfully. "It must not alter anything," she -muttered, as the torn shreds of paper fell from her shaking hand. "It -cannot,--oh, dear God! it shall not. Not now, not now; I could not -bear it; not now, not now!" - -All that night Belle Raby fought a strange, uncertain battle, fought -hard for the old life and the new, for life or death, scarcely knowing -why she did either, and caring little, thinking little, of anything -save the blind instinct of fight. And with the dawn the child which -was hers, but which she was never to see, gave up its feeble desire, -and left nothing but a pitiful waxen image to tell of life that had -been and was gone. - -But Belle, fast clasping her husband's hand, was in the Land of -Dreams; the land to which many things besides the dead child must -belong forever. - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII. - - -Death, we are told, changes our vile bodies and minds. It is at any -rate to be hoped so, if orthodox heaven is to be endurable to some of -us. And when mind and body have gone nigh to death, so nigh that he -has stilled us in his arms for long days and nights, when he has -kissed the sight of all things mortal from our eyes, and charmed away -love and dread till soul could part from flesh without one sigh; does -not that sometimes send us back, as it were, to a new life, and make -us feel strangers even to ourselves? - -Belle Raby felt this as she came back discreetly, decently, according -to her wont in all things, from the Valley of the Shadow. Everything -was changed, and she herself was no longer the girl who had cried -uselessly, "Not now! Ah, dear God, not now!" - -When she first floated up to consciousness through the dim resounding -sea which for days and nights had seemed to lull her to sleep, it had -been to find herself in John's arms, while he fed her with a teaspoon, -and she had drifted down again into the dark, carrying with her a -faint, half-amused wonder why a man who had so deceived his wife -should trouble himself about her beef-tea. Neither was it a fit season -for tragedy when, with hair decently brushed for the first time, and a -bit of pink ribbon disposed somewhere to give colour to the pale face, -she lay propped up on the pillow at last, fingering a bunch of roses -brought her by the traitor. Nor when he had carried her to the sofa -with pleasant smiles at the ease of the task, could she begin the -dreadful accusation, "You knew I was an heiress,--that was why you -married me." Horrible, hateful! The blood would surge over her face, -the tears come into her eyes at the thought of the degradation of such -a mutual understanding. Better, far better, that the offender should -go scot-free. And after all, where was the difference? What had she -lost? Only ignorance; the thing itself had always been the same. And -yet she had not found it out--yet she had been content! That was the -saddest, strangest part of all, and in her first bitterness of spirit -she asked herself, more than once, if she had any right to truth, when -lies satisfied her so easily. He had not chosen her out of all the -world because he loved her, and yet she had not found him out. Was it -not possible that she had not found herself out either? And what then? -Did it make any difference, any difference at all? - -During her tedious convalescence she lay turning these things over and -over in her mind, almost as if the problem referred to the life of -some one else. It was a critical time for the new venture, and long -before she could leave the sofa, her husband had to spend a day here, -two days there, arranging for labour and machinery; above all for the -new house into which he was so anxious for her to settle comfortably -before the hot weather came on. All was very natural and right; -nevertheless it marked the beginning of the epoch which comes about in -most marriages; the time when Adam and Eve leave the garden of Eden, -and face the world; the time when different dispositions naturally -drift apart to different interests. Belle, still weak and unstrung, -found a morbid significance in her husband's growing absorption in the -business; she seemed to see the greed of gold in his handsome face as -he sat descanting, over his cigarette, on the many projects of his -busy brain. Yet she said no word of blame or warning, for she began to -lack the courage of criticism. The fact was, she did not want to know -the extent of the gulf between them; therefore she kept silence on all -points which might serve as a landmark to their relative positions. -Even so she came on the knowledge unawares. - -"I'm glad you don't fret over the baby," he said to her one day; "but -you were always sensible. The poor little thing might have got ill, -you know, and it would have been a bore if you had had to go to the -hills this year, when there is so much to be done." - -After that she would have died sooner than mention a grief that was -always with her, despite her smiling face. Yet, when he was away, she -wept unrestrained tears over a forlorn little spot in the dreary -garden where they told her the lost hope lay hidden away, for ever, -from her eyes. If she had only seen it once, she used to think; if she -could only have shed one tear over the little face of which she used -to dream! If she could only have whispered to it that she was sorry, -that it was not her fault. Such grief, she told herself, was natural -even in the happiest wife; it could not be construed into a complaint, -or counted as a surrender to Fate. She was not going to do that, -whatever happened. Never, never! That was the ruling idea to which -even her own unhappiness gave place; and the cause of this fixed -purpose was a curious one. Nothing more or less than a passionate -desire not to defeat the purpose of Philip Marsden's legacy. He had -meant kindly by her; when, she thought with the glow of ardent -gratitude which his memory invariably aroused, had he not meant kindly -by her and hers! And no one, least of all she herself, should turn -that kindness to unkindness. Poor Belle! She was bound hand and foot -to hero-worship, and life had shown her unmistakably that it was safer -to canonise the dead. She lived, it must be remembered, in a solitude -hard even of explanation to those unacquainted with out-station life -in India. The growing gulf between her and her husband had to be -bridged over a dozen times a day by their mutual dependence on each -other even for bare speech. The saying, "It takes two to make a -quarrel," falls short of truth. It takes three; two to fight, and one -to hold the sponge, and play umpire. After a few days of silence -consequent on his frequent absences, Belle was quite ready to welcome -John back with smiles; and this very readiness gave her comfort. -Things could not be so far wrong after all. And so every time he -went away, she set herself to miss his company with a zest that would -have seemed to the spectators--had there been any--right-minded, -wrong-headed, and purely pitiful. It was so even to herself, -at times, when, for instance, the shadows of day lifted in the -night-time, and she woke to find her pillow wet with tears,--why, she -knew not. Perhaps because those who had loved her best were lying in -unknown graves far away among the everlasting hills. It seemed so -strange that they should have met such similar fates; their very -deaths mysterious, if all too certain. In her mind they seemed -indissolubly mixed up with each other, living and dying, and her -thoughts were often with them. Not in sadness, in anything but -sadness; rather in a deep unreasoning content that they had loved and -trusted her. - -And all the while Fate was arranging a cunning blow against her -hard-contested peace. - -She was expecting her husband one evening when the rapid Indian -twilight had begun to fill the large bare room with shadows, and as, -driven by the waning light from her books, she sat down at the piano, -her fingers found one theme after another on the keys. Quite -carelessly they fell on the _Fruehlingslied_, which three years before -had wrought poor Dick's undoing. And then, suddenly, she seemed to -feel the touch of his warm young lips on hers, to see the fire and -worship of his eyes. Was _that_ Love? she wondered, as her fingers -stilled themselves to silence; or was _that_ too nothing but a lie? -Dear, dear old Dick! The shadows gathered into an eager protesting -face, the empty room seemed full of the life that was dead for ever. -Ah, if it could be so really? If those dear dead could only come back -just to know how sorely the living longed for them. - -A sound behind made her rise hastily. "Is that you, John? How late you -are!" she said with face averted, for, dark as it was, the unbidden -tears in her eyes craved concealment. - -"No! it is I, Philip Marsden." - -Her hand fell on the keys with a jarring clang that set the room -ringing. Philip! Nervous, overwrought, unstrung as she was by long -months of silence and repression, it seemed to her that the dead had -heard her wish. How terribly afraid she was! Afraid of Philip? A swift -denial in her heart made her turn slowly and strain her eyes into the -shadow by the door. He was there, tall and still, for darkness dazzles -like day and Philip Marsden's eyes were seeking her in vain by the -sound of her voice until he saw a dim figure meeting him with -outstretched hands. "Philip, oh, Philip! kindest! best! dearest!" - -In the shadows their hands met, warm clinging hands; and at the touch -a cry, half-fear, half-joy, dominated the still echoing discord. The -next instant like a child who, frightened in the dark, sees a familiar -face, she was in his arms sobbing out her relief and wonder. "Ah, -Philip, it is you yourself! You are not dead! You have come back to -me, my dear, my dear!" - -He had entered the room cynically contemptuous over the inevitable -predicament into which Fate and his impulsive actions had led him. -During his long captivity he had so often faced the extreme -probability of her marrying John Raby that the certainty which had met -him on his arrival at Kohat two days before had brought no surprise, -and but little pain. The past, he had said, was over. She had never -liked him; and he? That too was over; had been over for months if, -indeed, it had ever existed. He must go down at once, of course, -explain about Dick's legacy and settle what was to be done in the -meantime--that was all. And now she was in his arms and everything was -swept away in the flood of a great tenderness that never left him -again. - -"Oh, Belle! You are glad, you are glad that I have come back!" - -The wonder and joy of his voice seemed to rouse her to realities; she -drew away from him, and stood with one hand raised to her forehead in -perplexity. "How dark it is!" she cried, petulantly. "I did not see. I -cannot,--Why did you come like a thief in the night? Why did you not -write? Why?--you should not have come, you should not!" - -"I did write," he answered gently, the blame in her tone seeming to -escape his ear. "I wrote from Kohat to tell you. The dog-cart was at -the station and I thought--" - -"It was for John, not for you," she interrupted almost fiercely. "It -was for my husband--" She broke off into silence. - -"Yes; I heard at Kohat you were married." - -He could not see her face, nor she his, and once more her voice was -petulant in complaint. "You startled me. No one could have seen in the -dark." - -"Shall I call for lights now?" - -"If you please." - -When he returned, followed by a servant bringing the lamp, she was -standing where he had left her. Great Heavens, how she had changed! -Was this little Belle Stuart with her beautiful grey eyes? This woman -with the nameless look of motherhood, the nameless dignity of -knowledge in her face; and yet with a terror, such as the tyranny of -truth brings with it, in the tired eyes which used to be so clear of -care. - -"I am sorry," he began; then his thought overflowed conventional -speech, making him exclaim--"Don't look so scared, for pity's sake!" - -"Don't look like that!" she echoed swiftly. "That is what you said the -last time I saw you: 'Don't, Belle, the whole world is before you, -life and happiness and love.' It was not true, and you have only made -it worse by coming back to upset everything, to take away everything." - -"I am not going to take anything. The money--" - -"Money, what money? I was not thinking of money. Ah, I remember now! -Of course it is yours, all yours." - -Then silence fell between them again; but it was a silence eloquent of -explanation. So eloquent that Philip Marsden had to turn aside and -look out on the red bars of the sunset before he could beat down the -mad desire to take instant advantage of her self-betrayal. But he was -a man who above all things claimed the control of his own life, and -the knowledge that he too had been caught unawares helped him. "It is -all my fault, Mrs. Raby," he said, coming back to her, with a great -deference in voice and look. "This has startled you terribly, and you -have been ill, I think." - -"Yes, I have been ill, very ill. The baby died, and then--oh, Philip, -Philip! I thought you were dead; I did indeed." - -That was the end. Every atom of chivalry the man possessed, every -scrap of good in his nature responded to the pitiful appeal. "I do not -wonder," he answered, and though he spoke lightly there was a new tone -in his voice which always remained in it afterwards when he addressed -her. "I thought I was dead myself. Come, let us sit down, and I will -tell you how it all happened. Yes, I thought I was dead; at least so -Afzul Khan declares--" - -"Afzul Khan! That was the name of the sepoy you arrested at -Faizapore." - -Did she remember that? It was so long ago; long before the day he had -seen her last, when he had tried to comfort her, and she had sobbed -out her sorrow as to a brother, in just such another bare shadowy room -as this. Ah, poor Belle, poor Belle! Had it all been a mistake from -beginning to end? The only refuge from bewildering thought seemed -speech, and so he plunged into it, explaining, at far greater length -than he would otherwise have done, how he came to be sitting beside -her, instead of lying with whitening bones in some deep pool in the -mountains. He must, he said, have become unconscious from loss of -blood, and slipped into the river after he was wounded, for Afzul Khan -from his place of concealment on the water's edge had seen him -drifting down and dragged him to safety. They were a queer lot, the -Afghans, and Afzul believed he owed the Major a life. After that it -was a week ere he could be taken to decent shelter, because Afzul was -also wounded; but of all this he himself knew nothing. His -unconsciousness passing into delirium it was six weeks ere he awoke to -find himself in a sort of cave with snow shining like sunlight beyond -the opening, and Afzul cooking marmot-flesh over a smoky fire. Even -after that there was a rough time what with cold and hunger, for it -was an enemy's country, and the people about were at blood-feud with -Afzul's clan. At last it became a toss-up for death one way or the -other, seeing he was too weak to attempt escape. So he had given -himself up to the tribe, trusting that to their avarice an English -prisoner might be worth a ransom, while Afzul had gone east promising -to return with the swallows. - -Then months had passed bringing threats of death more and more -constant as the promised ambassador never returned, until towards -autumn, being stronger, he managed to escape, and after running the -gauntlet of danger and starvation succeeded in reaching Afzul's tribe, -only to find him slowly recovering from rheumatic fever brought on by -exposure and privation. The poor fellow had been at death's door, and -long ere he was strong enough to act as pilot eastwards winter had set -her seal on the passes. So there they had remained, fairly -comfortable, until spring melted the snows. "And," he added with a -smile, for Belle's face had resumed its calm, "I grew quite fat, in -comparison! Yet they all took me for a ghost when I walked in to the -mess-room at Kohat one evening after dinner,--just as I walked in -here." - -But her truthful eyes looked into his and declined the excuse. "No! I -did not take you for a ghost, except for an instant. I knew it was -you, and that you had come back to claim--everything." - -"Then you knew wrong. I have come to claim nothing. Perhaps I have no -right to claim anything; so it need make no difference--" - -"It must make a difference to John," she interrupted coldly. "I was -thinking of him. It is hard on him at all events." - -"Hard! Of course it is hard," he answered with a sudden pain at his -heart. "Yet it is not my fault. I meant no harm." - -"You have done no harm as far as I know," was the still colder reply. -But in her turn she rose and looked out to that low bar of red still -lingering in the horizon. "It is all very unfortunate, but we shall -manage,--somehow." There was a pause, then she added in quite her -ordinary tone, "I don't think John can be coming to-night, so we need -not wait dinner for him. They have taken your things to the end room. -I see a light there." - -"But I have no right--" he began, crossing to where she stood. - -She turned to him with a sudden gracious smile. "Right! you have every -right to everything. You have given me,--what have you not given me?" - -A tall figure crouching in the verandah rose as they passed through -the open French window. - -"Who is that?" she asked, half startled. - -"Afzul Khan. I can't take him back to the regiment, of course, but he -came so far with me. He has business, he says, in Faizapore." - -"Afzul Khan! Call him here, please." - -It was a curious group: those two bound to each other by such a tissue -of misunderstanding and mistake, and the Pathan responsible for part -of those mistakes. He stood by _salaaming_ stolidly; for all that -taking in the scene with a quick eye. - -"You have brought me back the best friend I ever had," said Belle with -a ring in her voice, and all instinctively her hand sought her -companion's and found it. - -"It is God's will, not mine," was the reply. Not an atom of sentiment -in the words, not a scrap of sanctimoniousness; simply a statement of -fact. God's will! And stowed away in the folds of his fur coat lay a -long blue envelope, ominously stained with blood, and addressed in a -free bold hand to Miss Belle Stuart, favoured by Major Marsden of the -101st Sikhs. That was poor Dick's will at any rate. Even in their -ignorance those two looked at each other and wondered. God's will! It -was strange, if true. - -"We dine in the garden now, it is cooler. I shall be ready in ten -minutes," said Belle. - -She was waiting for him under the stars when he came out from his -room, and the slender figure against its setting of barren plain and -over-arching sky seemed all too slight for its surroundings. - -"You must be very lonely here," he said abruptly. - -Her light laugh startled him. "Not to-night at any rate! To-night is -high holiday, and I only hope the _khansamah_ will give us a good -dinner. Come! you must be hungry." - -Thinking over it afterwards the rest of the evening seemed like a -dream to Philip Marsden. A halo of light round a table set with -flowers; a man and a woman talking and laughing, the man with a deep -unreasoning content in the present preventing all thought for the -future. How gay she was, how brilliant! How little need there was for -words with those clear sympathetic eyes lighting up into comprehension -at the first hint; and with some people it was necessary to have -Johnson's dictionary on the table ready for reference! Afterwards -again, as he sat in the moonlight smoking his cigar, and the cool -night wind stirred the lace ruffle on the delicate white arm stretched -on the lounge chair, how pleasant silence was; silence with the -consciousness of comprehension. Then when her hand lay in his as they -said good-night how dear her words were once more. "I want you to -understand that I am glad. Why not? You thought I meant the money, but -it was not that. I don't know what I meant, but it was not that. I -used to cry because I couldn't thank you; and now you have come, I do -not want to." - -"Thank me for what?" he asked, with a catch in his voice. - -But there was no answering tremble in hers. "You are not so wise as -your ghost; it knew. Supposing it was better to be dead after all? -That would be a pity, would it not? Good-night. John will be home -to-morrow." - -He stood and stared at the lamp after she had gone, as if its feeble -ray would illuminate the puzzle of a woman's face and words. He did -not know that for the first time in her life Belle had turned on Fate. -"I do not care," she had said, recklessly, as she walked up and down -waiting for him amid the flowering oleanders. "One cannot be always -thinking, thinking. He has come back and I am glad. Surely that is -enough for to-night." - -It was not much to claim, and yet it made the puzzle so much the -harder for Philip Marsden. He sat on the edge of his bed, and swore to -himself that he did not know what it all meant, that he did not even -know his own feelings. To leave a girl with whom you fancied yourself -in love and who apparently hated you; to die, and fall out of love, -only to find when you came back to life, that she who had scorned you -living had taken a fancy to your memory. Nay more, to find that -something in you had survived death. What? Were the elements of a -French novel born out of such materials? He had never thought over -these questions, being one of those men who, from a certain physical -fastidiousness, are not brought into contact with them. So he may have -been said to be, in his way, quite as conventional in his morality as -any woman; and the suggestion of such a situation offended him quite -as much as it would have offended Belle. The pride and combativeness -of the man rose up against the suggestion even while the very thought -of her glad welcome thrilled him through and through. He wished -no harm to her,--God forbid! And yet if one were to believe the -world--bah! what was one to believe? He was too restless to sleep, -and, with the curious instinct which drives most good men to be -tempted of the devil in the wilderness, he put on a pair of thick -boots, turned up his trousers methodically, and set out to seek peace -in a moonlight walk. Bathos, no doubt; but if the sublime borders on -the ridiculous, the commonplaces of life must touch on its tragedy. It -was a broad white road down which he started at a rattling pace. -Before, behind, it merged into a treeless horizon and it led--God -knows where! For all he knew it might be the road leading to -destruction; the ready-made conventional turnpike worn by the feet of -thousands following some bell-wether who had tinkled down to death -when the world was young. The moon shone garishly, eclipsing the -stars. It seemed a pity, seeing they were at least further from this -detestable world than she,--a mere satellite dancing attendance on a -half-congealed cinder, and allowing it to come between her and the -light at every critical moment! A pretty conceit, but not thought; and -Philip was there with the firm intention of thinking out the position. -Yet again and again he found himself basking in the remembrance of -Belle's welcome. How glad, how unfeignedly, innocently glad she had -been, till fear crept in. Fear of what? Of the French novel, of -course. He had felt it himself; he had asked himself the same -question, doubtless, as she had; and what in heaven's name was to be -the answer? Must love always be handfast to something else? Or was it -possible for it to exist, not in the self-denying penance of propriety -and duty, but absolutely free and content in itself? Why not? - -As he tramped along, stunning noises came from a neighbouring village; -thrummings of tom-toms, and blares of inconceivable horns mingling in -a wild, beast-like tumult. That meant a marriage in all its unglozed -simplicity of purpose; a marriage, to use the jargon, unsanctified by -love. But after all what had love to do with marriage? What could the -most unselfish dream of humanity have to do with the most selfish, the -most exacting, the most commonplace of all ties? Love, it is true, -might exist side by side with marriage, but the perfection of the one -was not bound up in the perfection of the other. Had not the attempt -to find an unnecessary fig-leaf by uniting sentiment to passion, only -ended in an apotheosis of animalism not much above that which found -expression in those hideous yells and brayings? Above! nay below! for -it degraded love and passion alike by false shame. - -To escape the wedding party he struck away from the road, and felt -relieved when he had got rid of its hard-and-fast lines, its arrogance -of knowing the way. The clumps of tall tiger-grass shot arrowlike -against the velvet sky, and every now and again a faint rustle at -their roots told of something watching the intruder; a brooding -partridge may be, perhaps a snake with unwinking eyes. And as he -walked, his thoughts seemed to lead him on, till something of the -truth, something naked yet not ashamed as it had been before mankind -ate of the sorrowful tree, came home to him. It could not be true, -that verdict of the world. He would defy it. - -Suddenly he found himself confronted by a strange barrier, blocking -his way. As far as eye could reach on either side rose a wall of -shadow twenty feet high, a wall dense and dark below, filmy as cobwebs -where the tasselled reeds of which it was composed touched the purple -of the sky. The gossamer wings of a day could pass through those -feathery tops; but below, even the buffalo had to seek an oozy track -here and there. He had often heard of this reed wall, which, following -the old river bed, divides village from village as effectually as when -the stream ran fast and deep; but its curious aptness to his thoughts -startled him. Impenetrable save for those who sought the mire, or -those with the wings of a dove. Which was it to be? As he stood -arrested by his own fancy a night-heron flitted past; its broad white -wings whirred softly, and its plumed head, craning forward, with -blood-red eyes searching the shadows, cleft the moonlight. By some -strange jugglery of fancy it reminded him of a picture by Gustave -Dore, and with the remembrance of Francesca da Rimini came that of the -scared look in poor Belle's face. - -He turned aside impatiently beset once more by the desire for escape -and struck across the plain; coming, after a time, on a footpath which -he followed mechanically through the tamarisk bushes, until he emerged -on an open space where a hoar frost of salt crystals glittered on rows -and rows of tiny mounds. So pure, so white, that the eye might have -sworn to a winter's night even while the other senses told of more -than summer's heat; a deception increasing the unreality with which -Philip recognised that his wandering steps had led him to a village -grave-yard. A far cry from the marriage feast! He sat down on the pile -of disordered bricks and stucco which marked the resting-place of the -saint round whose bones the faithful had gathered, and asked himself -what chance there was of standing out against the opinion of the many -in life, if even in death it was always follow my leader? - -A quaint place it was; no enclosure, no token of hope or grief, no -symbol of faith; nothing but the dead, clean forgotten and out of -mind. Ah! but Belle had not forgotten him, and if he had remained dead -she would have gone on giving him the best part of herself without -reproach, without remorse. Was death then the only freedom from the -body? He sat so long immersed in his own thoughts that the slow stars -were wheeling to meet the dawn ere he rose, and threw out his arms -cramped by long stillness. Dead, yet alive,--that was the old panacea. -Was nothing else attainable? Must love be killed? Why? - -A rustle in the tamarisks beyond the open made him turn sharply, and -make his way towards the corner whence it proceeded. As he did so a -group of men defiled from the bushes, set down the burden they -carried, and, without looking round, began to dig a grave. The hour, -the absence of wailing, gave Philip a momentary thought that he might -be assisting at the concealment of some crime, but his knowledge of -the people reassured him. Yet as he approached, all the party--save a -very old man mumbling his beads--scurried into the jungle, and so he -judged it wiser to stop and give the orthodox salutation. The -patriarch rose in feeble haste. "Allah be praised! we thought you were -the ghost already. Come back; come back!" he cried in louder quavering -voice. "'Tis only a Presence, seeking sport, doubtless. Come back, and -get her under earth ere dawn, or 'twill be the worse for all." - -Then, as one by one his companions crept back to their task, he -answered Philip's curious looks with waggling head. "Only a wanton -woman, _Huzoor_. Seven months ago meek as a dove, playing about the -village with maiden-plaited hair. But when the matrons unbound it for -the bridegroom, as in due course of duty, the wickedness came out. It -is so with some women; a fancy that hath not bit nor bridle; a -wantonness of mind when God made them to be mothers. And she would -have been one--ay, a happy one--for all her fancies, had she not wept -herself into a wasting and died with her unborn child. Cursed -creature, bringing evil on the whole village with her whims! Quick, -quick, my sons! Hide her before dawn, with the irons round her thumbs, -and the nails through her feet. Then will I sow the mustard-seed in -her path homewards, so that cock-crow will ever send her back to the -worms ere she hath done gathering. And all for a fancy when God made -women to be mothers! A wanton mind! A wanton mind!" - -The broken, quavering voice went on accusingly as Philip turned away -sick at heart. Here was the other side of the shield; and which was -the truth? - -He went home feeling he had gained very little from the wilderness. - - - - - CHAPTER XIX. - - -The night which had proved so restless to Philip Marsden had been for -Belle, strangely enough, one of profound repose. Never, since as a -child she fell asleep with the fresh cool caress of her pillow, had -she felt less inclination to be wakeful, less desire for thought. The -measureless content which comes so seldom, save in a pleasant dream, -held her, body and soul. To feel it was enough. Yet as she woke to the -sound of her husband's early return, she woke also to a full -consciousness of the change Philip's resurrection from the dead must -bring into their lives. A hasty remorse at her own brief happiness -made her slip on a morning-gown and go into her husband's office-room. -The wonder whether he knew, or whether the post which always went to -him direct while he was in camp in order to save time, had failed to -find him, made her cheek pale. She scarcely knew which would be worst; -to meet him crushed by the news, or to have to kill his easy content -with bitter tidings. - -She found him already engaged with the tea and toast which the servant -had brought in on his arrival, and her heart sank; face to face with -it, anything seemed better than the task of telling. - -"Hullo! Belle, little woman! is that you up so early? But it must -have been deuced startling for you to have Marsden walking in like -Lazarus--" - -"Then you have heard?" she interrupted with quite a sigh of relief. - -"Of course I've heard. One always does hear that sort of thing. But -the fool of a _peon_[5] took the letters to the village I'd just left, -so it was too late to send you word. And then I had to finish some -work. It's a queer go, isn't it? Poor old Marsden! Somehow it makes me -laugh." - -Belle sat down helplessly in the low chair by her husband, feeling -utterly lost. Was she never to be able even to guess at his moods? She -had imagined that this would be the most bitter of blows, and he found -it provocative of laughter. "I'm so glad you take it that way, John," -she began, "I was afraid--" - -"Afraid of what? By the way, he is here, I suppose. You haven't sent -him elsewhere, or done anything foolish, I hope?" - -"Why should I send him away? I don't understand--" - -"Oh, nothing! Only,--you see, when you have got to keep on the right -side of a man it is as well not to be too particular. I suppose you -have been talking about the money. What did he say?" - -A slow colour crept into Belle's face. "Not much,--at least,--I don't -think we talked about it at all. There were so many other things." - -John Raby whistled a tune; then he smiled. "Upon my soul, you are -sometimes quite incomprehensible, Belle; but perhaps it is as well. -You might have put your foot in it somehow; and as it is absolutely -necessary that the legacy should remain in the business, we must be -careful. If we play our cards decently this ridiculous resurrection -won't make much difference. You see, Marsden is a gentleman. He -wouldn't ruin anybody, least of all a woman he-- Hullo! what's the -matter now?" - -Her hand gripped his arm almost painfully. "Don't, John, don't! For -pity's sake, don't!" - -"Phew! you needn't pinch me black and blue, my dear, for hinting at -the truth. You know what Marsden did to save you once. Why shouldn't -he do something to save you now? There is no use mincing matters when -one is in a corner like this. I mean to have the use of that money, -and if we play our cards fairly we shall get it. I mean to have it, -and you're bound to help; for, though I don't wish to reproach you, -Belle, you must see that you are mainly responsible for the position." - -"I!" - -"Yes, you. If it hadn't been for your squeamishness I should still -have been a civilian and able to go back on my tracks. Then again, but -for having to quarrel with Shunker for his impudence, I should only -have been at half-risks; he would have had to sink or swim with me, -and that would have ensured his advancing more capital. The fact is -that luck has been against me all through." - -"What is it you want me to do?" she asked faintly. "How can I help?" - -"Oh, if you ask in that tragedy-tone it's no use answering. I want you -to be sensible, that is all. There really is nothing to make a fuss -about. I'll ensure him a fair interest. And his coming back doesn't -alter our position; we have been living on his money for the last -year." - -"But we thought he was dead--that it was ours. Oh, John, there is a -difference! Don't you see he is tied;--that he has no choice, as it -were?" - -"If you mean that Marsden is a gentleman and sees that the predicament -is none of our making, then I agree." - -She knelt down beside him, looking into his face with passionate -entreaty in hers. "John!" she said, "I can't make you understand, but -if you love me,--ever so little--don't, don't beg of--of this man. -Surely we have taken enough! You have some money of your own,--indeed -I would rather starve! It would kill me if you took advantage of,--of -his kindness." Then, seeing the hopelessness of rousing sympathy in -him, she buried her face against the arm of his chair with a sob of -pain. - -"I'll tell you what I do know, Belle," he answered kindly enough. "It -was a confounded shame of Marsden to upset your nerves by popping up -like a Jack-in-the-box. You're not a bit strong yet. Go and lie down -till breakfast-time, and leave me to settle it. Why, you little goose, -you don't think I'm going down on my knees to beg of any man! I am -only, very wisely, going to take advantage of the natural strength of -the position. It isn't as if you had ever cared a button for him, you -know." - -Something like a flash of lightning shot down from heaven on poor -Belle, shrivelling up all her strength. She crept away to her room, -and there, with flaming cheeks, paced up and down wondering why the -sky didn't fall on the house and kill every one; every one but Philip. -The memory of the night before had come back to fill her with shame -and doubt, and yet with a great certainty. When had she felt so happy, -so content? When had she talked to John, straight out from her very -heart, as she had talked to Philip? What must he have thought? That -she had been seeking to please him; as John called it, trying to play -her cards well? No! he would not think such things; and yet the -alternative was even less honourable to her. What had possessed her? -She, John's wife, who had tried,--who had always tried so hard to be -content! How had this inconceivable thing come about? Preposterous! -Absurd; it had not come about; it could not, should not, must not be. -Yet, after all, what was the use in denying it? Philip stood far above -John in her Pantheon. She had known that for months. But then it was -allowable to canonise the dead. Why had he come back? Above all, why -had he brought his saintship with him? So the circle of passionate -resentment at fate, and still more passionate contempt for herself, -went round and round, bringing no conclusion. She would have liked to -throw herself on her bed and cry her eyes out; but, trivial yet -insuperable barrier to this relief, it was too near breakfast-time for -tears, since no one must guess at her trouble. - -So she appeared at the appointed time, and asked Philip if he had -slept well, and if he would take tea or coffee; and no one knew that -she was wondering half the time why the sky didn't fall down and crush -her for noticing that Philip saw she was pale, that Philip handed her -the butter, and Philip looked to her always for an opinion. What right -had he to do all this when her husband did not? Poor Belle; she had -dreamed dreams only to find herself, as she thought, in the most -despicable position in which a woman can possibly find herself. She -never paused to ask if the verdict of society in its more virtuous -moods was trustworthy, and that a woman who discovers some other man -to be nearer the sun than her husband, must necessarily call her -marriage a failure, and so forfeit some measure of her self-respect. -Her righteous ignorance simply made her feel, as she looked at the -well-laid table, that here were all the elements of a _mariage a -trois_; an idea hateful to her, and from which, according to what she -had been taught, the only escape was flight. Yet how could there be -flight if John would not give up the money? And then the thought that -the table laid for two last night had been ever so much more pleasant, -came to reduce her reasoning powers to pulp. She listened to the -story of poor Dick's will,--that will which had led to the present -puzzle,--feeling that the half-excuse it gave to John's avarice, was -but another rivet in the chain which bound her life to Philip's; for -with his kind face before her eyes, and his kind voice in her ears, it -was useless denying the tie between them. That was the worst of it; -she knew perfectly well that, as he sat there calmly talking to her -husband, silence was no protection to her feelings. He knew them, just -as she knew of a certainty what his were; not by any occult power, not -by any mysterious affinity, but by the clear-eyed reason which affirms -that, given certain conditions and certain ideals, the result is also -certain. And yet, while she acknowledged her confidence in him, -something, she knew not what, rebelled against his sympathy; it was an -interference, an offence. - -"It is a pity you did not take the will," she said coldly. "It would -have saved us all a great deal of annoyance." The patience in his -reply made her still more angry. She positively preferred her -husband's frown, as he suggested with a very different tone in his -voice, that if Major Marsden had finished breakfast he should come and -talk over details in the office. - -"But I should like your wife--" began Philip. - -"John is much better at business than I am," interrupted Belle. "I -don't take much interest in that sort of thing, and,--I would rather -not, thank you." - -So the two men whom fate had always placed in such strange antagonism -to each other sat amicably arranging the business, while Belle -wandered about from one occupation to another, angry with herself for -knowing which of the two had her interest most at heart. - -"It's all settled, Belle!" cried her husband gaily, as they came in to -lunch. "Marsden's a trump! but we knew that before, didn't we? You'll -never regret it though, Philip, for it is twenty per cent, and no -mistake. I say, Belle! we must have a bottle of champagne to drink to -the new firm, Marsden, Raby, and Co." - -He hurried off for the wine, leaving Belle and the Major alone. -Marsden, Raby, and Co.! Horrible, detestable! Nor was the position -bettered by Philip's remark that there was no other way out of it at -present. Dick's will might turn up, if, as was not unlikely, some one -had buried the poor lad; there was no doubt that some one had looked -after his effects in the shanties. At all events her husband had -arranged to pay back the money, by instalments, so soon as possible. -All this only made her reply stiffly, that she was sure John would do -his utmost to lessen the risk. - -"I shall leave it in his hands, at any rate," said Philip, who despite -his pity and sympathy was human. "I shan't trouble you much with -interference. By the way, when does the train leave tonight? I shall -have to be going on my way." - -"What's that?" cried John, returning with the champagne. "Going away? -Nonsense! You must see the new house, your new house for the time -being. And then there is the new dam; you must see that as member of -the firm, mustn't he, Belle?" - -Her silence roused Philip's old temper. "Yes, I suppose I ought to see -it all. Afzul is leaving tonight, as he has business somewhere or -other, but I will stop till to-morrow. We might ride over in the -morning to the house, if you have a horse at my disposal?" - -"They are all at your disposal," said Belle quickly. "Major Marsden -can ride Suleiman, John. I shall not want him." - -They dined in the garden again that evening, but it was a different -affair, and the perception that it was so added to Belle's wild -rebellion at the position in which she found, or fancied she found, -herself. When they stood out under the stars again saying good-night, -Belle's hand lay in Philip's for an instant while John filled himself -a tumbler from the tray in the verandah. Somehow the tragedy of her -face proved too much for the humour of the man, who knew himself -guiltless of all save a great tenderness. "I am not going to bite my -poor Belle!" he said with a smile half of amusement, half of -annoyance. "You needn't call in the aid of the policeman, I assure -you." - -She looked at him angrily, but as she turned away there were tears in -her eyes. - -He sat on the edge of his bed once more, pondering over the events of -the day, but this time there was no doubt in his mind at all. He cared -more for Belle's peace than for anything else in the world. He would -go away for a while; but he would not give her up; he would prove to -her that there was no need for that. - -To his surprise she was waiting in the verandah when he came out of -his room at daybreak next morning. She looked business-like and -self-reliant, as all women do in their riding-habits, and she was -fastening a rose at her collar. - -"John's not quite ready," she remarked easily; "but he said we had -better go on and he would catch us up. I want to see about the garden. -The roses here are mine, and as some of them are quite pretty,--this -one for instance--won't you take it? you can't have seen many roses -lately--I intend moving them. By the bye, I've sent out breakfast, so -as your train doesn't leave till midnight we can have a jolly day." - -Philip, fastening the rose in his buttonhole, wondered if the best -parlour with all the covers off was not worse than calls on the -policeman. Both seemed to him equally unnecessary, but then he had all -the advantage in position. He could show his friendship in an -unmistakable way, while poor Belle had only the far harder task of -receiving benefits. - -"You don't remember Suleiman, my Arab at Faizapore?" she said as they -cantered off. "You are riding him now,--oh, don't apologise, the pony -does well enough for me; John gave me such a delightful surprise in -buying him back after we were married." - -"Got him dirt cheap from a woman who was afraid to ride him," remarked -John coming up behind cheerfully; and Belle was divided between -vexation and pleasure at this depreciation of his own merits. - -"I should think you rode pretty straight as a rule," said Philip, -looking at her full in the face. "Many women make the mistake of -jagging at a beast's mouth perpetually. If you can trust him, it's far -better to leave him alone; don't you think so?" - -"John, race me to the next _kikar_ tree. It's our last chance, for we -shall be among the corn soon. Come!" - -Major Marsden, overtaking them at regulation pace, owned that Belle -did ride very straight indeed. Perhaps she was right after all, and -the position was untenable. He felt a little disheartened and weary, -only his pride remained firm, telling him that he had a perfect right -to settle the point as he chose. Surely he might at least rectify his -own mistakes. The sun climbed up and up, and even in the cooler, -greener river-land beat down fiercely on the stubble where here and -there the oxen circled round on the threshing-floors and clouds of -chaff, glittering like gold in the light, showed the winnower was at -work. John was in his element, pointing out this field promised to -indigo, and that village where a vat was to be built. - -"It is getting a little hot for Mrs. Raby to be out," remarked Philip, -though he was quite aware it would be an offence. - -"By George, it is late! Look, Belle! there's the house beyond those -trees on the promontory. It is three miles round, but if you cut -across, so, by the sand, it's only one and a half. Marsden and I will -go the other way. I have to see a village first, and then we can look -at the new dam." - -"It is over yonder, I suppose?" said Philip pointing to a likely bend -in the river bank. - -"Just so." - -"Then I will see Mrs. Raby across the cut, and join you there." - -"But I can manage quite well by myself," protested Belle. - -"I have no interest in villages, Mrs. Raby; and,--excuse me--before we -start your pony's girths require tightening." He slipped from his -horse and was at her side before she could reply. - -"Then I'm off," cried John with a faint shrug of his shoulders. "I'll -meet you at the corner, Marsden, in twenty minutes." - -"Steady, lad, steady!" murmured the Major with his head under the flap -of the saddle, as Suleiman figeted to join his stable-companion. Belle -standing, tapping her boot with her whip, moved forward. "Give me the -reins. I don't see why you should do everything." - -Philip came up from the girths smiling, and began on the curb. - -"What a fidget you are! I'm glad John isn't like that." - -"Curbs and girths mean more than you suppose. There! now you can go -neck-and-crop at everything, and I won't say you nay. Steady, lad, -steady! One, two, three--are you all right?" - -"Thank you, I think I have the proper number of hands and feet, and so -far as I know my head is on my shoulders," replied Belle tartly. - -They dipped down a bit from the fields to a sluggish stream edging the -higher land, and then scampered across the muddy flats towards the -promontory which lay right at the other side of the bend. - -"Pull up please!" cried Philip. "That strip looks _quick_." - -"Nonsense! John comes this way every week; it's all right." Belle gave -her pony a cut, making it forge ahead; but it was no match for -Suleiman who, unaccustomed to the spur, bounded past her. - -"Pull up, please; don't be foolish, pull up!" Philip shouted, hearing -the ominous cloop of his horse's feet. Another dig of the spur, a -leap, a flounder, and Suleiman was over the creek. Not so Belle's -pony; slower, heavier, it was hopelessly bogged in a second, and -floundering about, sank deeper and deeper. - -"Throw yourself off!" cried Philip; "as far as you can,--arms flat! -So,--quite still, please. There is no danger. I can get at you easily, -and it is not deep." A minute after his hand closed on her wrist as -she lay sinking slowly despite her stillness; for the pony, relieved -of her weight, was plunging like a mad thing and churning up the sand -and water to slush. "I must get a purchase first; these sands hold -like birdlime;" he said after an ineffectual attempt. "Don't be -frightened if I let go for a moment." Then with one hand through -Suleiman's stirrup he knelt once more on the extreme edge of the firm -ground and got a grip of Belle again. "Now then,--all together!" More -all together than he desired, for Suleiman, alarmed at the strain, -backed violently, reared, and finally broke away, leaving Philip prone -on his back in the dirt. "I hope I didn't hurt you," he said, -struggling up, rather blindly, to aid Belle's final flounder to safe -ground. - -"Not much," she replied with a nervous laugh as she shook the -curiously dry sand from her habit. "My wrist will be a bit black and -blue, that's all. Why, Philip, what's the matter? Philip!" - -He had doubled up limply, horribly, as if he had been shot, and lay in -a heap at her feet. - -"Philip! What is it?" - -As she slipped her arm beneath him to raise his head, something warm -and wet trickled over it,--blood! - -"The wound," he murmured. "My handkerchief,--anything,--I am sorry." -Then the pain died out of his face and his head felt heavy on her arm. - -The wound! She sought for it by the aid of that ghastly trickle only -to find, when she tore the coverings away, that it was no trickle, but -an intermittent gushing. That must be stopped somehow,--her -handkerchief, his handkerchief, her own little white hands. It had all -passed so quickly that it seemed but a minute since he had cried "Pull -up," and there she was with his head on her knee, face downwards, and -the warm blood soaking over her. People make long stories afterwards -of such scenes; but as a matter of fact they derive all their horror -from their awful swiftness. - -Belle, bareheaded in the sunlight, was full of one frantic desire to -see the face hidden away in her habit. Was he dead? Was that the -reason why the blood oozed slower and slower? She craned over his -close-cropped hair only to see the outline of his cheek. "Philip, -Philip!" she whispered in his ear; but there was no answer. Was it -five minutes, was it ten, was it an hour since she had sat there with -her hands?--? Ah, ghastly, ghastly! She could not look at them; and -yet for no temptation in the world would she have moved a finger, lest -he was not dead and she,--oh, blessed thought!--was staving death -aside. - -A shout behind, and her husband tearing down at a mad gallop, alarmed -at the return of the riderless horse. "Good God! Belle! what has -happened?" - -"Look, and tell me if he is dead," she said. "Quick! I want to -know,--I want to know!" - -He was not dead, and yet the bleeding had stopped. Then they must get -him home; get him somewhere as best they could. A string bed was -brought from the nearest village, with relays of willing yet placid -bearers; Belle walked beside it, in Philip's helmet, for her own hat -had been lost in the quicksand, keeping her hand on the rough bandages -while John raced ahead to set the doors open. It was dreary crossing -the threshold of the new house, with the jostling, shuffling footsteps -of those who carry something that is death's or will be death's. But -there was a light in Belle's eyes, and even her husband, accustomed as -he was to her even nerves, wondered at her calm decision. Since they -must procure a doctor as quickly as possible, the best plan would be -for John to ride across country to a station where the afternoon mail -stopped. To return to Saudaghur and a mere hospital assistant would be -needless delay. She did not mind, she said, being left alone; and -meanwhile they must send for a supply of necessaries since it was -evident that Philip could not be moved, at any rate for a day or two. -So Belle sat in the big empty room, which by and by was to be hers, -and watched alone by the unconscious man, feeling that it was her turn -now. It was a vigil not to be forgotten. And once as she raised his -head on her arm in order to moisten his lips with the stimulant which -alone seemed to keep life in him, he stirred slightly, his eyes opened -for a second, and a faint murmur reached her ear, "No need for a -policeman." - -A smile, pathetic in its absolute self-surrender, came to her face as -she stooped and kissed him with the passion of protection and -possession which a mother has for her helpless child; and that is a -love which casts out fear. As she crouched once more beside the coarse -pallet where he lay, for the room was destitute of all furniture save -the string woven bed, Belle Raby, for the first time in her life, -faced facts undistorted by her own ideals, and judged things as they -were, not as they ought to be. She loved this man; but what was that -love? Was it a thing to be spoken of with bated breath just because -the object happened to be a person whom, all things consenting, one -might have married? Her nature was healthy and unselfish; her -knowledge of the "devastating passion" which is said to devour -humanity was derived entirely from a pious but unreasoning belief in -what she was told. It is not the fashion nowadays to say so, but that -is really the position in which a vast majority of women find -themselves in regard to many social problems. And so, in that dreary, -shadowy room, with the man she loved dependent on her care for his -sole chance of life, Belle Raby asked herself wherein lay the sin or -shame of such a love as hers, and found no answer. - -And yet, when her husband returned with the doctor, he brought back -with him also the old familiar sense that something, she knew not -what, was wrong. The old resentment, born of the old beliefs, at the -odious position in which she found herself. But now she tried to set -these thoughts aside as unworthy, unworthy of her own self, above all -unworthy of Philip. - - - - - CHAPTER XX. - - -Afzul Khan was sitting in Shunker Das's house at Faizapore with a -frown upon his face. He had come all the way in order to consult -Mahomed Lateef, the old Syyed, about a certain blue envelope which was -hidden away in his _posteen_, only to find that the old man had -retreated before his enemies to his last foothold of land, while the -usurer had enlarged his borders at the expense of the ruined old -chief's ruined house. - -Now Mahomed Lateef was Afzul Khan's patron. In this way. The latter -was foster-brother to that dead son who had died gloriously in the -regiment, and who had been born at an outpost on the frontier. Indeed, -but for the old man, Afzul would never have put the yoke of service -round his neck. So his frown was not only on account of his useless -journey; much of it was anger at his old friend's misfortunes, and -those who had taken advantage of them. It angered him to see a blue -monkey painted on the wall in front of which the staunch Mohammedan -used to say his prayers; it angered him still more to see the rows of -cooking-pots where there used to be but one. Yet business was -business, and Shunker might be able to tell him what had become of the -Commissariat-Colonel _sahib's_ daughter; for Afzul had had the address -of the letter spelt out for him by a self-satisfied little schoolboy -at Kohat, and knew enough of poor Dick's family history to suppose -that Belle Stuart must be his cousin. - -"Estuart _sahib's_ daughter," echoed Shunker, a sullen scowl settling -on his face; as it always did at the memory of his wrongs. "Why she -married that _shaitan_ Raby who lives at Saudaghur now, because he was -turned out of the service. _Wah!_ a fine pair, and a fine tale. She -had a lover, Marsden of a Sikh regiment, who paid for her with lakhs -on lakhs. Then, when he was killed, she took the money and married -Raby. Scum! and they talk about our women, bah!" - -This was not all malice and uncharitableness on the usurer's part; for -it must be remembered that, if we know very little of Indian social -life, the natives know still less of ours; the result being, on both -sides, the explanation of strange phenomena by our own familiar -experience; and this is not, as a rule, a safe guide in conditions of -which we know nothing. - -Afzul gave a guttural snort, startling but expressive. "She married -Raby! Truly it is said 'The journeyings of fools are best not made.' -And Marsden _sahib_--long life to him!--was her lover! _Inshallah!_ -she might have found a worse." - -"Before the worms got him," chuckled Shunker; "and then his money was -worth another fine man. That is woman's way, white or black." - -"Raby _sahib's mem_," repeated Afzul meditatively. "There thou -speakest truth, O Shunker. He is with her now." The memory of those -two, standing together hand in hand, came to him and he nodded his -head approvingly, for the thought that Belle's allegiance might return -to its original object commended itself to his mind; his view of the -subject not being occidental. - -"Who is with her now?" asked Shunker with a stare. - -"Marsden _sahib_. Hast not heard he hath come back to life?" - -The usurer's eyes almost started from his head. "Come back!" he -shrieked. "He is not dead! Oh holy Lukshmi! what offerings to thy -shrine! Why, the _shaitan_ will lose the money; he will have to give -up the business; and I--oh Gunesh-_ji!_ I am revenged, I am revenged!" -He lay back on his bed gasping, gurgling, choking with spiteful -laughter and real passionate delight. - -The Pathan scowled. His knowledge of English law was limited, and he -objected to laughter at Marsden _sahib's_ expense. "If he gave it to -the _mem_ for what he got, as thou sayest, Shunker, Marsden _sahib_ -will never ask it back. He will take the woman instead; that is but -fair." - -"Thou dost not understand their crooked ways," gasped Shunker; "and -'tis waste of time to explain. So Marsden _sahib_ is alive again; that -is news indeed! _Hurri Gunga!_ I must go down to Saudaghur and -felicitate the _shaitan_ on his friend's return. He! he! on his -friend's return!" - -Afzul felt the longing of the frontiersman to stick a knife in a fat -Hindu stomach, but he refrained. The blue envelope was going to be a -heavier responsibility than he had thought for, and till that was -settled he must not wander into by-ways. No matter how the pig-faced -idolater had lied in other things, it was true, about the _mem_ and -the Major, he had seen that with his own eyes. Had Dick _sahib_ been -her lover too? And what did both those brave ones see in such a poor, -thin creature? Truly the ways of the _sahib-logue_ were past finding -out. Nevertheless he would seek out the old Khan, and see what he -said. Shunker might be lying, all except that about the _mem-sahib_ -and the Major; that was true. - -It was well on to noon when Afzul, after many hours of varied -travelling by train, by canal, and finally on foot, found himself in -Mahomed Lateef's last few acres of land. Of a surety they were not -ones to be voluntarily chosen as a resting-place; bare of everything -save the sparse stalks of last year's millet crop, showing all too -clearly how scanty that crop had been; bare to the very walls of the -half-ruined tower which stood supported on one side by the mud hovel -occupied by the owner. A significant fact, that bareness, showing the -lack of flocks and herds, the lack of everything that was not wanted -for immediate use. And as he stood at the open door of the yard, it -also showed clean-swept and garnished, dire sign of the poverty which -allows nothing to go to waste. Yet it was not empty of all, for as the -Pathan knocked again, a child, bubbling over with laughter, ran from a -dark door into the sunlight. - -"Nana, Nana! [grand-dad] catch, catch!" it cried, and its little legs, -unsteady though they were, kept their advantage on the long ones -behind, long but old; crippled too with rheumatism and want of food to -keep the stern old heart in fighting order; yet bubbling over with -laughter, also, was the stern old face. "Catch thee, gazelle of the -desert! fleetest son of Byramghor! Who could catch thee? Ah, God and -his Prophet! thou hast not hurt thyself, little heart of my heart! -What, no tears? Fatma, Fatma! the boy hath fallen and on my life he -hath not shed a tear. _Ai_, the bold heart! _ai_, the brave man!" - -An old woman, bent almost double with age, crept from the door. She -kissed the child's feet as it sat throned in its grandfather's arms. -Her lips could reach no higher, but that was high enough for worship. -"He never cries! None of them cried, and he is like them all," -she crooned. "Dost have a mind, Khan _sahib_, of Futteh Mahomed -falling?--the first, and I so frightened. There was a scratch a finger -long on his knee and--" - -"Peace, Fatma, and go back! There is a stranger at the door. Go back, -I say!" - -It was a difficult task to draw the veil over those bent shoulders, -but the old woman's wrinkled hands did their best as she scurried away -obediently. - -"_Salaam Alaikoom!_" said the Pathan. "The mother may return. It is I, -Afzul, brother of the breast." - -"Afzul!" The old martinet's face grew dark. "The only Afzul I knew was -a runaway and a deserter. Art thou he?" - -"Ay! Khan _sahib_," replied the man calmly. "I ran away because I had -sold my life to Marsden _sahib_, and I wanted to buy it back again. I -have done it, and I am free." - -"Marsden _sahib!_ 'Tis long since I heard that name. Allah be with the -brave! Pity there was none to stand between him and death as on that -day when my son died." - -"Thou liest, Khan _sahib_. I stood in my brother's place. Marsden -_sahib_ is not dead. I left him three days ago at Saudaghur." - -"Not dead? This is a tale! A prisoner no doubt. _Inshallah!_ my blood -scents something worth words. Here, Fatma, take the child; or, stay, -it's best he should hear too. Such things sink through the skin and -strengthen the heart. And bring food, woman, what thou hast, and no -excuses. A brave man stomachs all save insult." - -So, with the child on his knee, the old soldier listened to Afzul -Khan's story, while in the dark room beyond the women positively shed -tears of shame over the poor appearance which the plain _bajra_,[6] -cakes, unsweetened, unbuttered, presented on the big brass platter. - -"There is the boy's curdled milk," suggested his sad-faced mother. "He -will not mind for a day." - -"Peace, unnatural!" scolded the grandmother. "The boy's milk, -forsooth! What next? Women nowadays have no heart. A strange man, and -the boy's milk forsooth!" - -Haiyat _bibi_ blushed under her brown skin. Hers was a hard life with -her husband far over the black water, and this stern old man and woman -for gaolers. But the boy was hers; she hugged that knowledge to her -heart and it comforted her. - -The evening drew in, the child dozed off to sleep, but not one jot or -tittle of adventure was to be passed over in silence. "_Inshallah!_ -but thou didst well!" "God send the traitors to hell!" "Ay! Marsden -_sahib_ was ever the bravest of the brave!" These and many another -exclamation testified to the old campaigner's keen interest. But when -Afzul began tentatively to question him about the blue envelope, the -light died from the hollow eyes. Raby _sahib?_ Nay, he knew nought, -save that the people said it was the _mem-sahib's_ money he was -spending in this new talk of indigo and what not. He wished them no -ill, but Murghub Ahmad, far away in the Andamans, had saved the _mem_ -from insult,--perhaps worse--and she had given evidence against him in -the trial. He wished no man ill, but if what the people said was true, -and Raby _sahib's_ new dam would prevent the river from doing its -duty, then it would be a different matter. Ay! the new factory was but -ten miles up the river, but no one lived there as yet. - -Now the matter of the blue envelope became more and more oppressive to -Afzul Khan the more he thought of it. Easy enough to send it -anonymously to Raby _sahib's mem_, and so be quit of it once for all; -but what if she had taken the Major's money, as Shunker asserted, in -order to buy a new husband? And what if this paper of Eshmitt -_sahib's_ meant more loot? Afzul was, all unconsciously, jealous of -this white-faced _mem_, and but for a strange sort of loyalty to the -boy he had betrayed would have liked to put the letter in the fire, -shake himself loose of all ties, and return to his people. - -"Nay! thou askest more than I have to give," replied Mahomed Lateef to -his questioning. "I know 'tis on paper they leave their moneys, for, -as I said, the Colonel _sahib_ once asked me--'twas in China, during -the war--to set my name as witness to something." - -"Was it long-shaped, in a blue cover?" asked Afzul, eagerly. - -"There was no cover, but it was long, like the summons from the -courts. Stay! if thy mind be really set on such knowledge there is a -friend of my poor Murghub's--one who pleads in the courts--even now -resting in his father's village but a space from here. He must know -more than thou canst want to hear." - -So in the cool of the next morning Afzul walked through the barren -fields to see the pleader. A keen-faced sallow young man, seemingly -glad to escape for the time from patent-leather boots and such like -products of civilisation. The Pathan found him squatting over against -a _hookah_ and basking in the sunshine like the veriest villager. For -all that he was fulfilled with strange knowledge of law and order as -administered by the alien, and Afzul sat open-eyed while he discoursed -of legacies, and settlements, of the _feme covert_ and the Married -Women's Property Act, with a side glance at divorces and permanent -alimony--strange topics to be gravely discussed at the gateway of an -Indian village through which men were carried to their rest and women -to their bridal beds, with scant appeal to anything but custom. It -utterly confused Afzul, though it sent him away convinced that the -blue envelope must mean the loot of another lover to the _mem-sahib_. - -"I will wait," he said to himself decisively; "yes, I will wait until -she is faithful and goes back to the Major; then, as that pleader -fellow says, he will get the money. But if _he_ leaves her and takes -his money instead, then I will send her the envelope. That is but -fair. God and his Prophet! but their ways are confusing. 'Tis better -to steal and fight as we do; it makes the women faithful." - -That evening he spent half an hour with a needle and thread, borrowed -from old Fatma, in sewing the blue envelope safely into his skin-coat. -Then he sat once more stirring the old Mohammedan's blood with tales -of fight and adventure till far on into the night. Yet the earliest -blink of dawn found him creeping away from the still sleeping -household, and his right arm bare of a massive gold bracelet he had -worn for years. That he had left lying on the baby's pillow; for was -not the child the son of his brother? Had not his father saved Marsden -_sahib_ also? Ah! that score was not paid off yet. He still seemed to -see the tall figure standing in the sunlight. Fool that he had been -not to fire, instead of giving himself away at a mere word! Even now, -though he knew that but for him Philip Marsden's bones would have been -churning in a dreary dance of death at the bottom of some boiling pool -in the Terwan torrent, he felt the bitterness of defeat. His very -admiration, growing as it did with the other's display of pluck, added -to his resentment. To take an order from a man when you had your -finger on the trigger of your rifle! It was all very well to save a -wounded comrade, to stand by him through thick and thin, but that did -not show him, or convince yourself, that you cared as little for his -menace as he had done for yours. Some day, yes, some day! he would -stand up before Marsden _sahib_ and defy him. Then he could cry quits, -and go home to his own people in peace. - -Nevertheless, the news of his master's accident which met him on his -return to Saudaghur sent him without an instant's pause to the factory -where Philip still lay unconscious. And when he walked, at the dead of -night, into the big bare room where Belle sat watching, his face -softened at the sight of that dark head on the pillow. It softened -still more when something of the past--Heaven knows what--seemed to -come with him, rousing a low, quick voice from the bed. "Afzul, it is -cold; put on more fuel. Do you not feel the cold? Afzul, Afzul!" For -that something had carried Philip Marsden back to the smoky cave among -the snows, although the windows stood wide open to let in the tardy -coolness of the summer night. - -The Pathan drew himself together and stood at attention. "_Huzoor!_" -he answered quietly. "It is done; the fire blazes." - -Belle in the half-shadows thrown by the sheltered lamp stood up -looking kindly at the new-comer. "I'm glad you have come, Afzul," she -whispered; "he has been calling for you so often." - -Behind his military salute the man smiled approvingly. She was of the -right sort, faithful to the old love. Marsden _sahib_ should marry her -and get the money, if that was the way they managed things over the -black water. And this solution of the question grew upon him as he -watched her unfailing devotion when, between them, they helped the -sick man through the dreary trouble which was all too familiar to the -Pathan. "It was so in the cave," he would say, as time dragged on -through days when the sick man lay still and silent, through nights -when the quick hurried words never seemed to leave his lips and it was -all they could do to keep on the bandages. - -"It's the bullet in the shoulder blade that's troublin' him," said the -clever little Irish doctor, who rode forty miles every day between two -trains in order to see his patient and keep an eye on his hospital. -"Put three more days' strength into him, Mrs. Raby, and I'll bring -over another man and we'll have at it somehow. The wound has niver -haled, and niver will till it gets a fair chance." - -Shortly after this Belle found herself pacing up and down the -verandah, scarcely daring to think of what was going on within. Would -he die? Was this really the end? Was it to be peace at last, and no -more struggle? And lo and behold! when the doctors let her into the -room again he was lying with a smile on his face, because the pain, -the ceaseless pain which had annihilated everything else in the world, -was gone. - -"I've given you a lot of trouble," he said; and even as he spoke fell -asleep from sheer, blessed ease. - -After that again came a time when even Afzul stood aside and let the -_mem_ take the lead while he sat watching her curiously--a time when -it positively seemed more to her that Philip should take so many -spoonfuls of nourishment every hour than that he should get better; -when the content of immediate success blotted out the thought of -future failure, and the fear of death was forgotten in the desire of -staving it off. Most people who have nursed a case in which even the -doctors stay their hands and wait on Nature, know that strange -dream-like life wherein the peaks and passes on the temperature chart -seem by contraries to raise or depress the whole world. Belle fought -the fight bravely; and not until she stood one day looking at a -thermometer which registered normal did she feel a sinking at her -heart. They had come down into the low levels of life; they were back -in the work-day world. Yet it was not the one they had left six weeks -before. Even outwardly it had changed. The last green blade of grass -had withered to a brown shadow on the sunbaked soil, and the -dust-storms of May swept over the half-finished house. - -"It looks dreary enough now, but just you wait till next year," said -John Raby, in his cheerful confident way. "The new dam will be -finished, I hope, the water will come in at high level to the garden, -the place will be a paradise of flowers, and we shall be dividing -thirty per cent, profit! There's a prospect! Oh, by the way, did I -ever tell you that beast Shunker Das came down just after you did, -Marsden, expecting to find me on my back like a turned turtle? His -face, when he saw I was jolly as a sand-boy, was a caution! By George! -that man does hate me and no mistake." - -Belle moved a step nearer her husband and laid her hand on the back of -his easy-chair. Perhaps it was only his good-nature in leaving her -free to nurse Philip, but somehow she felt they had drifted far apart -during the past six weeks. "I seem to have heard nothing," she began, -wistfully. - -"Better employed on the head of the firm, my dear," he replied with a -laugh. "You do her credit, Marsden. And now I must be off again, for -there is some idiotic fuss at a village a few miles off. Shunker's -work, I expect; but we are too strong for him. Even the native -recognises the almighty dollar, and if they will only have patience, -I'll engage to treble the revenue of this district. Well, good-bye, -Belle. I'll be back to-morrow or next day. Soon as I can 'get,' as the -Americans say. Take care of yourselves." - -When he had gone the punkah went on swinging, Belle's hands knitted -busily, Philip's lay idle in the languor of convalescence; all was as -before, and yet there was a difference--a difference of which each was -conscious, and which brought a certain restraint. - -"Why does Shunker hate him?" asked Major Marsden. - -There was no lack of confidence now between these two, and if he asked -many questions, she was quite ready to answer them faithfully, -according to her lights. In this one, however, she failed to give a -just impression, for the simple reason that she herself had no -conception of the extent of the usurer's malice. In fact, his impotent -rage on discovering that Philip's return had apparently made no -difference to the Rabys would have been incredible to an educated -Englishwoman, had she been aware of it, which she was not. The man, -coming down to Saudaghur expectant of consternation, had found nothing -but a stir of fresh enterprise which his keen business eye told him -meant money. He wandered about from village to village, noting the -golden seed being sown by his adversary, until the thought of the -harvest in which he would have no share positively worried him into -spleen and ague. And as he lay among the simple village folk a fresh -idea for revenge came to console him. It is never hard to change the -stolid opposition of the Indian peasant into stolid obstruction. No -overt injustice is required; nothing but a disregard of custom. And so -Shunker, taking advantage of the short period during which he had been -associated in partnership with John Raby, began cautiously to call in -debts in the name of the firm. Now in an Indian village a debt to the -ancestral usurer is a debt; that is to say no nighty ephemeral -liability which may crop up at any time claiming payment, but a good, -solid inheritance going back sometimes a generation or two; a patent -almost of solvency, a claim certainly for consideration at the hands -of your banker; since a bumper crop might any day give you the -upper-hand, or a bad one make it still more unwise for the creditor to -present his bill. Thus, when Shunker disregarded time-worn prejudices -to the extent of asking one Peru, an old-established customer, to make -a settlement, the latter looked as if the foundations of the round -world had been moved. - -"Pay," he said slowly, his broad nostrils inflated like those of a -horse shying at novelty, "I am always paying, _buniak-ji_, year by -year, one harvest or another. God knows how much, but 'tis the old -way, and old ways are good." - -"They are good," sighed the usurer, piously. "I like them myself, -Peru; but new masters have new ways." - -"New masters do not make new land," retorted the peasant shrewdly -enough. "That remains the same. It must be sown; yet when I ask the -seed-grain, as my fathers have done, the answer is '_Pay!_' Pay! of -course I will pay when the crops ripen. Does not harvest mean payment -to the peasant?" - -"Your crops won't ripen long on those fields, I'm afraid, my poor -Peru! The _sahib_ wants land, here, everywhere, for this new factory -of his. The men who will not pay will see what befalls. A little will -go this year, a little more next. If I were alone 'twould be a -different matter, for I was ever faithful to my friends." - -Shunker's air of virtuous distress was admirable, but Peru laughed; -the rough peasant laugh full of broad toleration. "As vermin to the -Pathan, so are the grain-dealers to the farmer! We warm you, and you -feed on us till you grow troublesome, then--off goes the coat! One -_buniah_ is like another; why then dost change?" - -"I change not, dunderhead!" cried Shunker enraged at a certain slow -superiority in the other. "'Tis Raby _sahib_ claims payment." - -"Then tell Raby _sahib_ I will pay when the river comes. It will come -this year perhaps, if not, next year; if luck be bad, it may tarry -twain, not longer. It comes ever sooner or later; then, let us talk of -payment." - -Shunker leaned forward, his evil face kindling with malice. "But what, -Peru, if the river never returns? What if Raby _sahib's_ new dam is -built to prevent the water coming, so that he may have a grip on the -land? What if the seed-grain thou sowest springs green, to die yellow, -year after year?" - -Pera Ditta's ox-eyes opened helplessly. What if the river never -returned? The idea was too vast for him, and yet it remained with him -long after Shunker had gone to sow the same seed of mischief in other -minds. He did it deftly, taking care not to turn the screw too tightly -at first, lest he should bring down on himself the villagers' final -argument of the stick. The reason given by the Laird of Inverawe for -hanging the Laird of Inverie, "that he just didna like him," has been -given before now as fair cause for doing an unfortunate usurer to -death with quarterstaves. So Shunker did not disturb primeval calm too -rudely. Nevertheless as he paused for a night ere returning to -Faizapore, in the empty house at Saudaghur, where Kirpo had passed the -months of Ramu's captivity, he felt content with his labours. He had -started a stone of unpopularity on its travels, which by and by would -bring down an avalanche on his enemy. - -As he lounged on the string bed, set for coolness on the flat roof, he -told himself, not without a measure of truth, that sooner or later all -his enemies perished. Ah, if it were only as easy to keep those you -loved in life, as it was to drive those you hated down to death! But -it was not; and the thought of frail, sickly Nuttu came, as it often -did, to take the savour even from revenge. The memory of deserted -Kirpo's sons,--those strapping youngsters whom he had often seen -playing on that very roof--made him groan and roll over on his fat -stomach to consider the possibility of marrying yet another wife. He -had married so many only to find disappointment! As his face came -back, disheartened, to the unsympathetic stars which fought against -him, he started as if he had been shot. For there was Kirpo herself -tall and menacing standing beside the bed. The veil wrapped tightly -round her body, left her disfigured death's-head face visible. - -"Don't be more of a coward than need be," she said scornfully, as the -Lala, after shooting up like a Jack-in-the-box, began to sidle away -from her, his dangling legs swinging wildly in his efforts to move his -fat form. "I've not come to beat the breath from thy carcase. 'Twill -die soon enough, never fear; and just now there is a son to perform -the obsequies. There won't be one by and by." - -The indifference of her voice, and the aptness of her words to his own -thoughts, roused the Lala's rage. "What dost want, hag of a noseless -one?" he shrieked, "she-devil! base-born!--" - -"Not bad words, Lala," she interrupted calmly. "I've had enough of -them. I want money. I'm starving; thou knowest it. What else could I -be?" - -"Starving!" The word rolled sweeter than any honey under Shunker's -tongue. "Then starve away. So thou thoughtest to trick me--me! How -didst like the bangles, Kirpo dear? the brave bangles,--he,--he!" - -To his surprise the allusion failed to touch her. Instead of breaking -into abuse she looked at him curiously, drew her veil so as to hide -all but her great dark eyes, and squatted down, as if for a chat, on -the ground opposite to him. - -"Look here, Lala!" she said. "This is no matter for ill words: 'tis -business. What is past, is past. I'm going to give thee a chance for -the future--a last chance! Dost hear? So I've come to say I am -starving. For six months I paid for my food in this very place; paid -for it in thy pleasure. Fair and square so far. But now, because of -that pleasure, Ramu is in jail again and I am noseless. Then Ramu's -people have taken his sons,--_hai! hai!_ his beautiful sons--from me -because of that pleasure. Is not that payment enough, Lala? Shall I -starve also?" - -"Why not?" chuckled Shunker, "I have no need of thee any more." - -Kirpo leaned forward with hand raised in warning, her fierce eyes on -his face. "Have a care, Lala! Have a care! It is the last chance. Thou -dost not want me; good. I asked for naught to be taken; I asked for -something to be given." - -"Not a _paisa_, not a _pai!_" broke in the usurer brutally. "I'm glad -of thy starvation; I'm glad they've taken away thy sons." - -"Stop, Lala!" shrieked Kirpo, her calm gone, her voice ringing with -passion. "I did not say _my_ sons! I said Ramu's! Look, Shunker, look! -I have another,--" as she spoke, she tore her veil aside--"in my arms, -Lala! Is he not fair and strong for a two months' babe? Would you not -like to have him? No, no, hands off, no touching! He is mine, I say, -mine, mine!" She sprang to her feet holding the baby high above his -head exultantly. He sat staring at it, and trembled like a leaf. - -"Kirpo!" he gasped, "give it to me; by all the Gods in Heaven, I will -pay--" - -A peal of mocking laughter greeted the words. "Bah! Now I have roused -thee. 'Tis all a lie, Shunker, all a lie! Only a trick of starving -Kirpo's! And yet, somehow he favours thee as thou mightest have been -before the grease came to spoil beauty. For all that not like Nuttu, -the sickly one. Nuttu will die, this one will live. Wilt thou not, -heart's darling and delight?" She covered the babe with a storm of -passionate kisses. - -"Kirpo! by all the torments of hell--" urged Shunker. - -"What! art there already? Not so fast, Lala! not so fast. Wait till I -bring this babe to curse thy pyre, to spit on thy ashes,--thy son--thy -son!" - -"It is a lie!" burst in the wretched man, beside himself with doubt, -certainty, and desire. "He is not mine." - -"Well said, Shunker, well said!" laughed Kirpo triumphantly, growing -calmer with her evident success. "He is not thine, he is mine." She -folded her veil round the sleeping child with a flourish, as if to -emphasise her words, and stepped backwards. As she stood there sombre, -malignant, the winged thoughts flew through Shunker's brain. There is, -strictly speaking, no possible divorce, no remarriage for the Hindu; -but if Ramu could be got out of the way, he, Shunker Das, might pose -as a social reformer. It was a fine idea. Or he might,--a thousand -suggestions found expression in the covetous hands he stretched -towards his victim. "Kirpo, listen!" - -"I will not listen. I gave the chance for the child's sake. Now--" - -"Kirpo! take what thou likest--" - -"I _will_ take what I like, Lala. That is revenge!" Before he could -say another word she had turned her back on him, and ere he could rise -to stop her was down the narrow stair and out into the street with her -precious burden. - -So Lala Shunker Das lay down and cried, because not one of the women -his wealth had bought could bear him a son save this Kirpo whom he had -betrayed. Fool that he was not to have seen she must have some deep -move on hand ere she came to beg of him! Revenge! He had dreamt of -that himself; but what was his poor spite to this devilish malice? He -tried to remember that want was a hard master; that Kirpo's own people -came from beyond the fourth[7] river and were therefore useless to her -as a refuge; that it was woman's way to bark more than bite. In his -heart of hearts he knew that she had said truly when she offered him -his last chance. And, as a matter of fact, while he sat trying to -recover confidence on the edge of his bed, Kirpo and the baby, with -many a swing of the full skirts as she strode along, were making their -way direct to the enemy's camp; in other words to John Raby's new -factory. The _sahib_ had interfered on her behalf once, and he hated -Shunker. He could give her coolie's work on the new dam, and in return -she could give him valuable information as to the usurer's little -game. The Lala, had had his chance, partly for the sake of comfort, -partly for the sake of the child. Now she would devote herself to -revenge and gain a living at the same time. - -Of all this, however, Belle was profoundly ignorant; nor did Kirpo say -more to her new master than was necessary to show a sound, conceivable -reason for her professions of attachment to his cause. John Raby -laughed when he heard of his enemy's vows of vengeance; but he was -wise enough to see the prospect of unpopularity with his poorer -neighbours, and the advisability of being prepared for opposition. - -"I hope you don't mind, Marsden," he said a day or two before the -Major left, "but I've been treating with that truculent rascal of -yours, Afzul. He's coming back to India, he says, next cold weather, -on business or something. I've asked him to bring me a gang of navvies -and do overseer himself till next rainy season. Those hill-men work -like Englishmen, and the new dam will require constant care until it -solidifies; besides, I believe in mercenaries; a bandit is always -handy." - -"And Afzul consented?" asked Philip in surprise. - -"Jumped at it. There is no one like the noble savage for turning an -honest penny when he can, and I own to tempting him pretty stiffly. We -may want that sort of fellow by and by to keep things going." - -"I am surprised at Afzul for all that," continued Philip, -thoughtfully. "I wonder what he means?" - -"Devotion to you," laughed the other; "you should have heard him. And -you too, Belle! He laid the butter on thick about your capabilities as -a nurse." - -She looked up quickly. "I suppose it's ungrateful, but I don't like -that man. He always seems to have something in his mind that I can't -get hold of." - -"He is very intelligent," replied her husband with a shrug of his -shoulders; "and took quite an interest in the business, I assure you; -he asked a lot of questions. And, to tell the truth, I think a -thoroughly devoted rascal is the most useful thing in creation; so I -hope he is one." - -Philip laughed. "Shall I leave my interests in his hands, Belle, or in -yours?" - -"Leave them to me, my dear fellow," interrupted John. "Belle doesn't -understand business." - - - - - CHAPTER XXI. - - -Perhaps her husband was right in saying Belle did not understand -business. At any rate she had little to do with it in the uneventful -months which followed. It was a dry, hot year bringing no respite of -rain to the long weary hours. It brought plenty of work, however, to -John Raby, who was up with the dawn, and never seemed to tire or flag -in his unceasing pursuit of success. In good sooth, as Belle confessed -to herself, Philip could have found no better custodian for his money; -and this knowledge was a great consolation,--how great she scarcely -realised until something came to disturb it. - -She was writing to Philip Marsden one day when John entered the room. -She rose hastily, even though she felt vexed with herself for doing -so. Why should she not write? As a matter of fact she spent a -considerable portion of her time over these letters. Sometimes she -would resolutely put pen and paper away, and set to work to sew every -possible button on John's under-garments, or perform some other -virtuous domestic duty, only to find when all was done that leisure -still stared her in the face. For the leisure of a long hot-weather -day in an outstation may be compared to that of a solitary cell. Their -nearest neighbours were twenty miles away, and Belle's experiment of -having her youngest and most good-natured step-sister on a visit had -ended in disastrous failure. The girl had cried for three days -consecutively out of sheer low spirits. It was all very well, she said -plaintively, when one was married and got something by it; but what -was the use of being miserable before there was any necessity for it, -and when one couldn't even scold the servants to amuse one's self? By -and by, when Charlie Allsop got his step, she would no doubt have to -put up with jungle life for a time; but now her dearest Belle must -excuse her. Maud had written _such_ a description of the dress she was -going to wear at the Masonic ball; and really, now that Mabel was -married to her widower, and Charlie's schooling paid for by John, they -got on splendidly in the little house. Why shouldn't Belle go back to -Missouri with her, and take rooms at Scott's Hotel? They would have -such fun! But, though her husband gave her full leave to do as she -liked, Belle shook her head over this tempting offer. She felt that -she could not afford to neglect the tithes of mint and cummin, the -jots and tittles of the law; she must at any rate make offering of -what she had to give. So she stayed at home, and blushed violently -when she rose from her desk. - -"Writing to Marsden?" said John carelessly. "I thought you might be, -and I wanted you just to give him a hint or two about the business. It -would come naturally from you and save surprise. The fact is, there -has been a lot of unforeseen expense; then the firm in Calcutta to -which I sent my first batch of stuff has failed. Altogether I sha'n't -be able to spare any interest on the money this year." - -"No interest?" Belle could only echo his words stupidly, for the very -idea of such a contingency had never entered her head, and the fact -seemed to bring back all the old sickening dislike to the situation. - -"Well!" He looked at her with the expression of distasteful patience -which always came to his face when awaiting a remonstrance. But none -followed. She was so absorbed in the fresh shame, to her, of this -failure, that she could think of nothing else. - -"Of course it is a pity," he went on, somewhat mollified by her -silence, "but Marsden isn't a fool. He knows one has generally to wait -for a return; indeed I consider it lucky we have not to borrow. I wish -you wouldn't look so tragic over it, Belle. We are not ruined; far -from it. Only for the present we have to live on our capital." - -Belle's face brightened. "Could we not pay the interest out of -capital, too, John?" - -Her husband burst out laughing as he threw himself into an easy chair. -"Upon my soul, for utter incapacity to understand even the morals of -business, commend me to a really good woman! Interest out of capital! -We are not a swindling company, Belle!" - -"We might pay it out of your own savings, John," she urged, knowing -how hopeless it would be to argue. - -"Transference from one budget-head to another, and consequent cooking -of accounts! No, my dear; I left that system of book-keeping behind me -when I quitted Government service. Marsden must go without his -interest for the present; he has very good pay, and the loss is quite -temporary. In any circumstances the returns would have been -unfavourable for this year, owing to the drought. Why, even with the -aid of the dam I have scarcely had enough water for a quarter of the -acreage I intend to have next season." - -His voice tailed off into indifference as his attention became -concentrated in a paper he had taken up, and there was an end of the -matter so far as he was concerned. - -Pens, ink and paper had lost their attraction for Belle that day, and -for many days after; indeed, it was not until the knowledge that her -long silence would cause anxiety, that she faced the task of finishing -her letter to Major Marsden. The very certainty that he would care -little for the absence of the promised dividend, and be quite ready to -accept her husband's views on the matter, made it seem all the more -hard for her; and though she determined to leave the proper person to -tell the unwelcome news, she found herself hampered on all sides by -her own knowledge. Even remarks on the dryness of the weather savoured -of an attempt at excuse, and for the first time she felt glad to write -her signature at the bottom of the page. When it was done she leant -her head over her crossed arms in a sudden rush of weariness, and -thought how different it would have been if she could have met Philip -on equal terms; if they could have told each other the truth in all -things. Theoretically it was all very well to say that the money had -nothing to do with the position, but practically she could not get rid -of the conviction that she and John were preying on a man's sense of -honour, or, worse, on his affections. It was no use telling herself -she was despicable in having such thoughts; that, setting love aside, -friendship itself excluded the question of give or take. As a matter -of fact Philip did give her all he had, and he took,--what did he not -take? She cowered before that, the worst question of all. She could -not escape from the haunting sense of wrong which seemed to sap the -strength of her self-respect; and back through all her heart-burnings -came the one foolish fancy that if she could only have met Philip with -the money, or even a decent five per cent, interest on it, in her -hand, she could have looked into his face with clear unshadowed eyes. -And now! How was she to meet him when there was not even a dividend? - -Philip meanwhile was undergoing no qualms; on the contrary, he was -having a very good time. To begin with he was in command of the -regiment and drawing, as John Raby said, excellent pay. Furthermore he -was enjoying, as was inevitable, the return to health and life after -eighteen months of death to all pleasure. Lastly, his conscience was -absolutely at rest in regard to Belle. He would have been more, or -less, than human had he not been aware that he had behaved as well as -a man could, in very trying circumstances. In fact he was a little -complacent over what had been, so far, a very simple and easy solution -of a problem which other people held to be insoluble. He sent Belle -the last new books, and wrote her kind brotherly letters, and thought -of her as the best friend he had, and always with the same underlying -consciousness of pure virtue. He forgot, however, that poor Belle -stood in a very different position; one in which calm peace was -well-nigh impossible. So as her letters became less frequent and less -frank, he began to puzzle somewhat captiously over the cause. Finally -he hinted at an explanation, and receiving nothing but jesting -replies, he took ten days' leave and went down to Saudaghur, -ostensibly to settle the half yearly accounts; for both John and he -found a sort of solemn refuge from the truth in the observance, so far -as was possible, of strict business relations. - -It gave him quite a shock to find how much change his few months' -absence had wrought. The bare deserted house where Belle had nursed -him back to life, and where he and she had spent so many days -forgetful of the work-a-day world, content in a kindly constant -companionship, was now a luxurious house hedged about by -conventionalities. The drawing-room, where his sofa had reigned -supreme, was full of _bric-a-brac_ tables and heaven knows what -obstacles, through which a man had to thread his way like a performing -ape. Belle herself, despite her kind face and soft voice, was no -longer the caretaker full of sympathy. She was his hostess, his -friend, but also another man's wife; a fact of which she took care to -remind him by saying she was glad he had come in time to celebrate the -anniversary of her wedding-day on the morrow. Despite his theories -Philip did not like the change. It vexed him, too, that she should -look pale and worried when he had really done all, all that an honest -man could do, to smooth her path. Had he not even kept away for five -whole months? So he was decidedly out of humour when, coming from a -long spell of business with John in the office, he found her alone for -the first time. She was standing by the fireplace in the drawing-room, -and he made his way towards her intent on words. But she forestalled -him. "Well! he has told you about it, I suppose,--that there is no -dividend?" she said defiantly; and as she spoke she crushed the -withered roses she had been removing from a vase and flung them on to -the smouldering embers. - -He looked at her in surprise. "I scarcely expected one. Oh, Belle!" he -continued hotly, "is it that? Did you think, could you think I would -care?" - -She gave a little hard laugh. "How stupid you are! Of course you don't -mind. Can't you see it is that,--which hurts? Can't you understand it -is that,--your kindness,--which must hurt,--always?" - -The dead leaves had caught fire and flamed up, throwing a glare of -light on both their faces. It seemed to light up their hearts also. -Perhaps she had not meant to say so much; yet now that she had said it -she stood gracefully upright, looking him in the eyes, reckless, ready -for anything. The sight of her brought home to Philip what he had -forgotten before; that in this problem of his he had not to do with -one factor but with two, and one of them a woman. Not a passionate one -it is true, but a woman to whom sentiment and emotion were more than -reason; a woman whose very innocence left her confused and helpless, -uncertain of her own foothold, and unable to draw the hard-and-fast -line between good and evil without which she felt lost in a wilderness -of wrong. The recognition startled him, but at the same time aroused -his combativeness. - -"I confess I don't see why it should," he said rather coldly. "Surely -I have a perfect right to set,--other things before money, and it is -wrong--" - -"Shall I give you a copy-book so that you may write the sentiment down -for future reference, Philip?" she interrupted swiftly. "Copy-book -maxims about right and wrong are so useful when one has lost the way, -aren't they? For myself I am tired of them,--dead tired,--dead tired -of everything." And once again with a gesture of utter weariness she -leant against the mantelpiece, her head upon her crossed arms. - -His hands clenched as if to hold something tighter; something that -seemed slipping from him. "I am sorry," he said huskily. "Is it my -fault?" - -She flamed round upon him. "Yea! it is your fault! All your fault! Why -did you ever leave me that money?" - -The truth, and the unfairness of her words, bit deep. "It was 'Why did -you come back to take it away?' when we first met," he retorted in -rising anger. "I told you then I had a right to live if _I_ chose. I -tell you now I will take the money back if _you_ choose. I will do it -to-day if you like. It is only lent, I can give notice." - -"What difference will it make now?" she went on recklessly. "Will it -undo the mischief? Your legacy did it all. It made John--" She broke -off suddenly, a look of terror came to her eyes, and she turned away. - -"Well! I am waiting to hear. It made John--?" - -"Nothing," she said in a low voice. "What is the good? It is all -past." - -"But I have a right to know; I will know. Belle, what wrong did my -legacy do you? What wrong of which I know nothing? Let me see your -face--I must see it--" He bent over her, almost rough in his -impatience at the fine filmy threads of overwrought feeling which, -seeming so petty to a man, yet have the knack of tying him hand and -foot. What did she mean? Though they had never talked of such things, -the fact that her legacy had decided John's choice could be no -novelty, even to her. A woman who had money must always know it would -enhance her other charms. Then suddenly a hitherto unappreciated fact -recurred to him--if this was her wedding-day, she must have been -married very soon--the memory of a marble summer-house in a peach -garden, with his will on the table and John standing by, flashed upon -him, making the passionate blood leap up in resentment. "Belle!" he -cried imperiously, "did he--did you know? Have you known--?" He -paused, his anger yielding to pain. Had she known this incredible -baseness all these weary months, those months during which he had been -priding himself on his own forbearance? And she had said nothing! Yet -she was right; for if once this thing were made clear between them -what barrier would remain? Why should they guard the honour of a man -who had himself betrayed it? In the silence which ensued it was lucky -for them both that the room was full of memories of her kind touch, -soothing his restless pain; so the desire to give something back in -kind came uppermost. - -"Is there nothing I can do?" he said at last, moving aside and -standing square and steady. "Nothing I can say or do to make it easier -for you?" - -"If you could forget--" - -He shook his head. "I will go away if you like, though I don't see why -I should." - -"Then it would only be giving up one thing more to please me," she -answered with a little sad smile. "Why should you give up anything, -when I can give--nothing! Ah, Philip, Philip! If you had only taken -poor Dick's will and were free to go,--if you chose." - -He frowned moodily. "I should not choose, so it would make no -difference; except that you think there would be one. I cannot see it. -As for the will, I'm afraid it is hopeless; but if you like I can take -leave and try. Afzul might come with me." - -"If I like!" she echoed in despair. "If I like! It always comes back -to that." - -The slow tears overflowing her tired eyes cut him to the quick, though -in sober truth he thought them needless. "It must,--seeing that I love -you. Why should you shrink from the truth, Belle? Great Heavens! what -have you or I done that we should be ashamed of ourselves?" - -"Don't let's speak of it, Philip," she cried in a sort of terror. "It -is all my fault, I know; but I cannot help it. It is no use saying I -am wrong; everything is wrong from beginning to end." - -And though he fretted and fumed, argued and appealed, nothing he could -say sufficed to re-assure her. Rightly or wrongly she could not view -the situation as he viewed it. She was galled and chafed on every -side; nor could he fail to see during the next four days that his -presence only brought her additional misery. She seemed unable to take -anything naturally, and she shrank equally from seeming to avoid being -alone with him, or from being alone. Yet, with true womanly -inconsequence, she shrank most of all when he told her that he had -made up his mind to go, and not to return until she sent for him. They -were walking up and down the new dam, which curved across a bend in -the sandy reach, waiting for her husband who with Afzul and his gang -of bandits was busy seeing to a strengthening of the side nearest the -river. A red sun was setting over the jagged purple shadow of the -Suleiman Hills, and flaring on the still pools of water below the -embankment. - -"I am driving you away," she said despondently. "You cannot even look -after your own business because of me." - -Then his patience gave way. "Damn the business!" he cried heartily, -and walked along beside her kicking the little clods from his path -before turning to her apologetically. "I beg your pardon, Belle, but -it is a little trying. Let us hope the business will be successfully -dammed, and then, according to John, I shall get my money back in two -years. So cheer up; freedom is beneath your feet!" - -Just below them, measuring up earthwork, stood John Raby and Afzul -Khan. As they passed the latter looked up, _salaaming_ with broad -grins. "I wonder if he will take her away soon," was his thought. "I -wish he would; then I could get rid of the paper and be off home by -summer with Raby _sahib's_ rupees in my pocket. What is he waiting -for? She likes him, and Raby _sahib_ would be quite content with the -money." - -John looked up too, and nodded. "Don't wait for me, good people. I -have to go over to the further end. You needn't keep tea for me, -Belle, I prefer a whiskey-peg. Ta, ta!" - -And as they moved off, their figures showing dark against the red sky, -he looked after them, saying to himself that the Major could not -complain. One way and another he got his money's worth. - -"Your husband works too hard, Belle," said Philip. "You should -persuade him to take it easier." - -"He is so anxious to make it a success," she replied quickly. - -"So are we all," retorted Philip cynically. "We ought to manage it -between us, somehow." - -As they passed the coolies' huts a big strapping woman with her face -hidden in her veil came out and _salaamed_. - -"Who is that?" asked Philip at once. The last few days had brought him -a curious dissatisfaction with Belle's surroundings. Despite the -luxurious home she seemed out of keeping with Afzul and his bandits, -the tag-rag and bobtail of squalid coolies swarming about the place, -and the stolid indifference of the peasants beyond the factory. - -"A _protegee_ of John's. He got her out of trouble somewhere. He says -he has the biggest lot of miscreants on the frontier on his works. -They don't look much, I must allow; but this woman seems to like me. -She has such a jolly baby. I had to doctor it last week. How's Nuttu -to-day, Kirpo?" - -The woman, grinning, opened her veil and displayed a sleeping child. - -"Isn't he pretty, Philip?" said Belle softly. "And see, they have -pierced his nose and ears like a girl's." - -"For luck, I suppose. May God spare him to manhood," prefaced Philip -piously, in native fashion before he asked the mother if it were not -so. - -She shook her head. "No, Protector of the poor! All my boys are -healthy. He is called Nuttu, so that as he thrives some one else of -the same name may dwindle and pine. That is why." She hugged the baby -to her with an odd smile. - -"She could not have meant that there was really another child whose -death she desired," said Belle as they went on. - -"I would not answer for it if I were you. They are a queer people. By -Jove! How that woman does hate some one; I'm glad it isn't you, -Belle!" - -And Kirpo looking after them was saying in her turn that they were -very queer people. If he was her lover why did the _mem_ look so -unhappy? The _sahib logue_ did not cut off their wives' noses, or put -them in prison; so what did it matter? - -Truly those two were compassed about by a strange cloud of witnesses -as they strolled homewards. Perhaps the civilised world would have -judged them as harshly. But no tribunal, human or divine, could have -judged Belle more harshly than she did herself; and herein lay all the -trouble. She could not accept facts and make the best of them. - -John Raby coming in later found the two reading solemnly, one on -either side of the fire, and told them they were horribly unsociable. -"I couldn't get away before," he said. "Afzul wanted a day's leave and -I had to measure up before he started." - -"Has he gone already? I'm sorry," remarked Philip. "I wished to see -him before I leave tomorrow." - -"To-morrow!" John Raby looked from one to another. "Have you been -quarrelling?" - -And poor Belle, with the necessity for derisive denial before her, -felt more than ever that she was on the broad path leading to -destruction. - -"I am sorry I have to go," said Philip with perfect truth; "but I -really am of no use here." - - - - - CHAPTER XXII. - - -Could Philip Marsden have seen into Mahomed Lateef's old tower about -the time he was leaving Nilgunj his regrets might have had a still -more truthful ring, and Belle might have been saved from once more -adding to the difficulties of her own lot, and, as it were, making a -stumbling-block of her own good intentions. For in that case, Major -Marsden would have stopped another day in order to see his old friend, -and in the course of conversation would have heard things which might -have changed the current of subsequent events; but Fate decreed -otherwise. - -More than once, seeing the daily increasing poverty of his patron, -Afzul Khan had suggested an appeal to the Major, as one sure to do -something for the father of the man who had stood between him and -death; but the stubborn old malcontent had lumped the whole Western -creation in his category of ingrates. "The past is past," he would say -angrily. "I will not even ask justice from one of them. And, according -to thy tales, Marsden _sahib_ has taken to trade and leagued himself -with Raby, who is no better than a _buniah_,--no better than Shunker -Bahadur, whom God smite to hell! Hast heard what they are doing down -yonder? Pera Ditta was here last week, saying his land was to be sold -because he could not pay. And how could he pay when water never came? -And how could water come when strangers enter and build dams without -let or hindrance?" - -Afzul frowned. "True, father, and 'tis about that dam I would have you -speak. Not, look you, that it did harm this year. 'Twas God's fault, -not Raby's, that the river failed, though folk will not have it so. -And next year, even, the dam will do good, not harm, if a sluice be -put in it such as they have north in the big canals. Look you, Raby is -no fool. Before Allah! he is wise; and he offered to put one, so that -the water would run every year right away to the south, if the people -would promise him to grow indigo, and dig part of the channel. But -Shunker, or God knows who, hath stuffed their ears, and they will not -listen. So Raby means the pig-headed fools shall learn reason. I blame -him not, but that is no cause why you should starve; and starve you -must if the river does not come. - -"I will starve sooner than beg." - -"And the child?" - -That was an argument which invariably brought the discussion to a -close in vehement objections to interference, and loud-voiced -assertions of independence. Nevertheless, Afzul returned to the charge -again and again, moved to insistence by a personal desire to be free -from the necessity of eking out the expenses of the household. He gave -cheerfully enough to the women, on the sly lest the old martinet -should wring his neck for the impertinence; but for all that he wanted -to be free to go his own ways when summer came. If the sluice were -made and a constant supply of water insured, the old man and the women -would at least escape starvation. John Raby, who had found the Pathan -singularly intelligent and with some knowledge of levelling (learnt -from poor Dick), had so far given him confidence that he knew what -ought to be done; but he was not well enough up in the whole matter to -understand that his master had considerable excuse for refusing to do -it. As a matter of fact the dam had been constructed with great care -so as to avoid cutting off the water supply from the neighbouring -villages, where the floods came with fair regularity. John Raby had -even spent money in improving their chances, on certain conditions -about indigo, which he well knew would eventually be of enormous -benefit to the people themselves. In regard to those further afield he -had made a very fair proposal, which, mainly owing to Shunker's -machinations, they had rejected; briefly, he had offered a constant -supply of water at the price of a little labour and a few reasonable -concessions. When they refused his terms, he smiled and went on -building his dam. Up to a certain flood-point he knew it would be an -obstruction; beyond that, the river would still find its way. He only -enlarged the cycle of floodless years; but on this fact he counted for -eventual submission. As for the owners of the few small holdings -between the dam and the basin of alluvial soil tilled by these -pig-headed Hindus, he was sorry for them; but as it was quite -impossible for him to ensure a water-supply without giving it beyond, -their best plan would be to exert their influence towards a reasonable -solution of the difficulty. In a matter like this he was not a man to -swerve a hair's breadth from his own plan for the sake of anybody. He -conceived that he had a perfect right to do as he chose, and if others -disputed his action they could go to law about it; only, long before -the vexed question of the frequency of flood in past years could be -decided one way or the other, he felt certain that the sight of the -surrounding prosperity would have overcome all opposition. - -Afzul Khan, however, only half in the secret, believed that the -sluice-gate might be made by an appeal to Major Marsden; and, when the -latter came to the factory, took a day's leave on purpose to rouse the -old Khan to action, it being quite hopeless to expect him to ask a -favour of John Raby, of whom he never spoke save with a gibe. Perhaps -the thought of seeing a familiar face influenced the old man, for when -the argument reached its usual climax of, "And the child, Khan -_sahib_, what of the child?" he gave a fierce sigh, and pressing the -boy, who was sitting on his knee, closer to his heart, muttered -impatiently, "What is the pride of a man before the hunger of a child? -I will go; so hold thy devil of a tongue, and let us have peace!" - -Afterwards, however, when Afzul with solemn satisfaction at his -victory was polishing up the old warrior's sword, Mahomed Lateef -became restive again. "I know not that I will go. He owes me somewhat, -'tis true, and in past time I thought him just; but I like not this -talk of trade; 'tis not a soldier's task." - -The Pathan leaning over the shining blade breathed on it to test its -lustre. "_Wah!_ Khan _sahib_, all's fair in love and war. Men do much -for the sake of a woman without tarnishing their honour longer than my -breath lingers on good steel. Marsden _sahib_ did it for love of the -_mem_, look you." - -The old man scowled. "I like not that either. Let him choose the one -or the other, and use his sword to keep his choice." - -Afzul smiled cunningly. "Wait a while, Khan _sahib_, wait a while; the -fowler must have time to lure his bird, and some women have cold -hearts." - -"She hath a heart of ice! Yea! I will go, Afzul, and I will tell him -of Murghub Ahmad and how she bore false witness." - -"Not so! Thou wilt ask for water, and get thy revenge safe in thy -pocket; it lies heavy on an empty stomach." - -So they borrowed a pink-nosed pony from the pleader's father in the -next village, and with his little grandson, arrayed in huge turban and -tarnished tinsel coatee, disposed in front of the high-peaked saddle, -Khan Mahomed Lateef Khan set off to see the Major and plead the -child's cause. A picturesque group they made, as they passed along the -sandy ways and treeless stretches of hard sun-baked soil; Afzul -leading the pony, the boy laughing and clapping his hands at the -novelty, the old soldier's white beard showing whiter than ever -against the child's dark curls, Fatma and Haiyat standing outside, -recklessly unveiled, to shriek parting blessings and injunctions. And -lo! after all these preparations, after all this screwing up of -courage and letting down of pride, the Major had gone! Afzul could -scarcely believe his ears. Gone! and he had been reckoning on giving -certain hints about Dick's will which might have served to bring -matters to a crisis. He returned to the hut where he had left the Khan -and his grandson while he went to arrange for an interview, and tried -to persuade Mahomed Lateef not to allow his journey to go for nothing, -but to prefer his request to Raby _sahib_ himself. He might even write -a petition, and demand that it should be sent on to the Major, if -pride forbade asking a favour of the former. Afzul might as well have -urged the old man to wear patent-leather shoes or perform any other -such abomination of desolation. "Am I a baboo that I should cringe and -beg?" he answered, wrathfully. "The Major is a soldier and knows what -it means to stave a blow from a comrade's head; 'tis but defending -your own in the future. But this man! He would talk of rupees, and I -have none to give. Let it be, fool! I will stop the night here as was -arranged, since the child seems tired. To-morrow we can return. I am -not so far through that a day's journey will kill me." - -So, from the recesses of the windowless shanty, he watched John Raby -passing back to the house when the day's work was done; then he went -forth in the twilight and prowled about the new factory, noting the -unmistakable signs of masterful energy with a curious mixture of -admiration and contempt. "As thou sayest he is a man, and no mere -money-bag like Shunker," was his final comment. "Come, little one, say -thy evening petition and let me roll thee in thy quilt, for thine eyes -are heavy." - -The child, already half asleep, slid from his grandfather's knee, and -standing, stretched his little hands skywards. "God bring justice to -those who brought my father injustice," he murmured drowsily. - -A savage exultation came to the old face looking down on the curves -and dimples. "_Ameen, ameen!_ Justice! That is all we seek. Come, -light of mine eyes, and God give thee many wakenings." - -Thereafter the two men sat silent, waiting for sleep to come to the -child. And it came, but not for long. Perhaps in less careful hands -the boy had taken chill, perhaps Afzul's more sumptuous fare was the -exciting cause; anyhow, a few hours afterwards Kirpo, roused by the -helpless men from the death-like slumber of the domesticated savage, -found little Hussan Ahmad struggling for breath in his grandfather's -arms, a prey to spasmodic croup. Of course she had not the remotest -idea what was the matter, or what was to be done. She could but take -the child to her capacious bosom and add to the general alarm by -shrill sympathy. It was a fit--the dear one would die--_Hai, -hai!_--some one had bewitched it. Then suddenly an inspiration seized -her. The _mem!_ let them send for the _mem!_ But last week her own boy -had had the gripes until the _mem_ came with a little bottle and cured -him. _Hai, hai!_ the darling was choking! Send for the _mem_, if they -would not have him die before their eyes. - -Afzul looked at the grandfather interrogatively. Pride, fear, -resentment, and love fought hard for the mastery. "She will not come; -she hath a heart of ice," quavered the old voice, seeking for excuse, -and escape from responsibility. - -"Who can count on a woman? but death is sure; and she is wise in such -ways, I know. Say, Khan _sahib_, shall I go?" - -There was an instant's pause, broken by the child's hoarse crow. Then -the faith of a life-time spoke. "Go! It is Kismet. Give her the -chance; it is God's will to give it. She may not come, and then--" - -But ten minutes after Belle Raby in her soft white evening dress had -the struggling child in her arms and reassuring words on her lips. -Afzul Khan, too, held a bottle and a teaspoon, whereat Kirpo's face -broadened to content. "Have no fear, master," she whispered in the old -man's ear; "'tis the same one, I swear it. A charm, a potent charm!" - -Most Englishwomen in India gain some knowledge of doctoring, not only -from necessity, but from the neighbourliness which turns them into -nurses where in England they would be content with kind inquiries; -and, though croup is comparatively rare among the native children, -Belle had seen it treated among English ones. Such knowledge, a -medicine-chest, and common sense seem, and indeed often act, like -magic to the ignorant eyes helplessly watching their loved ones fight -for life. The old Mohammedan stood aside, bolt upright as if on -parade, a prey to dull regrets and keen joy as Belle's kind voice -conjured up endless things beyond the thought or comprehension even of -the child's mother, had she been there. Hot water, a bath fetched from -somewhere in the dark beyond the feeble glimmer of light in which -those bare white arms gleamed about the child's brown body, ice, a -soft white blanket, within the folds of which peace seemed to come to -the struggling limbs till sleep actually claimed the child again. - -"He is all right now," said Belle smiling. "Keep him in your arms, -Kirpo, and give him plenty of air. I will come to-morrow and see him -again. Afzul, have you the lantern?" - -She stood--a strange figure in that mud-floored, mud-roofed -hovel--fastening the silver clasp of her fur cloak with slim fingers -sparkling with jewels; a figure more suitable to some gay gathering on -the other side of the world. Then from the darkness into the ring of -light where she stood stepped another figure. A tall old man, made -taller by the high-twined green turban proclaiming him a past pilgrim -to the great shrine of warriors, a man with his son's medals on a -threadbare velvet coat, and a sharp curved sword held like a sacrament -in his outstretched palms. "_Huzoor!_" he said bowing his proud old -head. All the conflicting emotions of the past hour had concentrated -themselves to this. Words, either of gratitude or blame, were beyond -him. God knows which, given opportunity of calm thought, he might have -offered. But so, taken by surprise, carried beyond his own personal -interests by admiration, he gave, in the true old fighting instinct -which dies hard amongst the Mohammedans, his allegiance to what was -brave and capable. "_Huzoor!_" - -The English girl had learnt enough of native customs to know her part. -Those slim white fingers lingered an instant on the cold steel, and -her bright eyes smiled up into the old man's face. "The gift is not -mine, but yours." Perhaps it was; the faculty of just admiration is a -great possession. - -She found her husband still smoking cigarettes over a French novel. -"By George! Belle," he said, "you look awfully nice. That sort of -thing suits you down to the ground. You were born to be a Lady -Bountiful, and send social problems to sleep with sentiment. By the -way, do you know who the little beggar is? I asked the _khansaman_; he -is the son of that man Murghub Ahmad who was transported! His -grandfather is living on the ancestral estate about ten miles down the -old _nullah_. I'm precious glad Marsden didn't find him out, or he -would have been bothering me to do something for the old fellow. And I -haven't time just now for charity. I leave that to you, my dear; it -suits you--as I remarked just now--down to the ground." - -Belle, who had turned very pale, said nothing, but she seemed to feel -the chill of the cold steel at her finger-tips. She understood better -what that offering had meant, and, sentiment or no sentiment, -something rose in her throat and kept her silent. Next morning, -according to promise, she went over to the huts again. The dew shone -on the flowers as she crossed the garden, an indescribable freshness -was in the air. The child, but newly aroused from a sweet sleep, was -still surrounded by the white blanket in the midst of which he sat -cuddled up, rubbing his eyes and yawning. Afzul was smiling at the -door, the grandfather, calmed into stern politeness, standing by the -bed. - -"Rise, O Hussan Ahmad!" he said to the child after a few words of -inquiry and reply. "Rise and say thy thanks to the _mem_ for her -kindness. They are due; they are justly due." - -Still drowsy, and mindful only of an accustomed order, the boy -stretched his chubby little arms skyward. "May God bring justice to -those who brought injustice to my father." - -Khan Mahomed Lateef Khan started as if he had been shot, and his right -hand fell sharply on the child's shoulder, then wandered to his -sword-hilt. "It is Fate," he muttered gloomily. "Out of his own mouth -I am rebuked." - -Belle's heart gave a great throb of anger and pain. She had lain awake -piecing the stray threads of the story together till it had seemed to -her a sad yet beautiful pattern on the web of life, and now-- "Why do -you say that?" she asked gently of the child, as if he were the only -person present. - -He looked at her fearlessly. "I say it morning and evening. Listen! -May God bring justice to those who brought injustice to my father." - -The eyes of those two men watching her were like spurs to her high -spirit. "Listen," she said. "I will say it too. May God bring justice -to those who brought injustice to your father." - -The eyes fell as she passed out without another word. "By the God who -made me," swore the old soldier, "she is a brave one, and she hath my -sword! Remember that, Afzul. If the time should ever come, my sword at -least is for her and hers. For the rest, the child has spoken." - -Afzul smiled grimly. He was beginning to see what those two brave ones -fancied in the pale-faced _mem_. She was too good for Raby _sahib_ -with his rupees, he decided; yet women are always influenced by -wealth. Perhaps the thought of what she would leave behind hindered -her from following the Major. If so, a little reverse in the business -might be beneficial. Anyhow, and come what may, he must get rid of -that cursed blue envelope ere summer opened the passes for homesick -footsteps. Even if he had to leave it behind him unconditionally, he -must do so, since by that time he would have money saved to last for -an idle year or two. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIII. - - -Some ten days after this John Raby came from the office into the -drawing-room with a letter in his hand and vexation on his face. "Upon -my word, Belle," he began, "you have a most unfortunate turn for -philanthropy, as I always told you. I've no doubt your doctoring that -little croupy imp suggested the idea that we were made up of -benevolence. Sentiment, my dear child, is the devil in business." - -"What is it now, John?" she asked, with an effort at lightness. For -all that, her tone made him raise his eyebrows impatiently. There is -no accounting for the jar which comes at times between two natures, -especially when circumstances are emphasising their respective -individualities. This was the case between Belle and her husband; her -conscientiousness being hyper-sensitised by constant self-blame, and -his being dulled by the keen desire to triumph over all opposition. - -"Only that bankrupt old warrior appealing through Marsden to the firm -for an annual supply of water from my dam. A cool request, isn't it? -And Marsden, of course, being sentimental as you are, hopes it will be -done. All I can say is, that it is lucky he and you have me to look -after your interests." - -"But if it could be done--" - -"My dear child, don't you think I'd have done it had the thing been -possible without detriment to us? I don't suppose Marsden thought of -it in that light, but he ought to have done so. I have my faults no -doubt, but I'm not an ogre." - -"I wish it had been possible!" - -"So do I; but it isn't. Therefore, if you don't mind, I hope you will -refrain from arousing Philip's benevolence more than you can help. I -mean by allusions to the old man and the child. They are a most -picturesque couple, of course, but if sentiment is to come in, I may -as well throw up the whole business. For mind you, Belle, it is just -as well you should know that the factory is bound to be unpopular at -first." - -"Unpopular! Why?" asked Belle in surprise. "I thought you said it -would improve the condition of the people immensely." - -"After a time. However it is no use discussing it; I shall write to -Marsden and say,--well, I shall say, chiefly, that I also am filled -with pious and benevolent intentions, but that I desire a free hand. -Meanwhile, as I see from Philip's letter that Afzul has been priming -you with pity which you have been handing on, I wish you wouldn't. -Give the old man as much money as you like, of course; but don't egg -my partner on to socialism, there's a good girl." He looked very -bright and handsome as he bent over and kissed her. "Do you know, -Belle," he said, laughingly, "you are the most transparent fraud in -creation. I believe you set the old man on to Marsden; now didn't -you?" - -She flushed scarlet. "I only told Afzul when he was speaking of it -that the best way was to write a petition. And Philip was an old -friend." - -"Just so; but we don't want old friends, or new ones either, to -interfere. I'm manager of this factory, and I intend to manage it my -own way." - -"Do you mean without consulting Philip's wishes?" - -He turned round on her sharply as he was leaving the room. "That is -about it. He knows nothing of business, and should be glad to have -some one to act for him who does." - -There was, as usual, so much sound common sense in her husband's words -that Belle tried to crush down the dissatisfaction she could not help -feeling at the idea of Philip being made responsible for actions of -which he might know nothing. After all, had it really come to this, -that she did not trust her husband to behave uprightly? The thought -was poison to all peace, and she thrust it aside in horror at its very -appearance. Yet a new element of trouble had entered into life and she -found herself, quite unconsciously, keeping ears and eyes open for -things which she had previously ignored. This did not escape her -husband's keen sight, and in his light, half-serious way he rallied -her on this newly-developed interest in the business. The fact was -they were beginning to understand each other too well; and now and -again a tone came into John's voice which sent the blood to her heart -in a throb of fear and made her grovel, positively grovel, before her -ideal of wifely duty. Then her husband would recover his careless -good-nature, and the household run so smoothly that even Belle's -high-strung nerves scarcely felt a jolt. - -So the spring came, bringing to the garden a rush of blossom well-nigh -impossible of description to those accustomed to slow northern lands. -Belle could have picked clothes-baskets full of Marechal Niel roses -from the bushes and yet have left them burdened with great yellow -cups. The pomegranates glowed with a scarlet positively dazzling to -the eyes; the gardenias were all too strongly scented; the bees and -butterflies drugged themselves with honey from the wild tangle of -overgrown, overblown annuals which, forgetting their trim English -habit, usurped the very paths by thickets of mignonette, sweet pea, -dianthus, and a host of other familiar flowers. Belle, walking round -her domain in the early morning when the nightly gift of dew still lay -on the leaves, used to wonder how serpents could creep into such a -paradise. The very isolation of the life had an irresistible charm. -What was the use of worrying about ideas? Where was the good of -fretting over the mischances of that world which lay beyond this calm -retreat? - -Suddenly, however, that world asserted its existence. She had still -kept up her habit of morning rides, and though her husband was now up -with the dawn, he was far too much absorbed in his work to accompany -her save when business sent him beyond his own boundaries. Even -then she began to notice his excuses for escaping her companionship, -and when in her drowsy content she went so far as to express a -half-jesting remonstrance, he would reply in the same tone, that he -had no intention of slaving forever; and that this was his working -day. By and by, when he had turned Marsden adrift, and could have the -whole thing to himself,--why, he meant to have it and enjoy it. -Meanwhile it was much pleasanter for her to ride along the river bank -and through the inundation lands, than in the dust southwards where -his business took him so often. But this level expanse of bare -fruitless soil had an attraction for Belle; and one day, losing her -way on it, she made for the landmark of a village on the horizon, and -thus found herself considerably beyond her usual distance from home. -It was a village with poverty and sloth written on the blistered, -rain-marked, mud walls, and in the absence of fuel-heaps and -thorn-enclosures. A sorry forsaken spot it was, despite the swarm of -low-bred-looking brats who came out to stare at her as she rode at a -foot's pace through the widest lane. A woman stood slouching at the -entrance to a courtyard, and Belle, pausing, asked her the way to -Nilgunj. The scowl on the face raised to hers startled her, so did the -words. "Are you Raby's _mem?_" - -Her answering assent met a rude reception in the curt recommendation -to find the way herself, accompanied by a sudden closing of the door. -Then came a shrill clamour of voices from within, and one by one, over -the alley walls, dark disapproving faces full of angry curiosity. The -display of hostility might have gone no further if her horse, restive -at being checked and, no doubt, disliking the crowd of children -following close on its heels, had not sidled and backed, putting the -young imps to hustling flight. This was naturally the signal for -shrieks and abuse from the mothers, and though a touch of the whip -recalled her beast to duty, humanity was not so reasonable. A little -ragamuffin took up a piece of dirt and threw it after her; the others -approved, and though fear of her horse's heels kept the little arms at -a comparatively safe distance, Belle Raby had nevertheless to submit -to the indignity of riding through the village pursued by pelting -urchins, and by no means pleasant abuse from over the walls. Her -indignation was greater than her fear or even than her surprise, and -the scornful glance with which she met the angry eyes on a level with -her own silenced more than one of the tongues. But for a sense that it -would have been undignified, she would dearly have loved to dismount, -seize one of the ringleaders, and administer summary justice. The -possible meaning of this unusual reception did not strike her until, -emerging from the village still pursued by her tormentors, she came -straight upon her husband. His look, as he recognised the position, -filled her with alarm; and there was something in it of such -absolutely uncontrolled passion and hatred, that it flashed upon her -that he, at least, must have good reason to understand the scene. -"John! don't do anything, please don't!" she cried as he threw himself -from his horse. "They are only children." - -"I'm not going to run after those little demons, if you mean that," he -replied, giving her the reins of his mount to hold; "but they have -parents, I suppose. I'll be back in a moment. Don't be afraid, Belle; -they are curs, every one of them. But they shall pay for this, in more -ways than one." - -He came out five minutes afterwards, followed by a protesting and most -venerable looking pantaloon, representative of that past age in which -a white face was, verily, a sign of kingship. He took no notice of the -lavish appeals and apologies, but, putting his note-book in his -pocket, remounted. "I'm sorry you came this way," he said as they rode -off; "but, as I often say, you have a faculty for getting into -mischief which is surprising in such an eminently virtuous person as -you are, Belle. However, you mustn't do it again. In fact I should -prefer your keeping to my land for the next two or three months." - -Belle, given time to think, had lost much of her courage in dismay at -this most unexpected insight into the world beyond her gates. Could -such a state of affairs be necessary? "Why,--" she began. - -"My dear child, don't ask _me_ why! I can't supply reason to these -pig-headed brutes. And don't, for goodness' sake, make a fuss over it, -and bring Marsden's soft-heartedness down on me just when I need to -have a free hand. I told you I should be unpopular, and I am; that is -the long and short of it; more unpopular than need be, for somehow the -people have got an idea that I could help if I chose. Why didn't -Marsden put their appeals in the waste paper basket, as I do, instead -of raising hopes by referring to me?" - -"Has he been referring to you?" - -Her husband looked at her and laughed. "I'm not going to give myself -away in confidence. As I said before, I'm awfully sorry you came out -this way and chanced on that village. It is the worst about here. For -all that, there is no need for any anxiety, I assure you. Afzul and -his bandits are worth a hundred of these curs; and once the people see -I am a man of my word, they will come in sharp enough." - -"But if Philip--" - -"Bother Philip! He is a trump of course, but I think he has mixed -himself up a little too much in this business. I shall be glad when he -is out of it." - -"Surely if you were to explain--" - -"My dear Belle, explanation is nothing to demonstration. In six weeks' -time, when the first flood comes, I shall prove myself right, and -waltz in, hands down, an easy winner. That is to say if nobody fouls -me now out of goodness, and righteousness, and all charitableness." - -It was one thing to be told this, another to find comfort in it, and -as the days passed Belle grew more and more uneasy. She felt sure all -could not be fair and square; that there must be some antagonistic -element at work to make the unpopularity so intense. Perhaps because -she watched for it so keenly, it seemed to her that discontent showed -itself more and more freely on the faces of the people she did meet in -her now limited walks. One evening she had a bad five minutes -listening to a row in the coolies' quarters with her husband's clear -voice dominating the clamour. She was still pale when he came -whistling through the garden as if nothing had happened. It was only, -he said, a war of words between Kirpo and Afzul. There had always been -a jealousy between them; the latter declaring that such a hideous -female was not worthy to touch any man's bread, for the former had -risen by favour from mere cooliedom, to act as cook for a gang of -Hindu workers; the woman retorting that the hillmen were no better -than pirates, ready, despite their professions of horror at meats -prepared by idolaters, to steal her supplies if her back was turned. -Afzul had of late been growing idle and uppish; so John had sided with -Kirpo in this particular dispute. - -"I think Kirpo is rather uppish too," replied Belle. "I heard her -ordering some of the men about as if she was their mistress." - -Her husband laughed easily. "Just like a native! The fact being that -Kirpo is useful to me at present, by giving me information I can rely -upon; and she presumes on the fact. When the floods have come I shall -be able to dispense with her,--with a variety of things, in fact. I -shall not be sorry; I hate being beholden to people." - -Belle bent her head over her work and sewed faster. "I don't like -Afzul, I don't like Kirpo, and I like the unpopularity least of all. -Oh, John, could you not give way a little? I am sure Philip--" - -"Now look here, Belle, I said just now that I hated being beholden to -any one, and you yourself made enough to-do when I borrowed this money -from Marsden. And you've fussed and worried about it ever since, -because you think he consented for your sake. Perhaps he did; and so I -mean to show him he should have consented for his own. I call that a -laudable ambition which should satisfy your pride. Now in my opinion -the only road to success lies my way. That, I think, should settle the -matter once and for all. Of course I am not infallible; but, unless -something very unexpected turns up, you will be laughing at your own -fears this time two months. Now, as I told Kirpo to come up to the -office as soon as it was dark, let me get some peace and quiet first. -I think Haydn would suit me to-day; there is no forced sentiment in -him, jolly old chap!" - -So Belle played Haydn, and John dozed in his chair till the darkness -settled deep enough to hide Kirpo as she stole through bye-paths to -the office verandah. There, behind a creeper-hung pillar, she waited -till John's tall figure showed itself at the writing-table. Then she -went forward, and raising the bamboo _chick_ said softly: "I am here, -_Huzoor!_" - -"All right! Come in and shut the door." - -Some one hiding in the oleander bushes in full view of this incident -muttered a curse, and settled himself down in a new position. So what -Shunker had said was true, and, disfigured as she was, Kirpo still -kept her hold on the _shaitan sahib_. But for a promise he had made to -the usurer not to anticipate the great revenge brewing for John Raby's -discomfiture, Ramu (for it was he, once more out of prison) would have -asked nothing better than to have waited patiently till Kirpo appeared -again, and then in the darkness to have fallen on her and killed her -outright. As it was he sat with eyes fixed on the door, controlling -his passion by the thought of future and less hazardous revenge upon -them both. He had a long knife tucked away in his waistcloth, but it -seemed to him as if he could feel its sharp edge and see its gleaming -curve plunging into flesh. Truly a venomous, dangerous animal to be -lurking among the white oleanders in Belle's paradise, as she sat -playing Haydn, and John, with a contemptuous smile on his face, was -listening to Kirpo's tales. She knew a good deal did Kirpo, but not -all. She did not know, for instance, that her husband lay among the -oleanders, else she might have hesitated in playing the part of spy; -though she was no coward, and her revengeful desires were keen. - -By and by she came out, and a crouching, shadowy figure followed her -through the garden, and then struck across the barren plain to the -village which John Raby had described as the worst of the lot; the -village of which Belle used persistently to dream; the village where -even the children looked at her with eyes of hate. Her husband did not -dream of anything. He used to sleep the sleep of the just, and wake -fresh as a lark to the pursuit of the one reality in his life,--money. -And even in its pursuit he was content, because it occupied him so -thoroughly that he had no time to notice minor details. Sometimes -Belle irritated him, but the instant after he would smile; it was a -way women, especially good women, had,--they could not help it. -Sometimes he fell foul in spirit of his senior partner, but not for -long. What were such trivialities in comparison with the main fact of -general success? Belle was a good wife, Marsden a good friend; above -all, the concern was a good concern, a rattling good business; and he, -John Raby, had plucked the plum out of Shunker's very hands. That last -thought was always provocative of a smile. - -Meanwhile the Lala was smiling too. The reappearance of Ramu,--who -seemed to keep all his virtue for the purpose of procuring a -ticket-of-leave,--had considerably strengthened the usurer's hands by -providing him with one absolutely reckless tool. When the time came -for setting fire to the carefully laid train he would not have to seek -for a match; and that, when one had to deal with these slow-brained -peasants, was a great gain. With such a leader he looked forward -confidently to mischief sooner or later. Kirpo might tell tales, but -there were some tales Shunker meant to keep secret, till the right -moment came for turning passive opposition into active interference. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIV. - - -Belle's paradise did not last long. In less than three weeks the hot -winds came to shrivel the bursting buds and turn even the promise of -blossom into a sign of death. The sunshine took a deeper yellow glow, -the blue faded from the sky, an impalpable dust began to settle on all -things. Down in the sand stretches below the house the net-work of the -river grew finer day by day, and the mudbanks left by shrinking -streams assumed airs of perpetuity by clothing themselves with green -herbs, as if the time of floods were not nigh to swallow them up once -more. All else, far and near, seemed fainting in a great thirst, -longing for the crisis which was to bring them life. - -But Belle, though the floods had not yet come, felt one calm still -morning as if the waters had gone over her head, and she had no power -to resist the current which swept her from her feet. It was a trivial -thing which roused the feeling; only a word or two in one of Philip's -letters which she held in her hand as she stood beside her husband's -writing-table. - -"I quite admit it, my dear girl," he was saying calmly. "Marsden has -written to me on that subject several times, and I have replied as I -thought fit. It is quite possible I may have given him the impression -I was willing, or even that I was going, to do more than has really -been done. What then?" - -"Only this," she replied hotly; "that you have degraded him in the -eyes of these people. He promised inquiry and--" - -"He had no business to promise anything. He referred it to me, and he -has no right to complain of my decision." - -"He does not complain! When has he ever complained?" she interrupted, -trying hard to keep the passion from her voice. "You can read what he -says, if you like. He thinks,--I do not ask how--that you have done -your best." - -"Exactly! I _have_ done my best for the business." - -"He did not mean that. Oh, John, the shame of it will kill me! To take -everything from a man, even his honour and good name--" - -"You don't appear to be so much concerned about mine. But I promised -to pay Philip back his money in two years, and I mean to do it. Be -reasonable, my dear child. Some one must take the responsibility; some -one must take the odium which is unfortunately inseparable from -success. Why should you complain because I take it cheerfully?" - -Belle crushed the letter closer in vexed despair. "I can never make -you understand! Do you not see it is a question of right and wrong? -You have taken his money and are using it as he would hate to have it -used. You have,--I do not say deceived him--but kept the truth from -him; and even if you succeed, what will you be doing but giving him -money gained as he would have scorned to gain it?" - -Her husband laughed a very ugly laugh, and for the first time his face -showed some emotion. "I always knew you thought Marsden perfect, but I -wasn't aware of your estimate of my comparative virtue. I cannot say -I'm flattered by it." - -"I can't help it," she said, almost with a sob. "I can't see things in -the light you see them." - -"That is a mutual disability, so for heaven's sake let us agree to -differ. The thing is done. Even if I wished to do so, the sluice could -not be built now. The river is due in three weeks, or sooner, and any -interference with the dam at present must mean disaster to all -concerned. I tell you this because I want you to understand that now, -at any rate, my hands are tied." - -"Perhaps,--I mean, no doubt; but he must be told, and--and given his -choice. It is not right--" - -"Tell him, my dear, if' it pleases you to do so; though I think it is -a pity, for in two months' time, if all this fuss doesn't play the -devil with my plans, the difficulties will be over. By the way, what -do you propose to tell him? That I have behaved like a scoundrel?" - -"You have no right to say such things, John!" she cried indignantly. - -He shrugged his shoulders. "Well! That I have behaved as he would have -scorned to behave? &c., &c. It seems to me about the same thing in -different words." - -The flush which rose to her face told how hard she was hit. That was -the mischief of it all!--that fatal comparison between these two men, -against which she had struggled in vain. Why should she have compared -them? Why, even now, should she not let things be and trust to John's -superior wisdom? For he was wise in such matters, and, heaven knows! -gave himself up wholly to insure success. How could she tell Philip? -What was she to tell him? Yet he must know; even for John's sake he -ought to know what was being done in his name. "I will ask him to come -here," she said with an effort, "then he can see for himself." - -John Raby looked up quickly. "Very well, do so. Only remember this: I -disclaim all responsibility for what may happen, and I tell you fairly -I mean to have my own way. You know perfectly well that I consider -quarrelling mere waste of time; but if the position becomes awkward, -that will be your doing, not mine." - -"I will tell him to come," repeated Belle slowly. - -"Then that's settled. Perhaps it may be best, after all," he added, -his face losing its last trace of vexation. "Indeed I thought of -asking him before; but the fact is the last time he was here you -showed your uneasiness so distinctly that I hesitated." - -Once more the colour rose to his wife's face as she turned away. Was -everything from beginning to end her fault, she wondered, as she sent -off a telegram asking Philip to come, if he could get leave. She chose -a telegram more because it relieved her from the necessity of giving -her reasons than from any desire to save time, and so accelerate the -explanations she dreaded. Yet when, late in the evening of the next -day, John, coming from the factory, told her with a certain elation in -his voice, that the river was on the rise, she clasped her hands -nervously and wished Philip had wings. - -All the next day she found herself going to the verandah whence she -could see the sandy flats, and wondering if those distant streaks of -water were indeed creeping nearer. - -"The barometer's falling fast, so I'm afraid your philanthropy comes a -little too late, Belle," said John when he came in to lunch; "but -personally I'm glad the floods will be early. I don't mind confessing -to a little anxiety as to whether the dam will work, and it will be a -relief to see you looking less worried. I think every one is too much -on the strain just now, even Afzul. He was only saved from throwing up -his place this morning by the news that Philip was coming to-morrow; -so you see your plan has done some good already." - -The night closed dark and hazy, and Belle's last look from the -verandah showed her nothing but dim distances stretching away to a -lighter horizon. She could not sleep, yet she would not make any stir, -so she lay awake wondering what forces were at work among the shadows, -and what the dawn would bring forth. - -"John, John!" she cried, touching his shoulder to rouse him when the -first glimmer of light came to reveal the labour of the night. "The -floods are out right up to the high bank!" - -He was on his feet in an instant. "By George! I _am_ in luck!" he -cried. "It will take them all by surprise. Tell them to bring tea, -Belle; I must be off to the dam at once. And don't expect me back till -lunch; Marsden will excuse me, and besides," he gave a little light -laugh, "it will give you leisure to get over your confession. It's -awfully nice to have some one to be penitent in your place. It saves a -lot of bother. Don't you remember Florac's reply to Pendennis about -his mother's tears. 'You must have made her weep a good deal,' says -Pen 'Mais enormement, mon cher!'" - -A few minutes later he had left her with a kindly good-bye, and a -recommendation to take things easy as he did. As she walked up and -down the verandah waiting for Philip's arrival, she asked herself more -than once whether it would not be wiser to follow John's advice. Now -that the last chance of remedy was over for the present, why should -she give herself the pain of acknowledging that she condemned her -husband's action? Drifting this way and that in the current of -thought, as many another thing swept from its moorings was drifting in -the floods beneath her eyes, she had reached no certain conclusion -when the even tread of the horse, which they had sent to meet Philip, -brought her back to action with a strange dread of herself. He was -beside her in an instant and though she had worded her telegram so as -to avoid anxiety, it was clearly evident in his face. - -"Well, what is it?" he said, still holding her outstretched hand of -welcome, and looking into her face curiously. - -"Nothing," she answered hurriedly; "nothing in the least important. -Only--I wanted to see you. Come in; you must be tired, that beast has -such rough paces; I would have sent Suleiman, but he is lame. Come in, -tea is ready." - -So she ran on, and Philip, who, to say sooth, had been on tenter-hooks -ever since the receipt of her summons, had to fall into her mood, not -without a certain sense of injury. But the pleasure of being within -touch of her hand and sight of her face was irresistible, so that the -following hours seemed to take him back to the most perfect memory of -his whole life, to that evening at Saudaghur which he and she had -spent together in thoughtless, unreasoning content. Perhaps this -memory cast its glamour over Belle likewise; certain it is that -something beat down and overwhelmed all thought and care. John, coming -in almost late for lunch, found them laughing over the last week's -"Punch" which Philip had brought with him; and taking his cue quickly, -if with some contemptuous surprise, dropped his serious air and became -the genial host. Never was there a gayer or more light-hearted trio; -but outside the house the clear promise of the morning had dulled to a -yellow haze, and every now and again a swirl of dust swept past, -making the yellow deeper. - -"In for the first _andi_[8] of the season," said John Raby standing by -the window. "The natives say it is a sign of a healthy year to have a -dust-storm early. More good luck, you see, Belle! There is nothing -like keeping a calm sough, and trusting to Providence. Doesn't it make -you feel 'heavenly calm,' Marsden, to be here in this jolly room and -know that outside, in all that dust and pother, the elements are -working together for your good?" - -Philip laughed. "I feel very well content, thank you. The comfort of -contrast always appeals to my selfish nature." - -"Hark to that, Belle! I'll never believe in Philip's saintship again," -cried her husband triumphantly. "Well, I must be off; there was the -tiniest crumble in the dam, and I must get my bandits to work on it -before dark. By the way, Marsden, Afzul said he was coming to see you -this afternoon. If so, sit on him. The beggar has been half mutinous -of late. Faugh! what an atmosphere; but I dare say it will be better -outside." - -"How well he is looking," said Philip, as he watched the figure -disappearing through the haze. "I wish I could see you do more credit -to the 'heavenly calm.'" He made the remark lightly enough, thinking -only of his first glance at her when he arrived; a glance which had -prompted his swift inquiry as to what was the matter. But he was -startled out of all save surprise by the look on her face as she -turned towards him from the window. - -"Heavenly calm!" she echoed almost wildly. "Yes, for you and for me, -and for him; but for the others? You asked me, and I said nothing was -the matter. It was a lie, everything is the matter! Outside there, in -the dust,--" as she spoke the hand she had laid on his arm in her -vehemence tightened to a clutch, her eyes fixed themselves on -something. "John!" she cried. "He is coming back, running! Oh, what is -it? what is it?" - -Almost before he could grasp her meaning the door burst open, and John -Raby was back in the room, calm for all his excitement. "Quick, -Marsden, quick! get your revolver,--the fools are at the dam! There's -treachery, and not a moment to lose! Quick, man, quick!" - -"Treachery! What? How? I don't understand--Belle, what is the matter?" - -For she had thrown herself between him and her husband, and stood with -one hand on his breast as if to push him back. "He shall not go; he -does not understand!" she cried passionately. "I tell you he shall not -go until I have told him all. He does not know, he does not -understand; it is not fair--Philip!--" - -"--Don't heed her, Marsden; it's all fancy, and there is no time for -words. I tell you they are at the dam,--the fools!" cried John, his -self-control seeming to give way at the very thought of danger to the -work of his hands. "Belle, let him go! I command you,--I entreat--" - -But she stood firm, every fibre of her nature tense in this final -conflict, a conflict not so much between the two men, as between her -instincts and her beliefs. And yet, the sense of personal injury so -long repressed made her words reckless. "You have taken everything -from him--everything that makes life worth living--even his love. And -because of that he has given up everything without a word; and now you -ask his honour, his life, in a bad cause; but you shall not have it! -Philip! if you love me,--if you love your own good name,--stay where -you are. It is I who command it!" - -With an oath John Raby dashed past her to the office, but ere Philip -had time to do more than unclasp, as gently as he could, the arms she -had flung about his neck, her husband was back again, revolver in -hand, his clear face blurred by anger; sheer, animal anger. - -"Belle!" he cried, beside himself with uncontrolled passion, "don't -add this folly to your other foolishness. Think! I am your husband; so -choose between us. Choose between us I say, or by God--" - -She interrupted him in tones so bitter that no escape remained from -their finality. "Choose? Yes! I have chosen at last--at last! Philip -shall not suffer." - -His answer came swiftly! "Then stay with your lover; I might have -known I was a fool to trust a woman." - -Ere the echo of his voice died away he was out in the storm again, -leaving those two in a silence worse than the words just spoken. He -had disengaged her arms, but her hands had tightened themselves on -his, and so they stood face to face, looking into each other's eyes. -But in his lay a pity and tenderness before which hers failed and -fell. - -"You must not go," she whispered, low and fast. "I have not told you, -and I ought to have told you. He had no right to use your name, to be -so hard; and they may kill you. I have a right to tell you,--surely I -have a right to so much?" - -Her warm clasp held him unresisting, yet in his heart of hearts he was -not thinking of her, only of some expedient which should avoid the -last resource of brute force; for with all his tenderness his pride -was in arms. "Have I not given you enough, Belle?" he said hoarsely. -"Will you not even leave me my courage?" - -With a sob she flung his hands from her as if they bit and stung. -"Go!" she cried. "You are unjust, ungenerous; but go!" - -He did not wait. Torn as he was by love and compassion for the woman -he was leaving so forsaken and abased, he could not pause in the -mad hurry which seized him, even for a word of comfort; time, if he -was to retrieve his self-respect and hers, was too precious. Another -instant and he was searching frantically for his revolver among his -half-unpacked things, and feeling a certain fierce joy in anticipation -of the struggle to come. A quick snatch, a breathless relief, and he -looked up to find Afzul Khan standing by the only door of exit from -the room. "Afzul!" he cried, "why are you here? Why are you not at -your post when there is danger afoot? Follow me at once!" - -But the Pathan's answer was to close the door and stand with his arm -thrown across it, bolt-wise. Then he looked at the Major boldly, yet -respectfully. "I'm here, _Huzoor_, because I have grown tired of -helping a tyrant. The _sahib_ should be tired of it too and take his -reward. That is what I came to make known to the Presence." - -"Let me pass, fool!" shouted Philip, struggling to get at the door. -But Afzul was his match in strength, and, even as he resisted, found -time for words. "Listen, _Huzoor!_ If it is the money, let it go. I -have here in my pocket something that will put more money into the -_mem's_ hand. So you can have her and the money too." - -"Are you mad? Let me pass, I say, or it will be the worse for you!" - -"For you, _Huzoor_. There is danger; the men mean fight, but if Raby -_sahib_ has none to back him, he will choose prudence. He wrought the -evil--I will not stir, _sahib_, till you have listened--he wrought the -evil, let him bear the loss. You--" - -Philip gave one glance round for other means of escape; then -the breathless hurry of the last few moments left his voice and -manner. "Stand back, Afzul," he said quietly, "or I'll fire. -One,--two,--three!--" - -An instant's pause, and the hand on the trigger wavered. Something, -the memory of those days and nights in the smoky cave, perhaps, came -between Philip and the wrist he aimed at, for the ball struck the door -below it, splintering the wood. But that waver, slight though it was, -caught the Pathan's quick eye. He threw up his arm with a laugh of -malicious triumph. "We are quits, _Huzoor!_ We have both been fools -before the other's bravery; that is the end, the end at last!" - -The meaning of his words, even the words themselves, were lost on -Philip, who was already down the verandah steps, his head, as he ran, -bent low to save himself from being blinded by the swirl of dust which -now swept past continuously. Afzul scowled after the retreating -figure. "Fool!" he muttered between his teeth. "But I have done with -him now--done with everything save this accursed letter. I wish I had -sent it to the _mem_ at first. It belongs to her, and she is the best -of the bunch." - -So muttering he made his way to the verandah, and raising the bamboo -screen looked into the drawing-room. Belle, crushed to a dull -endurance by the consciousness of her own impotence to aid; nay more, -with the very desire to help killed by the awful knowledge that both -those men had flung her aside as something beneath their manhood, had -thrown herself face downward on the sofa, where she lay with clenched -hands, striving to regain some power of thought or action; yet in the -very effort driving herself to greater helplessness by her wild -insistence that time was passing, that she must decide, must do -something. - -"_Huzoor!_" - -She started to her feet, and found Afzul beside her with outstretched -hand. The sight, by rousing a physical fear, brought back the courage -which never failed her at such times. "Well?" she asked boldly. - -"I am not come to hurt you, _Huzoor_, but to give you this. It belongs -to you." - -She put out her hand mechanically, and took a small package done up, -native fashion, in a bit of old brocade. - -"Mine! what is it?" she asked in a dull tone. - -"It is Dick _sahib's_ will. He died fighting like the brave one he -was; but they were all brave, those three,--Dick _sahib_, and Marsden -_sahib_, and Raby _sahib_. They die fighting,--curse them!" - -They die fighting? With the first cry she had given, Belle broke from -him, and, still clutching the packet, followed in the footsteps of -those two; and as she ran, beaten back by the wind, and half-blinded -by the sand, she scarcely thought of their safety, only that she might -get there in time. Only in time, dear God! only in time to show them -that she was brave also. - -The lurid yellow of the dust-storm had darkened or lightened -everything to the same dull tint; the sand beneath her feet, the sky -above, the swaying trees between, each and all seemed like shadows -thrown upon a screen, and her own flying figure the only reality in an -empty world of dreams. Not a sound save the broad rush of the wind, -not a sight save the dim dust hazed paths bordered by shrivelled -flowers. Then, beyond the garden, the long curve of the dam, the -deeper sinking into dun-coloured soil of those frantic feet; and, -running with her as she ran, the swirls and dimples of the yellow -river angry for all its silence. - -If only she might be in time! There, in the centre of the curve, like -a swarm of bees, shifting, crowding, pressing,--was that John's fair -head in the centre? If the wind were only the other way, she might -have heard; but now, even if they were crying for help, she would not -hear!-- - -Suddenly her stumbling flight ceased in a stumbling pause. Was that -the wind? She threw up her hands without a cry, and stood as if turned -to stone. It seemed to her as if the seconds beat themselves in on her -brain--one--two--three--four--five--not more than that; then a low -dull roar ending in silence; silence and peace, for she lay huddled up -in a heap upon the ground as if struck by lightning. - - - - - CHAPTER XXV. - - -When John Raby, waking at Belle's touch to find the floods had come, -remarked that the people would be taken by surprise, he said truly. -The corollary he drew from this premise--that he was to be -congratulated on good luck--was not so sure. For there are times when -the unforeseen acts as a spur to those who, when prepared, often lack -the courage of action. And this was the case with a large body of the -malcontents whom Shunker Das, aided of late by his lieutenant Ram Lal, -had been diligently instructing in the necessity for resistance at the -proper time. But a vague formula of this sort is a very different -thing in the eyes of the stolid law-abiding peasant, from the -resolution that to-day, this hour, this minute, they had to set aside -their inherited endurance, their ancestral calm, and fight. So, had -the floods come in due course and after due warning, it is more than -probable that even Ram Lal's reckless desire for revenge would have -failed to excite the people to the organised attack on the new dam -towards which all Shunker's machinations had tended, and in which he -saw at least temporary ruin to his enemy's plans. Fate, however, -provided the element of surprise, and, to these slow-brained rebels, -seemed to leave no choice beyond instant revolt or instant submission. - -Aided by Ram Lal's envoys the news that the river was rising travelled -fast; down the depression of cultivated land along which--given a high -flood-mark--the water might be expected: nor was the assertion wanting -that such a flood-mark had already been reached during the past two -days, and its benefits neutralised by Raby _sahib's_ unholy -contrivance. By dawn bands of the restless had begun to drift about -from village to village, eager to discuss the position, and by degrees -gaining a certain coherence of intention. Even those who hung back -from the idea of active interference joining the crowd out of -curiosity and so increasing the quantity of human tinder ready for -ignition by the smallest spark. Before noon Khan Mahomed Lateef Khan, -looking out from his ruined tower, saw a cloud of dust beyond his bare -brown fields and ere long was in parley with a recruiting band. - -"Not I," swore the old man fiercely; "these are not days for honest -blows. My son--God smite those who smote him!--could tell you so much; -and his son must learn his father's wisdom. Ye are fools! Let every -one of you give one rupee after the manner of a wedding, and go -purchase the slithering lies of a pleader. Then may ye have justice in -the _sahibs'_ courts; not otherwise. Besides, look ye, Shunker is in -this, and his jackal Ramu; and by the twelve Imaums I hate them worse -than Raby _sahib!_" - -"Ram Lal hath cause," retorted a villainous-looking goldsmith, hailing -from the village where Belle had been pelted by the children. "We -Hindus, Khan _sahib_, are peace-lovers till they touch our women." - -The old Mussulman burst into a scornful laugh. "Best not chatter thus -to me, Gurdit! _Inshallah_; there have been times when honest blows -with a good sword have brought the faithful many a Hindu _peri!_ But I -quarrel not, so go your way, fools, like sheep to slaughter if so your -wisdom teaches. I bide at home." - -"Nay but, Khan _sahib_," expostulated that very Peru with whom Shunker -had begun his work, "we go not to, or for slaughter. We mean to -petition first to Marsden _sahib_, who comes to-day; so the Pathan -hath given out." - -"What!" interrupted the Khan with a frown. "He hath returned! Then go -ye doubly to slaughter, for there is one who dallies not with words. -He knows how to smite, and if it comes to blows I know which side good -swords--But there! I bide at home." - -Nor, despite their urgent importunities, would he consent even to join -those who favoured a petition. No doubt the racial disinclination to -be mixed up with idolaters had something to do with the refusal; -beyond this there was a stronger desire to give no help to Shunker; -and stronger than all was that liking for sheer pluck which makes a -native regiment, recruited from the martial races and led by -Englishmen it trusts, well nigh the perfection of a warlike weapon. -Many records bear witness to this fact, none more so than the story of -Ahmad Kheyl, when, but for an Englishman's voice and the steady -response of Indian soldiers, the tale might have been writ "disaster" -instead of "victory." Perhaps some of the three thousand Ghazies who -on that day dashed like an avalanche down the hill-side on to the thin -brown line guarding a mistaken retreat of red-coats may have expected -colour to side with colour. If so they paid dearly for their error. It -is pluck with pluck; and the words "_Retreat be damned--stand fast, -men!_" attributed rightly or wrongly to an Englishman not mentioned in -despatches, were sufficient to weld two nationalities into a wall -which broke the force of one of the most desperate charges ever made. -At least so runs the story,--out of despatches. - -Khan Mahomed Lateef Khan, then, retreated growling to his tumbledown -roof, and betook himself inconsequently to polishing up his sword. -Half an hour afterwards, however, he suddenly bade old Fatma bring him -his company raiment with the medals and clasps of his dead sons sewn -on it. Then he said a brief farewell to the child, left the women -without a word, and went over to borrow the pink-nosed pony of the -pleader's father, who, being the Government accountant, was of course -discreetly at home. - -"Why didst not make thy son take up the case without payment?" asked -the old man wrathfully, as his neighbour held the stirrup for him to -mount. "Then should I not have had to go in mine old age and strive -for peace,--mark you, for peace!" - -But as he rode off, the old sword clattered merrily about his old -legs, and he smiled, thinking of the gift given when the light of his -eyes lay sick in the _mem's_ arms. - -"The sword is for her and hers, according to my oath," he said to -himself. "God knows it may be peace; I will do naught to hinder it; -but with Marsden _sahib_--_Allah Akbar!_ at least they do not worship -stocks and stones like these pigs." - -So behind the gathering cloud of witnesses, half hidden in the -gathering dust, came the pink-nosed pony ready for peace or war. The -odds, either for one or the other, flickered up and down a dozen times -as village after village sent or held back its contingent. Finally it -flared up conclusively with the advent of Ramu at the head of his -particular villains, armed not only with sticks and stones, but with -picks and shovels. Like a spark among tinder the suggestion flamed -through the mass,--why waste time in words when, without a blow, -except at solid earth, they could bring the floods into their own -channel, since Afzul and his gang had declared in favour of the -people? So said Ramu, and the peasants were only too ready to believe -him, seeing that picks and shovels were more to their minds than -blows. Thus, while the trio of aliens to whom that low curve of -earthwork meant so much, were talking and laughing over their lunch, -the dam was being assailed by a swarm of men eager for its -destruction. Almost at the same time the Khan _sahib_, spurring the -pink-nosed pony to the overseer's hut, found Afzul asleep, or -pretending to sleep. Perhaps the hint of bribery was true; perhaps the -Pathan thought a crisis was needed; at all events he was too crafty to -show his hand to his stern old patron, and set off ostensibly to give -the alarm at the house and summon his gang, who by a curious -coincidence happened to be employed half a mile or so further up the -river. Not till he saw his messenger reach the verandah did the Khan -seek the scene of action. Picks and shovels indeed! Well! these -ploughmen had a right to use such weapons, and he would stand by and -see fair play. - -How Afzul fulfilled his mission has already been told; also the result -of John Raby's appeal for help to Philip Marsden. To say that the -former could not believe his eyes, when, on first turning out of the -garden, he caught sight of the crowd gathered on the dam, is but a -feeble description of the absolutely incredulous wrath which -overpowered him. He had been prepared for opposition, perhaps even for -attack, when such attack was reasonable. But that these fools, these -madmen, should propose to cut a channel with the full weight of a -flood on the dam was inconceivable. As he ran back for his revolver, a -savage joy at the danger to the workers themselves merged itself with -rage at the possible ruin of his labour, and a fierce determination by -words, warnings, and threats to avert the worst. They could not be -such fools, such insensate idiots! As he passed the workmen's huts on -his return, he shouted to Afzul, and getting no reply ran on with a -curse at all traitors. He was alone against them all, but despite them -all he would prevail. As he neared the crowd, bare-headed, revolver in -hand, he felt a wild desire to fire without a word and kill some one, -no matter whom. The suspicion, however, that this attack could not -proceed from anything but revenge had grown upon him, and became -conviction as he saw that the largest portion of his enemies were of -the ruck; men who never did a hand's turn, and who even now stood by, -applauding, while others plied spade and mattock. In the latter, in -their stolid wisdom and experience, lay his best chance, and he -slipped the revolver to his pocket instantly. "Stop, you fools!" he -shouted, "stop! Peru! Gunga; where are your wits? The flood,--the -flood is too strong." Then, recognising the old Khan, he appealed -instinctively to him for support. "Stop them, Khan _sahib!_ you are -old and wise; tell them it is madness!" - -As he spoke, reaching the growing gap, he leapt down into it and -wrested a spade from the man nearest to him. It was yielded almost -without resistance, but a murmur ran through the bystanders, and the -workers dug faster. - -"Jodha! Boota! Dhurma!" rose John's voice again, singling out the men -he knew to be cultivators. "This is folly! tell them it is folly, Khan -_sahib!_" - -"I know not," answered the other moodily; "'tis shovel, not -sword-work, and they have a right to the water--before God, _sahib_, -they have a right to so much!" - -"Before God, they will have more than they want," interrupted that -eager tone; and something in its intelligent decision arrested one or -two of the older workers. They looked round at the swirling waste of -the river and hesitated. - -"Tis but his craft," cried Ramu excitedly, showing himself for the -first time; "I know Raby well. On! On, my brothers! He has wiles for -men as well as for women!" - -The revolver came out of John Raby's pocket again swiftly, but an -ominous surge together of the crowd showed him that it must be a last -resource when all else had failed; and now there were steps behind him -coming down the embankment hard and fast. The next instant Philip's -voice with the ring of accustomed command in it came sharp. "Listen! -The first of you who puts spade to ground, God save his soul from -damnation!" - -The native is essentially dramatic. The very turn of his speech, where -the imperative remains intact even when it has filtered through other -lips, shows him to be so; and Philip Marsden, with the intimate -knowledge of years, counted not unwisely on this characteristic for -effect. The surprise, the appearance of one who in a vague way they -considered of the right sort, the certainty that the voice they heard -meant what it said, produced a general pause among the diggers; a -pause during which Mahomed Lateef drew his sword gently from the -scabbard. - -"Listen again!" cried Philip. "Put down those spades and you shall -have justice. I promise it." - -But even as he spoke John Raby gave a quick excited cry. "Back! -Marsden, back! the dam is cracking! Back, for God's sake! It is too -late! Let the fools be!" - -He sprang up the gap, and as he did so a man sprang after him. It was -Ramu, ready for the deed he had come to do, fearful lest by this -unexpected flight his prey might escape him. The glance of a knife, a -cry, more of surprise than pain, and John Raby, twisting round in a -last desire to get at his assassin, overbalanced and fell headlong -down into the ditch. The next instant, before Philip's revolver could -single out the criminal, the old Khan's sword swirled above the high -turban. - -"_Allah-i-Hukk! Allah-i-Akbar!_" (God is Right and Might.) The fervour -of youth rang in the familiar war-shout, and the memory of youth must -have nerved the hand, for Ramu's head heeled over on his shoulder in -ghastly fashion as he doubled up beneath the force of the blow. But -ere he fell the ground beneath him split as if for a grave, and with a -hiss of water pouring through the cracks the loosened soil gave way on -all sides. Philip, bounding down to reach his fallen friend, felt a -sudden dizziness as the solid earth swirled round, split up, broke -into islands. Then, with an awful swiftness, while the crowd fought -frantically for a crumbling foothold, the dam, like a child's -sand-castle before an incoming wave, broadened, sank, melted, -disappeared, leaving nothing but a sheet of water racing madly to find -its old haunts. - -Then it was, when the scene in which all her life seemed bound up -disappeared bodily from before her eyes, that Belle Raby threw up her -hands and forgot the whole world for a time. - -Philip, strong swimmer as he was, struggled hard with the underdraw -ere he rose to the surface, shook the mud and water from his -eyes, and looked about him. Many a wretch swept past him shrieking -for aid, but he searched for something which, even amid his own -danger, he could not think of without a curse. Once, twice, thrice, he -dived after a hint, a hope; then, coming on Mahomed Lateef, drifting -half-unconsciously down stream, he gave up the useless search and, -buoying the old man's head against his shoulder, struck out for the -back eddy. He was so spent when he reached the shore, that he could -with difficulty drag his burden to the dry warm sand and sink down -beside it. The whole incident had passed so rapidly that it seemed but -an instant since he had been running down the embankment, eager to be -in time. And he had been in time for what? Suddenly he remembered -Belle and staggered to his feet. The storm was darker than ever and -aided by the afternoon shadows wrapped everything in a dim twilight -which hid all save the immediate foreground. Still he could see from -the ebb of the flood in front of him that the great mass of upheld -water must have surged first in a forward direction, and then recoiled -to find the lower levels which lay at right angles. Thus it seemed -probable that many of those swept away in the great rush might have -been left high and dry a quarter of a mile or so lower down; and in -this case nothing was more likely than a further attack on the house, -for once blood has been shed,--and that some of those engaged must -have lost their lives seemed certain--even the proverbially placid -peasantry of India loses its head. Belle, therefore, must be found, -not merely to tell her of the calamity, but to secure her safety; the -instant after this thought flashed upon him, Philip Marsden was making -his way to the house, stumbling as he ran through heavy sand and in -the teeth of a choking dust-storm. Men, even strong men, have in such -a storm lost their way and been smothered to death as they sought -shelter in some hollow, but Philip was too set on his purpose to think -of pausing. - -"Belle! Belle!" he cried as he ran up the verandah-steps and burst -into the drawing-room. She was not there. "Belle! Belle! I want you." -But there was no reply. The absence of servants, the deserted -verandah, did not surprise him; news flies fast among the people. But -Belle? was it possible she too had ventured out, perhaps along the dam -itself? The very thought turned him sick with fear, and he dashed into -her room calling on her again and again. The thousand and one delicate -tokens of her presence hit him hard by contrast with the idea of her -out there alone, perhaps swirling down that awful stream with which it -seemed to him he was still struggling. - -"Belle! Belle!" He was out of the house once more, through the garden, -down by the huts. Was it a year, or a minute ago, that he had passed -that way, running, as now, to be in time? Or were past and present -nothing but a bad dream? One of those endless nights from some unknown -horror which survive a thousand checks, and go on and on despite -perpetual escape? No, it was not a dream! The last time there had been -a low curve of earth before him where now nothing showed save a dim -yellow flood sliding so smoothly that it seemed to have been sliding -there since time began. Each step bringing him nearer to it brought -him nearer also to despair. Then, just as he had given up hope, on the -very brink, so close that one clenched hand hung over the water, he -found her lying as she had fallen; found her none too soon, for even -as he stooped to raise her, another few inches of loosened soil -undermined by the current fell with a dull splash, and he realised -that ere long the river would have turned her forgetfulness to death. - -Lifting her as best he could in his arms, he paused an instant to -consider what had best be done. One thing was certain, neither house -nor hut was safe until time showed the temper of the survivors. Yet -help and remedies of some sort he must have, and shelter too from -storm and night. He thought of Kirpo, but decided not to trust her. A -lucky decision, since to seek her would have been but waste of time, -as, recognising her husband among the rioters, she had fled into the -jungle with her child. The servants might be found if fear had not -dispersed them, but where in the meantime was he to leave Belle? At -last his thoughts returned to the old Khan. He was faithful, and if he -had recovered might at least keep watch while Philip sought other -help. Besides, not far from where he had left the old man, Philip had -noticed a reed shanty built against the abutment of the dam, and so -hidden from the sight of all save those coming from that side. He -determined therefore to carry Belle thither, and if he could find -Mahomed Lateef to leave her in his charge. This was no easy task, for -Belle, unconscious as she was, proved an awkward burden over such a -rough road, and it was a great relief to be able to lay her down at -last in comparative shelter and assure himself that she was still -alive; for, as he had struggled on, the dead weight in his arms had -filled him with apprehension. The next thing was to find the Khan. -Here fate proved kind, and within a few yards of the shanty Philip -came upon him, battling against the wind yet finding breath for a -running fire of curses on all idolaters. To cut short his gratitude -and explain what was wanted took but a moment; the next saw Philip -hurrying towards the house again, since, if the rioters returned, time -might run short. It did, despite his hurry, so that after vainly -searching for the servants, he was still rummaging for more ammunition -and (most potent weapon of all) for money, when the sound of advancing -voices warned him to be off. Thanks to the almost blinding dust there -was little fear of being seen in his retreat; yet when, on reaching -the shanty, he found Belle still quite unconscious, he recognised that -the most difficult part of his task had yet to come. He had brought -back a few comforts snatched up hastily as he made his escape, and now -set to work to force a few drops of brandy down her throat, wrap her -in warmer garments, and chafe her cold hands and feet. To do so he had -to unclasp the fingers of her right hand by force and withdraw -something she held in it. This, without giving it a glance, he slipped -into the breast-pocket of his coat and so continued his efforts. After -a time her colour became less deathlike: she moaned once or twice, -turning her head aside as if to escape from some distasteful sight; -but beyond this there was no change, and the hope of her recovering -the shock sufficiently to aid in her own escape seemed very slender. -Nor did Philip wonder at her collapse when he thought of what it must -have been for her to stand by helpless, and see those who had left her -in anger swept away into the unforgiveness of death. - -"_Huzoor_" whispered the old Khan, who in deference to inviolable -custom had been sitting with averted face in the doorway, where, -shivering from the chill of the wind through his wet clothes he had -been considering the position carefully, "We must get out of this. To -sit here will have us crippled with ague by dawn. There is my pony; I -will go fetch it from the huts. Perchance they may not see me; -perchance they would not touch me if they did, for Ramu--the man I -killed, _Huzoor_--hath no blood-kin in these parts, and death cools -friendship. Besides, their wrath will be only against white faces. -When I am gone ten minutes, lift the _mem_, and make for the dip in -the south road by the _nullah_. If all goes well, you will hear hoofs -ere long. But if these fools are set on blood, make your way as best -you can due south. Eight miles, more or less, keeping the left bank -till you see a square-towered house. Give this to the women; they will -obey it." - -He took the talisman signet from his thumb, and slipping it into -Philip's hand left the hut. The next ten minutes seemed interminable; -and the relief of action when it came was great. This time Belle -proved an easier burden, when wrapped closely in a shawl and lifted -leisurely. Once amongst the tall tiger-grass in the _nullah_ he rested -his knee against a high tussock and still holding her in his arms -waited anxiously, for he was now on the direct route to the house and -liable to come across a straggling rioter at any moment. The risk, -however, had to be run, as the only available bridge over a cut from -the river lay a few yards further on. Sheltered by the high grass, -Philip's eyes were practically useless to him, and the pony's hoofs -being deadened by the sand, it needed a low whistle from the Khan to -bring him out on to the road beside the pink-nosed pony. - -"Give me her here, across the pummel, _Huzoor_," said the old man -briefly. "Your legs are younger than mine, and time is precious. -So, gently! _Mashallah!_ I have seen women carried thus before -this!--women who gave the rider more trouble than she is like to do. -Now, if you are ready, _Huzoor_; for though 'tis dark enough there -will be a blaze ere long. Those low-caste, pig-leather-working dogs -had got to the _sahib's_ brandy-bottles, and you know what that -means." - -"Did they try to stop you?" asked Philip, when after crossing the -bridge in silent anxiety they struck into the comparative safety of -the jungle. - -The old man grunted softly, his anger tempered by the necessity for -caution. "By the twelve Imaums they said I was afraid!--_I_, Mahomed -Lateef Syyed!--that I was sneaking away! And I,--I never even called -them pigs." - -Despite his anxiety Philip could not resist a smile, partly of -confidence, for no better proof of the Khan's resolution to bring -Belle safely out of trouble could have been found than this -unparalleled meekness. So they went on swiftly. Philip at the -bridle-rein, the old Khan supporting Belle partly on his arm, partly -by a dexterous arrangement of his scabbard, over which the old man -chuckled as if in contented reminiscence of bygone days. "'Tis as I -said, _Huzoor_," he remarked pointing to a red flush rising behind -them. "That is the bungalow roof. 'Tis well she is out of it so far." -Philip thinking of all the horrors of the past few hours, and -contrasting them with his memories of Belle in her pretty home, -clenched his hands, wishing _he_ were nearer. Perhaps the Khan's -sympathy saw to his thought, for the old man went on in aggrieved -tones, "And we get no good from it. Not even an honest set-to when the -women are safe; for to-morrow the _tahseeldar_[9] and the police will -spoil sport. Besides, these shovel-diggers will be afraid of their own -actions by dawn! Even now we are safe; safe as if we are driving down -the watered road of a cantonment, our only care to convey this poor -soul to woman's hands. _Inshallah!_ The women have the best of it in -your reign, _Huzoor!_" - -"Well! some one will have to answer for the day's work," replied -Philip grimly. - -"Some _one_. Ay, that is to-day's law, and even of that I know not," -grumbled the Khan. "For look you, Ramu and none else killed the -_sahib_, and I killed Ramu, so that is done. The rest were peaceable -enough, God knows, and you hang not for the bursting of _bunds_ (dams) -and burning of bungalows. There is no justice nowadays!" - -It was past midnight ere the pony pulled up of its own accord at a -ruinous door, and the owner with mighty shouts and much impatient -rattling of his sword-hilt on the panels roused the inmates. -"Come forth, Fatma," he cried to the white-sheeted form muttering -faint excuses which appeared at length. "Heed not the stranger -to-night,--Haiyat also. He is my brother, and this, look you, is my -sister. We will carry her within to the women's room, and ye must see -to her as women should, and bring us word of her state speedily. 'Tis -best so, _Huzoor_; Fatma is learned in woman's lore and hath simples. -She will tell us if there be hurts or danger. For to-night the _mem_ -had best stay here, since there is nought to be done save rest." - -"Not so, Khan _sahib_; I must return and see after--" - -The old Mussulman raised his right hand solemnly. "Let the dead rest -in peace also for tonight, _Huzoor_. I saw Raby _sahib_ fall, and I -know how dead clay toucheth the earth to which it returns. The knife -struck home, _Huzoor_; right through the heart! Lo, it was Kismet! -Raby _sahib_ is dead, but his slayer is dead also, so we, his -comrades, may rest awhile till dawn comes." - -"I will wait till dawn," said Philip, "and hear what the women say." - -So the Khan disposed himself to sleep with the calm of an old -campaigner, and Philip sat out in the warm night air waiting for the -dawn. The storm had ended in weak-minded thunder and a few spots of -dry rain, which had nevertheless left a freshness behind them. Here -and there through the parting drifts of cloud and dust the stars -twinkled brightly, making Philip's thoughts turn to a future more -peaceful than past or present. He drove the erring fancies back to -realities with a certain scorn of himself, but they broke from control -again and again with the insistence which truth brings to bear on -conventionalities. It was true that by and by time would heal the -present trouble; it was true that by and by regrets would soften. -There was no hurry, no thought but pity and sorrow for what was, and -yet he started from a vision of peace to find old Fatma by his side. -The Khan had long since been snoring placidly, so the old matron's -eyes could look into Philip's with straightforward confidence. - -"The _mem_ will do for now, _Huzoor_. There is no danger, none at all. -But by and by, in the months to come, may God save from harm the child -that will be born!" - -He rose to his feet white to the very lips. Just Heaven! Was this poor -Belle's last legacy! - - - - - CHAPTER XXVI. - - -The old Khan's forecast proved correct in every particular. By noon on -the day after the outbreak the ringleaders were safe in the lock-up -awaiting trial, and, save for the smouldering house and the yellow -flood of water sliding down the old channel, there was nothing to tell -of the past night's work. For the dead bodies had been carried to -their homes, and the women wailed over them discreetly behind mud -walls, as if they had died in their beds. All save John Raby's, and -that was making a dismal procession towards the nearest railway -station, preceded at a little distance by poor Belle, crushed and but -half-conscious of the truth. Philip, riding by the side of the litter, -felt there was something exasperating in the absolute insignificance -of the whole affair. It almost seemed as if some one must be to blame, -as if something could surely have been done to avert so terrible an -ending to what was, after all, but a storm in a tea-cup. But then -neither he, nor the authorities who had to inquire into the matter, -were in possession of that master-key to the whole position which was -to be found in Shunker Das's desire for revenge. For he had worked -carefully, leaving scarcely a trace behind him; and though Kirpo came -forward boldly to declare his responsibility, her palpable motive for -spite discredited her statements. Besides, at the very outset of the -inquiry, it became clear that John Raby's murder by Ramu had nothing -whatever to do with his action in regard to the water; and however -absurd the man's jealousy might seem, it was certainly sufficient to -explain the rancour with which Kirpo's husband had set himself to -conspire against the Englishman. It was evident therefore that the -latter had met his death, not from his harshness towards the people, -but from the good-nature with which he had originally espoused the -woman's cause. Both Philip Marsden and the Khan could only witness to -the freedom from all attempt at personal violence on the part of the -crowd, even when John Raby had thrown himself among the workers and -taken a spade from them by force; while the subsequent burning and -looting of the factory was evidently an after impulse caused by the -rage of the survivors at the loss of their companions. The whole -affair, in short, being one of those perfectly maddening mistakes and -misapprehensions which serve sometimes to emphasise the peculiar -conditions of life in our Indian Empire. - -All this, or most of it, was in due time dinned into the widow's ears -by kindly but strange voices; for there was one familiar voice which -she dreaded to hear because the owner knew of something which the -others did not know: something she could not remember without despair. -So day after day she lay in the spare room of the head official's -house,--that spare room which shelters such an odd variety of guests, -the travelling Member of Parliament, the widow, the homeward and -outward bound, the dying, sometimes the dead--and when Philip's name -was mentioned she would turn her head away and beg to be left alone a -little longer, just a little longer. Hurt as he could not fail to be -at her avoidance of him, he understood the reason of it all too well, -and waited patiently. Then the last day of his leave came, and he sent -to say he _must_ see her before he left; so Belle, white as her -widow's cap, nerved herself for the interview with the man whom she -had preferred before her dead husband. That is how, in her abject -remorse, she put it to herself. She had chosen her lover. The natural -indignation at deceit, the generous instinct, the sense of injustice -which had forced her to the decision were all forgotten before the -memory of those minutes of delay. How could she meet Philip?--Philip, -round whose neck she had thrown her arms while defying the husband -whom she had sent alone to seek death! That Philip had refused to play -the part she gave him, that he had forced her to play a better one -herself, brought her no comfort. She was too much absorbed in the -scene as it affected her and the dead man to care what Philip had said -or done. The very fact of his entering into it at all was an offence. -She would not consider him in the least, except to tell herself that -she was also responsible to _him_ for the loss of his money. To this -additional self-reproach she clung firmly, as if to a protection, and -when she saw him pausing for half a second at the first glimpse of her -in her widow's weeds, she thrust it forward hastily, like a shield -against his sympathy. - -"I am so sorry," she began coldly, "it was not his fault. He did his -best about the money, and now you have lost it all." - -A sort of irritated amazement came over him. What did he care for the -money? Why should she be fretting over it when his thoughts were full -of her,--of her only? He looked into her grief-darkened eyes with a -certain impatience--the old impatience at seeing her unhappy--the old -eagerness to rouse her into hope. "Oh Belle! what does all that -matter? Don't look so miserable over it, for pity's sake!" - -She drew her hand from his, slowly, with her eyes full on his face. -"You are fond of saying that. But how can I look anything else when I -killed my husband?" - -"Belle!" The horrified surprise in his tone scarcely expressed his -bewilderment, for he had little experience of women or the morbid -exaggerations in which, at times, they find a positive relief. "Belle, -what do you mean? How can you say such things?" - -"What is the use of hiding the truth from ourselves?" she answered -almost with satisfaction at her own self-torture. She had not meant, -at least she thought she had not meant, to broach the subject at all; -but now that it was begun she threw herself into it with out reserve. -"You know as well as possible that it was I who really killed him; I -who prevented your being in time to save him." - -There was more pity than amazement in his voice now. "Have you been -tormenting yourself with that thought all these long days? Poor child! -No wonder you have been miserable. Belle, my dear, it isn't true. You -know yourself,--surely you must know it isn't true." - -"I know nothing of the sort," she interrupted quickly, with a dull -hard voice. "I kept you, and you were too late. Nothing can alter -that. It is the truth." - -"It is not the truth," he answered quietly. "If you had but let me see -you at first I might have spared you this unnecessary pain. Perhaps I -ought to have insisted on seeing you, but--" He went on after a slight -pause, "but I respected your wishes, because--" - -"Because you knew I had reason to dread seeing you!" she broke in -passionately. "Because you knew it was I who killed him! Because you -were afraid! Don't deny it, Philip; you knew,--yes! you knew why." - -He stood before her, manly and strong, pitiful yet full of vexation. -"I will not have you say such things--of me at any rate, Belle. I will -not even have you think them of me; or of yourself either. In your -heart of hearts you know they are not true. True!--they are lies, -Belle, wicked lies. You have been working yourself up in your -loneliness to believe something impossible, preposterous, and it is my -fault for letting you be lonely. I was not too late. No power on earth -could have saved John. I was there armed, ready; the Khan was there -also with drawn sword; yet we could not save him. No one could have -saved him. _That_ is the truth." - -"If you had gone sooner," she murmured, pressing her hands tightly -together till the rings on them cut and hurt, as if she were glad of -pain, of something to appease her own self-condemnation; "if you had -not been delayed, you might have persuaded him to be more cautious." - -Philip almost smiled, a smile of vexed surprise at her perversity. "My -dear Belle! Am I a man to preach caution when I am opposed? Was John a -man to listen to such caution when the time for action had come? -Nonsense! I don't wish to be hard, dear; I don't say, mind you, that -the remembrance of his anger is not very bitter--God only knows how -bitter--for you to bear. But, Belle, if he knows anything now, he -knows that he was wrong." - -"He was not wrong; he was right. I chose you and forsook him." - -Philip gave a little impatient shake of his head, then walked away to -the window feeling how hopeless it was to argue with a woman in -Belle's position. A man was absolutely helpless before such weakness -and such strength. Yet, after a pause, he returned to the attack by a -side route. "Besides," he said, coming back to where she was seated, -and standing beside her resting one hand on the back of her chair, "it -was not really you who delayed me. It was something else of which you -know nothing. If I had seen you I would have told you, but there was -no use mentioning it to others because the man had gone and there was -nothing to be done. It was Afzul kept me. He came to my room when I -went to fetch my revolver, and barred the door. He wanted me to listen -as you did. I think he was mad, but I had to fire ere he would let me -pass. You see it was he who delayed me, not you. One reason why I did -not mention it was this: the man was a deserter, but he had saved my -life and,--I think--I think he must have been mad." - -But Belle made no answer. With her head resting on her hand she was -frowning slightly in pursuit of a fugitive memory. "Afzul!" she echoed -at last in puzzled tones. "I had quite forgotten; but surely he came -to me in the drawing-room. He gave me something and he said something; -surely about Dick! Could it have been about Dick?" - -Her eyes sought Philip's for the first time with appeal, and he was -sorry to chill the interest in them with a negative. Yet what could -Afzul possibly have to say about poor Dick Smith? "Hardly, I should -think; I doubt if they ever met even at Faizapore. But this reminds -me,--you had something tight clasped in your hand when I found you -close to the river;--so close,--did they tell you how close it was to -death, my dear, when I came upon you lying--Oh, Belle, so close!" - -"Something in my hand," echoed Belle coldly. "What did you do with -it?" - -"Like you I had forgotten," said Philip, recovering from the break in -his voice. "I put it in the pocket of my coat when I was trying to -bring you back to consciousness in the hut. I dare say it is there -still. Shall I go and see?" - -Her affirmative sent him away relieved at the more human interest in -her face. A minute afterwards he returned with a little brocaded -packet looking as if it had lain in damp lodgings. "I hope it isn't -hurt," he said lightly; "but having no servant here, my clothes have -dried as best they could, and it feels rather pulpy. Open it and see -what parting gift that inexplicable compound of fidelity and treachery -left behind him. He had a great admiration for you, Belle." - -"It is not for me after all. It is for you," she replied after a -pause, as she smoothed out the long blue envelope which had been -rolled round a smaller packet. "At least I think so. The writing above -is smudged, but 'Marsden, 101st Sikhs' is quite clear. Look at it, -while I open the other." - -He took the letter from her calmly, without a misgiving. His first -glance at it, however, roused a sudden doubt, a sudden memory; but ere -he had grasped the meaning of his own thoughts, Belle's hand was on -his arm, and her voice appealing to him in a new, glad tone of hope. -"Oh Philip, it is Dick's ring! I have seen him wear it,--so often; I -can't be mistaken. It is Dick's ring,--can he be alive,--is he,--do -you think he can be alive still?" - -For an instant they stood so, she like a resurrection of her girlhood, -he stupidly staring at a curious dark stain blotting out part of the -address. Then the truth began to dawn upon him, and his hand clenched -in a growing passion. "No!" he said fiercely, and his voice was almost -a whisper at first. "No! This is his will,--the will I would not -take,--Afzul! My God! Afzul had it all the time! He must have been in -the Pass,--Ah! I remember,--the _subadar_,--those others, all _his_ -enemies,--He must have killed the boy,--He must have killed the boy!" - -His horror, his anger, burst bounds. He forgot everything else in the -wild hatred which rose up in him against the murderer, as he strode up -and down the room, silent for the most part, but every now and again -breaking out into a passionate regret. Why had he been so blind? To -think that all the time this man had nursed him, all the time he had -taken so many benefits from that hand, it had been red with poor, -brave Dick's blood. Why had he not shot the scoundrel when he had the -chance? - -But Belle stood as he had left her, the fingers of her right hand -still caressing the ring which, half unconsciously, she had slipped to -the third finger of her left, where, over-large for the slender -resting-place, it almost hid the golden circlet of her wedding ring. -Her eyes, soft with a great tenderness, seemed to see nothing but a -young face eager in its plea for toleration. Dick, poor Dick! Had -anything better than his love ever come into her life? The sight of -her as she stood almost with a smile on her face brought a new element -into Philip's thoughts. All that time, while Belle had been beating -her wings against the cage, Afzul had been walking about with release -in his pocket. "It is God's will!" The scene in the verandah at -Saudaghur on the first night of their return from death recurred to -Philip's mind, as such forgotten incidents do when time has shown -their true significance, making him realise more clearly than he had -ever done before in all his life what mere shuttlecocks in the game of -Fate the strongest-willed may be at times. A certain defiant revolt -made him cross to where Belle stood and put his arm around her as if -to claim her. "The Fates have been against us, my darling," he -whispered passionately, "against us all along!" - -She scarcely seemed to hear him, scarcely seemed to notice his touch. -In truth she had forgotten him, forgotten even her troubles. "Philip," -she said, and there was a strange thrill in her voice, "if we had only -known, he could have told us what Dick did. It was something very -brave, I know; but if we could only be sure what it was." - -Before the eyes full of a great tenderness which were raised to his, -he felt as far beneath her in his selfishness as she had seemed to him -but just now in her morbid weakness. How could he be angry with her? -How could he even blame her? - -And yet when he left her room at length, he looked so dispirited that -the little Irish doctor coming in on his daily visit to Mrs. Raby, -felt impelled to clap him on the back and remark somewhat -inconsequently that "women, God bless 'em!" were only occasionally -responsible for their words; certainly not so when their nerves were -jangled and out of tune. Whereat Philip's pride rose at the very idea -that the bystanders understood, or thought they understood, the -position. Perhaps they were even now speculating how soon those two -would give up mourning and be married. The only drop of comfort came -from Mildred Van Milder, who had come to be with Belle, and take her -back to the little house at Missouri when she was fit to travel. And -her consolation consisted in a tearful remark that Belle had far -better have married Dick Smith. He was very young, of course, and had -no money, but Charlie Allsop hadn't any either, and yet she wouldn't -change him for all the legacies in the world. The news of the -discovery of Dick's will was a nine days' wonder, and even found its -way into the daily papers, much to Philip's annoyance. Otherwise the -fact itself was a distinct relief, since it gave Belle independence -and removed the fear of her choosing poverty in preference to his -help; a choice which in her present frame of mind seemed a foregone -conclusion. At the same time it was likely to raise a new crop of -difficulties, for three years had passed by since the money had fallen -in to the charity, and a long time must elapse before it could be -recovered; if indeed it could be recovered at all. Luckily the proving -of the will was not difficult, despite the peculiarities of its -custody. To begin with it was in Dick's own writing, and the old Khan -was able to speak with certainty as to having seen both envelope and -ring in the Pathan's possession, and bear out the fact that Philip had -taken the brocaded packet from Belle's hand in the hut. The question -as to how Afzul had come by it was, in Philip's opinion, all too -clear; especially when inquiry proved that the Pathan had at any rate -been on the Peiwar Pass about the time of the murder. So far good; the -remainder, however, was more puzzling, and Philip felt that Belle made -a wise decision in refusing to disturb any existing arrangements -until, as she put it, time should show what she ought to do. The -doctors strongly advised her going home to England as soon as the -advent of the rains should make the long railway journey to Bombay -possible. The complete change would give her the best chance of -recovering the shock, and she could then see with her own eyes how the -money had been spent, and what portion of it, if any, she would care -to leave in its present employment. - -"I shall meet you in Delhi," he wrote in reply to the letter in which -she gave him her final decision, "and see you safe to Bombay. To begin -with, there are one or two little business formalities which require -my presence as executor, and then I must see you once more. There is -to be a punitive expedition over the frontier in spring; so leave will -be impossible until the cold weather after next, and that is a long -time. I may never see you again." - -She read these words as she sate on the window-seat of the little -drawing-room where she had read the news of his death three years -before. Three years! Was it only three years, since, with her eyes -still wet with the tears she did not understand, she had gone out into -the mist and the rain to find that vision of a sunlit world at her -feet with John Raby standing at her side? And now he was dead, dead in -anger, while tears, far more bitter than those she had shed at the -thought of Philip's death, came to her eyes with the thought of seeing -him again. Yet the world seemed to have stood still otherwise; the -little room, the slanting pines, the drifts of cloud over the hills, -even Maud in the rocking-chair, and Mrs. Stuart still aggressive in -her tears and widow's caps--for the good lady had ordered a new one in -anticipation of Belle's visit, moved thereto by an ill-defined but -very kindly impulse of sympathy. But Belle did not know this; she only -saw that sameness which is almost irritating when we ourselves have -changed so much. She used to sit in the little room where she had -slept the night before her wedding, and wonder what she had done to -bring herself into this position; herein, for once, agreeing with -Philip, who far away with his regiment asked himself many and many a -time what either of them had done of which they needed to be ashamed. - -Meanwhile the little household went on its monotonous way contentedly. -Charlie was at school, much improved, and glad of Belle's presence; -partly because he was fond of her, partly because she occupied his -room and thus prevented that weekly return home from Saturday to -Monday at which he was beginning to grow restive, since it was almost -as derogatory to dignity as being a home-boarder. Mrs. Stuart employed -herself in weeping placidly over Belle's misfortunes, and paying -visits to her friends, during which she darkly hinted that she had -always been against the match; for Mr. Raby had played _ecarte_, -and though of course he had not lost his money that way, it was not -_comme il faut_ in a young civilian. Maud was growing older in the -rocking-chair, and inclined, as ever, to resent other people's tears. - -"I don't think Belle is so much to be pitied after all," she cried -captiously. "Other people are not always having legacies left them, -and L30,000 means more to a widow than to a married woman. Besides, -she needn't remain a widow unless she likes; Philip Marsden has been -in love with her all the time." Whereat Mildred, signing her daily -letter to Charlie Allsop with a flourish which would have done credit -to the heiress of millions, interrupted her sister hotly. "I think -it's a beastly shame to say so all the same, Maudie. I dare say it's -true; but I'm sure if any one said such things of me when I was a -widow, I'd never marry the man. No, not if I liked him ever so much! -I'll tell you what it is: Belle has had a hard time of it; and if poor -Dick were only here, as well as his money, I believe she would marry -him and be happy." - -"My dear girls!" expostulated their mother feebly, "her husband is not -six weeks dead till next Tuesday. If any one had suggested marriage to -me when poor Colonel Stuart--" - -"Oh, that is different, mamma," retorted Mildred impatiently. "Belle -only married John by mistake. Lots of girls do the same thing. Mabel -has, with her Major; but then she will never find it out, so it -doesn't matter. Charlie says--" - -"Oh, if Charlie says anything, that settles the matter," broke in Maud -peevishly. "I wish you two would get married, and then you would soon -cease to think each other perfection. For my part, I consider Belle is -not to be pitied. She has plenty of money, and by and by she will have -a baby to amuse her when she's tired of other things. What more can -any woman want? I'm very sorry for her now, but grief doesn't last -forever, and after all she never was in love with John. That's one -comfort." - -Perhaps if Belle had been asked she might have denied the last -statement. If she had loved him, the past would certainly have been -less of a regret, the future less of a fear. What was to be the end of -it all? That question clamoured for answer as the big ship began to -slide from its moorings. Leaning over the taffrail, her eyes heavy -with unshed tears, she could see nothing but Philip standing -bareheaded in the boat which slipped landwards so fast. A minute -before his hands had been in hers, his kind voice faltering good-bye -in her ears. And now? Suddenly her clasped fingers opened in a gesture -of entreaty. "Philip!" she whispered. "Comeback, come back!" - -But the swirl of the screw had caught the boat and Major Marsden was -in his place at the tiller-ropes, his face set landwards. The rowers -bent to their oars and so, inch by inch, yard by yard, the rippling -sunlit water grew between those two. Was that to be the end? - - - - - CHAPTER XXVII. - - -Seven years! Time enough, so physiologists tell us, for the whole -structure of the body to be worn out and renewed again. And for the -mind? Is it to be allowed no chance of change, no throwing aside of -effete matter, no relief from the monotony of a fixed body of -opinions, thoughts, and emotions? That would be hard indeed. Yet Belle -Raby--for she was Belle Raby still--had altered little either -outwardly or inwardly in the seven years which had passed since she -stood leaning over the taffrail watching a boat slip landwards, and -asking herself if that was to be the end of it all. Perhaps this lack -of change was the less remarkable because, as she leant over the -wicket-gate looking into the lane beyond, she was still watching and -waiting, and asking herself what the end was to be. Not, however, as -she had done then; for then she had been in a state of nervous -collapse and unable to judge fairly of anything or any one, of herself -least of all. To do her justice this state of mind had not lasted -long; indeed Belle had found herself facing the white cliffs of -England, and the uncertain future awaiting her there with more -equanimity than she would have deemed possible or even proper a month -before. The long journey home,--that slow passaging day after day -towards a set haven regardless of storm or calm,--the imperturbable -decision of the big ship which seems to have absorbed your weakness in -its strength--the knowledge that day and night, night and day, while -you forget, the engines like a great heart are throbbing on -purposefully across the pathless sea,--all this has worked many a -miracle of healing in mind and body exhausted by the struggle for -existence. It wrought one for Belle, luckily, since the future held -many a difficulty. Despite them all, as seven years afterwards, she -stood bareheaded in the cool English sunshine she looked wonderfully -young and happy; even though those seven years had been the fateful -ones which find a woman in the twenties and leaves her in the -thirties. True it is that wisdom, either of this world or the next, -brings a sadness to most eyes, but in this case a sweetness had come -with it which more than counterbalanced the loss of gaiety. In fact -Belle Raby had never looked more attractive than she did as she stood -in a white dress with a Jacqueminot rose tucked away in the lace at -her throat leaning over the wicket-gate waiting,--waiting for what? - -For Philip, of course. Ten o'clock had just chimed from a church-tower -close by, and the time between that and the half-hour had belonged for -years to her best friend. Sometimes during those short thirty minutes -of a busy day she wrote to him; sometimes, as now, she stood watching -for him with tolerable certainty that, if steamers and trains were -punctual, he would step with bodily presence into her life for a few -weeks; but most often she was setting time, and space, and absence, -and all the trivialities which clip the wings of poor humanity at -defiance. In other words she was allowing her imagination to get the -better of her common sense. That is one way of putting it. Another is -possible to those who, like Belle, have learnt to recognise the fact -that the outside world exists for each one of us, not in itself, but -in the effect which it produces on our consciousness. Two women are -grinding at the mill; the one weeps over the task, the other smiles; -just as they choose to weep or smile. The secret of the emotion lies -not in the cosmic touch itself, but in the way the consciousness -receives it, and in the picture which the imagination draws of our own -condition; the abstract truth, the actual reality affects us not at -all. So Belle Raby, as she looked out to the wild roses in the -hedgerow and the yellow butterflies fluttering over the grey bloom of -the flowering grasses, saw nothing of the placid English landscape -spread before her eyes. She was standing on a faraway Indian platform -where the crows sat on the railings cawing irrelatively, and a tall -man in undress uniform was listening to those first words,--"it is -father." That had been the beginning of it all; the keynote both of -the discords and harmony of the whole. Then suddenly, as irrelatively -perhaps as the cawing of the crows, the scene changed. The flood of -sunshine faded to mirk and fog; such mirk and fog as humanity and its -ways creates in London on a dull November day. An atmosphere of -civilisation and culture, say some. Perhaps; but if so, civilisation -with all its advantages is apt to smell nasty. She saw a man and a -woman standing opposite each other in a London lodging, in a London -fog. But five minutes before Philip had come into it buoyantly, -decisively, bringing with him a memory of sunshine and purer air. Now -he stood with his back to the grey square of the window, his hands -stretched out to her in something between command and entreaty. -"Belle! put down the child and let me speak to you." And then for the -first time, she had gone over to him, with the child still in her -arms, and kissed him. "Jack will not trouble me, dear," she said; "he -is such a quiet wee mite. Come, let us sit down and talk it over." - -Now when lovers fall to talking hand in hand it is proper, even in a -novel, to avert one's head and smile, saying that the conversation can -have no possible interest to outsiders. Or, if a sentence or two be -suggested, it is necessary to insist that love, divine love, can only -find its first expression in mere foolishness. Belle and Philip -therefore could evidently not have been lovers, for they talked -serious and sound good sense while the year-old Jack with his wide, -wistful eyes lay in his mother's arms and listened to it all. What was -it to him if more than once a reluctant tear fell on his tiny wrinkled -hands, and more than once Philip's voice trembled and then stopped a -while? What were such emotions to a life which had come into the world -barred from them forever? For Belle's child would never be as other -children are; so much was certain; whether he would ever need her care -more than another's was yet to be seen. But it was strange, was it -not? she seemed to hear herself saying in a calm voice, the steadiness -of which surprised her even at the time, that poor Dick's legacy had -gone to a hospital for just such poor little God-stricken children. - -"Don't, Belle,--don't, for pity's sake,--I can't bear it." That had -been the man's cry, bringing home to her the fact that she and Philip -had changed places. In the old days a duty had lain between them; a -duty lay between them now. Why had she seen evil and shame in this -man's love then, and yet find none in it now? Then he had been calm, -and she had fretted. Now with another man's child in her arms, and -just the same love in her heart, she had the decision, and he the -restless pain. In those days no thought of such love as deals in -marriage had ever arisen between them; but now Philip had come all the -way from India full of a man's determination to end the story in what -the world said was the only possible, natural, or moral ending to any -love-story. And on such stories as theirs the worldly verdict runs -thus: they had loved each other when they could not marry, which was -very wrong; but a kindly Providence having removed the unnecessary -husband, they could marry, which set everything right. - -The mirk and fog settled very closely round them as they sate by the -fire; closer on Philip than on Belle, for it was his turn to be scared -by the phantom of foregone conclusions. What he had strenuously denied -when the position ran counter to his pride, seemed true enough now -that it joined issue with it. He loved Belle, so of course he must -want to marry her. The two things were synonymous; when, of course, -there was a possibility of getting married. Yet Belle, even with tears -in her eyes, could smile as she told him that her first thought in -life lay in her arms; that she could not even give him hope in the -future, or bid him wait, since the waiting might be forever. - -That had been more than five years ago, and there was still a smile on -Belle Raby's face as she roused herself from her day-dreams, looked at -her watch, and turned back into the garden. Perhaps he had missed his -train. Even if he had he would still come by and by to see how -magnificently the roses were blooming that year. There were roses -everywhere; wild in the hedgerows, many-coloured in the borders, white -in the trailing sprays that climbed round about the verandahs of the -low cottage which formed one wing of a plainer yet more important -building beyond. It was evidently the later addition of a different -taste, for the gardens surrounding them showed a like dissimilarity. -In the distance, open stretches of well-kept lawns and wide gravelled -paths; civilised, commonplace. Round the cottage a strip almost wild -in its profusion of annuals, its unpruned roses, and the encircling -shade of tall forest trees which must have stood there long before -either the cottage or the pretentious building beyond had been thought -of; a strip of garden suggestive, even to a casual observer, of a less -conventional fashion of life than is usual in the old country. To -Belle, as she stooped to push a tangle of larkspur within reasonable -bounds, it served as a reminiscence of days which, with all their -sadness, she never ceased to regret. She envied Philip often; Philip -in command of his regiment, away on this expedition or that, able to -come back always to the sociable yet solitary existence so strangely -free from the hurry and strain inseparable from life in the West. -Philip, whose name was known all along the frontier as the boldest -soldier on it. A perfect content for and in him glowed at her heart as -with her hands clasped behind her she strolled back to the gate. And -there he was, his head uncovered, his pace quickening as he saw her. -Her pulse quickened too, but she composed herself to calm. For they -had a little game to play, this middle-aged man and woman; a game -which they had played with the utmost gravity on the rare occasions -when Fate brought them into each other's presence. - -"Your train is a little late to-day, Phil, isn't it?" she asked as she -held the gate open for him. - -"Rather. Have you been waiting long?" - -His voice trembled a little in the effort to take it all as a matter -of course, though hers did not; but then the novelty of environment -was greater for him than for her. - -"How long is it this time, Phil? I forget, and after all what does it -matter? Come and see the roses, dear; there are such a lot out this -morning." - -He stopped her for an instant by drawing the hand he held towards him, -and clasping it in both of his. "More roses than there were yesterday, -Belle?" he asked with a sort of eager certainty in his tone. - -She looked at him fondly. "Yes, more than yesterday "--then suddenly -she laughed and laid her other hand on his. "I will say it, dear, -since it pleases you. There are more roses to-day because you have -come, and this is holiday-time." - -Their welcome was over; they had stepped for a time into each other's -lives. A ridiculous pretence, of course; a mere attempt to make -imagination play the part assigned since all eternity to facts. But if -it pleased these two, or if it pleases any number of persons who find -facts are stubborn things, why should the world quarrel with it? Belle -had once on a time made herself unnecessarily miserable by imagining -that she and Philip were in love with each other, and that, since love -was inextricably bound up with marriage or the desire for it, she must -be posing as the heroine of the third-rate French novel. Her -consequent loss of self-respect had very nearly spoiled her life, and -even Philip had never ventured to think what might have happened had -John lived to force them into action. The unreality of her past fears -had come home to Belle, however, during the long months when she had -waited for her last legacy. And with the first sight of the baby-face -whereon Fate had set its mark of failure all too clearly, had come a -resolution that in the future nothing but her own beliefs should rule -her conduct. Her life and Philip's should not be spoiled by other -people's ideas; her imagination should be her slave, not her master. -So much, and more, she had said to Philip on that mirky day when in -his first disappointment he had declared that he could not bear it. -But that had been five years ago, and life seemed more than bearable -as he walked round the garden with her hand drawn through his arm and -held there caressingly. A man who is in command of a regiment in which -he has served since he was a boy, whose heart is in his profession, -whose career has been successful, has other interests in life besides -marriage; if he has not, the less he figures as a hero, even in a -novel, the better. - -"It is like Nilgunj, isn't it?" said Belle pointing to the tangles of -flowers. - -"With a difference. You can't grow Marechal Niel roses in England. -They were,--well,--overpowering as I came through. Mildred has the -garden very nice; you would hardly recognise the place. The trees you -planted are taller than the house; but everything grows fast in -India,--their eldest girl is up to my elbow. Oh! and Maud was there on -a visit, wearing out her old clothes. She hasn't forgiven you yet, -Belle, for what she calls throwing away your money and becoming a -hospital nurse. I spent some time in trying to explain that you were -simply spending your money in the way which pleased you best; but it -was no use. She only said that caps were no doubt very becoming. Why -don't you wear them, Belle? You always tell _me_ to take what pleasure -I can out of life, and I obey orders." - -There was a pause ere he went on. "And Charlie is quite a dandy. More -like you, Belle, than I should have thought possible from my -recollection of him as a youngster at Faizapore. Allsop gives a -first-rate account of him, says he is working splendidly. And Allsop -himself! what a rare good fellow he is, with just that touch of -determination his race generally lack. He is making the business pay -now; not as John would have done, of course, but it supports them and -leaves something over for the bloated capitalist. Besides it is so -much better for Charlie than loafing about at home like the others." - -"You needn't tell me that, Phil," said Belle softly. "Don't you think -I see and understand all the good you have forced from what promised -to be evil?" - -"That is rather strong, isn't it? It would most likely have done as -well without my interference; things generally come right in the end, -especially if you trust other people. At least that is my experience -in the regiment. By the way, I went over to see the old Khan when I -was at Nilgunj. He is a bit broken, though he won't allow it, by his -wife's death. Obstinate old hero! He declares, too, that it is no -satisfaction having his son back from the Andamans because he is only -out on ticket-of-leave. He stickles for a full apology; as if life -would be endurable without a grievance of some kind or another. -If he only knew how I had backstaired and earwigged every official -on the list over that business! I wasted a whole month's leave at -Simla,--which I might have saved up and spent on board a P. and O. -steamer, my dear. It was during the rains, and I seemed to live in a -waterproof on my way to some _burra sahib_ or another. But my pride is -all broken and gone to bits, Belle; I shall be asking the authorities -for a C.I.E.-ship some day if I don't take care. Well! the old man -sent you his _salaam_ as usual, said the women ruled the roost -nowadays, and in the same breath fell foul of them collectively -because his daughter-in-law had not prepared some peculiar sherbet -which old Fatma always produced on state occasions. Not that Haiyat-bi -minds his abuse, now she has a husband to bully in her turn. That, -says the Khan, is women's way; since the beginning of time deceitful -and instinct with guile. And then, Belle--yes, then he brought out the -old sword, and here it is, dear, his and mine in the old way, if only -in the spirit." - -He stood beside her, stretching out his hands in the well-remembered -fashion, as if something sacred lay in them and before the tenderness -in his face, the calmness of hers wavered for an instant. "Did we -really go through all that together, Phil?" she asked with a tremble -in her voice. "Oh my dear, my dear, how much you have all given me! -And I give,--so little. But my pride is, like yours, all broken and -gone to bits, and I take everything I can get. You should see how I -beg for the hospital." - -She turned to the big white building beyond the cottage as if to -escape into another subject; and Philip turned also. - -"Is it,--is it getting along nicely?" he asked dutifully. - -"Yes, dear," she replied, looking at him again with a smile; "but we -shall have time to talk of that by and by. You haven't given me half -the budget of news. And do you know, Phil, I begin to suspect that in -writing you tell all the pleasant things and keep back the -disagreeables. Now that isn't fair; as children say, it spoils the -game." - -"Does it? Well, I won't do it again. Let me see what is the most -unpleasant story I have heard for the last few months. Ah--yes! that -is about the worst." He paused with a frown. - -"Well?" - -"Only Shunker Das is dead. That isn't very distressful; but you -remember Kirpo?" - -"Why, Philip, it was her husband who--" - -"Yes, of course, of course; but I was not thinking of that; only of -the day when she came out of the coolies' hut with a child in her -arms, and told us why he was called Nuttu. Well, it is a horrid story, -Belle, but that pitiless old fatalist the Khan, who was my informant, -saw the hand of high heaven in it. Shunker got the telegram informing -him that he was to be made a _Rai Bahadur_, and another announcing his -son's death by the same messenger. Ghastly, wasn't it? He had a fit, -and though he lived for some weeks they never could understand a word -he said, though he talked incessantly. One can imagine what he wanted -from the sequel. Well, at his funeral-pyre, up turns Kirpo with a -strapping boy of about eight years old, and there was an awful scene. -She swore it was Shunker's son, and made the child defile the ashes. -Do you remember her face that day, and how I said she hated somebody? -Great Heavens! there is something perfectly devilish in the idea of -such a revenge." - -"And yet we talk calmly enough of the sins of the fathers being -visited on the children." She paused as the church clock struck -eleven. "It is time I went to see my bairns, Phil. Will you come too? -They will be at their best; the out-ones just in from the garden, the -in-ones ready for their midday rest. They look so comfortable all -tucked up in their cots." - -The bravest man winces sometimes, and Philip, despite the five years, -had never forgotten that day of mirk and fog when he had first seen -John Raby's child, and Belle had bidden him go away if he could not be -satisfied with what she had to give him. To be satisfied, or go away! -Both, it had seemed to him then, equally impossible; yet he had done -both. Still the memory was painful. "You are going to build the new -wing next year, I suppose?" he said as indifferently as he could when, -leaving the shady wilderness, they made their way along the gravel -walks which were seamed in every direction by the wheel-marks of -invalid carriages. - -"It depends," she replied quickly, answering the effort in his tone by -a grateful look. "I may not have to build it. I may not be here. I am -to go where I am most wanted; that was settled long ago, Phil." - -He was silent; what was there to say? - -Side by side they climbed the terrace steps to reach the front of the -hospital which looked right across a stretch of wind-swept down to the -open sea. A row of perambulators and wheeled couches stood under a -glazed verandah, and above the level lines of square windows the words -"SMITH'S HOME FOR INCURABLE CHILDREN" showed in big gold letters as a -balustrade to the semi-Grecian facade. - -Belle glanced up at it before passing through the noiseless swinging -doors. "I always wish I had been in time to stop that awful -inscription," she said; "but it was scarcely worth while pulling it -all down. You see none of them can read. We take them young, and those -who stop don't live to be old; that is one thing to be thankful for. -You don't like my speaking of it, Phil, but I often wonder what would -have become of this empty shell of a house if my Jack had been born as -most children are born,--as I wished him to be born. Some one would -have carried on the work, I suppose, if I hadn't, and yet,--these -bairns might have been God knows where, instead of in the sunlight." - -She opened an inner door, and signed to him to pass before her. There -was sunlight there, and no lack of it, though it shone on sights which -to Philip Marsden's unaccustomed eyes seemed to dim the brightness. -Rows of little crutches along the walls, weary unchildlike faces -resting on the low divans in the windows; in the centre a more -cheerful picture of little ones gathered round a table set with bread -and milk. - -"This is my show room and these are my show babies," said Belle with a -smile. "We all get about more or less and play by ourselves; don't we, -nurse? And some of us, like Georgie here, are going home again because -we are too strong for the place. We don't keep noisy, romping, rioting -ragamuffins, do we, children?" - -The face she turned up to hers as she passed grinned doubtfully, but -all the other little white faces dimpled and wrinkled with mirth at -the very idea of Georgie's exile. They went up stairs now, into more -sunshine streaming on rows of beds where childhood wore away with no -pleasure beyond a languid joy at a new picture-book or a bunch of -flowers. Here they trod softly, for some of the little ones were -already asleep. - -"Where is Freddy?" asked Belle in a whisper of the nurse busy -smoothing an empty cot. - -"He seemed so restless this morning, ma'am, that Dr. Simmonds thought -we had better put him in the White Ward; he was afraid--" - -Belle passed on, her face a shade graver, and as Philip followed her -up another wide staircase she paused before a closed door and asked -him to wait for her; she would not be long. - -He caught a glimpse of a smaller, more home-like room, white and -still, with the light shaded from the open windows. Then he stood -leaning against the bannisters, watching the dancing motes in a -sunbeam slanting down from the skylight overhead; a skylight looking -as if it were glazed with sapphire. - -"That was the White Ward," said Belle, coming out and passing upward -through the beam of light. She spoke almost cheerfully, but Philip, -who had faced death, and worse horrors than death, many a time without -a qualm, felt himself shiver. Once again they paused before a closed -door and she gave Philip a hurried half-appealing glance, before she -said nervously, "I have Jack in this ward now. Dr. Simmonds thinks it -good for him to be with the other children, and he seems to like it -better." - -It was the sunniest room of all, for the windows were set wide open, -and the blinds drawn up. The scent of the roses from Belle's garden -drifted in with the cool fresh wind. The children had evidently all -been out, for a pile of hats and cloaks lay on the table, but they -were now seated on their cots awaiting their turn for lunch. Philip's -eyes, travelling down the row of beds, rested on a crop of golden -curls, and he gave a little exclamation, half groan, half sigh. That -was a face he could not mistake, strange and wistful as it was; not an -unintelligent face either, and great heavens! how like the father's as -it fell stricken to death. - -"Listen!" said Belle, touching his arm. A nurse passing with a tray -paused in pleased expectancy. - -"Jack!" her voice echoed softly through the silence. - -The golden head turned, the veriest ghost of a smile came to the -pinched face, and the thin little hands stretched themselves aimlessly -into space with a sudden plaintive cry which sent a lump to Philip's -throat. - -"Lor!" protested the nurse full of pride; "didn't he say it beautiful -clear that time? Mother? Yes, it is mother, my pretty; and you knows -her voice, don't you, dearie? just as well as any on us." - -Belle sate down on the cot, gathering the child in her arms, and the -yellow curls nestled down contentedly on her shoulder. A mite of a boy -with great wide blue eyes fixed on the only face he ever recognises. -"Do you think him grown at all?" she asked; then seeing Philip's look -bent over the child and kissed the blue veins on the large forehead. -There was a passion of protection in her kisses. "If he were the only -one, Phil, I should break my heart about it; but there are so -many,--and,--and it is so causeless." Her eyes seemed to pass beyond -the child and she went on more cheerfully, "Then he is such a -contented little fellow when he is with me,--aren't you, Jack?" - -Again came the ghost of a smile, and the same plaintive cry. Philip -walked to the window and looked out on the roses. It was a very slight -thing, that cry, to have come between a man and a woman,--if it had -come between them. He turned to look at Belle instinctively, and found -her looking at him. No! nothing had come between them. Before the -insoluble problem of what Belle held in her arms love seemed to him -forever divorced from marriage. The veriest pariah, born of God knows -what, or of whom, the outcome of the basest passion, might enter the -world fair and strong and capable, while their child, if they married, -bringing each to each a pure devotion, might be as these children -here. - -He crossed the room again and sate down on the bed beside her. "How -many have you in the hospital now?" he asked in a low voice, for Jack, -contented and comfortable, was evidently falling asleep. - -"Fifty; but Dr. Simmonds says he could fill a hundred beds to-morrow. -It is the best place, he declares, of its kind." - -"Would you undertake so much?" - -She shook her head. "I never know,--no one knows from day to day. They -are all so frail. Freddy, for instance, was no worse yesterday, and -to-day! There are plenty to fill my place here when,--when the time -comes." - -"It may never come. Besides," he added, "I may be incurable myself ere -long. Don't you remember promising me the gatekeeper's place if ever I -was pensioned off minus a leg or an arm?" - -"Did I?" she answered in the same light tone, as she rose to lay -little Jack on his pillow and draw the blanket over him. "Then I must -warn the present old cripple that his place isn't a permanent one. -Isn't he like his father, Phil?" she added, laying her hand on the -child's pretty soft curls. - -"Very." - -They passed along the sunny corridors again and so out into the open -air. Philip drew his hand over his forehead as if to brush away -puzzling thoughts, and gave a sigh of relief. "Come down to the cliffs -with me, Belle," he said. "There is plenty of time before lunch, and I -feel as if I wanted a blow. It's rather an irrelevant remark, but I -wonder what will become of the babies if women become men?" - -They crossed the downs keeping step together, and walking rapidly as -if to leave something behind, finally seating themselves in a niche -between two great white pillars of chalk, whence they could see the -waves ebbing and flowing among the rocks at their feet. The horizon -and the sky were blent into one pale blue, so that the fishing boats -with their red-brown sails seemed hovering between earth and heaven. - -"How long is it this time?" she asked after a pause. "The usual three -months?" - -"Yes! the usual three months from the frontier. That leaves me six -weeks with you; six whole weeks." - -There was another pause. "Philip!" she said suddenly, "I'll marry you -to-morrow if you like,--if,--if it would make you happier." - -He was sitting with his hands between his knees, looking out absently -over the waves below. He did not stir, but she could see a smile -struggling with his gravity. - -"My dear Belle! The banns haven't been called." - -"Perhaps we could afford a special license on the easy-purchase system -by monthly instalments," she suggested quite as gravely. "But really, -Philip, when I see you--" - -"Growing so old; don't be afraid of the truth, Belle. Am I very bald?" - -"Bald! No, but you are grizzling fast, Phil; and when the fact is -brought home to me by seeing it afresh, I ask myself why you shouldn't -have a wife and children." - -"I could, of course; there are plenty of young ladies now on the -frontier. Oh, Belle! I thought we had settled this long ago. You can't -leave Jack; you wouldn't with a clear conscience, if you could. I -can't leave the regiment; I shouldn't like to, if I could. Is not that -an end of marriage from our point of view? Besides," he turned to her -now with a smile full of infinite tenderness, "I am not at all sure -that I do want to marry you. When perfection comes into a man's life, -can you not understand his being a little afraid--" - -"Philip!" - -"Not of you, dear; but this love of ours seems better than we are -ourselves,--than _I_ am, certainly. Then marriage, as I take it, is -for young people, and what they call Love is the bribe held out by -Nature to induce her thoughtless children to undertake a difficult -duty. The sweet isn't unwholesome in itself, but that is no reason why -we should call it manna from heaven and say it is better than plain, -wholesome bread and butter." - -"You are growing detestably didactic in your old age, Phil. When you -come to the gatekeeper's house I shall have to amend your ways." - -"You forget I shall be incurable then; but you are right. I am fast -becoming a real old crusted military fogy, and of all fogies that is -the worst. You can't think what a nuisance I am to the boys at mess; -they depute a fresh one to prose to the Colonel every night." - -"I know better. When young Cameron came home sick he had a very -different story." - -"Young Cameron isn't to be trusted. To begin with he had had a -sunstroke, and then he proposed marrying on subaltern's pay." - -"Well, you can't expect the world to give up falling in love because -you don't approve." - -"Let it fall by all means; only let us call things by their proper -names. You and I, Belle, know the trouble which follows on the present -confusion. And if we, eminently respectable people, suffered much, -many must suffer more. Many! Why the question, 'Is Marriage a -Failure?' fills up the interstices of conversation left between the -Rights of Labour and Home Rule. How can it be anything but a failure -when people are taught to expect impossibilities? when they are told -that love is better than duty? Thank heaven, we never were in love -with one another!" - -"Never?" - -"No,--at least,--yes! perhaps I was one day. Do you remember when you -kissed your cousin Dick in the church garden at Faizapore? I was -decidedly jealous as I stood by the canal bridge. If he had lived, -Belle, I think you would have married him." - -She did not answer, but sate softly smiling to herself. "So long ago -as that," she said at last in a contented tone of voice. - -Philip started to his feet with a half-embarrassed laugh. Even now, -after all these years, her woman's nature, in its utter inconsequence, -was a puzzle to him,--perhaps to herself. - -"Come," he said prosaically, "I'm sure it must be time for lunch." - -"Are you so very hungry?" she asked, dusting from her dress, with -something of regret in the action, the sweet-smelling herbs which she -had idly gathered from the crannies of the cliff and crumbled to -pieces for the sake of their perfume. - -"I ought to be, seeing I had no breakfast." - -She started up in her turn. "Philip! How could you? and never to tell -me!" - -"You see we were late all through; something went wrong somewhere, and -then I had to catch the ten o'clock train. Don't look horrified; I got -a stale bun at Swindon." - -"Stale buns are most unwholesome." - -"That is what materialists like you always say of any diet which does -not suit them. Personally I like stale buns." - -"You mean that you can put up with them when you have a solid lunch in -prospect." - -He had taken her hand to help her to the level and now suddenly he -paused, and stooping kissed it passionately. "Oh, Belle, my darling, -why should we talk or think of the future? To-day is holiday-time and -I am happy." - -So, hand in hand, like a couple of children, they went homewards -across the down; while the great gilt letters of the legend above the -hospital glowed and shone like a message of fire against the blue sky. - - -Was that the end of the story, so far as Belle and Philip were -concerned? Or on some other sunshiny day in a future June or December -did those two pass through the churchyard where the tiny flower-set -graves grew more numerous year by year, and, beneath the tower whose -chime had so often called Belle to her bairns, take each other for -better, for worse? Most likely they did, but it is a trivial detail -which has nothing to do with the record of Miss Stuart's Legacy. That -began with her father, and ended with her child. She paid it -cheerfully to the uttermost farthing, and was none the worse for it. -Such payments, indeed, leave us no poorer unless we choose to have it -so. The only intolerable tax being that which follows on the attempt -to inherit opinions; for, when we have paid it, we have nothing in -exchange save something that is neither real estate nor personal -property. - - - - FOOTNOTES - - -[Footnote 1: A lineal descendant of the Prophet.] - -[Footnote 2: The three divisions recognised in Mahometan polemics. (1) -The place of Islam; (2) the place of the enemy; (3) the place of -protection. The sign of the latter is the liberty of giving the call -to prayers.] - -[Footnote 3: A common occurrence in old Pathan houses.] - -[Footnote 4: A celebrated white charger of a Rajpoot prince; an -eastern Bucephalus.] - -[Footnote 5: Literally, a footman.] - -[Footnote 6: Small millet; the food of the poorest.] - -[Footnote 7: The extreme south-east.] - -[Footnote 8: Electrical dust-storm.] - -[Footnote 9: Deputy-Collector, _i.e_., chief native official.] - - - - - THE END. - - - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Miss Stuart's Legacy, by Flora Annie Steel - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISS STUART'S LEGACY *** - -***** This file should be named 40142.txt or 40142.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/0/1/4/40142/ - -Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by -Google Books (University of California) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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