diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/53372-8.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/53372-8.txt | 8989 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 8989 deletions
diff --git a/old/53372-8.txt b/old/53372-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 1bd1277..0000000 --- a/old/53372-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8989 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Star of India, by Alice Perrin - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Star of India - -Author: Alice Perrin - -Release Date: October 26, 2016 [EBook #53372] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STAR OF INDIA *** - - - - -Produced by MWS, Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - -STAR OF INDIA - - - - -_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_ - -Into Temptation -Late in Life -The Spell of the Jungle -East of Suez -Red Records -The Stronger Claim -The Waters of Destruction -Idolatry -The Charm -The Anglo-Indians -The Happy Hunting Ground -The Woman in the Bazaar -Separation -Tales that are Told - - - - -STAR OF INDIA - - -BY -ALICE PERRIN - -[Illustration: Decoration] - - -CASSELL AND COMPANY, LTD -London, New York, Toronto and Melbourne - - -First published 1919 - - -DEDICATED TO MY COUSIN, - -BEATRICE MARY BYNG HOLDEN - - - - -STAR OF INDIA - - - - -PART I - - - - -CHAPTER I - - I dare not choose my lot; - I would not if I might. - Choose thou for me, my God, - So shall I walk aright. - - -The rustic portion of the congregation shouted the familiar hymn with -laborious goodwill, overpowering the more cultivated voices that rose -from the chancel and the front pews--almost defeating the harsh notes -wrung from the harmonium by the village schoolmistress, who also led the -singing in a piercing key, supported raucously by her pupils gathered -about the unmusical instrument. Even in the early 'nineties nothing so -ambitious as an organ or a surpliced choir had as yet been attempted in -this remote west-country parish, though with the advent of the new vicar -innovations had begun; actually, of late, the high oak pews had been -removed to make way for shining pitch-pine seats that in the little -Norman church produced much the same effect as a garish oleograph set in -an antique frame. Most of the parishioners approved the change; -certainly it had the advantage of permitting everyone to observe at -leisure who came to church, what they wore, and how they behaved during -the sermon, even if those who were somnolently inclined found the -publicity disconcerting. - -Stella Carrington, for one, infinitely preferred the new seats. Though -no longer a child--seventeen last birthday--she could never quite forget -the hours of misery she had endured in the old pew; the smell of dust -and hassocks, the feeling of captivity, the desperate impulse that would -assail her to kick open the door, to fling a prayer-book over the -barrier, to jump up on the seat; only the fear of grandmamma's wrath had -restrained her from such antics. This Sunday, as she stood between Aunt -Augusta and Aunt Ellen, singing the hymn that preceded the sermon, -recollections returned to her of her childhood's trials in the high pew, -and with these, unaccountably, came the old sense of imprisonment. The -feeling disturbed her; she searched her mind for the cause, and became -conscious that it was somehow connected with the presence of Maud -Verrall, seated with her parents in the religious preserve of the Squire -and his family in the chancel. The Verralls had been absent from The -Court for a considerable period, and now here was Maud, who when Stella -last saw her had been in short petticoats with her hair down her back, -transformed into a young lady; she had a curled fringe, bangles and -puffed sleeves; her dress touched the ground, she had a waist, and her -hat, of a fashionable sailor shape, was set well to the back of her -head. And all this though she was no older than her former playmate, -Stella Carrington, whose skirts even now barely reached her ankles, -whose hair still hung in a plait, whose hat, in her own opinion, was -more suited to a child in a perambulator than to a girl of seventeen. No -wonder she felt stifled, cramped! She realised why the memory of her -tortures in the old box-like pew had recurred to her mind; and then -suddenly the hymn that she knew so well and had sung on such countless -Sundays, paying no special heed to the words, struck her as the acme of -hypocrisy. She ceased singing, amazed that the recognition had not come -to her sooner. Surely whoever was responsible for the wording of this -hymn could never have known the tedium for a young person of living with -a stony-hearted grandmother and two maiden aunts in a small village -where nothing ever happened; the author must have belonged to people -like the Verralls, who were, of course, satisfied with their "lot," and -did not want to change it; people who could "dare" do anything they -pleased. If she, Stella Carrington, could choose her lot at this moment, -she would change places with Maud Verrall; and she wondered how Maud -would feel if she found herself forced to accept the lot of Stella -Carrington! Would Maud still humbly proclaim that she would not change -it even if she might?... - -Only when Aunt Augusta, regarding her severely, touched her arm did -Stella discover that the hymn was ended; that the congregation was -settling down for the sermon. She sank to her seat, blushing, abashed. - -Summer had set in early that year, and the sun poured through the -stained glass window subscribed for by the parish to a former Squire -Verrall, casting kaleidoscopic patterns of purple and crimson on to -grandmamma's brown silk bonnet; a premature bumble-bee droned and bumped -up and down the panes, the atmosphere felt airless, and Aunt Ellen -sniffed elegantly at her green salts-bottle. Stella grew drowsy; she -could not attend to the sermon, and her thoughts strayed on in -confusion.... Would Canon Grass, the vicar, dare to change his lot if he -might? Perhaps he would like to change Mrs. Grass, who was older than -himself, for the pretty visitor who was one of The Court party in the -chancel pew.... And how about Mrs. Daw, who was so artistic, and -considered her talents wasted in her position as wife to a country -doctor; who complained that no one in the village really understood or -appreciated "Art".... How much happier Mrs. Daw would be in London had -she the opportunity of changing her lot--of converting her husband into -a West End physician. And as to the villagers; everyone knew that they -were never contented, no matter what was done for them. At this point in -her reflections Stella fell asleep. - -The service over, she followed grandmamma and the aunts slowly down the -aisle, while the school children clattered through the porch. The Court -party left the building by the chancel door, and Stella saw them pace -down the slope of the churchyard between the tombstones and the yew -trees to where a carriage and pair of horses awaited them at the gates. -Squire Verrall went first, in a black coat and a square hat like a box, -his whiskers were brushed smartly aside from his ruddy cheeks, his large -nose shone in the sun, he waved his malacca cane to the school children -marshalled on either side of the pathway; Mrs. Verrall followed, -delicate, smiling, sweet, in dark green satin, and a white ostrich -feather floating from a boat-shaped hat; with her came the pretty -visitor, who walked with a Grecian bend ... and Maud. Stella observed -that Maud was "showing off"; that she minced and looked down her nose as -she passed between the rows of bobbing, saluting children and villagers. -Stella was filled with an envious contempt for such conceit; such airs -and graces! Three maid-servants completed the procession; even they -would drive back to The Court, on the rumble of the big carriage, while -Stella Carrington would walk through the lanes to The Chestnuts pulling -her grandmother's chair, Aunt Augusta pushing behind, Aunt Ellen -shielding the old lady with a green-lined umbrella. They would wait on -themselves at luncheon; probably there would be boiled mutton and a milk -pudding.... - -There was: in her present rebellious mood, the sight of the plain, -wholesome food was to Stella as the proverbial last straw. Aunt Augusta -carved the mutton; a watery red stream issued from the joint, mingling -with the caper sauce that surrounded it. - -"None for me, thank you," said Stella, with suppressed fury. - -"My dear, why not?" It was grandmamma who made the inquiry, and Stella -thought the old lady looked like a sea-gull, seated at the end of the -table in her close white cap, her snowy hair looped on either side of -her curved nose. - -"I hate boiled mutton!" Beneath her rising defiance the girl was -conscious of amazement at her own temerity. She pushed back her chair -and stood up, quivering--a slim young beauty, giving promise of fine -development, though neither beauty nor promise had as yet been -recognised by herself or by her guardians. - -"Yes, I do hate it!" she cried, and her eyes, the colour of burnt -sienna, filled with rebellious tears, "and I hate milk puddings and -babyish clothes, and getting up in the morning and going to bed at night -with nothing in between--the same every day. How you could all stand up -and sing that hymn, '_I dare not choose my lot_,'" she mocked, "'_I -would not if I might_,' as if you meant it! Why, for most of us, it was -simply a lie!" - -For a space there was a shocked silence. Augusta, the carving knife -poised in her hand, looked at her mother; Ellen stared at her plate and -extracted her salts-bottle with stealth from her pocket; Stella found -her own gaze drawn helplessly to the expressionless old countenance at -the end of the table, and, despite her new-born courage, she quailed. - -"My dear," said grandmamma smoothly, "you had better go and lie down. -The weather has upset you. I think you require a powder." - -Stella burst into something between laughter and tears; she made a -childish dash for the door and ran noisily up the stairs. - -The meal in the dining-room continued as though nothing had happened. -It was not a Carrington custom to discuss unpleasant occurrences at -meals, or, indeed, at any other time, if such discussions could possibly -be avoided; the Carrington elders possessed a fine faculty for ignoring -difficult subjects. It was a gift that had carried them apparently -unscathed through various trials. When it became imperative to speak of -anything painful it was done as briefly and reservedly as possible. It -was not until well on in the afternoon, when Mrs. Carrington had -awakened from her nap in the drawing-room, that Stella's outrageous -behaviour was mentioned. - -The drawing-room at The Chestnuts was a long narrow room with three -French windows opening on a little paved terrace. Formerly the house had -been a farm dwelling, the last remnant of a property acquired a century -ago by a Carrington ancestor with a fortune made in the East and -dissipated in the West. The Court, where the Verralls now reigned, had -once belonged to this magnificent Carrington, and the ladies of The -Chestnuts never forgot the fact. They regarded the Verralls as -interlopers, though by now the Verralls had been lords of the manor for -several generations. - -But though The Court and all its acres were lost to the Carringtons, -they had clung as a family to Chestnut Farm, adding to it from time to -time as fluctuating fortunes permitted. It was a haven for Carrington -widows, unmarried daughters, retired old-soldier Carringtons; a -jumping-off place for sons as they started in life, a holiday home for -successions of young Carringtons while their parents were abroad; and -there was still the family vault in the parish church where they could -be buried if India spared them to die in England. Stella's grandfather, -whom she could not remember, lay there with others of his name, and it -had never entered grandmamma's mind to live or die anywhere but at The -Chestnuts. - -But to return to the drawing-room--a room that breathed of a people long -connected with the East--here were sandal-wood boxes, caskets composed -of porcupine quills, coloured clay models of Indian servants, brasses -and embroideries. The warmth of the afternoon drew forth faint aromas -still stored in these relics, mementoes of travel and service and -adventure, the perfume that still hung in the folds of the handsome -cashmere shawl draped about old Mrs. Carrington's shoulders. - -It was she who opened the debate; failing her lead, neither of her -daughters would have dreamed of alluding to their niece's outburst at -the luncheon table. - -"What do you imagine is wrong with Stella?" The old lady's sunken dark -eyes, that yet were quick and bright, turned from one daughter to the -other. The rest of her muscles were perfectly still. - -"She is growing up," said Augusta boldly. She was the elder of the two -and more nearly resembled her mother, physically and mentally, than did -faint-hearted Ellen. - -"She is still a child!" pronounced Mrs. Carrington, oblivious of the -fact that she herself had been married at the age of seventeen, had -sailed to India and returned with three children before she was -twenty-one. - -"Perhaps," ventured Ellen, "seeing Maud Verrall in church dressed as a -grown-up young lady made her feel a little--well, I hardly know how to -express myself--rather kept back?" - -Ellen herself had been guiltily conscious of a vague feeling of envy -caused by the sight of The Court people in all their prosperity and -finery. - -"Kept back from what?" demanded Mrs. Carrington. "Would you wish to see -Stella trigged out like that forward monkey Maud Verrall?" - -"Maud was always a most underbred child," said Augusta. - -Ellen hastily took up the cue. "Yes, don't you remember the day she came -to tea and broke the vase, and allowed Stella to be blamed? I saw her -break it myself, but of course we could say nothing as Maud was our -guest, and dear little Stella said nothing." - -"But what has that to do with the way Stella behaved to-day?" inquired -her sister. Ellen thought this rather unkind of Augusta. - -"Oh! nothing, of course," Ellen admitted. "Only it just shows----" - -"We are all aware that Stella has spirit," said grandmamma, ignoring -this passage, "she is a true Carrington, but spirit in certain -circumstances is a danger and not to be encouraged, just as in others it -may be admirable. Now if the child had been a boy----" - -The old lady's gaze turned to a portrait that hung over the -mantelpiece--that of a gentleman in a blue velvet coat with lace and -silver buttons, powdered hair and bold, bright eyes that seemed to smile -on the little feminine conclave in amused toleration. "Spirit" in a man -was to be accepted and, whatever its consequences, condoned; but in a -female, particularly in a young girl, it should be guarded against, -suppressed. Ellen Carrington's eyes turned also to the portrait. Long -years ago she had shown symptoms of "spirit" in connection with the -attentions of a dashing young cousin who had strongly resembled the -portrait. Mamma was antagonistic; he had sailed for India (just as had -all male Carringtons one after the other), and the ship had gone down; -so that his vow to return with a fortune and claim his sweet Ellen was -never fulfilled. - -Augusta, so far as anyone was aware, had known no romance. The family -spirit in Augusta found outlet in a fierce devotion to her mother, and -in the maintenance of a pathetically pretentious sort of state in the -household; the very manner in which she would ring the bell might have -argued the existence of a host of retainers. Not for worlds would she -have answered the front door herself, neither would she have permitted -Ellen or Stella to do so. Her attitude towards the domestic staff at The -Chestnuts--old Betty, with a daily slave from the village, and the aged, -bad-tempered factotum out of doors--was almost that of a Royal -personage, punctilious in the matter of good mornings and thank yous, -yet carefully distant as became the upholding of class distinction. - -"It's a pity she was not a boy," said Augusta, "then she could have gone -to school--a little more discipline----" - -"Yes, Stella's education----" interrupted Mrs. Carrington, and paused -thoughtfully. Her daughters listened. Augusta was responsible for -Stella's arithmetic, geography, history; Ellen for her progress in -music, needlework, drawing. Was fault to be found with these educational -efforts?--which in truth were not altogether congenial to the teachers, -conscientiously though they pursued them. Stella was frequently -tiresome, and she did such odd things--for example, she had "a trick," -as they called it, of rising at dawn and rambling about the woods and -commons and returning late for breakfast, and then she would be listless -and inattentive for the rest of the day. At times she was "wild" and -disobedient, although at others disarmingly docile and quick and -affectionate. On the whole, the aunts were proud of their pupil; what -was mamma about to say concerning Stella's education? - -Mamma said: "Though unfortunately Stella is not a boy, I have lately -been thinking that if a suitable school can be found---- What was the -name of that friend of yours, Augusta, who years ago started a school -for young ladies at Torquay?" - -"Jane Ogle," said Augusta shortly. In the opinion of Augusta, Jane Ogle -had lost caste when she opened a school. As the daughter of an officer, -Jane should not have descended to such depths as the earning of her -living when she had plenty of relations with any of whom she could have -made her home in genteel idleness. Still, if mamma had any serious -notion of a school for Stella it was so far fortunate that Miss Ogle had -thus bemeaned herself, seeing that none of them knew anything about -boarding schools for girls, institutions which were to be regarded with -suspicion. - -"Then you really think, mamma," said Augusta incredulously, "that Stella -needs different tuition, or at least different management?" - -"Her behaviour to-day would point to it," mamma replied. "Perhaps you -would write to Miss Ogle, my dear, and make inquiries as to her methods -and terms. I am inclined to think Stella is getting a little beyond us -in every way." - - -Stella, after rushing from the dining-room and up the stairs in such -unladylike fashion, had thrown herself on her bed and wept until her -ill-humour evaporated and she began to think more kindly of milk pudding -and boiled mutton. Then, feeling hungry and rather ashamed, she had -bathed her eyes and "tidied" her hair, and for a while sat and gazed -from the low window of her bedroom--gazed on the familiar lawn sloping -to a narrow stream that had been the cause of many punishments in her -childhood, what with her attempts to jump it, the catching of imaginary -fish, the sailing of paper boats, all of which had involved "getting her -feet wet," a crime in the view of grandmamma and the aunts. The cedar -tree on the lawn had also been a source of trouble, for Stella had never -fought the temptation to climb it, and the climbing of trees was -forbidden as not only hoydenish but disastrous to clothes--the same with -the high wall of the kitchen garden. There seemed hardly a spot in the -limited domain that for Stella was not associated with punishment; yet -she adored "the grounds," as Aunt Augusta entitled the garden, at all -seasons of the year, and at this season she still found it heavenly to -dabble in the stream, to climb the branches of the cedar tree, even to -roll on the fragrant turf.... She loved the old house as well, though -two of the rooms she had always avoided instinctively--grandmamma's -bedroom was one; Stella felt it held secrets, there was something -mysterious and "dead" in its atmosphere. The painted toy horse and the -wooden soldier, the half-finished sampler, and the shabby doll enshrined -on the chest of drawers seemed to her ghostly objects, sad reminders as -they were of uncles and aunts who had never grown up. When, for any -reason, she was obliged to enter the room it was as if these little dead -uncles and aunts still hovered about the big bed with its faded chintz -curtains, as if they were listening, watching, hating her for her being -alive. - -Aunt Augusta's room she also disliked; it might have been a spare room, -so cold, so polished, so neat, and the enlarged photographs of bygone -Carringtons, framed and hung on the walls, were hideous--all crinolines -and strings of black beads and stove-pipe hats and long whiskers.... -Aunt Ellen's room was different; it harboured an apologetic air of -frivolity, imparted by gay little ornaments and a screen covered with -Christmas cards and pictures cut from illustrated papers. Whenever -Stella studied this screen she found something she had never noticed -before. Above all, in one corner stood a cabinet containing drawers full -of birds' eggs and butterflies collected by her father as a boy. Aunt -Ellen was the only person who would answer Stella's eager questions -about her father, and even those answers told her too little--only that -he had gone to India as a very young man, like all the Carringtons; that -he was brave and handsome, that he had died in battle when his little -daughter was about two years old. - -And concerning her mother Stella had never succeeded in extracting -definite information. - -"She is dead, my dear," was all Aunt Ellen would say with grave reserve, -"she died when you were born--in India." Was there a picture of her? No, -there was no picture. What was she like? We never saw her. What was her -Christian name? It was Stella--and clearly the name itself was not -approved--considered foolish, fantastic. - -Indeed the child's periodical questions on the subject of her mother -were torture to the three secretive, old-fashioned women, who shrank -from all remembrance of the shameless being who had bewitched their -"poor Charles" and led him astray, dragging the name of Carrington -through the divorce court. At the time of the scandal they had blamed -Charles for marrying the abandoned creature, and when she died, a year -later, they were glad, though she left an unwelcome infant who was -promptly sent home by the widower to The Chestnuts. The child was, of -course, received, but under protest, a protest that vanished when "poor -Charles" was killed in a frontier skirmish, a death (for his country) -that in the eyes of his mother and sisters fully atoned for his -backslidings and the disgrace he had brought on a name that had ever -been associated with brave deeds in the East. - -India!--the very word held a magic fascination for the child of "poor -Charles." Stella loved the smell of the curios in the drawing-room, and -her "great treat" on wet days was permission to open the camphor-wood -chest on the landing; fingering the contents, she would feel almost -intoxicated with the sight and scent of fine muslin veils heavily -embroidered, funny little caps, tinsel-encrusted; a packet of pictures -painted on talc of Indian ladies, black-haired, almond-eyed, smiling, -wonderfully robed. At the bottom of the chest were pistols and daggers, -and swords, all chased and inlaid with ivory and gold; and there was a -carved box full of tiger claws, and silver ornaments, bracelets, -anklets, and necklaces that jingled.... In addition to the camphor-wood -chest there was the lumber room, a low attic that ran the length of the -roof; here were stacks of other interesting relics, horns and moth-eaten -skins of wild animals, hog-spears and clumsy old guns shaped like -trumpets. Also piles of old books and pamphlets, packets of letters and -papers, yellow, crumbling, tied up with string and thrown into cardboard -boxes. - -On this luckless Sunday afternoon Stella's mind turned to the lumber -room. As yet she had not the courage to descend and face grandmamma and -the aunts after the scene she had made at the dining-table; and -presently she stole into the passage, that was lined with a wall-paper -depicting Chinese scenes, square bordered, then ran up the ladder-like -stairs leading to the long attic in the roof. - -There, poring over old papers and pamphlets and books, she forgot Maud -Verrall and all that young person's advantages, forgot grandmamma and -the aunts, and boiled mutton and her rebellious outburst against her own -"lot"--forgot everything but India, the land of elephants and tigers, -tents and palanquins, rajahs and battles, and marvels without end. She -thrilled again as she read of Carringtons who had fought at Plassey and -Paniput, in the Mahratta wars, and before the walls of Seringapatam. A -Carrington had perished in the Black Hole of Calcutta, a Carrington had -been the friend of Warren Hastings, in the Mutiny a Carrington had -performed noble deeds; Carrington women and children had been sacrificed -for the honour of their country.... - -To-day Stella realised for the first time that her father must have been -the last male Carrington of the line. No more Carrington exploits would -be recorded in the history of British India. The name of Carrington in -the East belonged solely to the past. Why, oh! why--had not she been -born a boy? - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -Maud Verrall threw down her tennis racket; she said she was tired--a -polite excuse for the termination of a game that afforded her no -excitement. Stella Carrington was not a stimulating opponent; if she did -not miss the ball, she sent it sky-high or out of court. - -Stella saw through and sympathised with the excuse. "You see," she said -regretfully, "I have had so little chance of practice. Even if we had a -tennis court at The Chestnuts, there is no one for me to play with." - -"Let's go into the Lovers' Walk and talk till tea-time," Maud Verrall -suggested; if Stella could not play tennis she might at least prove a -satisfactory recipient of confidences, and Maud had much to impart that -would surely astonish the unsophisticated girl from The Chestnuts. - -Arm in arm they strolled up and down the shady retreat arched over with -lilac, laburnum, syringa, while Maud discoursed on the charms of the -latest comic opera that had taken London by storm, and sang snatches of -the songs to her envious companion; from that she went on to tell of -boy-and-girl dances, and bicycling parties, and this led to disclosures -concerning "desperate" adorers who were "perfectly mad" about Miss -Verrall. There was one in particular--his name was Fred Glossop. - -"Poor dear, he is awfully gone. I feel sorry for him. Would you like to -see his photograph?" She drew a folding leather case from her pocket and -displayed to the other's interested gaze the portrait of a handsome -youth with curly hair and a distinct shade on his upper lip. - -"Are you going to marry him?" inquired Stella. - -"Oh! I shan't marry just yet," explained Maud. "I have told him so -frankly. Perhaps in a couple of years, if I meet no one I like better, -he might do. He is quite good looking, and he's going into the Army. I -let him write to me--mother never bothers about my letters; but while I -was still at school he had to write as if he was my dearest -girl-friend--signed himself 'Lily'--because all our correspondence that -was not in the handwriting of parents was opened. I'm to "come out" when -we go back to London. I shall make my people give a fancy dress ball. -What do you think of a Greek dress--white, with a key pattern in gold, -and a big peacock feather fan?" - -Stella was ruefully silent. She felt small and humble; there were no -balls, no young men, no "coming out" on her dull horizon. - -"And what about you?" asked Maud with kindly, if belated, interest; "you -must have a deadly time in this hole all the year round. I'm tired of it -already. How can you stand it?" - -"I have to stand it!" said Stella, grimly resigned. "But I'm going to -school--to a school at Torquay." - -"How awful--a horrible place. I went there once after I had measles; and -school, too, at your age! Hasn't the term begun?" - -"I suppose so, but it does not seem to matter. Anyway, it will be a -change." - -"It won't be so bad if they take you to concerts and lectures, and you -go out riding. Our riding master was a picture; lots of the girls were -mad about him; but he liked me best because I didn't take too much -notice of him. Believe me, my dear, men think all the more of you if you -don't run after them. There was a creature always at the lectures we -went to who gazed at me the whole time and used to follow us when we -went out, trying to get near enough to speak to me. The other girls were -frantic with jealousy. Once or twice I gave him the chance of slipping a -note into my hand; it's quite easy--you put your hand behind your back, -like this, and gaze in another direction, and if a governess happens to -be too close, you just speak to her and distract her attention. I only -once got into a row--it was coming away from church."... - -This line of conversation was pursued whenever Stella was invited to The -Court as company for Maud, and when Maud visited her friend at The -Chestnuts. What, oh! what would have been the feelings of grandmamma and -the aunts could they have overheard such vulgar, pernicious talk? To -women of their type and upbringing this dawning of the most powerful of -all instincts would have seemed a matter for the severest censure--not a -natural symptom to be guided into safe and open channels, but a danger -to be dealt with as sinful, corrupt. Intuitively Stella felt that Maud's -enthralling confidences would be condemned with horror by her relations; -and when Aunt Augusta, vaguely suspicious, inquired one day what the -two young people found to talk about, self-preservation prompted a -careless and misleading reply: "Oh, I don't know; Maud's school, and all -that sort of thing." - -Reassured, Aunt Augusta considered this perfectly satisfactory and -natural, seeing that Stella was soon to begin school-life herself. - -Maud Verrall's egoistical communications, innocent enough in themselves -(though scarcely to be commended), led, indirectly, after the manner of -trivial happenings, to far-reaching results. One of the immediate -consequences of Stella's newly awakened interest in the opposite sex was -her expulsion from Miss Ogle's high-principled establishment before her -first term was over. - -From the moment of her arrival at Greystones Stella was in constant hot -water. According to the school standards she was backward, and her -capabilities were hopelessly unequal; she wasted hours that should have -resulted in progress over work she disliked, whereas in the subjects -that attracted her she outstripped her class. Her talent for music was -undeniable, but she shirked the drudgery of practice, and her fatal -facility for playing by ear was ever in the way. She was not popular, -for she made no concealment of her contempt for sickly adorations and -fashionable fawnings on governesses and senior girls. The life irked -her, and her disappointment was keen to find that at Greystones there -was no question of concerts and lectures; that no finishing extras -figured on Miss Ogle's programme such as might have afforded the sort -of excitement described by Maud Verrall as an antidote to the monotony -of school existence. She hated the daily crocodile walk; true, there was -a tennis court, but the game was a monopoly of the first class, while -the rest of the school marched two and two along dusty roads and -uninteresting byways. Stella moped. - -Then, one fatal afternoon, the daily procession passed through the town, -a treat permitted once in the term, and as they all tramped the pavement -of the principal thoroughfare, past fascinating shops that held the -attention of governesses and girls, a flashy looking youth, loitering on -the kerb, caught Stella's eye. She remembered Maud Verrall and that -daring young person's adventures; what a triumph if she could tell Maud, -in the summer holidays, that she had attracted the admiration of a real -live young man! Maud had advocated a swift side-glance, especially if -one had long eyelashes. Stella tried the experiment in passing the -youth, who wore a loud waistcoat and had an immature moustache. She felt -rather alarmed at her success. The young man responded with alacrity, -and proceeded to follow the school at a discreet distance; followed when -the "crocodile" turned to climb the hill; and was still in attendance -when it reached the gate of the short drive. - -Stella throbbed with excitement. She wondered what he would do now; -would he linger outside; would he return to-morrow and be there when -they emerged for the walk, just to obtain a glimpse of her as they -passed? She thought his appearance rather dreadful; but at any rate, he -was a young man, an admirer; all that she regretted was that she could -not write now and tell Maud Verrall how he had followed the school on a -blazing hot day up a steep hill, all on her, Stella's, account! - -A game of tennis was in progress as the girls filed up the sloping drive -and scattered on the edge of the lawn, and at this moment, as it -happened, a ball was sent over the privet hedge into the road below. -Stella saw her chance. - -"All right!" she shouted to the players. "I'll run and get it." And she -raced back down the drive and through the open gate. There was the -admirer lurking on the sidepath! He darted forward, an eager expression -on his countenance that, even in her agitation, Stella remarked was -sallow and spotty; also, as he grinned, she saw that his teeth were bad. -What a pity! But it flashed through her mind that such drawbacks need -not, when the time came, be cited to Maud. She would tell Maud, when -they met, that he was "a picture!" - -Affecting not to see him, and with a fluttering heart, Stella pounced on -the tennis ball that lay in the middle of the road; and "the picture," -murmuring something she could not catch, pounced also, and thrust a -piece of paper into her hand. Just at that moment, by all the laws of -ill-luck, Miss Ogle herself came in sight, advancing along the road, -with floating veil and fringed parasol, returning from a private -constitutional. - -The letter that brought the appalling news to The Chestnuts of Stella's -disgrace was addressed to Miss Augusta Carrington. Even the customary -ignoring of unpleasant facts was not proof against such a staggering -blow. Stella! the granddaughter, the niece, the child they had cherished -and guarded and reared with such care--to think that she should have -been detected in a vulgar intrigue, and could no longer be harboured at -Greystones lest she should contaminate her schoolfellows! It was almost -too terrible to contemplate, and for once the three ladies permitted -themselves the freedom of natural behaviour. Augusta very nearly -stormed; Ellen wept bitterly; grandmamma said: "Like mother, like -daughter," in an awful voice, and "What's bred in the bone will out in -the flesh." The household was steeped in gloom. They all regretted that -there was no male head of the family to whom they could turn for advice -in this distressing difficulty; and it was Augusta who at last suggested -that Stella's godfather, Colonel Crayfield, should be consulted. Was he -not an old friend of "poor Charles"? And only a few days ago there had -come a letter from him saying that he was at home on short leave from -India, asking for news of his little goddaughter. - -Augusta had answered the letter; how humiliating now, in the light of -this subsequent catastrophe, to recall the hopeful description she had -given of poor Charles's child! The confession of Stella's downfall, -should they decide to consult Colonel Crayfield, would be a painful -undertaking; but he was such a worthy, dependable character, and who -could be more fitted, as they all agreed, to give counsel in such a -terrible predicament than the child's own sponsor--the trusted friend of -the dead father, since there was no male member of the Carrington -family to whom they could appeal? - -Last time Colonel Crayfield came home, ten years ago, he had spent a -couple of days at The Chestnuts--rather a trial for hostesses who were -unaccustomed to the entertaining of gentlemen, but on the whole the -visit was felt to have been a success. Mamma and Augusta had even -suspected that he was attracted by Ellen, though, according to -Carrington custom, neither had voiced the idea. Ellen, however, could -have given him no encouragement, for nothing came of it, suitable as -such an alliance would have seemed on both sides. Colonel Crayfield was -that amphibious production of the Indian services--a military man in -civil employ, holding responsible, well-paid office; on the occasion of -his brief visit to The Chestnuts he had not disagreed with Miss Augusta -when she expressed her admiration of missionary efforts in the East; he -had only just tasted the wine that was offered him; he had not smoked in -the house, though the pantry was at his disposal for the purpose. All -these good points were recalled during the discussion that ensued as to -whether he should be approached for advice concerning his goddaughter's -future, and such recollections went far towards shaping the final -decision of grandmamma and Augusta, tearfully supported by Ellen. The -whole dreadful truth should be written to Colonel Crayfield, with an -urgent invitation to visit The Chestnuts once more. - -Meantime Stella was on her way home, shamefaced, unhappy. The fuss at -Greystones had been frightful, the whole affair bewildering--the -condemnation, the feeling of hopeless inability to defend herself; then -the hasty packing, the self-righteous, disparaging attitude of the -girls, and the stares of the servants; the humiliating departure, -sentinelled to the last moment by Miss Ogle herself, wrathful and stern, -who put her into a compartment for ladies only, in the care of the -guard. - -The time that elapsed between her return to The Chestnuts and the day of -Colonel Crayfield's arrival was to Stella a species of purgatory. -Grandmamma and the aunts hardly spoke to her, she was forbidden to go -beyond the garden, no explanation of her conduct was invited, though, -indeed, what explanation could she have given, since it was perfectly -true that Miss Ogle had caught her receiving a note from a strange young -man; and with it all she had not even had a chance to read the note--she -would have given _worlds_ to know what the young man had written! - -The culprit was sent to the station in the village wagonette to meet her -godfather, and she welcomed the distraction, awkward though it would be -to face Colonel Crayfield in the uncomfortable circumstances. The -situation struck her as almost grotesque; here she was, driving through -the familiar lanes in the late July sunshine, as an outcast and a -sinner, to meet an old gentleman who had been summoned to sit in -judgment upon her! And, after all, she had done nothing worse, nothing -half so bad, as Maud Verrall; and Maud had not been expelled from school -as a sort of leper. She wished Maud was at The Court; but that happy -young creature was disporting herself in London, and Stella had not the -spirit left to write to her. - -Arrived at the little countryside station, a six-mile drive from The -Chestnuts, she seated herself on a bench to await the train from London, -and gazed vacantly at the white palings, at the dazzling herbaceous -border, butterflies floating above it. She felt sorely oppressed, but -more from a sense of misfortune than from shame or repentance. How -unlucky she was! The future held nothing enjoyable; she saw herself -living on at The Chestnuts indefinitely. Grandmamma might die some day, -but she and the aunts would grow older and older, and they would all -continue to sing in church that they dared not choose their lot, and -would not if they might. Stella remembered the case of Miss Spurt, the -only daughter of a clergyman in a neighbouring parish, who, two or three -years back, had run away with her father's groom-gardener. The scandal -had petrified the county; whispers of it had reached Stella's sharp -ears, though the subject was never mentioned in her presence at The -Chestnuts. Now she wondered what had become of Miss Spurt, and she even -began to sympathise with the poor girl's mad action. - -Supposing she herself were driven to do the same sort of thing; to -elope, for example, with the solitary porter who stood leaning against -the waiting-room wall, should he suggest such a desperate step! She -regarded him with idle attention, feeling stupefied with the prevailing -somnolence of the station, the heat of the shadeless, empty platform; he -was a fresh-looking boy, with a cap on the back of his head and a curl -of glistening hair plastered to his forehead. Suddenly he stood erect, -stretched his arms, gave a loud yawn, and seized a handbell that he -rang with deafening clamour. So here was the train at last, thank -goodness! - -One or two people hurried, perspiring, breathless, on to the platform; a -few more ran over the rails from the opposite side, there being no -footbridge; the station-master emerged from his office and took up a -commanding position. The train rumbled in. - - -During the long, hot journey from London, Colonel Crayfield had been -repenting his good-natured acquiescence to what seemed to him a rather -exacting, inconsiderate request. At first his fancy had been tickled by -the notion that he, an elderly bachelor, should present himself in this -semi-parental rôle; also he was anxious to see the little girl, his -godchild, who apparently threatened to follow in her mother's footsteps, -though from what he remembered of Charles Carrington, she was more -likely to have inherited unstable tendencies from her father! Charles -had always been foolish and weak where affairs of the heart were -concerned; but in his final "affair," with the young wife of a -singularly unsuitable husband, he was certainly more to be pitied than -blamed. That time he had really been _done for_, and he had behaved well -in the circumstances; he, Colonel Crayfield, had stood by the guilty -pair, and helped Charles to change his regiment, had consented to be -sponsor to the unwelcome child. But, with the usual result of -good-natured actions, it seemed that his responsibilities were never to -end; and partly for the sake of Charles Carrington's memory, partly to -satisfy a newly aroused interest, here he was on his way to give counsel -to three old prudes in the matter of a naughty girl who had got into a -scrape at school! What form this counsel was to take he had not the -remotest idea; he knew nothing about schoolgirls; probably it was all a -storm in a teacup. What on earth had persuaded him to waste his time in -such useless fashion! - -As he stepped out of the train in company with a few women bearing -market baskets and a sprinkling of farmers wearing breeches and gaiters, -he wished again that he had not yielded to sentiment and curiosity; -visits bored him; he had been bored on the last occasion, ten years ago, -when he had gone on duty to The Chestnuts. He remembered the ordeal -well: Charles's formal, austere old mother, his uninteresting sisters, -the undrinkable wine, Charles's child of six or seven years old, who had -sniffed and fidgeted and refused to make friends, and was no different -from other children of her age; he even remembered that the village was -a long distance from the station, and he hoped that neither of the -Carrington spinsters had come to the station to meet him. - -Stella, standing expectant on the platform, saw a powerful-looking man, -clean shaven, blunt-featured, inclined to stoutness, who moved -ponderously--rather like a big Chinaman, a mandarin. As she stepped -forward he stared at her, and the stare gave her an odd feeling of -shyness. She would have to introduce herself; he did not know that she -was to meet him at the station. He was not at all what she had -expected; she had pictured a fussy old person with a protruding -stomach, a beard, and spectacles! - -Colonel Crayfield was equally taken aback. His experienced glance had -been instantly arrested by the vision of a remarkably good-looking girl, -tall and slim, who, though her skirt only reached to her ankles, whose -hair was tied back with a large ribbon bow, was clearly no child; and he -had gazed at the vision as he would hardly have permitted himself to -gaze had he realised that the girl was his goddaughter! All the same, -the situation entertained him; he no longer wished he had refused to -respond to Miss Carrington's appeal. - -Colonel Crayfield raised his hat. "Then you are Stella--my godchild? How -d'ye do, Stella?" - -The radiant brown eyes met his own. What an unnecessarily pretty -creature; no wonder there had been trouble connected with boys! - -"Yes, they sent me to meet you," and she flushed with the consciousness -that he knew of her misbehaviour. - -"Very kind of them to send you; very kind of you to come!" He looked -around. "Now for my bag," he added briskly, "and then we can be off." - -Stella sighed with mingled doubt and relief; instinctively she felt that -to Colonel Crayfield she was no criminal. Yet the remembrance of his -glance when he first set eyes upon her, not knowing who she was, still -disturbed her strangely. She abandoned all attempt to understand the -doubt, and allowed her relief full play. Her spirits rose. During the -drive to The Chestnuts she chattered freely, pointing out landmarks, -telling stories of the people and the past; and never once did her -godfather allude to the reason of his coming, for which consideration -she was deeply grateful. - -On arrival at The Chestnuts even the solemn faces of grandmamma and the -aunts could not depress her; she sprang from the wagonette and ran into -the house with a gaiety most unbecoming in one who had been expelled -from school on a charge that was truly shocking. - -After tea she escaped, went down to the stream at the bottom of the -garden and watched grandmamma pacing the terrace in front of the house -on Colonel Crayfield's arm. Grandmamma wore her brown bonnet and her -cashmere shawl, and carried her ebony walking-stick. Stella ached to -know what they were saying; of course, it was to do with herself, and -how she should be punished. If only that nice old fellow would devise -some means of escape for her from her deadly imprisonment! - -Mrs. Carrington was saying: "Stella is very irresponsible, and does not -seem to realise how badly she has behaved. I fear she has inherited her -mother's light nature, and what we are to do with her is a problem. It -is not as if we could hope for a suitable marriage in the future, -situated as we are." - -"It is a difficult question," said Colonel Crayfield evasively. His eyes -turned to the slim figure that flitted beside the stream. He knew by the -weighty silence that followed that he was expected to make some useful -suggestion. - -At last he said desperately: "If I were not a bachelor and could offer -her a chance in India----" then he paused. - -Grandmamma glanced at him furtively. Was he thinking of Ellen? What an -admirable solution of the difficulty were he to marry Ellen, and thereby -not only secure a most suitable wife for himself, but provide an equally -suitable haven for Stella till the child could be settled in life. And -just at that moment, as if in response to the old lady's thoughts, Ellen -herself came out of the house. Really, Mrs. Carrington reflected, Ellen -did not look anything like her age, and she was dressed so -becomingly--not too much in the present fashion, which all three ladies -considered so ugly. Grandmamma suddenly discovered that she was -fatigued; that she had taken sufficient exercise for to-day, and would -step into the drawing-room for a rest before dinner. Oh, dear no!--Ellen -and Colonel Crayfield must not trouble about her; no need for them to -come indoors just yet on such a pleasant evening; she would prefer to be -quiet, and perhaps a short nap.... - -So Ellen and Colonel Crayfield took a little stroll in the garden, and -the gentleman also took the opportunity to make a request connected with -his own comfort. - -"I hope I shall not be giving too much trouble, dear Miss Ellen," he -said with diffidence, "but might a tray be put in my bedroom overnight? -I am afraid I am a victim to old Indian habits, and one of them is that -I wake very early and long for a cup of tea. I have my own kettle and -spirit stand--I never move without them in England--so that if a teapot -and some tea, and a little milk----" - -Ellen eagerly assented. Of course; it would be no trouble at all. She -was _so glad_ he should have mentioned it. "And I do hope you will ask -for exactly what you want. I will tell Betty, and see that she arranges -the tray properly." - -"If it might be a fairly big teapot and a breakfast cup ..." pursued -Colonel Crayfield. (What he had suffered in English households from -"dainty little morning tea-sets"!--a teapot the size of an apple, a cup -to match, tea so thick and strong that it might have been jam.) - -Ellen wondered nervously if there would be enough milk left overnight -for the visitor's tray. Betty was always so careful not to take more -than was actually required for the household. "I think I will just run -indoors," she said apologetically, "and tell Betty what to do, so that -she will be sure not to forget anything." - -"You are more than kind!" exclaimed Colonel Crayfield with fervour; but -he did not add that he hoped she would speedily return and continue -their stroll. And when Ellen reappeared, smiling and triumphant, he was -nowhere to be seen. Neither was Stella in sight; and Ellen finally -discovered the pair in the kitchen garden. - -Stella had crawled beneath a net that protected the gooseberries from -the birds. Colonel Crayfield was standing stolid and large on the path, -and Stella was handing him berries through the meshes of the net. He was -not eating the fruit, and Ellen felt that this was compatible with his -dignity and his years. She could not imagine Colonel Crayfield sucking -gooseberries and throwing the skins about! It seemed he was collecting -them for Stella, who, bent double, was robbing the bushes--such an -ungainly attitude for a young lady. - -"Stella!" called Aunt Ellen in reproof, "you are tearing your frock!" - -The child looked a disgraceful object as she emerged from the nets; a -long rent in one of her sleeves disclosed a round white arm with a red -scratch in the flesh, her face was crimson, her hair in disorder, she -was covered with twigs and bits, and her mouth was sticky with -gooseberry juice. Laughing, she held out her skirt, like an apron, for -the fruit that filled Colonel Crayfield's large mahogany-coloured hands. - -Ellen felt truly ashamed of her niece. What would Colonel Crayfield be -thinking of his goddaughter, and of the way in which she had been -brought up! Had Ellen observed the look in Colonel Crayfield's eyes at -the moment, she would probably have mistaken it for astonished -disapproval; as it was, she only observed that he gazed at Stella in -silence, at the shining hair that fell over her forehead, at the -wide-open brown eyes, thickly lashed and full of mischief, at the -flushed cheeks and parted lips, that showed a row of faultless little -teeth, and at the red scratch on the white forearm. - -Stella, unabashed, proffered her skirt, full of fruit, to her aunt. "Do -have some, Aunt Ellen," she cried joyously. "They're ripping, especially -the big, hairy fellows." - -"You will spoil your dinner," said Aunt Ellen severely, "as you have -already spoilt your frock." - -"Like little Miss Jane," and Stella chanted: - - - "Greedy, greedy little Miss Jane, - I'll never give _her_ a present again. - She spent her sixpence on raspberry rock, - And spoilt her dinner as well as her frock." - - -Colonel Crayfield actually laughed; moreover, he accepted a gooseberry -from Stella's grubby fingers and ate it fastidiously, burying the skin -in the mould with the toe of his boot. - -That evening grandmamma's hopes ran high. Augusta sent Stella to bed -early, and afterwards Colonel Crayfield listened, apparently entranced, -while Ellen played the piano--played "Yorkshire Bells" and "The Village -Blacksmith." - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -Very early next morning Colonel Crayfield was awakened by a crash. His -bedroom was alight with the dawn; the lemon scent of magnolia blossom -floated in at the open window. What had aroused him? Involuntarily he -glanced at the tea-tray, at the big teapot and breakfast cup for which -he had Miss Ellen to thank; then he became aware of a curious sound, and -sitting up he beheld the milk-jug in fragments on the floor and a cat -complacently lapping the milk that had spread in a pool on the carpet. -In a fury he sprang from the bed, clapping his hands, shouting at the -thief; the cat, ears back, tail on end, made for the window and -disappeared in a flash; he could hear her scrambling down the magnolia -tree. What about his tea! He hated tea without milk, and probably the -household would not be astir for hours. He formed a bold project--he -would go downstairs and forage for more milk. No one need hear him; he -could explain, relate the disaster at breakfast. Slippers on his feet, -and a coat over his sleeping-suit, he crept into the long, low passage. -All was still. But the stairs! The stairs might have been actually alive -and the banisters too; how they did creak! It was a relief to arrive at -the foot of the staircase without having aroused the household. Now -there was a green baize door that evidently gave on to the kitchen -quarters; it yielded silently to his push, and he was confronted with a -short flight of stone steps. At any rate, _they_ could not creak. -Quickly descending them, he found himself in a large, old-fashioned -kitchen, stone-paved; beyond, surely, was the larder where milk might be -found, if the cat had not been there before him. How different it all -was from Indian establishments; in India, whether as a guest or in one's -own house, one could demand tea at any hour of the night or day, and it -was forthcoming as a matter of course; in India---- - -"Hallo!" - -Colonel Crayfield jumped ingloriously, and only just saved himself from -swearing aloud. His goddaughter was standing in the larder doorway, a -cup in one hand, a crust of bread in the other. She had the advantage of -him in the matter of toilet, being fully dressed in a blue washing frock -that fell in straight lines from her neck to her ankles, and a wide -straw hat bound with a ribbon of the same colour. - -They looked at each other, amazed. Colonel Crayfield drew his coat -closer about him, and passed his hand mechanically over his hair. - -"Good gracious!" he said resentfully. - -"Did you hear me go down?" she inquired. - -"No; but I wonder you didn't hear _me_! The stairs made such a -confounded noise." - -"Yes, I know; aren't they awful! I always expect Aunt Augusta to burst -from her room with a poker in her hand. Were you looking for something -to eat?" - -"I was looking for some milk," he admitted; "a cat got into my room and -knocked down the milk-jug. I don't like tea without milk." - -"I expect it was Granny." - -"_Granny?_" repeated Colonel Crayfield, mystified. - -Stella laughed. "Not my grandmother! Was it an old black-and-white cat -with a very long tail?" - -"I really did not notice. Anyway, the brute broke the jug and was -drinking the milk----" - -"Here you are then," she handed him a jug. - -He took it. "But have you all you want yourself?" he inquired politely. - -"Heaps," she replied, munching her crust. "Have a piece of bread? It's -lovely--home made. I only wish I had an onion, too. Don't you love -onions?" - -"I don't object to them----" he began; then suddenly the unfitness of -the situation came home to him with something of a shock. Here was he, -the ruler of a vast area in India, accustomed to ceremony and -circumstance and state, pilfering a larder with a chit of a -girl--discussing onions, of all things; and further than that he was not -dressed! It might have been a silly dream. - -"And what are you doing down here at this extraordinary hour?" he asked -of his goddaughter with what dignity was left to him. - -"Eating and drinking, as you can see," was her flippant reply. Then, as -though conscious that she was perhaps not treating Colonel Crayfield -quite with the respect that was his due, she added primly: "I often get -up very early and go for a ramble"; she hesitated, and continued with -diffidence, "would you care to come for a walk instead of going to bed -again?" - -"Well, I can't come as I am; but if you will wait till I've had my tea -and dressed----" - -"Of course I'll wait! I'll leave the side door open and you'll find me -outside." - -Later, when he joined her, his self-respect as Commissioner of Rassih -restored, he said: "Indian life would suit you, since you are so fond of -early rising. In India I am nearly always out soon after daybreak." - -Stella sighed. "Oh! India--how I should love to go there!" - -"Really? What about the heat and the exile and the insects?"--and he -added playfully--"not to speak of snakes and tigers!" - -"I'm not afraid of anything!" bragged Stella, and with the elimination -of grandmamma this was true enough. "If it comes to exile, what could be -worse than life at The Chestnuts--where nothing ever happens, and -nothing will ever happen!" - -Now they were out of the garden, out on a common that was ablaze with -gorse--the spongy turf was silvered with dew, the air fragrant and -fresh; birds' voices, the distant lowing of cattle, echoed in the sweet -stillness. - -"But some day you will marry," prophesied Colonel Crayfield, in a tone -of encouragement. - -"Marry!" derided Stella. "Who is there for me to marry?" She thought of -Miss Spurt and of the young porter at the railway station. - -He made no answer; he was appraising the slim, young form beside him, -marking the grace of her limbs, the poise of the little head on the -long, round neck, the clean turn of ankle and wrist--every point was -good; in a couple of years she must be a magnificent woman. - -"What are you thinking about?" inquired Stella. "Here we are at the end -of the common and you've hardly spoken a word. Are you tired?" - -"Tired? Certainly not! It would take rather more than a walk across a -common to tire _me_!" He stepped out with vigour. - -"What long strides you are taking. Hadn't we better have a race while we -are about it? See that oak tree over there--at the edge of the wood? I -bet you I'll get there first. One, two, three--off!" - -And the Commissioner of Rassih, who could still hold his own at tennis -and rackets, accepted the challenge. The race ended in a dead heat. - -Stella flung herself down beneath the oak tree, and Colonel Crayfield -took a seat, formed by the roots, beside her. The fact that he was -scarcely out of breath pleased him. - -"Anyway, you can run!" pronounced Stella. - -"Why not?" he demanded. - -"Oh, I don't know." She was politely evasive; it would hardly do to -explain that such agility in anyone of his age and bulk had surprised -her, and she hastened to change the subject. "Now, do let us talk about -India"--she looked up at him with eager, bright eyes--"you don't know -how I long to see India. I suppose it's in my blood; all the Carringtons -did things in India, and if I had been a boy I should have gone out to -do things, too. I am the last young Carrington left--and I am only a -girl!" - -Colonel Crayfield took off his hat and ran his fingers through his -thick, grey hair; he was proud of its thickness; most men of his age in -India were hopelessly bald. - -"India isn't what it was; the spirit of romance and adventure has gone, -the pagoda tree is dead, prices are rising, and exchange is falling----" - -"But haven't you lovely big houses?" interrupted Stella, "and heaps of -servants and horses, and the sun and gardens and fruit? What is your -bungalow like in India?" - -He checked his inclination to grumble. "It isn't a bungalow. It's part -of a Moghul fort, built on the walls of the old city; the wall goes -right round the compound; a compound is----" - -"Yes, I know what compound means! I know compound, and tiffin, and -chuprassee, and peg, and lots of words. I find them in all the old -family letters put away in the lumber room. Do go on!" - -"Well, I believe the city in the old days used to come close up to the -wall, but it has gradually been moved farther away. The back of the -house looks on to a desert that stretches for miles----" - -"Is it a big station?" - -"No; it's a small civil station; too small considering that it's the -headquarters of a big charge." - -"It must be ripping to feel you are ruling, governing all the time! -Don't you love power--spelt with a capital P?" - -"Who doesn't? But there are definite drawbacks as well as compensations -in Indian service." - -She sighed. "I shall never see the country; never feel the Indian sun, -or smell an Indian bazaar. I shall never hear a tom-tom or the frogs' -chorus in the rains, or even see a snake, except in the Zoo or in a -bottle!" - -Colonel Crayfield gazed at the child in astonishment. He guessed nothing -of the grip that the old letters and memoirs, stored in the lumber room, -had on her imagination; he had no conception of the strength of -hereditary memory, of the spell bequeathed by a long line of forbears -whose lives had been spent in the East, whose hearts and minds and souls -had been bound up with India--their mighty relentless mistress. He met, -in puzzled silence, the frank gaze of the lovely limpid eyes that -stirred his blood, tempting him in all opposition to his reason and -foresight; yet, just as his activity in the race to the oak tree had -pleased him, flattered his pride in his physical preservation, so did -this amorous thrill. - -Stella looked away, disconcerted; something in his expression reminded -her of his first glance on the platform the previous afternoon; she did -not understand it, and it made her vaguely uneasy. She rose, brushing -her skirt, uttering hasty little remarks--it was getting late, they -ought to go back, breakfast would be ready, look at the sun! - -Yes, the sun by now was well up in the sky; a hot summer sun that sucked -the dew from foliage and turf, creating a mist, like smoke, dispensing -strong perfumes of earth, promising great heat for the day. To the man -whose youth lay behind him, it strengthened his ardour, tempting him to -take possession of this exquisite child by means of her mania for India, -her boredom with her present life and surroundings. Then, suddenly, he -remembered that his mission to The Chestnuts was to administer reproof; -to give profitable advice! As they re-started across the common he said -abruptly: "You know why I have come to The Chestnuts?" - -The girl flushed. "Yes," she said reluctantly; here it was at last, the -lecture, the blame, just when she had almost forgotten. It was beastly -of her godfather. "Need we talk about it now?" - -"We shall have to talk about it some time, I suppose." His tone -reassured her; it sounded as if, after all, he was rather more on her -side than on that of grandmamma and the aunts. Still she felt -suspicious. - -"What did you do, exactly?" - -"Well, I made eyes at an awful young man when we were out for a walk in -the town," she blushed deeper at the recollection; "it was just to see -what would happen more than anything else--like pulling a dog's tail. -Oh! I can't explain. Nobody will ever understand----" - -"And what did happen?" - -With difficulty she told him, and awaited his censure. To her astonished -relief he said: "Bad luck! You see the wicked don't always prosper!" - -"But was I so wicked?" she asked defensively. "A girl I know told me she -had done the same kind of thing often; she didn't think it was so -dreadful. It seems to me an awful fuss about very little, and I don't -know why you should have been bothered, even though you are my -godfather. What shall you advise them to do?" - -"At present," he said cryptically, "I am not quite sure." - -She glanced at him half-alarmed. He laughed. "How would you like it if -I advised them to send you out to India?" - -Stella gasped. "Oh! would you? But how? As a missionary, a companion, a -governess--what?" - -Again he laughed. "As a companion, perhaps. I'm afraid you would not be -much good as a missionary or a governess. What do you think yourself?" - -"I shouldn't care. I'd do anything to get to India." - -"Well, we shall see. Don't be too hopeful," he looked at his watch. -"What time is breakfast?" - -"Half-past eight--prayers first." - -"Then step out!" Enough had been said for the moment. - -"Oh! dear," complained Stella, "what a bother things are; you are as bad -as Aunt Augusta about being in time. Why don't you marry Aunt Augusta?" - -"She mightn't appreciate India," he said with a grin. - -Grandmamma seldom came down to breakfast. Augusta read prayers, -fiercely, glaring at her congregation as though to remind them of their -unworthiness. Ellen kept her eyes shut and responded with fervent -contrition. Neither sister was as yet aware of the guest's early -expedition with their niece, and, as Stella made no mention of it during -the meal, Colonel Crayfield preserved a discreet silence on the subject. -There was a letter for Stella on the breakfast table. The aunts eyed her -with suspicion as she read it and then hastily consigned it to her -pocket. The letter was from Maud Verrall; it contained wonderful news: - - - "My dear, what do you think? I am engaged to be married in spite of - all my resolutions not to commit myself in a hurry. No, it is not - poor Fred Glossop, who is wild with despair, but a Captain Matthews - in the Indian Cavalry. He is a positive picture, if you like; - rather in the style of the riding-master I told you about, but - much, _much_ handsomer. My people aren't pleased, but that only - adds to the excitement. There is nothing they can object to - definitely; he has a little money of his own, and isn't badly - connected. Of course, they expected me to choose a lord, or a - baronet at least; but I am very unworldly. I am awfully happy, and - frightfully in love. I am sure I shall enjoy myself hugely in - India. Don't you wish you were me?" - - -Stella groaned over this letter in the privacy of her bedroom. Indeed, -how she wished she were Maud!--who was going to India, not as a -missionary, or a governess, nor in any other servile capacity; but as -the wife of a cavalry officer! Colonel Crayfield was wrong; it was the -wicked who prospered. As compared with herself, Maud had certainly been -wicked, and now here was Maud rewarded with all that Stella would give -her ears to attain. She wept with envy; felt convinced that her -godfather had overrated his power to lighten her "lot"; and in any case -grandmamma and the aunts would oppose whatever plan he might suggest. -She was doomed to grow old at The Chestnuts; she was never to marry, -never to enjoy herself, never to reach India--the Mecca of her dreams. -If only that beast Maud had not been going to _India_! Stella felt -bitterly jealous; it was all so cruel, so hopeless.... - -Reluctant to appear with swollen eyelids, she remained in her room for -the rest of the morning; also because she wished to allow her godfather -every chance of imparting his advice, however fruitless it might be, to -her guardians. She presented herself at luncheon, but the atmosphere -seemed unchanged. Evidently nothing had happened, for she was still -ignored by her relations, and Colonel Crayfield, purposely, she -suspected, though not with unkindly intention, paid small heed to her -presence. - -After luncheon she was dispatched by Aunt Augusta on household errands. - -"I am being got out of the way," said Stella to herself as she set off -with a can of soup for old Mrs. Bly, and an order for bacon and rice at -the post office--the postal department being a sort of incidental -appendage to the only shop of the village; stamps and post cards were -also required. Then she was to call for eggs and butter at a farmhouse -quite a mile and a half away. She made no haste; the longer the palaver -concerning her future, that she hoped was taking place during her -absence, the better. The farmer's wife, Mrs. Capper, made her welcome, -gave her tea with honey and fresh-baked bread, told her "what a fine -growed young lady she was getting"; all of which was pleasant and -consolatory for the time being, especially when young Capper came in, -looking quite gentlemanlike in a tweed coat with leather patches on the -shoulders, and breeches and gaiters; he betrayed unmistakable admiration -for his mother's guest--Stella could hardly prevent him from escorting -her home to carry the basket; not that she would have objected to his -company, but somebody would be sure to espy them and tell old Betty, and -old Betty would tell Aunt Augusta, and it would all be attributed to her -own fast and unladylike tendencies, and add to her present disfavour. -The risk was not good enough; young Capper would keep till she knew the -result of Colonel Crayfield's intercession on her behalf. Despite the -little distraction she strolled home listless and depressed. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -Tea in the drawing-room was over. Mrs. Carrington sat erect, motionless -as usual. Augusta and Ellen were pretending to knit; in reality their -whole attention was given to Colonel Crayfield, who perambulated about, -large and imposing, his hands in his pockets, a disturbance in the -old-world atmosphere. Augusta noticed with irritation how he scuffled up -the edge of the Persian rug spread in the centre of the room each time -he walked over it. Ellen suspected that he wanted to smoke, but she -dared not suggest the permission. The Carrington ancestor, gaily -indifferent, gazed down at the little conclave that was concerned with -the misdeeds of his young descendant. - -"It is a difficult question," repeated Colonel Crayfield; he had said -the same thing already, several times. - -"Would you recommend another school?" asked Augusta. "Some stricter -establishment, perhaps, if one could be found, that would receive a girl -under the painful circumstances?" - -Colonel Crayfield halted beside a table. He picked up a long, narrow -scent-bottle, and appeared to examine it closely. Augusta hoped he would -not let it fall; the bottle had come from Delhi, was said to have been -the property of a Moghul princess, and once to have contained attar of -roses. - -"Well, on the whole, no," he said presently. "We don't want to break -the child's spirit." - -"Spirit!" echoed old Mrs. Carrington. "She has the evil spirit of her -mother, not the spirit of her father's people, which I foolishly -imagined might have counteracted failings inherited from the other -side." - -To Augusta's relief, Colonel Crayfield replaced the precious -scent-bottle, and addressed himself to the three ladies. "If you will -pardon my plain speaking, I think you are making too much of this--this -indiscretion of Stella's. I had a talk with her this morning----" - -"This morning?" cried Augusta and Ellen together, and the three pairs of -eyes were fixed on him in amazed curiosity. - -"Yes; this morning, before breakfast," he confessed calmly, "and my -opinion is that Stella meant no harm. She is growing up, is no longer a -child, and she needs more outlet. School is hardly the place for her -now." - -"But what would you suggest?" came faintly from Ellen. - -Mrs. Carrington shot a quick glance at him. She was recalling their -conversation on the terrace the previous afternoon; he had said, "If I -were not a bachelor, and could offer her a chance in India----" Then he -had strolled in the garden with Ellen, and had enjoyed Ellen's music -after dinner. Was it in his mind to seek the hand and the heart of her -younger daughter? - -"A plan has occurred to me," he continued, with caution; "but I am not -at all sure--in fact, subject to your permission," he bowed slightly to -the trio, "I should prefer to wait a little before saying anything -further." - -Mrs. Carrington smiled, and at the moment she resembled a hawk more than -a sea-gull. With a gracious gesture of assent she rose. "Augusta, my -dear," she said suavely, "will you assist me upstairs? I feel rather -fatigued. This discussion has been trying, and I think"--again she shot -a sharp glance at Colonel Crayfield--"we may leave the solution of our -unhappy difficulty with every confidence to our poor dear Charles's old -friend." - -Augusta dutifully supported her mother from the room; but, to Mrs. -Carrington's exasperation, the tiresome Ellen must needs come too, -instead of allowing Colonel Crayfield this obvious opportunity of paying -his addresses. - -Therefore Colonel Crayfield found himself alone in the drawing-room, and -he was only too thankful for the relief. Now he could think connectedly. -In no way had he committed himself, so far, to any suggestion. Should he -ultimately decide that to marry the girl was too serious a step to take, -he could still advise something quite different from the idea that was -so strongly seductive.... He might suggest that Stella should be sent to -some Anglo-Indian friends of his own in London as a paying guest, he -being financially responsible; or he could offer to find some family in -India, when he returned there, who would be willing to take charge of a -girl as a matter of business, he, as her godfather, paying expenses. The -money was nothing. - -As he roamed round the room, doubtful, undecided, his eyes fell on the -group of coloured clay models of Indian servants set out on a -papier-mâché bracket, and he paused, for they recalled the existence of -Sher Singh, his Hindu bearer, who for the past twenty-five years had -been his right hand and chief of his domestic staff, and who perhaps -knew more about Robert Crayfield than any other living being. Sher Singh -would not welcome a memsahib. At the same time, the fellow would hardly -be such a fool as to jeopardise his own valuable position by making -trouble; the almighty rupee would soon settle Sher Singh's objections, -and Stella must be made to understand that interference with the head -servant's authority in the household could not be permitted.... Thus the -Commissioner of Rassih endeavoured to exorcise the inopportune vision of -his confidential retainer, who, he was aware, bore a faint, fantastic -likeness to himself. People would sometimes remark, laughing, "Like -master, like man." - -He looked out of the window to see Stella crossing the lawn, a basket on -her arm; and he noted afresh the splendid promise of her young form, the -grace of her proportions, the perfection of feature and colouring. Truly -she was well worth a drastic upheaval of his mode of life, a price that -was hardly too high, all things considered. Involuntarily as he watched -her, he began to make plans for the future. The big bedroom that -overlooked the gardens at Rassih? No, it was not so cool in the hot -weather as the one he had hitherto occupied himself, which gave on to -the vast desert area at the back of the house. True, his present room -held tragic associations; his predecessor in the appointment had -committed suicide from the balcony, throwing himself over the parapet -down on to the rubbish and scrub far below, where in the night time -hyenas and jackals yelled and fought and made diabolical merriment.... -And then there was the bathroom door, scarred with sabre cuts and bullet -holes, hideous reminders of a mutiny massacre where women and -children---- But that all belonged to the past. Stella need never be -told of such horrors, nor of the stories of footsteps, and cries, and -unaccountable noises--servants' superstitious nonsense that, of course, -he scoffed at and suppressed, though sometimes, when the heat kept him -awake at night, he had even imagined that he heard them himself.... The -drawing-room should be renovated; he had never used it; he would order a -piano from Calcutta. - -Stella disappeared round the corner of the house, and Colonel Crayfield -realised with a sense of mingled triumph and incredulity that he had -actually made up his mind, that he had done with all hesitation. And -when Robert Crayfield once made up his mind he did not alter it. - -A timid cough in the doorway disturbed his reflections. It was Ellen -Carrington, driven back to the drawing-room by her mother under pretext -that good manners did not permit of a guest being left solitary, -unentertained. She fluttered to a seat, prepared to make polite, -impersonal conversation; but Colonel Crayfield trampled on the -intention. - -"Well, and what do you think of it all, Miss Ellen?" he inquired -confidentially; at any rate, she seemed to him the most human of the -three females. His tone gave her a nice little sense of importance. - -"I expect you are right. We may have taken things too seriously. But -Stella's conduct did seem very--rather----" - -He broke in abruptly. "Can you keep a secret?" And as his companion -looked up alarmed, he added, smiling, "Only for a short time?" - -"I--I hope I can." She had so little experience of secrets, and the very -word "secret" savoured of deceit! - -"Well, it's this. I intend to take Stella back with me to India. I -intend to marry her." - -Ellen gasped. Totally unprepared as she was for such a disclosure, it -left her dumbfounded, also vaguely shocked. To her maidenly mind there -was something indelicate in the notion of _Stella_, who was little more -than a child, _married_, and to a man so very much her senior. Oh, dear! -In all her bewilderment Colonel Crayfield's voice sounded oddly distant. - -"I'm so--so surprised!" she faltered. - -"I admit that she is young enough to be my daughter, but surely the -drawback goes for nothing if I am prepared to accept it. Consider the -advantage for Stella!" - -It was beyond Ellen's power to voice her feelings. She was only aware of -a nebulous resentment that she could not define even to herself, much -less aloud to the man who had caused it. - -"As my wife," he went on, glad to give utterance to his arguments, "she -will have an assured position, she will be suitably provided for, _and_ -she will be well looked after--I can promise you _that_!" - -The last sentence sounded to Ellen more like a threat than a promise. -Her silence puzzled Colonel Crayfield, annoyed him. He had anticipated -expressions of delight, of gratitude; he felt he had every reason to -expect them; yet this limp, bloodless old maid appeared totally -unimpressed by the benefits he proposed to shower upon her niece, seemed -even to disapprove of the whole business. He brushed from his mind the -impatience her odd behaviour had aroused. - -"I am in no doubt as to Stella's reception of my purpose," he could not -resist telling her, with pointed satisfaction; and had Miss Ellen been -capable of such vulgarity she would have sworn that she saw him lick his -lips.... She shrank, instinctively disgusted, and gathered up her -knitting with trembling hands. - -"Will you excuse me?" she stammered; even her mother's orders could keep -her no longer in the room; she felt as if Colonel Crayfield had suddenly -turned into a sort of ogre. "I--I have a letter to write that must catch -the post." And with this, one of the few lies she had ever told in her -life, she sidled past him to the door. - -He looked after her in contemptuous wonderment; then stepped out of the -window in search of his future bride. Probably she was eating -gooseberries, and the kitchen garden had this advantage, that it was -not overlooked by windows, though it was hardly the spot he would have -chosen for love-making. But Stella was nowhere to be found, and -returning at last to the house, he had no better luck: the place seemed -deserted. Where had they all hidden themselves? - -He could not know that Stella was an unwilling prisoner upstairs, -helping Aunt Augusta to sort household linen; that Mrs. Carrington, -still resting, believed him to be enjoying the society of Ellen, whereas -Ellen had locked herself into her bedroom, helplessly perturbed. - -Only just before dinner did he have the chance of speaking to Stella -without being overheard. "I saw you come back," he said to her, a tender -inflection in his voice. "Were you tired? Was the basket heavy?" - -"Oh, no," she replied mischievously; "I only felt overburdened with -virtue. A handsome young man wanted to carry the basket for me, and I -would not let him!" - -"Thought you might be found out?" he suggested with a chuckle. - -"That was about it!" she said, recklessly candid. "Oh, _do_ tell me: was -anything settled this afternoon? I know you were all talking me over. Am -I to stay here for the rest of my life?" - -"Have a little patience," he teased, finding a subtle pleasure in her -obvious disappointment with his reply. - -That evening, after dinner, he discovered that Stella had a voice. She -sang a little song, something about a star, to Aunt Ellen's -accompaniment, and though Stella herself was clearly bored by the words -of the song, and despite lack of training and feeling, her voice was -deep and sweet--well worth cultivation, as he quickly decided. She -should have singing lessons before they sailed for India. - -The song ended, he found an opportunity to whisper: "That was -delightful. Stella--a star! Some day perhaps a star of India?" - -"But that's a decoration, isn't it?" she asked, pleased and eager. "And -not for women? Have you got it?" - -He looked at her intently, narrowing his eyes. "No, I haven't got my -star--_yet_." - -"But you will have it--soon?" - -"Yes, very soon." - -Stella felt mystified. Had she said the wrong thing? Perhaps it was a -sore point with him that he had not received the distinction earlier? - -"Can you sing?" she inquired quickly, to change the subject. - -"Well, I used to," he admitted. - -"Oh, do let us see if we have any songs you know. Aunt Ellen, Colonel -Crayfield will sing if we can find something he knows." - -There followed much turning over of music, but without success. Then -Stella lifted the lid of the small ottoman that served as a piano-stool, -disclosing several bound books of music; she dragged them forth; beneath -them lay a number of songs in manuscript. Ellen intervened. - -"You will find nothing among those; they are so old," she said hastily, -as again her niece delved, and produced "Wings," "Adieu," "The Arab's -Farewell to His Favourite Steed." - -Colonel Crayfield shook his head at them all, but he laid his hand on -the next sheet of music that, in spite of Aunt Ellen's unaccountable -obstruction, was excavated by Stella. - -"That!" he exclaimed, mingled recognition and reluctance in his tone. -Forthwith Stella placed it on the stand and began to read the -accompaniment, that might have been transcribed with a pin. - -"Now?" She looked up at her godfather, gaily insistent. - -And Colonel Crayfield, with an air of amused capitulation, sang in a -good bass voice that was not so very rusty: - - - "I gave my love a little rose, - A little rose of red and white, - Because her colour comes and goes - Whene'er I dawn upon her sight. - - I gave my love a little key, - A little key of yellow gold, - Because she locks her sweets from me, - And will not her dear heart unfold. - - I gave my love a little dove, - Around its neck a feathery ring, - Because a ring betokens love, - And love to my sweet love I bring. - - And in return what gave my love - Of all the precious gifts that be? - No rose, nor key, nor ring-necked dove-- - She gave but her sweet self to me!" - - -Mrs. Carrington and Augusta murmured polite applause, though they -thoroughly disapproved of the words. They said they had heard the song -before, though they could not recall when, or by whom, it had been sung. - -Ellen could have told them. Poor Ellen! The gay young cousin had sung -it, sung it to _her_ in those far-off days that now were as a faint, -impossible dream. She herself had copied the music and the words with an -etching pen, and purposely had buried the manuscript at the bottom of -the ottoman where for so long she had guarded it jealously. Only on the -rare occasions when she was alone in the house did she take it out and -tinkle the accompaniment, whispering the words. It seemed a sort of -sacrilege to Ellen that the song should have been exhumed by the -careless Stella to be sung with zest in a loud voice that destroyed the -echo of the beautiful tenor, the remembrance of which caused her heart -to ache and brought tears to her eyes. - -Stella, with girlish enthusiasm, pronounced the song to be "perfectly -sweet," and proceeded to hunt through the rest of the pile. Colonel -Crayfield watched her lithe movements; he was well satisfied with his -own performance, and he smiled to himself as he recollected the last -occasion on which he had sung this song--to a pretty young married -woman with whom at that time he was pleasantly philandering; the lady -had burst into tears at the piano, an affecting scene had ensued, and -the husband had all but surprised them; it had been just touch-and-go, a -Providential escape. What on earth was her name? He could only remember -that her hair was golden and her eyes like forget-me-nots! - -Never mind, it did not matter; all that mattered to him was this -exquisite child who was to learn the facts and the meaning of marriage -from him and from him alone.... If only the three tiresome old women -were out of the room--the two spinsters, scraggy and genteel; the old -mother, austere and cold; and to add to his provocation, when Mrs. -Carrington beckoned Stella to her side that she might kiss her -good-night, he heard the old lady forbid her to go out before breakfast -next morning. No reason was given, only the order. What tyranny! Was it -any wonder that, apart from everything else, Stella should yearn to -escape from The Chestnuts? Stella glanced at him ruefully over her -grandmother's head; he returned her a nod of sympathetic understanding. -Next day it should all be different. He enjoyed the prospect of -astounding the old martinet. - - -The following morning Mrs. Carrington was not so easy to corner. When -she appeared Ellen was in close attendance, and Stella was on duty with -Augusta, occupied with household tasks that seemed to involve strenuous -attacks on cupboards, and perpetual visits to the kitchen, whence came -hot, sweet whiffs of jam-making. Colonel Crayfield wandered aimlessly -in the garden, consoling himself with plans for the immediate future. -The marriage must take place as soon as possible--he supposed it would -have to be in the village church--but a special licence would expedite -matters. In little more than a couple of months his leave would be -up--it would allow only just time for Stella to have riding lessons, -singing lessons, to collect the right sort of outfit, for which, of -course, he would be responsible. No village dressmaker, no ready-made -garments for _his_ wife. His own particular star should shine in every -detail. - -At last; there was the old lady, alone on the terrace, settled in a big -basket chair, a mushroom-shaped hat tied on with a broad ribbon, her -ebony stick handy, a small table at her side on which lay spectacles, a -handkerchief, and the paper which arrived at midday. Colonel Crayfield -approached her; formal greetings were exchanged, then he took an -uncomfortable little garden chair from its resting-place against the -wall and applied himself to business. - -"Now," he said briskly, "I am ready to tell you what I propose should be -done about Stella." - -Mrs. Carrington pouched her cheeks, and intimated silently that she also -was ready--to listen. He trusted she would not have a stroke when she -heard what he was about to propose! - -"It may seem a very sudden decision on my part, Mrs. Carrington," he -began; "but I wish to take Stella into my own keeping----" - -At once Mrs. Carrington was all gracious acquiescence. (Ellen! He had -spoken to Ellen?) - -"Perhaps I can guess the means by which you intend to bring about such -an excellent solution of our difficulties," she remarked, with an arch -expression that struck him as grotesque; and before he could continue, -she added: "I may tell you that I had my suspicions ten years ago!" -(Good heavens! What could she mean?) "I may also say that in my opinion -nothing could be more suitable." - -"I am afraid we are at cross purposes," said Colonel Crayfield -carefully. From his own standpoint he felt that the marriage could -hardly be termed "suitable," though the gain for the girl was -undeniable. - -"Then will you kindly explain?" demanded Mrs. Carrington. - -"Certainly. It is my intention to marry your granddaughter." - -Grandmamma stared at him. Then she grabbed her stick and struck it -sharply on the ground. "My good man, are you in your senses?" she cried. -"Do you realise that Stella is not only a child, but that she has bad -blood in her veins? That such an unnatural union could only result in -disaster? Now, if it had been Ellen, her aunt----" - -The old lady's natural reserve had been blown, as by a volcano, sky -high. - -So that was the idea! Colonel Crayfield only just saved himself from -laughing aloud. - -"But you see," he said lightly, "it is not Miss Ellen--fortunately for -me, since I fear she would hardly welcome me as a suitor." - -Mrs. Carrington ignored this playful attitude. "It is a preposterous -idea! You are not a young man. Have you considered the cost and the -risk?" Her voice was severe. - -"Why," he argued judicially, "should there be any 'risk,' as you call -it? After all, I am not such a Methuselah, and surely you can trust me -to safeguard my wife's honour and happiness as well as my own?" - -"In the present, no doubt. But what about the end of it all? In ten, -even twenty years' time, Stella will still be a young woman, while -you----" Her pause was cruelly pointed. - -Colonel Crayfield glowered. Confound the old devil; there must be an end -to this croaking, these distasteful forebodings. Assuming indifference, -he stretched out his legs. The chair wobbled ominously, and rising with -precautionary haste, he began to pace backwards and forwards before his -aged adversary. Her opposition was so unexpected! - -"It seems to me," he said, keeping his temper with an effort, "that -Stella would be infinitely better off as my wife than if she stayed -here, perhaps to marry beneath her, perhaps never to marry at all? I -can't take her to India as my ward or as my adopted daughter. I'm not -quite old enough for _that_!" - -"How old are you?" inquired grandmamma spitefully. - -"Not much over fifty," he told her, with disarming readiness, "and I -flatter myself that I am young for my age. I am well off; I am willing -to make suitable provision for my widow. What more can you want?" He -spoke now with truculence. - -"Well, I suppose you must cut your own throat, if you are so minded," -said grandmamma; "but perhaps Stella may not care to marry a man old -enough to be her father--even, to stretch a point, her grandfather!" - -"We shall see!" was his confident answer. - -The old lady sat silent. She was deeply disappointed, so convinced had -she felt that it was Ellen he was after, and that Stella would be going -to India beneath Ellen's safe wing. It was so seldom her wishes were -thwarted, so seldom her disapproval of anything bore no weight. - -Presently she said, "And when do you suggest that this extraordinary -marriage should take place?" - -"Just as soon as it can all be arranged. I may say that I wish to be -responsible for Stella's outfit--indeed, for all expenses." - -Mrs. Carrington's expression became a little less disagreeable. Money -was not plentiful at The Chestnuts. After all, no one could deny that in -a way it was a good enough chance for the child. But settlements must be -certain. If Stella got into trouble, there must be no returning her, -penniless, to her people, disgraced into the bargain. - -"I can only give my consent provided that Stella will be perfectly -secure, financially, whatever happens in the future." - -Colonel Crayfield smiled; it was, as Mrs. Carrington felt, a smile that -was covertly insulting. "When I have spoken to Stella," he said slowly, -"I shall return to London and make proper arrangements with my lawyer. -My intentions will be submitted to you, and I hardly imagine you will -find fault with them." - -"Very well, then; there is no more to be said at present. But do not -forget that I have warned you." - -"I appreciate your concern on my behalf, Mrs. Carrington; but, believe -me, I think you are unduly apprehensive." - -"Let us hope so," said Mrs. Carrington grimly; and it was a relief to -them both when, at this moment, Augusta stepped out of the drawing-room -to remind her mother that luncheon would soon be on the table, to -suggest that the sun was rather powerful, and would it not be wiser for -mamma to come indoors? - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -After all, Colonel Crayfield was driven to proposing in the kitchen -garden. Stella was sent there, when luncheon was over, to pick more -fruit for jam-making, that serious ceremony being now at its height; not -even the presence of an important guest in the house could be permitted -to delay its progress. Colonel Crayfield volunteered in public to help -his goddaughter; Ellen's pale eyes flickered, grandmamma was coldly -silent; only Augusta, who, as yet, was ignorant of his intentions, -uttered conventional protests. Why should he trouble? It was so hot out -of doors; Stella was well used to the little task, and required no -help--would he not prefer to sit quiet with a book, or the paper? -Colonel Crayfield was equally punctilious--no trouble, a pleasure.... -Though, unfortunately, unversed in the business of fruit picking for -jam, he would feel it a privilege to be allowed to contribute his share -of assistance, and so on. - -At last the pair set off, armed with huge baskets, towards the -sun-blistered door let into the old brick wall of the garden. - -"I will join you as soon as I can," Augusta called after them kindly. - -"I hope she won't!" said Colonel Crayfield, to the malicious delight of -Stella, who promptly echoed the hope. For the first time she felt -reconciled to the tedious duty, for surely now was her chance to coax -Colonel Crayfield into giving her at least some sort of notion as to -what was to happen. - -As they opened the rickety door he contrived to touch her hand gently, -again as they closed it behind them; then, rather to his discomposure, -she suddenly slipped her hand confidingly into his. - -"Do tell me," she urged; "I know you've got some plan up your sleeve." - -She found her hand tightly imprisoned. "You are sure you want to go to -India?" he asked her. - -"You _know_! I've told you--it's the dream of my life." - -"As a governess, or a missionary?" - -"Oh, don't be so tiresome--as anything!" - -"Well," he restrained himself still. - -"Go on!" she cried with impatience. - -"How would you like to go to India with me?" - -"With _you_?" - -"Yes"--he dropped his basket, snatched hers from her grasp and flung it -to the ground. Now he was holding both her hands. "Yes, with me, -Stella--as my wife!" - -Had the old red-brick walls of the garden fallen flat around her she -could hardly have felt more astounded. Involuntarily she wrenched her -hands free, clasped them behind her, backed away from him. - -He advanced upon her. "Now, now, little girl, what is the matter? Isn't -it all quite simple? You told me yourself there was no one here you -could marry, didn't you? And now here _is_ someone who wants you, who -will take you to India and give you everything in the world you could -wish for----" - -"I'm--I'm so surprised!" - -It was just what silly Ellen Carrington had said; damn it all, couldn't -the child understand that she was being given the chance of her -lifetime! - -"Come, come--isn't it a pleasant surprise?" - -She grew white, then red. "I never thought of such a thing!" she -exclaimed, in agitated apology. - -"Of course not, why should you? I quite understand. But it's easy enough -to think of now--eh?" - -Her hesitation inflamed him further; he hungered to kiss her, to hold -her in his arms--the first, and as long as he lived, the last man to do -so. Next moment his lips were on hers; she was enfolded, crushed to his -big body, almost suffocated, and to his intense satisfaction she made no -resistance.... - -To Stella it was like all she had heard about drowning, when a multitude -of impressions and memories were said to invade the mind in a -miraculously short space of time: Maud Verrall and her love adventures -and engagement; the spotty youth outside the Greystones gate; young -Capper the farmer; the lumber room at The Chestnuts, and her thirst for -India; and oddly, above all, the words of the familiar hymn that of a -sudden had exasperated her those many Sundays ago seemed to beat time to -the recollections: - - - I dare not choose my lot, - I would not if I might. - - -She was barely conscious of the present, hardly even of the determined -embrace that held her fast; only the past seemed real, and it was the -past that won. When he released her, flushed and breathless, she knew -she had dared to choose her lot once and for all; she was in the grip of -a wild excitement; she, Stella Carrington, was to be married, like Maud -Verrall, and she was going to India, to India! The doorway of life was -unlocked at last, presenting a wondrous vista, entrancing, -irresistible.... Then, blocking the doorway, she saw Colonel Crayfield, -bulky, triumphant, a masterful smile on his face. - -"Well, isn't it all right?" And again he drew her to him, this time -gently, protectively, and with his arm about her they sauntered among -the vegetables and fruit bushes, while he held forth concerning the -future, Stella hearkening as in a dream. She knew he was speaking of his -position, of horses and clothes, of a piano, and a pearl necklace; but -it was of India she was thinking as she hung on his arm in childlike -gratitude. Was he not granting her the desire of her heart? - -"You are a sort of fairy godfather!" she told him, laughing; "perhaps -not exactly a _fairy_--more of a Santa Claus. I think I must call you -Santa-Sahib." - -"Call me what you like; but doesn't it spell Satan as well?" - -"That will come in useful when you are disagreeable, cross with me." - -"I shall never be cross with you, my jewel, my pet!" - -Oh, it was all delightful, almost too good to be true. - -But what about grandmamma? He said that grandmamma knew. - -"So you have made it all right with her?" she exclaimed, with the kind -of sensation that is engendered by some lucky escape. How clever of him! -He was a wonder, her saviour, her deliverer. True, he was neither young -nor "a picture," but one could not have everything, and Stella told -herself she was going to be quite as happy as Maud Verrall, very likely -far happier. - -"Just fancy!" she sighed ecstatically. "And if I had only known what was -coming when you found me in the larder! Isn't it a mercy that we both -like onions? Do tell me, when did you think of your ripping plan?" - -"The first moment I set eyes on you at the station," he declared -untruthfully. - -"Oh! Then _now_ I know why you looked at me like that." - -"Like what?" - -"You did--and then under the oak tree, too! I felt there was something." - -"Bright little star!" Hiding a smile, he raised her hand and kissed each -pink finger-tip with deliberate enjoyment. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -"I got your letter," wrote Stella to Maud Verrall, "and am awfully glad -about your news, though at the time it made me feel simply green with -envy. How little I thought I should have some news to tell _you_ when I -answered it. Don't faint, but your little friend is also engaged, _and -going to India_! I could turn head over heels with joy. Perhaps we shall -meet next as married ladies! Wouldn't it be fun if we went out in the -same ship? My fiancé is a big, tall man, much older than me; but I don't -mind that a bit. There is something rather romantic, I think, in the -idea of a husband a good deal older than oneself. He hasn't got a beard, -and is not at all bald. I like him very much, and he spoils me -frightfully. Before we sail I am to have singing lessons and learn to -ride, and he says I can order what clothes I like. He is giving me a -real pearl necklace. His name is Colonel Crayfield, so my initials will -still be the same. Old Betty says that is unlucky, but I don't believe -her; nothing could be unlucky that gets me to India. It's all like a -heavenly dream, only a dream that will go on; no waking up to find -myself stuck at The Chestnuts with nothing to hope for but deadliness -evermore. I suppose I am an ungrateful pig. I know grandmamma and the -aunts are fond of me, and of course I am fond of _them_, but I can think -of nothing but my own good luck. They don't seem altogether pleased -about it; I can't imagine why, except that they never have wanted me to -enjoy myself. I really believe they think it's wicked to be pleased -about anything but the garden and sermons and the weather. However, I -don't care. I am going to India, and nothing else matters on this -earth." - - -So the "heavenly dream" continued, unmarred by the odd lack of sympathy -displayed by grandmamma and the aunts, and, if anything, enhanced by the -departure of Colonel Crayfield for London; his absence left Stella more -free to indulge her fancies, to lose herself in visions, to revel, -almost as though drugged, in blissful imaginings. Her betrothed sent -presents and frequent letters that, though short, were fervent, and -added to the glamour. - -Thus time flew by, till the day of the marriage, which took place, very -quietly, in the little old church. The ceremony was performed by Canon -Grass in a manner, as Stella afterwards declared, that was more -befitting a funeral than a wedding. She attributed his lugubrious voice -and demeanour to the fact that the unfortunate gentleman was so -ill-mated himself. Mrs. Grass attended the service in her invalid chair, -and looked like a rag doll--poor thing, and poor Canon Grass! Grandmamma -did not even have a new bonnet, and might have been a graven image. Aunt -Augusta behaved as if they were all doing something wrong; and, of -course, Aunt Ellen wept. - -Stella thought it really very horrid of them, when she herself was -feeling so jubilant, and dear old Santa-Sahib was so nice and so kind, -and looked almost "a picture" in his new clothes. He had grown a little -thinner, which was a great improvement. She wore the pearl necklace, his -wedding gift--it was lovely! Why did everybody but Santa-Sahib seem to -wish to damp her spirits, to put a spoke in the wheel of her pleasure? -Of course, there was no reception, no fuss; that she had not expected; -all she would have liked, and resented not having received, was just a -little sympathy with her state of joy--a little acknowledgment of her -good fortune. - -They drove straight from the church to the station to catch the express -for London; and from then onwards "the dream" became rather more -harassing than heavenly! Stella found herself in a sumptuous hotel; -there was a lady's maid, a smart person engaged by Colonel Crayfield -until the date of their sailing, who embarrassed her. She was confused, -dismayed by revelations that, it appeared, were inseparable from -matrimony, and therefore had to be accepted as a sort of toll-bar on the -road to India. The weeks were packed with ceaseless activities: singing -lessons, riding lessons, dressmakers, restaurants, shops, theatres. - -It was actually a relief to the overtaxed bride, when they had sped -across the Continent "via Brindisi," to settle down on the big P. & O. -steamer, that throbbed and smelt, and was so strange, yet proved a -paradise of rest and peace compared with London. There were not so many -passengers--it was early in the season--but everyone was interested in -young Mrs. Crayfield; they were all very kind and friendly. Her -deck-chair was always surrounded; her singing was a great success; and -though Santa-Sahib was tiresome in forbidding her to dance or take part -in theatricals on board ship, she had an extremely pleasant voyage. - -They landed at Bombay, and oh! the rainbow-coloured crowds, the -splendour, the white, shining buildings, the spicy, intoxicating warmth. -It was all entrancing to Stella, oddly familiar and yet so novel. How -quaint the contradictions of "The Queen of Cities," such a mixture of -dignity and squalor! The best hotel was barrack-like, comfortless, not -over-clean; insects dotted the walls; there were flies in myriads; -doubtful food; yet at that period it was the only possible refuge for -European travellers coming and going. - -Santa-Sahib grumbled and scolded; but Stella said what on earth did -comfort and food and cleanliness matter? Were they not _in India_? To -her, all the sights and sounds, the merciless sun, the dust and the -clamour, even the smells, were thrilling. Robert's head servant was -there to meet them, an elderly, important-looking native; his name was -Sher Singh, and he had secured an ayah for the memsahib, a good class -Mohammedan woman who knew her work and understood a little English. -Stella appreciated her quiet movements, her deft attentions, and was not -overawed by "Champa" as she had been by the grand maid in London. The -ayah's attitude towards the Sahib entertained her; it was full of such -humble and modest reverence. She would warn her mistress of the Sahib's -approach as though for the coming of an emperor; turn aside bashfully -when he entered the room, and draw her wrapper over her face. But Sher -Singh! To Stella there was something vaguely sinister about the -bombastic figure that held a weird, elusive reflection of his master's -bearing and outline. The man seemed to watch her furtively, and though -he anticipated her wishes, obeyed her least sign, she felt that beneath -his diligent, obsequious care there lay a smouldering resentment. - -"I'm sure Sher Singh is jealous of me," she told her husband; "he looks -on me as an interloper. It's only natural, I suppose, after his long -service with you as a bachelor, but it makes me uncomfortable." - -"Nonsense!" he said sharply. "Sher Singh is an invaluable servant. -Whatever you do, don't quarrel with him. It's all your fancy--you don't -understand natives." - -"Some day I shall. I mean to!" - -"Well, don't begin by misunderstanding Sher Singh. I couldn't do without -him." - -There was a note of finality in his voice. It sounded to Stella almost -as though he would prefer to part with her than with Sher Singh! She -determined to banish the little rasp from her mind; after all, what did -it matter? It should not interfere with her enjoyment--Sher Singh was -only a servant. - -They stayed long enough in Bombay to dine at the Yacht Club; to visit -the caves of Elephanta, so old, so mysterious; to spend a day with an -English merchant prince, a friend of Colonel Crayfield's, in his palace -on Malabar Hill. And then came the journey up-country: days and nights -in the train, passing from tropical temperature to chilly dawns, first -rushing through scenery grand and austere, Doré-like in its peaks and -valleys, wondrous in the crimson sunset; afterwards vast yellow plains, -relieved by patches of cultivation, villages, groves--mightily -monotonous. Except for the time when she slept, and when they alighted -at echoing stations for unpalatable meals, Stella did not cease to gaze -from the windows of their compartment. The crowds on the platforms of -big junctions and wayside halting-places were fascinating; the family -groups, the varied clothing, the half-naked sellers of fruit and -sweetmeats, the pushing, the shouting, the flurry. - -It was midnight when they reached Rassih. The branch line had but lately -been completed, and the railway station was little more than a short -strip of unfinished platform. The station-master, a fat babu, received -the travellers with elaborate civility; and, outside, a curious -conveyance awaited them--like a broad, low dog-cart, hooded, drawn by a -pair of white bullocks, all horns and humps and pendulous dewlaps. -Stella never forgot her first transit through the slumbering city; the -little caves of shops, some dimly illumined; the occasional glimpses of -figures squatting muffled and shapeless, or stretched on rude bedsteads. -From upper storeys floated snatches of sleepy song and the faint twang -of stringed instruments. Pariah dogs nosed and snarled in the gutters. -Beneath the general somnolence lay a ceaseless, subdued undercurrent of -sound that seemed to mingle with stale odours of spice and rancid oil; -above it all the slate-blue sky pressed low, deeply clear, besprinkled -with stars. - -The tonga skirted a high wall, cutting through dust so deep that its -progress was hardly audible, turned in through a gateless arch, and -halted before a massive, towering building. Stella, weary, yet excited, -followed her husband up a steep flight of stone steps that terminated in -a vast, whitewashed vestibule; there were countless doors, all open, -screened with short portières. It was cold, gloomy, dim. None of the -lamps that hung on the walls had been turned up; the silence was -oppressive, cheerless. - -Robert, muttering angrily, strode ahead and stumbled over a form that -lay swathed, corpse-like, in one of the doorways. A scene ensued that to -Stella was horrifying. The corpse-like figure sprang up with a wild yell -of alarm, and was cuffed and abused by the Sahib. The noise brought a -scampering of bare feet and a swarm of people, hastily binding on -turbans, adjusting garments. It appeared that the servants had all been -asleep, that preparations for the Sahib's arrival were not even begun. -The air shook with the wrath of the Sahib; he would listen to no -explanations; the offenders ran hither and thither; there was confusion, -consternation. - -Stella stood by, silent, trembling; she was appalled by her husband's -exhibition of rage; he might murder one of these defenceless people; it -seemed even possible that at any moment he might turn upon her, and kick -and beat and abuse her also! What a ghastly arrival!... Then all at -once there was peace. Sher Singh had arrived with the luggage, and in no -time refreshments were on the table; the dining-room, big as a ballroom, -blazed with light; the Sahib's fury subsided. - -To Stella's astonishment the servants conducted themselves as if nothing -extraordinary had happened, and all went well. Robert made no excuse or -apology for his anger; apparently he was unconscious of having behaved, -as it seemed to her, like a madman. He ate and drank with complacence, -asking questions quite amiably at intervals of the rotund attendant who -was evidently chief of the table staff; while Stella, unable for very -fatigue to swallow food, sipped her tea and looked about her with dazed -interest.... What high walls, washed a pale brick colour; how bare the -great room, just a big table and clumsy wooden chairs with arms and cane -seats. On the floor was a sort of thick drugget; it felt hard beneath -her feet. A wood fire had been lighted in a wide open grate; it smelt -fragrant, comforting.... Stella's eyes drooped; the white-clad figures -of the servants grew blurred to her vision; Robert himself, still eating -heartily, seemed to recede in a mist. Then suddenly there arose, from -somewhere outside, a succession of blood-curdling yells, and she -started, wide awake, laid hold of Robert's arm. "Oh, what is it?" she -cried in alarm. "Someone is being killed!" - -He laughed and patted her hand reassuringly. "It's only hyenas and -jackals," he told her; "you'll hear it every night--soon get used to -it." - -Hyenas and jackals! Wild beasts she would have gazed at in a zoo with -wondering interest were here, close by, and no more to be heeded than if -they had been stray dogs! She remembered that this was India; the weird -noise fired her fancy, and mingled with her dreams that night. - -She awoke next morning to a very different sound, the cooing of doves; -bright, hard sunlight streamed through the long door-windows. She found -she had slept late; Champa, bringing tea, said the Sahib had already -gone out, had left orders that the memsahib was not to be disturbed. -Then she bathed--in a bathroom that resembled a prison cell; the tub was -of zinc, and there was a row of red earthenware vessels for the cold -water. Stella thought them very artistic; how Mrs. Daw would love to -paint on them, paint storks and sprays of apple-blossom, and fill them -with dried bulrushes--the very thing for a bazaar!... But there was -nothing that could by any possibility be considered artistic about the -bedroom: the beds were just wooden frames, not even enamelled or -painted; two enormous cupboards stood against the walls; the fireplace -was a cavern; the dressing-table was more suited to a kitchen; and there -were a few clumsy chairs matching those of the dining-room. It was with -a slight feeling of desolation that she began to explore the house; in -the drawing-room was a certain amount of wicker furniture, with loose -cretonne covers of an ugly pattern, a pair of handsome screens, and two -or three richly carved tables; the dining-room she avoided, having -caught sight of servants laying the table; she felt shy of encountering -them. She peeped into other rooms, all of them equally bare and -enormous, comfortless--even the one she supposed must be Robert's study, -since it had a business-like table in the centre, covered with papers. - -And yet there was something exhilarating in the airiness, in the sense -of space, the hard brilliance of the sunshine outside, the unfamiliar -scents and sounds that seemed to float everywhere. Her spirits rose as -she wandered out on to a balcony almost wide enough for a dog-cart, and -gazed over a limitless landscape studded with low bushes, and in the -foreground a few ruins of what might have been mosques or dwellings or -tombs. The flat country, stretching for miles to the dusty horizon, was -impressive in its very persistence and sameness, that was without -relief, save for here and there a pillar of dust that swirled upwards, -waltzing madly for a moment as though demon-possessed. Then she watched -a more steady dust-cloud, of a different form, that was wending its way -slowly among the clumps of scrub and stunted bushes; and presently there -came into view a string of camels led by a great beast hung with gaudy -trappings, ridden by a figure swathed in white garments, heavily -turbaned. On they came, a silent, stately procession, moving as though -to the rhythm of a funeral march, men striding beside them in flowing -garments or seated between the great bales slung on either side of the -camels' humps. One or two baby camels shambled along by their -mothers--awkward, woolly creatures, the size of colts, with legs that -appeared too long for their bodies. - -Fascinated, Stella watched the cavalcade till it vanished in a cloud of -dust; then she walked to the end of the balcony and looked over the -parapet, down a drop that made her feel giddy. There was nothing below -but heaps of rough stones and bricks, coarse grass, and thorn trees. -Again she glanced over the waterless waste, burning drab and drear in -the hot sunshine, and suddenly she thought of the Common at home, of the -green turf, the gorse and the bracken, the blue distances; she wondered -what grandmamma and the aunts were doing at that moment; she remembered -the smooth lawn and the cedar tree, the little stream.... The unwelcome -pang of home-sickness was discomforting, but it did not last long. As -she turned away the realisation that she was in India, that the life she -so desired had begun, came back to her forcibly; and soon she was -finding pleasure in the garden, in watching the pair of small white -bullocks that drew water from a well in a big leather bucket like a -gigantic sponge-bag; in strolling among the shrubs that flamed with -blossom, scarlet, yellow, pink. There was an orange grove, too, with -real fruit on the trees gleaming golden among glossy foliage. Flights of -green parrots flew screaming above her head; gay-crested little birds -hopped and scuffled in the dust at her feet; small grey squirrels -scampered in every direction. Was there anything at The Chestnuts to -compare with it all? - -Santa-Sahib was in good humour when he returned. They had a wonderful -breakfast at midday: a curry of chicken, with snowy rice boiled to -perfection and served separately, not as a border round some réchauffé, -which was old Betty's conception of a curry. Other dishes were numerous, -and fruit was in abundance--oranges, custard apples, loquats; also -delicious little scones. Afterwards Robert took her into the -drawing-room, and told her she could spend what she liked on it; said he -had ordered a piano from Calcutta; it ought to arrive in a day or two -now. He was sure she would wish to have pretty chintz, and silk -cushions, and new curtains. When she asked him if it would not all cost -too much money, he laughed and kissed her, called her his baby. Sher -Singh was summoned, and was bidden to send for a silk merchant from the -bazaar, and to engage a "durzey"--a male person whose duty it would be -to sit in the veranda all day and make curtains and cushions and chair -covers, and anything else the memsahib might desire. Stella felt like a -princess in a fairy tale. - -During the next few days the ladies of the station called on the -Commissioner's bride. Mrs. Cuthell, wife of the Deputy Commissioner, -came first; she was a homely human being, anxious to be kind; but her -good-natured intentions were leavened by a natural resentment that her -husband's superior in the service should have married anyone so junior -in years to herself. She said she hoped Mrs. Crayfield would not find -her position too difficult; of course, she would have much to learn. - -"Hitherto," she remarked, "I have been the principal lady!" She forced a -smile. "Now I shall be obliged to take a back seat! We were all so -surprised when we heard that Colonel Crayfield was bringing out a wife. -We had looked on him as a confirmed bachelor. Certainly we did not -expect a wife as youthful as yourself!" - -"It's a fault I shall grow out of, perhaps," pleaded Stella meekly; and -afterwards Mrs. Cuthell told Mrs. Piggott, the police officer's wife, -that she thought the new bride was rather a cheeky chit. Mrs. Piggott -made haste to ascertain the truth of this opinion for herself. Stella -found her a more entertaining visitor than Mrs. Cuthell, though perhaps -less likeable; Mrs. Cuthell, she felt, meant to be motherly, whereas -Mrs. Piggott, who also seemed quite middle-aged to Stella, assumed the -attitude of a contemporary. She had sharp eyes, a sharp tongue, and -endless stories to tell of the other folk in the station; how the Paynes -(Post Office) brought up their children so badly, talked nothing but -Hindustani to them; what a lot of money the Taylors (Canals) wasted, -getting their stores from Bombay, and things out from home--if they ever -paid for them at all! And _had_ Mrs. Crayfield seen the Antonios--Dr. -Antonio and his wife and daughter? Old Antonio had been an apothecary at -the time of the Mutiny, and had somehow hung on to the position of Civil -Surgeon ever since--he had been years and years at Rassih; the -Government was only too glad to leave him there, regardless of the -feelings of the rest of the station. Why, they were practically natives! -And it was believed they smoked hookahs--certainly their house smelt -like it. Pussy, the daughter (no chicken), had been doing her best to -marry young Smithson, the Taylors' assistant; but she, Mrs. Piggott, -had warned the young man, with the result that just as the Antonios were -expecting him to propose every moment, he had fled into camp. If only -the Antonios could know! They would never speak to her again. - -"And no great loss," added Mrs. Piggott, "except that in such a small -station it's a pity to have rows. Then there are the Fosters (railway -people); they are inclined to give themselves airs because they have a -little money of their own, which is unusual in India. But you will see -them all for yourself, my dear. Of course, you will come to the Club? We -all play tennis there every evening, and have tea and pegs, and look at -the English papers." - -"I suppose so," said Stella doubtfully; "but my husband hasn't said -anything about it." - -"You must cure him of his dull habits. Hitherto he has only had some of -the men to play tennis with him on his own courts, which, of course, are -first-rate, but it's rather unsociable of him. He must not expect _you_ -to hold yourself aloof from the rest of us. Now if he won't bring you -himself to the Club just let me know, and I can always pick you up on my -way." - -Mrs. Piggott saw herself envied by the station as young Mrs. Crayfield's -bosom friend. She took the first opportunity of telling Mrs. Cuthell, -whom she detested, that Mrs. Crayfield had been perfectly sweet to _her_ -when she called, had asked her advice on all kinds of points, and had -taken her into her bedroom to show her the trousseau and the jewellery, -etc.--all of which, by the way, was untrue; but Mrs. Piggott considered -the falsehoods worth while, since it annoyed Mrs. Cuthell and made her -jealous. - -Stella thought she would like to belong to the Club; but, to her -surprise, when Robert came to the drawing-room for tea, and she -mentioned the subject, he said he did not wish her to "make herself -cheap"; he disapproved of the Club gatherings--a lot of gossiping women -and silly young men. Once a week--whichever day she liked to select--she -could be "At Home" to the whole station. Their own tennis courts were in -excellent order, and there was no occasion to become intimate with -anyone. - -"You will return their calls, of course," he continued, "and we must -give a couple of dinner parties, and there will be your weekly -reception. That will be quite enough. Now go and get on your habit and -we'll have a ride." - -Stella obeyed, feeling rather crestfallen. The programme sounded dull. -Was she never to make any friends? And what was Robert's objection to -all these people? Surely she and Robert were not so superior themselves -as to warrant such splendid isolation! However, for the moment she made -no protest; the recollection of her husband's violence on the night of -their arrival was still with her; she feared to provoke him. But there -would seem to be drawbacks to the position of "chief lady of the -station," according to Robert's idea of its fulfilment! - -She forgot her vexation in the delight of mounting the handsome chestnut -mare that was to be her own property, and in the softening sunshine -they skirted the high wall of the city and trotted along the unmetalled -footway of the main road beneath splendid trees planted at equal -distances apart. They passed a few compounds with thatched bungalows -standing well back from the dusty road; these dwellings looked humble in -comparison with the palace on the old fort walls that commanded the -huddled bazaar and the scattered European habitations beyond. They met -native vehicles packed with passengers; and riders of miserable ponies -dismounted, making obeisance, as the Commissioner Sahib went by; low -narrow carts, crowded with women and children and merchandise, creaked -along lazily in the middle of the road. - -Then they turned from this main thoroughfare and galloped along a broad, -grass-grown canal bank, flanked on one side with luxuriant plantations; -on the other, dull green water flowed steadily, silently, bearing life -to the villages and crops below. Crossing a bridge, they rode to a -village where Colonel Crayfield wished to make some inquiries connected -with his administration; and Stella watched, keenly interested, while -the headman, a patriarch with a long, henna-dyed beard, hurried forth to -make his report, followed by a rabble of peasants who gathered at a -respectful distance to gape at the spectacle of an Englishwoman on -horseback. Now and then a naked child would run boldly into the open, -only to be hauled back shrieking by relations whose reproaches were as -piercing as the culprit's lamentations. - -The memsahib gazed at it all, absorbed; she was sorry when her husband -raised his whip to his hat in farewell salutation to the headman, and -they turned their backs on the village and the eager, excited little -crowd. Their return was by a different route, which, to Stella's secret -interest, took them past the Club gardens. Tennis was in progress, and -the spectators were seated in chairs collected around a refreshment -table. Every head was turned in the direction of the riders; the Club -members seemed as eager to behold the lady on horseback as had been the -villagers. It was pleasing to Stella to find herself the object of so -much human curiosity. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -It was the day of Mrs. Crayfield's first garden party. What struck -Stella as an extraordinary form of invitation had gone forth by hand: a -notice, with "Mrs. Crayfield at Home," and the chosen date, inscribed in -large copper-plate by a clerk in the Commissioner's office. Below was -written, "Please write seen," and then came a column of names, the whole -of the visitable community of Rassih. This document came back duly -initialled by all but one or two inaccessible bachelors who were out in -the district on duty. Stella expressed a nervous hope that everyone -would come, and inquired what preparations she ought to make. - -"Trust them to come!" scoffed Robert. "And don't worry yourself about -preparations. The servants know what to do." - -And, indeed, the servants' capabilities seemed miraculous. Tennis nets -were fixed, the courts marked out correctly; tables became covered with -cakes and sandwiches, tea and coffee, spirits and liqueurs, multitudes -of soda-water bottles; there was fresh lemonade and claret-cup. All far -more imposing than even the yearly flower-show at the vicarage at home -that was patronised by the whole county! Stella felt there ought to be a -band in attendance as well. She dressed herself in a soft white gown, -and a lace hat that had cost Santa-Sahib a fabulous sum in London; then -she stood for a few moments on the raised plinth overlooking the garden -to watch Sher Singh giving orders and directions on the tennis ground -below. Nothing had been forgotten; the row of cane chairs had little -strips of carpet in front of them, and a group of small native boys -clothed in white, with red caps and red belts, stood ready till they -should be wanted to retrieve the balls. And all this was to happen every -week! - -Santa-Sahib came out and stood beside her, bulky, cheerful, in clean -flannels, smoking a long cheroot. - -"Turn round, little girl," he commanded; "let's have a look at you." - -She turned and bobbed him a curtsey; he regarded her from head to foot -with a proprietary air of satisfaction, yet he was silent, and Stella -inquired anxiously if she "would do." - -"Just as well, perhaps, that we're not in a big station," he exclaimed, -half laughing, half serious, "or it would take me all my time to look -after you!" - -"But shall we be here always?" she asked. - -"The longer the better," he answered shortly. "And no careering off to -the hills, mind, unless of course----" - -"Unless what? Do tell me!" - -"Unless your health makes it necessary." - -"My health? But I'm as strong as a horse. What do you mean?" - -"What I say, my good child. Thank goodness you _are_ a fine healthy -young woman, and that old Antonio's strong point is maternity cases!" - -The blood flew to her face, and down again to her toes; such a -possibility, at which she now understood he was hinting, had never -presented itself to her mind. She felt horrified, frightened, as though -caught in a trap. Did Robert expect it of her? How cruel of him to talk -like this just when she was so content and lighthearted, looking forward -to her garden party, to everything in the future. A baby! She knew -nothing about children, and if she did have a child it would, she felt -sure, be exactly like Santa-Sahib--plain, and solid, and red. Why on -earth couldn't one be married without all that sort of thing! - -She heard Robert say: "Why, what's the matter?" and she looked up to -find his small, hard eyes fixed on her with a quizzical expression that -disturbed her still further. - -"Nothing," she replied uneasily, turning from him to hide her distress. -"Look, there's somebody arriving. Hadn't we better go down?" - -"It's Beard, the missionary, and his wife, and I'm hanged if they -haven't brought their family with them!" - -An odd little party was scrambling from an antiquated pony carriage. Mr. -Beard, in a long black coat, white trousers, and a pith hat shaped like -a half of a football; Mrs. Beard, in a voluminous gown of some green -material; and three little girls, who all wore sun-hats as well--hats so -large that they appeared to rest on the children's shoulders. - -Stella hastened down the steps in front of her husband, to greet the -guests who were now arriving in force. To her relief, Mrs. Cuthell, so -to speak, took command, and proceeded to make up the sets for tennis, -explaining that _she_ knew how everyone played, which, of course, Mrs. -Crayfield could not; and soon the courts were filled with vigorous -people, running and shouting; tennis balls flew, the little boys darted -after them, non-players gathered in knots about the tables, or settled -in the easy chairs, and it was all very pleasant and cheerful. Stella, -feeling excited and important, set herself to do duty as hostess. She -conversed with Mrs. Beard, and duly admired the three little girls who -hung round their mother; two were twins; the third was only a year -younger, which accounted for their all looking about the same age and -size. Mrs. Beard said that the number of native Christians in the Rassih -district was on the increase; she hoped Mrs. Crayfield would visit the -school and distribute prizes.... Stella then listened to Mrs. Antonio's -artless admiration of her daughter "Pussy," who played tennis well, and -was certainly a handsome creature with rich colouring and brilliant dark -eyes. Why Mrs. Piggott should have branded the Antonios as "practically -natives" Stella could not quite understand, though they seemed -different, it was true, from the rest of the official community, and -they spoke with a curious accent. Dr. Antonio was a stumpy, -good-humoured person, with a large stomach about which he had bandaged a -crimson silk sash; he had long, straggling whiskers, obviously dyed, and -a dark, puffy face. Mrs. Antonio was sallow and thin, and had regular -features inherited by her daughter, whom she adored with the frankest -extravagance. She was drawing Mrs. Crayfield's attention to Pussy's -perfect complexion, when Mrs. Piggott joined the group, and remarked -pointedly that Mrs. Foster's sister, who was playing tennis in the same -set with Pussy, was to be envied her lovely white skin, fair hair, and -blue eyes. - -"But how pastee!" objected Mrs. Antonio. "She had a nice colour in her -cheeks when she came out last year from home; now it is all gone, while -my Pussy she is like a rose." - -"Well, you see," said Mrs. Piggott, with the air of a kindly -instructress, "Pussy is accustomed to the climate; you must remember -that she has never been to England!" - -Stella glanced nervously at Mrs. Antonio, but Pussy's mother merely -nodded complacently and turned to her hostess. "My Pussy, she is so -healthy and strong. It is luckee, for this is a very hot place, Mrs. -Crayfield." - -"So I understand," returned Stella politely; and then Mrs. Antonio began -to talk about punkah coolies and their perversities during the hot -season, and alluded to something called "tatties." Mrs. Piggott bemoaned -the difficulty of procuring ice when it was most needed. Mrs. Beard -said, with self-righteous resentment, that _Mission people_ had to -endure the heat without such alleviations; and Mrs. Antonio confessed -that ice gave her "pain at stomach," but that Pussy liked to suck lumps, -which was bad for her prettee teeth. - -During this dull conversation among their elders the Beard children -took courage and wandered afield; they made for a big mango tree, behind -which they appeared to find some attraction. - -As each set of tennis came to an end the players gathered about the -refreshment tables; trays were handed round by the white-clad servants -under the authoritative supervision of Sher Singh, and suddenly Mrs. -Antonio transferred her attention from Pussy to Colonel Crayfield's -bearer. - -"That man! How does he behave to you, Mrs. Crayfield, dear?" she -inquired with genuine, if inquisitive, solicitude. - -Stella resented the question, conscious as she was of her subordination -to the rule of Sher Singh. She felt sensitively suspicious that the -little gang of ladies were one and all aware of her humiliating -position. - -"He seems to be a very good servant," she replied evasively, "and he is -devoted to my husband." - -Mrs. Cuthell joined in. "Oh, yes, and Colonel Crayfield to him; everyone -knows that! But all the same, bachelors' old servants are invariably -antagonistic to a mistress. It's a mistake to keep them. When you have -learnt something about Indian housekeeping you will find out how he has -been feathering his nest all these years!" - -It was Mrs. Piggott's turn next. "How well I remember the bother I had -with my husband's old khansamah when first we were married. He used to -commit endless atrocities, and then declare he had only obeyed my -orders. Edward always believed him! However, I soon put my foot down and -got rid of him. There was such a row!" - -"I go to the bazaar myself," said Mrs. Beard somewhat irrelevantly, -"and do my own marketing." - -"Ah! but of course _your_ servants are Christians," argued Mrs. Piggott, -covert contempt in her tone, "and we all know what that means!" - -Mrs. Beard reddened. "Which shows how lamentably ignorant you all are," -she retorted. "You think that because a native is a Christian that he -must be a rogue. I admit that he generally is a rogue to start with, but -not because he is a Christian. It is because, unfortunately, our -converts are mostly drawn from a class that has nothing to lose by -embracing the true religion, people who are outcasts by birth, cut off -from all spiritual advantages, oppressed and despised, jungle folk, -gypsies, many of them thieves by profession, and such like. So far we -have hardly tapped the better born classes, and whenever we do it is a -real triumph, for they have everything to lose from a worldly point of -view. But we know we must begin from the bottom and work upwards, and -already great progress has been made, though it is necessarily slow, and -the fight is often disheartening...." - -Stella looked at the faded, dowdy little woman with a new interest. Mrs. -Beard and her husband were working for India, doing great work, just as -great in its way as the Carringtons had done in the past, and as their -kind were doing in the present. She wished she could help the Beards by -engaging a whole staff of Christian converts as servants! But so far she -was powerless, there was nothing she could do; and as the atmosphere had -become slightly uncomfortable she was about to try and change the -subject when, to her relief, a diversion was caused by Mrs. Beard's -discovery that her offspring were disporting themselves behind the mango -tree with some native children, though, surely, according to Mission -theories, Mrs. Beard should have felt no displeasure? - -"Martha, Mary, Deborah!" she called sternly, "come here at once!" - -This summons was not obeyed, but apparently it caused an animated -argument between the padre's children and their Oriental playmates. -Again Mrs. Beard raised a voice of command, and presently Martha and -Mary and Deborah emerged from the shelter of the tree, escorting a small -brown boy attired in a red cotton garment and an embroidered skull cap. - -"Mother," shouted the three little girls in chorus, "this dear boy wants -to come to our school. We will make him a Christian, mayn't we?" - -To their mortified astonishment this praiseworthy plan did not meet with -the encouragement it deserved. The Commissioner's head servant pounced -on the red-coated pagan and took him, howling loudly, from his friends. - -Stella rose. "Sher Singh!" she called angrily, "let the child alone!" Of -course, the man heard her order, must have known, though perforce she -had spoken in English, what she wished him to do; but he paid no -attention, just bore the child, kicking and screaming, towards the -servants' quarters. - -Martha and Mary and Deborah ran to their mother and buried their faces -in her skirt. Stella looked round for Robert; he was drinking a whisky -and soda, regardless of the scene. Mrs. Cuthell laid a restraining hand -on her arm. "It's quite right, Mrs. Crayfield," she said with reassuring -inflection. "The servants' children must be kept in the background, -otherwise they would swarm all over the place." - -But Stella felt she had been publicly flouted by Sher Singh, and though -for the moment she was helpless, she resolved to tell Robert, when the -party should be over, that for the future she expected Sher Singh to -obey her. Meantime, while Mrs. Cuthell made up fresh sets of tennis, she -apologised prettily to Mrs. Beard. - -But when the guests had all departed, with many gratifying assurances of -their enjoyment, her courage dwindled. Since the night of her arrival at -Rassih she had dreaded Robert's anger; the unpleasant memory remained -with her so vividly--the uproar, the helpless alarm of the servants, her -own fear and dismay. Never before in the whole course of her sheltered -existence had she seen anyone so angry. And now, were she to protest -against Sher Singh's behaviour, what if he should rage at her in the -same manner? As he passed into his dressing-room she recognised, with a -sinking at her heart, that she was afraid of her husband, abjectly -afraid, ten thousand times more afraid of him then she had ever been of -grandmamma. She dared not risk a scene, dared not stand up for herself. -She would let the matter rest for the present, wait till Sher Singh -disobeyed her again. After all, perhaps the man had not heard, or had -not understood her this afternoon. - -However, towards the end of dinner she happened to look up and catch -Sher Singh regarding her with an expression of such venomous hatred that -she barely checked an exclamation. Meeting her astonished gaze, he -turned away abruptly to the sideboard, and she drew in her breath, -shivering. When, a little later, he was pouring port into Robert's -glass, she observed that his hand shook, that his eyes were heavy and -bloodshot; there was something strange in his appearance. - -She tried to dismiss the incident from her mind, turned her thoughts to -some advice Mrs. Beard had given her as to studying Hindustani. At least -she might dare to attack Robert on that point. It was like being a deaf -person not to understand the words spoken around one. And once she had -obtained some command of the language she would be in a position to give -her own orders to the other servants without Sher Singh's intervention. - -She waited until they were in the drawing-room, and Robert had flung -himself into an easy chair to examine some official document. He worked -very hard, and seemed to think of little else. - -"Robert," she began softly. He did not hear her. She repeated his name -and he looked up abstractedly. Then he lowered the sheets of foolscap -and removed his pince-nez. - -"What is it now?" he inquired with indulgent resignation. - -"Can I have lessons in Hindustani?" - -"Why? What good would that do you?" - -"I want to learn, and I have nothing particular to do while you are at -work all day." - -"You've got the piano, and you can order what books you want from -Bombay. Haven't you any fancy work?" - -She laughed. "Fancy work! I want to use my brains." - -"Don't talk nonsense. What good will Hindustani do your brains? Keep up -your French and music. Natives respect Englishwomen far more if they -can't speak the language." - -"Oh, Robert, what a thing to say! I'm sure that can't be true." - -"You know nothing about it, you silly child. Come here!" - -She had risen and was moving restlessly about the room. As she passed he -put out his arm and pulled her down on to his knees. With a strong -effort she controlled her reluctance, realising, suddenly aghast, that -her distaste for Robert's demonstrations of affection was on the -increase, that it threatened to develop into actual aversion. As he -pressed her face against his shoulder, kissing her hair, a sort of -desperation seized her. She did not love Robert, had never loved him, -and at this moment she almost hated him. The question rose in her mind: -Was it because they had known she was not in love with Robert that -grandmamma and the aunts had shown so little sympathy with her marriage, -had behaved as if she were doing something reprehensible? If so, why -had they not warned her? Yet, supposing they had gone so far as to put -probable consequences before her, would she have heeded, believed them? -No, she knew well enough that in her headstrong simplicity nothing would -then have turned her from her purpose. If anyone was to blame in the -matter it was Robert, who had married her to please himself only, -regardless of her ignorance of life and love, even partly, perhaps, -because of it. She recalled a sentence in the letter Maud Verrall had -written announcing her engagement: "I am very happy and awfully in -love." If only she was in love with Robert! But she was not, she never -could be. Did he know it? Not that she believed he would care one way or -the other as long as she submitted to his will in every detail. But at -least she did not intend to submit with regard to learning Hindustani. -More than ever did she feel that congenial occupation of mind was a -necessity, that if she could not satisfy her craving for knowledge of -the country she would rather have stayed on at The Chestnuts. How could -she hope to understand India, as far as it was possible for an -Englishwoman to do so, till she was able to talk to the people? She had -already discovered that India for its own sake did not interest Robert. -He worked hard because he liked work. He had a clear, hard brain; the -mode of existence suited him; he appreciated his big pay and the -importance of his position; natives were afraid of him, and he liked to -inspire fear. He never talked to her of his work, or of the people and -their histories and religions, and now he did not want her to learn the -language, beyond the smattering that would suffice for her daily -requirements. - -However, learn it she would. And a means, though repugnant, of gaining -her ends occurred to her. Bracing her will, she slipped her arm about -his neck and laid her lips to his cheek. "You are _Satan_ Sahib now," -she murmured plaintively. "I don't like you at all." - -His grasp of her tightened. "Why, what have I done?" - -"The first little thing I have ever asked for you refuse me!" - -"What was it?" - -Good heavens! Were her wishes so trivial to him that they could pass -from his mind on the spot? - -She answered his question without betrayal of her resentment. "That I -should learn Hindustani properly." - -"What a little pest! Well, if I say 'yes,' how much will you love -Santa-Sahib?" - -"Ever and ever so much," she cooed, knowing that half measures would be -useless, that she must pay, and pay fully, for what she wanted. - -"All right, then we must see about a respectable old _munshi_, who won't -let you work too hard or teach you bad words. After all, if you must use -what you call your brains, it may be better for you than French novels. -But remember, if you're going to pose as a clever woman I'll divorce you -at once!" - -"I don't think you'll get rid of me quite so easily," she laughed. The -victory elated her. In future she would have no scruple as to this -method of conquest when the object she desired was worth it. So she -sipped her first taste of the power of sex hypocrisy, scented the -supreme value of feminine arts and wiles. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -Stella was careful to conceal from Robert the pleasure she found in her -lessons with the white-bearded, horn-spectacled patriarch appointed her -tutor. Having attained her desire through guile, she did not intend to -risk deprivation through candour. Now and then, as a precaution, she -would allude jokingly to her studies, sometimes feigned to be weary of -them, implying that only a determination not to be baffled by a -self-imposed task caused her to persevere; and Robert, who regarded the -matter as a whim that would pass, made no further obstruction. During -the hours while he was safely at office she worked zealously, and the -progress she made surprised her, unconscious as she was of her own -mental ability. Soon she could carry on simple conversations with the -old teacher, and she forbade Champa to speak to her in English, greatly -to the disgust of that accomplished female, who feared that her prestige -in the compound as interpreter to the memsahib might suffer. - -Champa sulked, and in some mysterious fashion seemed to join forces with -Sher Singh in creating an atmosphere of espionage that to Stella was -intensely exasperating. Did she give an order on her own account, it was -caught up at once and repeated elaborately by the ayah; if she wandered -in the garden Sher Singh would follow, and when she made objections -both servants professed to misunderstand what she said. She felt she was -being harried, and was unable to discover the reason. Never could she -succeed in exploring the servants' quarters, for Sher Singh was always -at hand; and as Robert had bidden her keep away from the low line of -dwellings that swarmed with people, like a species of human ant-heap, -disobedience might be reported by Sher Singh to his master either with -or without intentional spite. Sometimes Mrs. Cuthell came to see her, -also Mrs. Piggott and Mrs. Antonio, and during their visits Champa -lurked and peeped, or Sher Singh hung about the doorways. - -These ladies invited Mrs. Crayfield informally to tea or to tiffin, but -Robert discouraged acceptance, said it was better not to start -intimacies, as if he were jealous of her possible friendships; and -although no real sacrifice was entailed, Stella made capital out of her -refusals--pretended she was foregoing a pleasure for the sole reason -that she wished to follow Santa-Sahib's will. She told herself she was -growing sinfully deceitful; but her apprehension lest her study of the -language should be stopped if she opposed Robert's prejudices in any -other direction was stronger than her conscience. Anything to keep him -amiable. Sometimes she wondered if she had any conscience left. -Therefore Crayfield remained complacently convinced of his young wife's -devotion. She gave him no trouble, was apparently content to leave the -household control to Sher Singh, always looked lovely and fresh and -sweet-tempered, and he desired no more. Wit and wisdom, intelligent -conversation on her part would merely have bored him, rendered him -vaguely suspicious. In his opinion women were better without education, -which, all the same, was not to be confounded with what he regarded as -"accomplishments." He liked her to sing pretty ballads and play waltzes; -he enjoyed singing to her sympathetic accompaniment; and when she -attempted to paint flowers and kingfishers and storks, or embroider -strips of "crash" with intricate patterns in coloured cottons, on the -lines of Mrs. Daw's remembered achievements, he criticised the results -with patronising encouragement. - -Thus the days passed smoothly. Rides in the late afternoon, a few formal -dinners to "the station," the weekly "at homes," music in the evenings, -until, shortly before Christmas, they went into camp on a tour of -inspection. This meant double sets of tents, quantities of folding -furniture, camels and carts and followers innumerable; it was a kind of -royal progress. They passed from district to district, joining camps -with various officials who came within the Commissioner's jurisdiction, -friendly people to be entertained by their chief, entertaining him and -his pretty wife in return. Stella revelled in the long marches on -horseback, in the brilliant "cold weather," the small game shooting -parties in the evenings when work was over, and the ever interesting -background of villages, crops and cattle. She felt that such -compensations made it worth while to be Santa-Sahib's plaything, -especially as her lessons could be continued with the old _munshi_, who -had somehow provided himself with a tent like a candle extinguisher and -a small cow-hocked pony at Government expense. From him Stella gathered -much local lore, curious stories of native village life. He expounded to -her the system of self-government, old as the East. She caught glimpses -of an ingrained faith in the power of spells and charms that all went -back to the worship of Nature, though their origins had long been lost -sight of, obscured by time. - -It was with genuine regret that she returned to the station to "settle -down," according to Robert, for the hot weather months. Rassih looked -dusty and drear after the groves and cultivation of the district, the -house felt more vast and oppressive, the outlook over the desert was one -endless yellow haze. Preparations proceeded for the fierce heat that was -at hand. Punkahs were hung from the ceilings, clumsy machines called -"thermantidotes" made their appearance for the purpose of pumping cooled -air into the rooms when the moment should arrive, screens of -sweet-scented grass lay piled in the verandas, to be erected in the -doorways and kept damp when the west wind should sweep and swirl over -the land by day, and often by night as well. - -The only change that threatened the social community was the coming -departure of the Cuthells. The transfer took place shortly after the -Crayfields' return to the station, and Mrs. Cuthell paid her farewell -respects to the Commissioner's wife bursting with satisfaction, her -broad face one beam of rejoicing and excitement. - -"I can't describe to you how thankful we are to be leaving this dreadful -place, Mrs. Crayfield, especially just as the hot weather is beginning. -Only wait till it is in full blast, my dear, and then won't you wish you -were out of it too! Rassih is one of the hottest stations in India, and -this house, for all its height and space, can be a veritable oven. It's -such luck that we are going to the hills on duty. You must ask your -husband to let you come up to us for a visit. You will lose your bright -complexion and good spirits, and get fever and prickly heat and all the -rest of it if you stay here too long." - -"It is very kind of you," rejoined Stella, unperturbed by these awful -forebodings, "but I'm really rather looking forward to the experience." - -Mrs. Cuthell glanced round the great drawing-room, that certainly of -late had undergone much improvement, but all the same she gave a little -shudder. - -"Well, of course you can but try it," she croaked; "but in addition to -definite drawbacks, I always feel that this house is so creepy. I -suppose on account of its history--all those poor women and children -being murdered here at the time of the mutiny. It seems so horrible to -think of the officers cut down on parade, and then their families hiding -here on the roof. They say the mutineers did not think of looking for -them on the roof, and were just leaving the compound when one woman -peeped over the parapet and they saw her. Of course, it was all up with -the poor creatures; they were dragged down and murdered. It is difficult -to realise that it all happened less than forty years ago." - -She paused abruptly at the sight of Stella's white face and -horror-stricken eyes. "Oh, didn't you know?" she inquired with remorse. -"I'm so sorry I spoke of it, but I never dreamt----" - -Stella gulped down her horror, but for the moment all her enthusiasm for -India turned to revulsion. That dark page of history had hitherto seemed -so remote, so unreal, like some tragedy of the Middle Ages long since -forgotten and forgiven. Now the fact of its comparative recency, the -vision of those defenceless women and children dragged down from the -actual roof that was above her head, to be butchered without mercy in -these very rooms, affected her acutely. How could she exist month after -month in a dwelling that must be saturated with such agonising memories? - -"Now, if anyone tells you that extraordinary noises are sometimes heard -during the hot weather," continued Mrs. Cuthell with the best -intentions, "don't take any notice. I have never believed in ghosts -myself, and probably if there _are_ noises they come from the -underground ruins--falling of masonry, and so on." - -"The underground ruins!" repeated Stella. What was she to hear next? - -"Yes. You know, one of the old Moghul emperors--I forget his name--was -supposed to have dug himself a subterranean living-place, because he was -blind--ophthalmia, no doubt, like so many natives. Anyway, all -underneath the house and compound there are said to be tunnels and -chambers, and an oil tank and treasure, and goodness knows what. The -emperor went to war with some neighbouring enemy and got killed, so -that he and his followers never came back, and what they left -underground nobody knows." - -"And has nobody ever tried to find out?" asked Stella, her curiosity -aflame. - -"I believe your husband's predecessor in the appointment got leave to -dig. He used the prisoners from the jail, but so many accidents -happened--men fell into holes and broke their limbs, or died from the -bad air, and were bitten by snakes, and in the middle of it all the -Commissioner went mad and committed suicide by jumping over the parapet -at the back of the house. Of course, the natives said the digging had -brought bad luck----" Again Mrs. Cuthell feared she had been indiscreet. -"But you mustn't think of these things," she added cheerfully. "There is -hardly an old house in India that hasn't some unpleasant story, and I'm -sure you are far too sensible to let your mind dwell on anything that -may have happened in the past." - -It had been far from Mrs. Cuthell's intention to leave a legacy of -apprehension and disquietude to the Commissioner's young wife, though -she had never quite forgiven the usurpation of her throne as chief -memsahib of the station by one so much her junior. With all her shallow -outlook, Mrs. Cuthell owned a well-meaning disposition, and now she -sincerely regretted that in her selfish elation and glee she should have -alarmed and depressed the poor girl, however unwittingly, as she could -not fail to perceive had been the result of her chatter. - -"Now do remember," she said with an affectionately repentant farewell, -"if you find you can't stand the heat you have only to write and say you -are coming to us, and we shall be truly delighted to put you up for as -long as you like. I mean it." - -Stella murmured her gratitude. She divined Mrs. Cuthell's self-reproach, -and realised the wisdom of her advice not to allow her mind to dwell on -the information so thoughtlessly imparted. After all, if Mrs. Cuthell -had not divulged the history of the house, someone else would have done -so sooner or later; it was only a wonder she had not heard it all before -now. She freely forgave Mrs. Cuthell, and was sorry to see the last of -her. Had Robert allowed her to make a friend she would have chosen Mrs. -Cuthell, who at least was simple and true. Stella did not trust Mrs. -Piggott. Mrs. Antonio and Pussy were out of the question as intimates. -She had nothing in common with Mrs. Beard, and she had seen little of -the other ladies. None of them had made friendly advances beyond their -first calls, and a self-interested attendance at Mrs. Crayfield's weekly -"at homes," when they were assured of good tennis and refreshments and -an enjoyable afternoon. - -Nevertheless, Stella had Mrs. Cuthell to thank for a sleepless night, -that was followed at intervals by many others. She lay awake visualising -horrors, listening with dread for "extraordinary sounds," though she -heard nothing more startling than the usual chorus of jackals and hyenas -outside, the snores of a servant in one of the verandas, and the -coughing and murmuring of the night guard. She made no confession of her -fears to Robert. For one thing she suspected that his silence -concerning the stories and associations of the place had been due not so -much to consideration for her peace of mind as for his own convenience, -and she could well understand his motive. A wife with "nerves," -despondent, anxious to escape, would not be at all to his taste. But her -efforts to conceal her apprehensions and her antipathy to the house only -added to the strain. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -The Cuthells' successor was reported to be a bachelor. Of course, Mrs. -Piggott professed to have knowledge of his history even before he -arrived in the station. She told Mrs. Crayfield he was a very rising -civilian who was considered far too brilliant to be wasted on ordinary -district administration, and therefore it was intended that he should -merely mark time at Rassih pending his elevation to some important -appointment. - -"And one can just fancy," she added spitefully, "what a conceited prig -he must be, what airs he will give himself, and how he will despise us -all! I haven't a doubt he's about five foot high, with short sight and a -head too big for his body, can't ride or shoot, and is probably the son -of a shopkeeper at Tooting or some equally refined locality. The sort of -creature who gets into the Civil Service by cramming to the last ounce. -They'll be the ruin of India, because the right kind of natives know -they aren't 'sahibs' and hate them accordingly, while the wrong sort -take advantage of their weak points. I hope you'll sit on him well, Mrs. -Crayfield." - -Stella felt a faint curiosity to view a sample of the competitive system -so condemned by Mrs. Piggott. She had also heard her husband deplore the -modern measures that permitted Messrs. Brown, Jones and Robinson to -help govern the most aristocratic country in the world. But one morning, -within the orthodox and inconvenient hours decreed for first calls in -the East (one of the few relics of old John Company customs), when the -visiting card of Mr. Philip Ferguson Flint was brought to her, it was -followed by no under-sized, top-heavy specimen such as Mrs. Piggott had -described, but by a good-looking fellow not much over thirty, with -friendly blue eyes, and no trace of "airs" in his bearing, unless a -certain well-bred self-confidence could be imputed to conceit. - -Philip Flint was taken aback in his turn. If he had thought about his -chief's wife at all, save as a personage to be called upon without delay -as in duty bound, he had certainly foreseen an amiable, middle-aged -memsahib who would perhaps rescue him good-naturedly from the -discomforts of the Government rest house until he could find suitable -quarters for himself. Here, instead, was one of the prettiest girls he -had ever beheld, incredibly young, unless indeed she was the daughter, -not the wife, of the Commissioner. - -As he entered she was standing in the centre of the big room, a slim, -white-gowned figure beneath the slow-swaying punkah, and its movement -stirred gently the bright little curls on her forehead--adorable curls. -And what eyes, with thick, feathery lashes upcurved at the tips. Great -Cæsar! what luck, after all, that Rassih should have been his portion. -And to think how he had grumbled at the prospect of such exile even for -a few months! - -"Miss Crayfield?" he said tentatively, and at the same moment he caught -sight of her wedding ring, the only ring she was wearing. "I -mean"--correcting himself hastily, with a sense of acute -disappointment--"Mrs. Crayfield." Solemnly they shook hands. Then their -eyes met and they both laughed. That mutual, spontaneous laughter sealed -an instinctive friendship. Stella waved him to a chair and took one -herself. Previous to his arrival she had been feeling so languid, so -dull; now everything was different; the very atmosphere became cheerful, -the heat less oppressive. - -"You must forgive my mistake," he said, and his blue eyes twinkled, "but -it was your fault. You don't look quite like a Mrs. Commissioner, at -least, not the kind I am accustomed to." - -"Oh, you're not the first person to reproach me for being young," Stella -told him, thinking of Mrs. Cuthell. "I really shall have to do something -if the hot weather refuses to turn my hair grey." - -"What did the other people say?" he inquired lightly, though in truth he -felt curious to know if these same other people had been men who, like -himself, were nonplussed by the sight of her beauty and youth. - -"Nothing at all nice, so perhaps we'd better talk about something else. -Tell me, what do you think of Rassih?" - -"Until this morning I thought it a God-forsaken hole!" - -She blushed, divining the bold insinuation. He watched the bright -colour creep into her cheeks, delighting in her moment of embarrassment. -Then he came to her aid with commonplace remarks as to the climate, the -surroundings, the new railway line. - -"It doesn't strike a new-comer as a tempting spot, but it must be -interesting for anyone with a weakness for Indian history." - -"Oh, _don't_ begin about the mutiny and this dreadful old house!" -protested Stella. - -He glanced at her, puzzled. "But I wasn't thinking so much of the -mutiny. Did you never hear of George Thomas?" - -"George Thomas! Who was he?" - -"One of the old military adventurers who paved the way for the British -occupation of India. He very nearly conquered the Punjab, and -established himself in this district, coining his own rupees, and -manufacturing his own arms and ammunition, and he was always for his -King and country. But he failed, beaten by the French under Perron, and -through treachery among his native followers; also partly, I'm afraid, -because at critical moments he was generally drunk!" - -"Oh, poor dear!" Stella's eyes shone with interest. "And what happened -to him?" - -"He died on his way down country with his wife and family, -broken-hearted, more or less a fugitive, but still, it is said, having -certain possessions in the shape of money and jewels and shawls. His -tomb has never been found, nor is it known what became of his -descendants. I often wonder if any of them are living to-day. There is -a story that on one occasion, when he was looking at a map of India, in -which British territory was then, as now, coloured red, he ran his hand -over the whole of the map and said, 'All this ought to be red.' That was -the real spirit of his ambitions. I'll lend you a book about him if you -like." - -"_Like!_ Please let me have it to-day--to-morrow." - -He laughed at her enthusiasm. "Very well, directly my things are -unpacked. His career would make a fine subject for a romance." - -"Why don't you write it?" - -He paused reflectively. - -"_Are_ you writing it? Do tell me," urged Stella. - -"No, but I should like to try. Will you help me?" - -"How on earth could _I_ help you?" - -"By allowing me to read you my efforts as they go along. There is -nothing so stimulating to a would-be author as a long-suffering -listener." - -Wily Philip Ferguson Flint! Mentally he congratulated himself on having -hit on a subtle device whereby he might secure a delightful intimacy -with this captivating young person. He pictured long hours alone in her -company countenanced by a reasonable excuse. The romance should be -started immediately. Blessings on the memory of poor, stout-hearted, -tipsy George Thomas! - -"I should be only too delighted. There would be nothing long-suffering -about it." Then doubt crept into her mind as to how Robert would regard -such a plan. Probably he would grudge her this pleasure as he grudged -her all others, with the exception of riding and petty occupations. -Well, if he did she must contrive to hoodwink him somehow. For this -morning at least she could enjoy Mr. Flint's society. He seemed in no -hurry to go, and she told him all about the Carringtons, and her regret -that, being a girl, she could not follow in their footsteps; confided to -him how she had craved to reach India, disclosed, perhaps unconsciously, -the vague dissatisfaction she felt with her daily life now that her wish -was accomplished. - -"Why did _you_ choose to come to India?" she asked him with frank -curiosity, and was thrilled sympathetically when he told her that he too -had been born with an hereditary call in his blood for the East. - -"I come of an old Anglo-Indian stock myself. I'm the fifth generation of -my family to serve the Indian Government. It seemed somehow inevitable -that I should come out here. I passed high enough for the English Civil, -but I chose India without hesitation. Apart from family links with the -country, I didn't fancy being mewed up in an office from morning till -night, with little prospect of getting to the top of the ladder, and not -enough money for sport and the kind of amusements I like. Dances and -dinners and tea-parties are not in my line. Out here I can afford a good -horse and unlimited cartridges, and I know I can be useful to India in -my small way. I mean to end up with a Lieutenant-Governorship at least." - -"You are very ambitious," exclaimed Stella; but it was as if she cried -"Hear, hear." - -"Call it a passion for success," he said, smiling; and Stella felt that -deep determination lay beneath the smile and in his nature, and with her -whole being she applauded his aspirations. - -"You will get the Star of India," she said, hardly knowing why the -particular reward should suddenly have recurred to her. - -"A star worth striving for," he said seriously, "even if it should burn -one's wings." - -"Oh, how I envy you!" Tears rose to her eyes. "And I, who love India -too, can do nothing--can never be useful!" - -"Who knows? Your chance may come." - -"If it does you may be sure I shall take it." Just then Stella looked -up, to see Sher Singh standing in the doorway, and she realised that for -the last few moments the man had been coughing gently to attract her -attention. Was she never to be free from this perpetual spying and -watching? - -"What is it?" she asked impatiently in Hindustani. - -"Your highness"--with a low salaam--"the sahib has sent a message. Will -Fer-lint Sahib go to the office? The Commissioner-Sahib desires his -presence." - -Mr. Flint rose. "Well, good-bye, Mrs. Crayfield. Needs must when -official devildom drives. I will tell you when the George Thomas romance -is well started." - -"Don't forget the book about him you promised to lend me," said Stella -eagerly. But when he had gone she gave herself over to a frenzy of -suspicion. Had Sher Singh told Robert that she was laughing and talking -with "Fer-lint Sahib"? and had the message been sent with a purpose? She -dreaded yet looked for Robert's return, so that she might know where she -stood in regard to Mr. Flint's visit. Perhaps it was all her -imagination. The summons might have been perfectly free from intrigue on -the part of Sher Singh; yet she was uneasy, and she wandered from room -to room, a victim to apprehension, her condition aggravated by the -knowledge that she had found such pleasure in this new friendship, -fearful as she was that it might be denied her. - -To her astonished relief, when Robert appeared for the midday breakfast -he was accompanied by Mr. Flint, and the two seemed already to be on -excellent terms. - -"I've persuaded Mr. Flint to join us at breakfast," Robert explained to -her pompously; but after this he took no notice of his wife, talking -"shop" persistently with his new subordinate--all about revenue, and -boundaries, and agricultural prospects, of the danger of famine should -the monsoon fail or be fatally late. Stella listened with interest, -though perforce she was excluded from the conversation, and -instinctively she understood why Mr. Flint made no attempt to draw her -into it. Mr. Flint was setting himself to please his superior, for which -intention she felt thankful to him; also she was dimly aware that his -object was two-fold, that he meant to make friends with Robert in order -that he might the more easily be permitted to make friends with her. She -effaced herself purposely, and welcomed the sudden intrusion of an -excited fox terrier, who rushed into the room wildly in quest of his -master. - -"I must apologise for Jacob," said Mr. Flint, as the dog leapt upon him -with yelps of joy. "I thought I had left him safely tied up." - -Robert endured the interruption with good enough grace. He did not like -dogs, would not keep any himself--to Stella's disappointment. But the -disturbance was trivial. He made no comment when his wife enticed Jacob -to her side with succulent scraps from her plate, and soon had him -seated contentedly on her lap, lolling a red tongue, casting -affectionate glances at his master across the table. To Philip this -seemed a good omen. Jacob as a rule was not fond of ladies, except of -his own species, and his wholesale acceptance of Mrs. Crayfield's -attentions was somewhat surprising. Flint was careful to ignore Jacob, -much as Colonel Crayfield ignored his wife, and he was secretly -entertained when, the meal over, and Mrs. Crayfield rose from the table, -Jacob trotted after her into the drawing-room, leaving his master to -smoke and continue his talk with the Commissioner. Master Jacob was no -fool; he knew when he had found an entrancing companion. - -The morning had been a success, but Philip took his dog back to the Rest -House that afternoon with feelings divided. To him the situation in -regard to the Crayfields was now clear enough--an elderly man married -to a young and beautiful wife whose heart was still whole, the husband -loftily secure in his authority, his ownership. There was danger in -prospect unless he could be certain of keeping his head; and as he -thought of the girl's beauty, her youth, her attractions, and her -obvious interest in himself, he feared for his own strength of mind. It -might be more than wise to abandon all schemes for meetings that were -not inevitable; but the temptation was strong, and he knew very well -that to a certain extent he should yield to it. All the same, he would -have to walk warily. An entanglement at this stage of his career might -be fatal to his advancement. Colonel Crayfield was hardly the type of a -complacent husband, and he had known cases during his service when -appearances only had brought about irrevocable disaster to foolish, -flirtatious couples who in deed as well as in purpose were innocent of -actual harm. - -After all, with the cynicism of circumstances, it was Colonel Crayfield -himself who made matters easy. He had taken a fancy to his new -assistant, invited him frequently to singles at tennis, and never -suspected that Flint let him win, or beat him by such a small margin -that the defeat had a stimulating effect. Stella sat by and watched -these games, Jacob reposing on the edge of her skirt, or more often on -her lap. Robert bore with the presence of Jacob, unless he ran after the -balls or barked piercingly at squirrels. Then the Commissioner shouted -abuse at "that damned dog," and Flint administered chastisement, -ostensibly severe, in reality mild, that caused Jacob to retire -affronted beneath Stella's chair. - -When the swift Indian dusk descended, Robert, who perspired abnormally -under exertion, would hasten indoors for a bath and a change, with Sher -Singh in attendance, unwitting of the fact that his wife and young Flint -invariably sat on side by side in the hot, scented darkness as happy -companions, their fellowship ripening dangerously with each hour they -could compass alone one with the other. Skilfully Flint had brought the -George Thomas romance into play. He talked of it openly before Colonel -Crayfield, and one night, when he was dining with the Crayfields, he -confessed he had brought one or two chapters with him that he proposed, -with their consent, to inflict after dinner on his host and hostess. -Robert grunted contemptuously, Stella had the acumen to agree with -polite indifference, and when the reading began Robert at once went to -sleep and snored. The chapters were short, and, truth to tell, of little -literary value, though written in easy style with a talented pen, -costing the author no effort. But Stella was deeply impressed and -interested. She longed to hear more of the hero, the young man of high -birth who had got into such a scrape at home that he was forced to flee -the country, and found himself in the service of a treacherous old -native lady, the Begum Somru, whose commander-in-chief at the time was -an Irish adventurer, one George Thomas. And while Robert slept and -snored, Philip read and Stella listened. Then, the manuscript laid -aside, they talked India in subdued voices to their hearts' content. -This programme was repeated more than once, until Robert turned restive. - -"Bother the boy!" he said. "Why does he want to write all this -rubbish--wasting his time!" - -"It's his way of amusing himself," Stella suggested carelessly, "like me -with my painting and fancy work." - -"Well, it doesn't amuse me to hear it, or you either, I should imagine." - -"I confess I'm rather interested in the story. I feel I want to know -what happens next." - -"Then let him spout it at some other time, when I'm not present. I -suppose there'll be no peace till it's finished. Give him a gentle -hint." - -"I'll try. But won't it hurt his feelings?" - -"Not any more than my going to sleep directly he starts reading, I -should think." - -Therefore, on the next occasion, before the manuscript could be -unfolded, Stella went to the piano. - -"No reading to-night, Mr. Flint. We're going to have some music. I want -you to hear how my husband can sing. Come along, Robert." Her fingers -rippled lightly over the keys, and Robert sang readily, lustily, song -after song, much to his own enjoyment, and presumably to that of the -guest, who applauded with tact, and requested encores till the -performer, in high good humour, declared he was hoarse and could sing no -more. Then Mrs. Crayfield continued the concert, and Philip sat gazing -his fill at the vision she presented, the light from the wall-lamp -behind her gilding her hair, her voice sweet and true, causing his heart -to ache with ominous yearning. He felt confident she found pleasure in -his friendship, yet to-night he was puzzled by her attitude until, the -music put away and the piano closed, she said with an assumption of -matronly indulgence: "I'm afraid we haven't considered poor George -Thomas. How is he getting on?" - -"Oh, pretty well, thank you." - -"Has the slave girl escaped?" - -"Not yet; it's rather difficult; but I mustn't bore you any more with my -attempts at fiction." Purposely he spoke in a tone of humble -discouragement; he was feeling his way. - -"Bring the stuff over to-morrow before we play tennis," suggested Robert -magnanimously, "and the memsahib will listen; stories amuse her." - -"Oh, may I? But," turning to Stella, "won't it interfere with your -afternoon siesta?" - -"Not a bit," Mrs. Crayfield assured him. "I never can sleep in the -daytime, but Robert must have a rest. I tell him he works far too hard." - -"Young bully, aren't you?" was Colonel Crayfield's playful retort, -laying his hand on his wife's shoulder. "Take my advice, Flint, and when -you marry don't choose a wife from the schoolroom." - -"Judging by your example, sir," chaffed Philip, "one might do worse." - -"Well, all things considered, I suppose I've been lucky. Good night. I -shall expect to lick you to-morrow at tennis after you've exhausted -yourself and my wife with your intellectual exertions." - -"Not if I can help it," said Philip, diplomatically defiant. - - - - -CHAPTER X - - -When Mrs. Antonio pronounced Rassih to be "a very hot place," her words -at the time had conveyed little to Stella of what to expect. The heat -grew fiercer than she could have believed possible; the blazing sun, the -scorching wind, the nights that seemed equally long and hot as the days, -without variation of temperature save for the worse. There was no -escape, no deliverance, and the rains tarried. Despite her youth and her -health, she flagged, lost her appetite, lived chiefly on tea and iced -mango-fool, with all the short-sightedness of the young in matters of -nourishment. Robert, on the contrary, appeared to thrive. He ate well, -slept soundly, rode and played tennis as usual. His very vigour was -exhausting to his wife. - -Now the only ladies left in the station besides herself were Mrs. Beard -and Mrs. Antonio. Martha and Mary and Deborah were dispatched (at the -mission expense) to cooler climes; Pussy Antonio was on a long visit "up -hill" to relations; Mrs. Piggott had fled, like the rest, to the -Himalayas. Therefore Mrs. Crayfield's "at homes" were for the present in -abeyance, and had it not been for Philip Flint, the monotony of her days -would have become well-nigh intolerable. Stella lived for the sight of -his face and the sound of his voice. Whether she might have welcomed his -society with equal delight had he been Mrs. or Miss Flint, possessing -the same tastes and interests, had not occurred to her. One source of -annoyance during his visits ceased suddenly--Champa and Sher Singh no -longer peeped and peered from the doorways. On the other hand, Champa -began to behave as if she recognised, and was ready to abet, an intrigue -that must be kept from the Commissioner's knowledge. Early one morning -she sidled into the bedroom with a note that had arrived from Mr. Flint -for Mrs. Crayfield, hiding it beneath her wrapper, looking unutterable -warnings, since the sahib was half awake. She handed it covertly to her -mistress. In a flash Stella recognised what lay in the woman's mind, and -she made haste to rouse Robert as she took the note and opened it. - -"Mr. Flint has got fever," she told him; "he won't be able to play -tennis this evening." - -"Say salaam," she added severely to Champa, who retired, snubbed, to -give the messenger the orthodox message of acknowledgment. - -This episode worried Stella. She was not yet so conversant with Oriental -outlook as to comprehend that to the native mind there could be but one -interpretation of her intimacy with a sahib who was not her husband nor -in any way related to her. She felt enraged, humiliated, by Champa's -assumption that she must wish to conceal the note from Robert, and in -consequence she passed a restless morning after a long, hot ride that -drained her energy. It was the old _munshi's_ day with his pupil; but -when he presented himself with his pen-box and sheaf of yellow papers, -she could not settle down to the lesson, was unable to fix her -attention, and, pleading a headache, she dismissed him politely. Then -she tried writing her weekly letter to The Chestnuts; but her hand clung -damp to the paper, and she had not the strength of will to persevere; -the keys of the piano stuck to her fingers; it was useless attempting to -paint or to embroider. Finally she sat idle in the darkened room, -permitting her thoughts to wander without aim, backwards and forwards in -chaos, now in one direction, then in another, till they collided with -the solid fact that her disturbance of mind was now not so much -connected with Champa's insulting behaviour as with her disappointment -that she was not to see Philip Flint that afternoon, a vexation -aggravated by anxiety concerning his condition. Had he got all he -needed? He was still in the Rest House, and she pictured him lying sick -and helpless in the hot and hideous little building. Had he plenty of -ice? She knew the supply was limited. She would have liked to order soup -or jelly to be prepared for him, but the order would have to go through -Sher Singh. The day wore on as usual. The heavy midday breakfast, -Robert's rest afterwards, her own efforts to read while he slept. By -tea-time her head ached definitely and badly. Robert suggested that -another ride would do it good. She might like to try the grey stud-bred -he had bought the other day, since her own mare had already been out in -the morning. - -"I can't ride again to-day," she declared fretfully. "I don't feel up to -it. You had better try the grey yourself." - -At once he became significantly solicitous, and the meaning in his -questions and concern annoyed her still further. - -"Oh, do go," she cried, exasperated at last, "and leave me alone. I want -to be quiet. My head aches, that's all." - -He grumbled a little that Flint should be ailing and therefore -unavailable for tennis. He could not decide whether to try the grey or -to send for one of the Public Works assistants to play with him. On -inquiry it was ascertained that the young man in question was still out -in the district; and finally, to his wife's relief, he ordered the grey -to be saddled and set off for a solitary ride. - -Stella repaired to the front balcony to see him mount and to wave him a -friendly farewell in apology for her ill-humour. The grey was a -satisfactory purchase, a handsome animal, well up to weight, but -evidently hot-tempered, and gave trouble at the start. Certainly -Santa-Sahib looked his best on a horse. He was a good rider, and for a -moment Stella repented her peevish refusal to ride with him. Then -erratically the question occurred to her: Supposing there was an -accident, supposing Robert were killed, how would she feel? - -It was as if she awaited an answer from beyond her own brain, and for -answer there came to her the sudden vision of Philip Flint. He seemed to -be standing before her. She saw his blue eyes, heard his slow, pleasant -voice. What did it mean? Aghast at her thoughts, shadowy and indefinite -though they were, she rushed back to the drawing-room, shaking, -unstrung, with the feeling that she had committed murder in her heart. -She was a wicked creature! Oh, why had she married Robert? Why had she -not stayed at The Chestnuts with grandmamma and the aunts, ignorant, -safe, however dull? Nothing but evil had come of her yearnings for -India, and there was no one to whom she could turn for help, for advice, -for sympathy. - -In trembling haste, but without purpose, she put on a hat and went out -into the compound. Involuntarily she glanced around for Sher Singh, but -for a wonder he was nowhere to be seen, and impulsively she decided to -call on Mrs. Antonio--anything to escape from the harassing fancies that -beset her. - -The house occupied by the Antonios was no distance, built as it was on a -further portion of the fort walls; it stood prominent against the -copper-coloured sky, encouraging the venture.... - -Mrs. Antonio was at home. As Stella sat in the drawing-room awaiting her -appearance she noticed a curious smell; it recalled to her mind Mrs. -Piggott's belief that the doctor, if not his wife as well, indulged in -the hookah. And why not, queried Stella, if they liked it? though the -taste was not easy to understand judging by the acrid odour! The room -felt fusty, was crammed with a strange assortment of cheap bric-a-brac -overlaid with dust, and the heat was insufferable. - -When Mrs. Antonio appeared she presented what Stella's former -school-fellows at Greystones would have described as "a sight for the -blind," clad as she was in a terrible yellow dressing-gown, a bath -towel bound turban-wise about her head. - -"Please excuse, Mrs. Crayfield dear," she apologised. "I have been -washing my hair. I did not wish to keep you waiting. Does your ayah -prepare you areca-nut wash? It is best thing!" - -"I will remember," said Stella, who had brought a bountiful supply of -shampoo-powders with her from England. "Champa has not told me about -it." - -"Oh, my, that ayah of yours, that Champa! She _is_ a lazy," continued -Mrs. Antonio; she unwound the towel and rubbed her grey locks as she -talked. "Where did you get her?" - -"She was engaged by Sher Singh, our head servant." - -"Yes, and that Sher Singh!" Mrs. Antonio peered at her visitor through a -screen of wet hair. "He is a badmash." - -There was no need for translation, Stella knew the word well enough--it -meant rascal. "I detest Sher Singh," she admitted, finding comfort in -the expression of her feelings, "and I know he hates _me_!" - -"Of course, what else? So many years with Colonel Crayfield, and knowing -too many secrets! He is jealous. Tell your husband let him go, give a -pension. He is opium-eater, all say in the bazaar." - -"An opium-eater?" - -"Yes, but do not say to Colonel Crayfield that I hinted. You see you are -so young, Mrs. Crayfield dear. That is why I warn. If he stays that man -will do harm--make mischief." - -Stella shrank from exposing her helplessness in the matter, felt -ashamed also of her inclination to let things slide rather than provoke -Robert's wrath. She said: - -"Thank you for putting me on my guard, Mrs. Antonio. It is friendly and -kind of you. Now will you tell me about the areca-nut wash for the hair? -I am sure it must be excellent." - -Mrs. Antonio followed the drag and plunged into directions, presented -Mrs. Crayfield with a handful of the beneficial nut; then talked of -Pussy's hair and other perfections until Stella made an opportunity for -escape. - -As she strolled home she felt further depressed. Her mind was full of -Mrs. Antonio's warning; it served to strengthen her feeling of -repugnance towards Sher Singh. She tried to argue with herself that -there might be excellent reasons for Robert's attachment to Sher Singh -apart from the value of the man's services; gratitude might be involved, -possibly Sher Singh had nursed his master through a dangerous illness, -or in some way saved Robert's life. Robert would never have told her; he -was so secretive. He seldom spoke of the past, and she knew little or -nothing of his former life. She had never induced him even to talk of -his friendship with her father and mother. She hated the feeling that -she was not in her husband's confidence, though she was guiltily alive -to the truth that she did not exactly admit him to her own! Bother Sher -Singh! He was a perpetual thorn in her flesh; she had never disliked the -man more than when this evening she beheld him standing sentinel at the -foot of the steep steps that led up to the dwelling rooms on the fort -walls. There he stood pompous, important, clothed in immaculate white -with a smart blue belt and Robert's crest fashioned in silver fastening -a band to match the belt across his big turban. She longed to get even -with him, and when he started almost imperceptibly at sight of her she -felt a vindictive satisfaction that for once she had eluded his -vigilance. Clearly he had been ignorant of her excursion, had believed -her to be sitting solitary above during the Sahib's absence. He salaamed -low with what seemed to her mocking humility as she passed him, and with -equally mocking disdain she ignored the salutation; not pausing to -observe the effect of her insult, she went on up the steps miserably -conscious that she had made a mistake. - -Mrs. Antonio's assertion that Sher Singh ate opium did not disturb her -unduly. She remembered vaguely to have heard that all natives took opium -to a certain extent, just as most Europeans took alcohol, in moderation. -She knew nothing about it, and therefore Mrs. Antonio's caution not to -mention the matter to her husband seemed to her sound. But once in her -bedroom the rest of the warning swung through her brain: "If he stays -that man will do harm--make mischief," and panic possessed her. - -It was useless to assure herself that she was making a mountain out of a -mole-hill. Beneath all her defensive reasoning lay a dread apprehension -that she was powerless to control. It was all so intangible, so -exasperating, this heavy-hearted sense of foreboding without actual -foundation. Despairingly she sought refuge in making the worst of her -headache; that, at least, was definite enough. She summoned Champa and -prepared for bed, so that when Robert returned from his ride she might -plead indisposition as an excuse for absenting herself from the dinner -table. - -Robert accepted the excuse in all good faith. He prescribed a dose of -quinine and a glass of iced champagne, both of which she swallowed to -please him, and when later he came to her room she lay still, with -closed eyes, till he was safely asleep. Then she stole from her bed and -went out on to the balcony. Yellow and parched the landscape lay before -her, bathed in the strong Eastern moonlight, the little heaps of ruins -in the foreground picked out with black shadows--relics of past power, -dead echoes of ancient strife! On this spot where she stood, on the -ramparts of the old Moghul fort, perhaps Emperors had stood also, -unwitting of the future, of the coming downfall of their dynasty. - -From Philip Flint she had learnt how the fort had been built by the -great Akbar in the reign of his greater Western contemporary, Elizabeth; -how it had lain with his descendants to uphold Moghul might and -dominion, and how they had failed--failed before a power that was -stronger in its spirit of self-sacrifice and honest purpose. 'Midst all -her unease of mind she felt the magic and the marvel of the past; -remembered George Thomas and his wide ambitions--a voice crying in the -wilderness of turmoil and chaos and oppression of the helpless, a -pioneer of the peace and protection to follow for this gorgeous old -country. Yet was the present order and prosperity doomed to pass in its -turn, leaving even less traces of its influence than just ruins and -remains and reminders? Would India seethe again with tyranny, murder, -persecution, general insecurity of property and person, creed up against -creed, custom against custom, avarice stalking the land to block and -destroy all progress? Flint, she knew, feared for India's future, owing -to the Western system of education that was being pursued without -forethought, without judicious provision for employment that would guard -against disaster. Sooner or later, he had said, there would come into -power a faction that for the sake of unpractical theories and so-called -"ideals" totally unsuited to the East, would liberate forces, dangerous -forces already at work beneath the surface for personal gain, that would -seek to oppress and intimidate the masses, render just administration -impossible, degrade British rule into a farce. And then? Well then it -would devolve into a choice between the withdrawal of British authority, -leaving the country open to conquest from some stronger foreign nation, -or a reversion to sane government, and the drastic suppression of -sedition, conspiracy, and rebellion. - -In face of these reflections Stella's own troubles seemed to fade into -space; she felt lifted above them, indifferent to petty considerations, -to the jealousy of Sher Singh, Robert's propensities and the limitations -he sought to impose upon her. Now boldly, and without scruple, she -permitted her imagination to run riot. Supposing she were Philip Flint's -wife--how she would strive to help and encourage him, how she would -fling herself into his work and his aspirations, each of them doing -their utmost, hand in hand, for the welfare of the country they both -loved! Heart and brain afire she paced the broad balcony in a maze of -fictitious delight; to-night there was little sound, no howling of -beasts save in the far distance where jackals hunted in packs; and, near -at hand, only the soft murmur of the city beyond the walls. Spellbound, -as in a dream, she loitered; the heat was intense in the quiet, the -desolation, the hard yellow light of the moon, but it seemed merely to -caress her limbs, to encourage the intoxication of her fancies. - -A sudden sound shattered the reverie; a dull thud as if something had -fallen within the building from the roof to the foundations.... -Again--this time it was less loud, less definite, rumbling away into -silence. She listened, alert, her heart beating quickly; then came -reassurance with the recollection of Mrs. Cuthell's conviction that -strange echoes were caused by the occasional fall of masonry below in -the underground ruins. Wrenched back to reality she returned to the -darkened bedroom, once more a prey to restless depression. Robert lay -sleeping profoundly, his deep, regular breathing, and the monotonous -flap of the punkah frill, were the only sounds she could discern as she -lay wide awake, her senses sharpened, her nerves overwrought. But just -as a hint of drowsiness gave hope of repose for body and mind, again she -heard something that this time could not be attributed to the falling of -bricks or stones, since, of a certainty, it was within the room. A -light patter on the matting, a pause, hesitation, a faint whimper.... - -In sheer terror Stella leapt from her bed; could it be a ghost--the -spirit of a helpless little child massacred with other victims of the -great tragedy in this hateful house? Only by the strongest effort she -refrained from shrieking aloud as a soft touch fell on her ankle; it was -the warm, wet lick of a tongue. She was thankful she had raised no -disturbance when by the dim radiance of the moon through the open -doorways she saw no ghost, no child, but only Jacob!--Jacob with a -broken strip of cord hanging to his collar, apologetic, unhappy, -squirming at her feet in his dumb, pathetic attempts to explain his -desertion of his master. - -Stella consoled the little dog, let him lie by her side on the bed. His -company brought a sense of comfort and security. Philip's servants must -have imprisoned Jacob in some out-house so that his well-meant -attentions should not disturb the sick man. She hoped it argued healing -sleep for Philip--did not mean that he was worse. Meanwhile she must -await daylight to ascertain the truth. - -At last she fell asleep, Jacob's nose cuddled in the crook of her elbow, -regardless of Robert's indignation when he should awake and discover the -presence of "that damned dog." - - - - -CHAPTER XI - - -The sun poured upon the flat roof of the baking little rest-house, -though the hour was yet early. Philip Flint lay limp and exhausted on a -long chair in the veranda; the sharp "go" of fever had worn itself out -for the time being, worn out its victim also. Through the night he had -tossed and talked nonsense, shivered and burned by turns, with aching -limbs and bursting head. Now the reaction seemed equally bad, if not -worse, since, while the malady raged, he had at least been but vaguely -aware of bodily distress; and, though harassed with hideous dreams, -there had come interludes when he felt as if wafted to regions of bliss, -his companion a being half goddess half mortal. One moment she floated -beyond his reach in limitless space, remote as a star.... He had heard -his own voice calling, entreating with a delirious confusion of words on -his lips: "Stella--a star--Star of India----" Again she was close to -him, held to his heart. - -Blurred memories of these transports lingered in his mind as he lay -gasping with the heat, and then came devastating doubts and warnings, -sweeping the glamour away. He dared not shut his eyes to the danger, in -truth he stood on the brink of a moral precipice; unless he could -manoeuvre a transfer from Rassih, unless in the meantime he could keep -clear of the Commissioner's house, he was bound to find himself -desperately in love with the Commissioner's wife; and, without vanity, -he foresaw that the situation must become equally perilous for her. What -a fool he had been!--ensnared by the girl's beauty, by the tempting -circumstance of her alliance with a man so much her senior for whom it -was obvious she had no real affection, a man who was blind to the -budding of her intellect, who merely valued her bright innocence as a -whet to his senses. Yet apart from these odious reflections, apart from -selfish perspective, Philip felt it was up to him now to call halt for -her sake. So far they had exchanged no words that might not have been -shouted from the housetops, but what price words when came mute -understanding, when just a little more and they would find themselves in -the grip of that eternal, immutable force called Love! And then? How -should he bring himself to leave her desolate, unhappy, to face a future -without hope because his own target in life was Success, fulfilment of -ambition? - -From the outset of his career one aim had possessed Philip Flint--to -arrive, to reach the topmost rung of his particular ladder; and already -his future was brilliant with promise, his progress sure, unless, -through his own folly, he loosed his hold and fell back. Well he knew -the power of Mother Grundy in Indian official circles, the need for -avoidance of serious scandal in a country where moral standards and -example must count for promotion among a community that, officially -speaking, was composed of one class. In England it was possible for a -man to hold high public office while his domestic belongings socially -could not be recognised; in India such a state of affairs would be -wholly unworkable. Imagine a Chief Commissioner, a Lieutenant Governor, -any representative of the Crown, not to mention a Viceroy, with a wife -who could not be "received"! No; open scandal in India spelt failure. -Therefore it was a choice for Philip Flint between heart and head; and -now he asked himself grimly which was to prove the stronger? - -The beat of a horse's hoofs outside scattered his thoughts. He raised -himself on his elbow to see Colonel Crayfield dismounting, and a couple -of peons ran forth with salaams to receive the important visitor. - -Colonel Crayfield stumped up the veranda steps. "Hallo, Flint, sorry to -hear you are sick," he threw his hat and whip on to a camp table, -dragged a chair into convenient position and seated himself weightily. -"Had a sharp bout of malaria? You look pretty well washed out!" - -"Sharp and short, sir, I hope. I think I'm about over it now all right." - -"Poof! the heat of this place!" the Commissioner looked about him with -disgust. "Not fit for a dog. Talking of dogs, your terrier strayed up to -our house last night; it worried the memsahib, because she took it into -her head it must mean you were at the last gasp. I promised to come and -find out if you were still alive!" - -"Very kind," murmured Philip; "as usual I must apologise for Jacob, and -I'm afraid he hasn't come back yet!" - -"Oh, that's all right, never mind the dog. The question is, how you can -ward off another attack; Rassih has a bad reputation for intermittent -fever once it gets hold, and stopping in this infernal little bungalow -won't help you. What do you say to coming to us for a bit? Plenty of -room and no lack of ice and good milk; we'll soon have you fit. I'll -send the tonga to bring you up, and your man can follow with your -things." - -In Philip's present enfeebled condition of body and spirit the -temptation was severe; setting aside the pleasant prospect of creature -comforts, food properly prepared (his own cook was woefully careless) -there would be--Stella! He strove to hold on to the arguments that at -the moment of Colonel Crayfield's arrival were in process of bracing his -will and his judgment; now they were slipping away--if only time could -be gained in which he might call them to heel, summon strength to refuse -with firmness.... - -He stirred uneasily: "It's exceedingly kind of you, sir, but I couldn't -think of giving you and Mrs. Crayfield the trouble. I'm not really ill; -to-morrow I shall be as fit as ever again. It's nothing but an ordinary -go of malaria." - -He felt he was gabbling what his chief would regard as merely -conventional protests; even to himself they sounded futile, unreal. - -"Rubbish!" the ejaculation was no more than he might have anticipated. -"Don't be an ass. Give me a bit of paper and a pencil and I'll send word -to my wife. The tonga can be here in two shakes, and I'll wait and go -back with you myself." - -He began to shout orders. The groom was to return with his horse and -the note. Philip's personal servant was bidden to produce paper and a -pencil, moreover to pack a portmanteau with his master's requirements. -In a few moments the whole matter had passed from Philip's control, and -he resigned himself to Fate. But what irony that Stella's husband, of -all people, should be the means of forcing him into a position that, -unless Fate proved unnaturally considerate, might lead right and left to -disaster! - - - - -CHAPTER XII - - -"Oh, do go on--don't stop. I shall be miserable till I know what John -Holland and Anne decided." - -"But I don't know myself. That's as far as I've written. I was going to -ask _you_ what you thought they should do. What do you think?" - -Flint laid the sheets of manuscript, the George Thomas Romance, on the -wicker table that stood between himself and his hostess. The two were -seated on the balcony, though it was late in the morning. Rain had -fallen over-night, and the temperature was lowered for the present--not -that the monsoon had actually broken up-country, but reports were -hopeful, and for the past few days there had been a welcome gathering of -clouds culminating in a heavy downpour. Still the fear remained that the -clouds might yet disperse, to leave the district parched and arid as -before. - -The desert steamed like a gigantic hot-bed, the atmosphere was -reminiscent of an orchid house, but at least there was temporary respite -from imprisonment in closed and darkened rooms, and the air wafted from -a hand-punkah, wielded with vigour by a youthful coolie, was -comparatively cool and refreshing. Philip Flint, set free from the -tortures of the Rest House, had quickly recovered condition despite a -recurrence of fever--just a sufficient recurrence to justify -prolongation of his stay with the Crayfields, a short extension of -idleness encouraged by his unsuspecting Chief. To-morrow he intended to -return to his uncomfortable quarters; work must be resumed; meanwhile he -had lived in a golden dream, oblivious of the future that now loomed -before him like a grey, empty tomb, compared with the rapturous present. - -As he gazed unceasingly at Stella nothing seemed to matter if only he -could hear from her lips that she cared for him. Beloved! how perfect -she was from the sheen of her pretty head as she bent over some trifling -needlework, to the tips of her little arched feet; and her nature was as -sweet and tender and white as her slim body---- - -"Well, what do you think?" he persisted recklessly; and in repeating the -question he knew he was heading for danger, as a rider might put a -runaway horse to an impossible fence that the inevitable crash should -come quickly, prove neck or nothing. - -She hesitated, sighed. "Oh! I don't know. To begin with, you see, Anne -was married, and her husband, though she hated him, was fighting like -John, under George Thomas. Would it have meant trouble, disgrace, for -John if----" - -"If they had bolted? Perhaps; though in those days it might have been -different. But apart from that--what about the marriage question? If you -had been Anne?" - -"I should have done what was best for John." - -"Even if it meant parting from him for ever?" - -"Of course!" she said stoutly. - -"Not simply because you were married?" - -She raised her eyes from the foolish strip of embroidery engaging her -fingers. - -"Stella!" - -There! The fence was taken, the crash had come. Now they must both face -the truth, outwardly self-controlled because--what bathos! because of -the punkah coolie and the open doors. Philip cursed the fact that -privacy in India was next to impossible; he saw that Stella's eyes were -brimming with tears. How her hands trembled! Yet he did not dare give -her comfort by taking her in his arms. As in his dream, she was far from -him, inapproachable as her namesake, a star. - -The silence that fell between them was tense; the swish of the punkah -went steadily on, the heat grew heavier, more saturating; in the hazy -sky a vulture alternately sailed and dipped, hung motionless as though -suspended by an invisible wire, on the outlook for some carrion prize -below. - -Then Philip found himself speaking rapidly, in a low voice; his hands -gripped the edge of the table so tightly that his knuckles showed white -and hard through the skin. He scarcely knew what he was saying, -self-mastery was gone, and in the flood of his passionate declaration -Stella shivered and blanched. He saw love in her eyes, but fear -also--fear and helpless despair. He paused, drew in his breath sharply, -but so far he felt no penitence, no remorse for having let himself go; -he was conscious only of a wild exultation, for he knew that in heart -and in soul she was his. He craved to hear from her lips that she loved -him; she must tell him--not with her eyes alone. That it was cruel to -force the admission he did not, in his madness, consider. - -"Speak to me, Stella--just say it, say it once. _Tell_ me." - -Her lips moved, he bent forward. But before he could catch the whisper -she had risen abruptly, to pass with swift steps into the house. He rose -in his turn to stay her flight, and was confronted on the threshold of -the open doorway by Sher Singh. - -Disconcerting as was the man's unexpected appearance, it was to Philip -merely an accidental, if enraging, check to his intention; it accounted -for Stella's sudden retreat--from where she had sat she must have caught -sight of Sher Singh's approach. But relief quickly followed exasperation -as he realised how narrow had been their escape from an equivocal -situation, for next moment Colonel Crayfield was in the room. Sher -Singh's unwelcome intrusion had, after all, been timely, and thanks to -the numerous exits of an Indian habitation Stella had vanished just a -second or two before the entry of her husband.... - -The rest of the morning was charged for them both with repressed -emotion. They sat at the breakfast table outwardly composed, inwardly -fearful of meeting each other's gaze. Stella's mental disturbance was -increased by the conviction that Sher Singh was on the watch; he must -have observed that she and Philip were engaged in no ordinary -conversation when he surprised them on the balcony, must have noted her -confusion as she passed him in her flight. Now she realised her folly in -not having held her ground; she should have remained in her seat and -given warning to Philip by speaking promptly to Sher Singh, since of -course the man shared Champa's belief that a guilty understanding was -afoot between herself and "Fer-lint sahib." No doubt it was he who, in -the first place, had suggested the idea to Champa. Her fears in -connection with Mrs. Antonio's warnings had dwindled during the days of -Philip's visit, but now mental torment returned with the feeling that -Sher Singh was but biding his time for mischief with the deadly patience -of the Oriental. Dread lest he should lead Robert to scent the situation -that had arisen between herself and Philip turned her sick. - -Deeming it more prudent to avoid Philip for the immediate present, she -sat in her room while Robert rested, her mind in confusion as she -pretended to read. To ignore Philip's outpouring, to continue as if -nothing disturbing had occurred, was clearly impossible. Philip must be -warned; but how to contrive that warning without risk of being spied -upon was a problem. Even could she accomplish it safely she shrank from -facing the days to come with this secret between them. She contemplated -appealing to Robert to allow her to take advantage of Mrs. Cuthell's -invitation, on the score that she could endure the heat no longer; but -should he refuse, as was more than probable, could Philip be induced to -apply for leave, however short, on the plea of health? Something must be -done, and without delay, that she might gain time to set her mind in -order, free from continual trepidation. If only she could secure the -chance of a long private talk with Philip.... - -Wearily she sat in the drawing-room before the tea-table that afternoon, -awaiting the two men. Robert, when he went to his dressing-room, had -said that if the courts were not too damp for tennis, and if Flint felt -up to it, they might try a game. He was the first to appear, and -evidently he was not in a good humour. Stella's heart sank at sight of -his frown, but bounded next moment with relief when she heard the cause. -It seemed that Sher Singh, as well as herself, desired "leave of -absence." - -"Confound the fellow," Robert grumbled, "he's just had a telegram, and -says he must go off at once to see to the funeral of some near -relation." - -"How long does he want?" - -"He says only two or three days, but with natives that may mean -anything." - -Stella trusted privately that in this case it might mean two or three -weeks. - -"He suggested that if Flint were staying on with us for the present his -man could look after me for the time." - -"But Mr. Flint has arranged to go back to the Rest House to-morrow----" - -"Then he'd better alter his arrangements. He's no trouble, and it's far -more comfortable for him here. Don't you want him to stay?" - -"I don't care particularly one way or the other, but on the whole I'd -rather we were alone." - -Oh, shades of conscience! Stella bent over the tea things, ashamed of -her hypocrisy. - -Robert's face cleared. He beamed complacently. "We can't always expect -to be alone, little selfish one!" - -"When does Sher Singh want to go?" - -"By this time he's gone, I imagine. He intended to catch the afternoon -train." - -"Well, it can't be helped," said Stella, "and of course if you wish it, -I'll press Mr. Flint to stay. Now he can be at work again I shan't have -to entertain him----" - -"Or listen to his eternal novel." - -"I don't mind that; but it's a bore making conversation." - -"Yes, I understand. Well, anyway it's a charity to put him up for a bit -longer, and he can sing for his supper by trying to beat me at tennis -every day. Here he comes----" - -Stella looked up. There was Philip in flannels; his expression was sad, -dispirited, as though he too had been ground in the mill of mental -perplexity during the last two or three hours. There came a singing in -her ears, a mist clouded her vision. How horrible for them both to be -forced to play a part--a part so ignoble, opposed to her whole nature, -and, she felt assured, to his also. - -"Enter Mr. Flint!" declaimed Robert with jovial intonation. "The -memsahib and I were just talking about you, my son." - -"What were you saying? Nothing nasty, I hope?" He avoided Stella's eyes -as he seated himself and took the cup she held out to him. - -"Quite the contrary," puffed Robert. "We were planning to persuade you -to stay on with us, especially as my bearer has demanded short leave, -and yours, with your permission, might fill the gap for the time being!" - -Stella noted a slight flicker of Philip's eyelids, and her ear caught -the echo of self-control in his voice as he answered: "You are very -kind--and of course if my man can be of the slightest use----" - -"Very well then, that's settled." Robert attacked the eatables, talking -the while of rain and crops and the uncertainty of the outlook. "Unless -things improve pretty soon there is a difficult time ahead," he -predicted. - -And Stella repeated the foreboding in her heart, though from a very -different standpoint. - -Tennis, after all, proved impossible. The courts were a swamp, and as -Robert clamoured for exercise the three set off eventually for a late -and, to Stella, a tedious ride. She was too troubled even to find -pleasure in the after-effect of the rain upon the scenery, though she -could not but observe the wondrous vermilion and purple of the sky, the -great clouds massed on the horizon like some angry army awaiting the -word to press forward, or to retire; the colour reflections on the long -streaks of water that still lay upon the earth's hard surface; the rows -of birds gathered on the edges of the miniature lakes, suggesting, in -the distance, broken borders of white stones. The trees were washed of -their drab veiling of dust, and foliage shone in the light of the -sinking sun; an odour of earth refreshed rose in the thick, hot air.... -But the mighty magnificence above, the glow flung over the flat, -interminable landscape, served but to increase her sense of helpless -despondence. - -There seemed so little hope of safe conference with Philip, and, though -the strain of his presence held for her as much happiness as fear, it -was imperative that some plan of separation should be devised unless -they were to embark on a course of intrigue and deception that, even -apart from any question of conscience, must involve risk of disaster.... -Bewildered, unbalanced, as she rode between her husband and the man she -loved, she felt that her life was broken and stained already. - -Next day the two men were out in the district on duty from morning to -evening. Stella passed the period of their absence in a state bordering -on stupefaction; each hour that went by, devoid of an opportunity for -clear understanding with Philip, seemed to widen the zone of danger. -That night as she dressed for dinner the reflection of her face in the -mirror appalled her--what a scarecrow, how white and haggard and -hideous! Limp though she felt from the moist heat, oppressed as she was -with her tribulation of mind, she made a brave effort to amend her -appearance--rearranged her hair, bade Champa get out a becoming pink -frock, stockings and shoes to go with it, opened her jewel-box, meaning -to wear her pearl necklace.... - -The pearl necklace was not in its case. At first unperturbed Stella -searched among her trinkets, only gradually to realise that the necklace -was undoubtedly gone. Champa when questioned of course knew nothing -about it, she might almost have been unaware that her mistress possessed -any jewels at all! Then she suggested that the memsahib might have lost -the necklace out riding, and in response to Stella's derisive rejection -of such an absurd idea she dissolved into tears, protesting that she, at -least, was no thief, however wicked the rest of the servant-people might -be. - -"Go and tell the Sahib I wish to speak to him," commanded Stella -severely; it was not that she suspected Champa for one moment of having -stolen the necklace, but the woman's cowardly attitude incensed her. She -understood nothing of the prevalent fear among native servants of false -accusation contrived by some colleague intent upon personal purpose, -whether vengeful or in the hope of advancement, no matter at whose -expense. Champa sidled muttering from the room, and presently Robert -came in half dressed. His face shone with perspiration, his neck, minus -a collar, reminded his wife of a chunk of raw meat, and suddenly she -felt indifferent as to whether the necklace he had given her was lost -irretrievably or not; she wished she had not summoned him. - -"What's the matter, you're not ill?" he inquired. - -"My pearl necklace has gone," she said, much as she might have announced -the disappearance of some trivial article. - -"Good God!" Robert pounced upon the jewel-box, turning the contents over -with ruthless hands. - -"It's not there," Stella told him. - -"Then where the devil is it? When did you wear it last?" - -"I can't remember." - -"Nonsense! You often wear it in the daytime as well as in the -evening--you must have missed it before now, if it had been gone any -time. It's worth hundreds. Where have you looked? It may be among your -clothes----" - -"I always put it back in the case. I haven't looked anywhere else." - -"Good Heavens, then do so at once! Where's the ayah, what has she got to -say?" - -"She doesn't know any more than I do what has happened to it. I suppose -I ought to have kept the box locked." - -"And if you had you'd have left the key lying about. You're so -infernally careless." - -Robert raved and stormed, while Stella and Champa ransacked drawers and -wardrobes without result. The necklace was not forthcoming. Dinner was -postponed, every servant in the establishment was called up, and the -whole staff was threatened with dismissal, imprisonment, punishment, -unless the pearls were produced. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - - -The disappearance of the pearls caused general commotion throughout the -Commissioner's establishment. Perforce the police were called in to make -investigations, and Mr. Piggott being absent from the station on duty, -the chief native subordinate took command of the compound and set up a -species of martial law. The servants, in terror of secret extortion -under threat of false proof or suspicion, seemed to lose their wits, and -either blundered idiotically over their duties or forgot them -altogether. Champa collapsed, distraught with agitation, and refused to -stir from her quarters. - -Robert talked of little else but the loss. - -"Such a thing has never happened before in _my_ household," he kept -repeating, as they sat at an uncomfortable meal next midday. "You are -perfectly certain, Stella, that you haven't mislaid the necklace or -dropped it anywhere?" - -And each time he asked the question Stella replied wearily, "I am -perfectly certain," until she felt tempted at last to declare that she -had thrown away the pearls of deliberate intention. Her nerves were on -edge, and she found it hard to control her temper. Mercifully, breakfast -was now practically over. - -"What about that man of yours, Flint? How long have you had him?" - -"Five years, and he's certainly not the thief, if that's what you mean. -He's a respectable, simple-minded old fellow with a long record of good -service to his credit." - -Robert grunted incredulously and lit a cheroot. "That ayah knows -something," he suggested to his wife, "or why hasn't she turned up this -morning?" - -"She's ill," said Stella, "ill with fright, I should think." - -"A guilty conscience more likely." - -"I'm quite sure she had nothing to do with it." - -Annoying as Champa had been, Stella was convinced of the woman's -honesty. - -"How can you be sure? Don't talk nonsense." - -"Well, wasn't she engaged by Sher Singh?" She felt she had scored, and -emboldened by the advantage, added recklessly: "If it comes to that, I -would sooner believe that Sher Singh----" - -"Sher Singh," interrupted Robert angrily. "On the contrary, if he had -been here the thing wouldn't have happened. Some rascal took the -opportunity of his absence." - -"Then, unless it was all prearranged, the thief must have acted pretty -promptly," argued Stella, who had arrived at a pitch of provocation that -rendered her indifferent to Robert's displeasure. "Perhaps the telegram -was bogus?" she continued ironically; "sent to lure the unsuspecting -Sher Singh from his post." And with an effort she quelled a ridiculous -impulse to add that possibly Sher Singh had borrowed the necklace in -order that some member of his family might wear it at the relative's -funeral. She came dangerously near to laughter in picturing the scene -that such a suggestion would evoke. As it was, her sly attack on the -good name of Sher Singh led to mixed consequences. - -Robert rose impatiently. "Sher Singh must come back. If a wire goes at -once he ought to be here to-night." - -Stella repented her imprudence; on the other hand, as Robert strode from -the room to fulfil his intention, there was comfort in the fact that at -last she and Philip were safely alone for a space. The table servants, -at work in the pantry, were well out of hearing; the punkah coolie at -his post could not see them. - -Philip said breathlessly: "Stella, what are we to do?" - -The moments were precious; she answered with haste, though her voice was -calm. "One of us must go away. It's the only thing to do. Sher -Singh----" - -"What has Sher Singh to do with it?" - -"He knows, he has been watching us. He would do anything to harm me. -Anyway, we couldn't go on like this----" - -"It's all my fault," he said wretchedly. "What a selfish beast I have -been. I ought to have held my tongue." - -"What difference would it have made? We both _knew_!" - -He was amazed at her fortitude. No longer was she the helpless, unhappy -child weighed down by relentless fate, but a woman determined to grapple -with the future. The Carrington spirit of pluck and endurance still -lived in the last of the line. - -A little cloud of masculine grievance gathered in his mind, rose -between them. His was the blame for the whole situation, and he was -prepared to sacrifice all for her sake, to take her away that they might -live for themselves alone. Since his outburst on the balcony wild -schemes had invaded his brain, though as yet, without practical plan; -now it chafed him to feel that she might not be ready to follow his lead -in joyful appreciation of his purpose. The realisation fanned his -passion, strong as it was already. - -"Are you thinking of yourself or of me?" he asked bitterly. - -"Oh, how can you!" she cried, pained beyond further expression of -reproach; yet she understood that his cruelty arose from the very -strength of his feelings, and while with feminine instinct she divined -his love-selfishness she cared for him none the less. - -"Look here," she said firmly, "I belong to Robert. You belong to India. -And we've both got to remember----" - -"Oh, I know what you're going to say--remember our duty. Duty be -damned," he retorted, beside himself. "You can't love me as I love you -or you wouldn't talk like this. What do I matter to India?--I'm only a -fly on the wheel. What do you matter to Crayfield, any more than if you -were--well, a pearl necklace, for instance!" - -"I know my value to Robert exactly," she told him with a wry little -smile; "but I married him for what he could give me, and he has given -it. I don't agree with you as to your value to India. India depends on -men like you; and if you are flies on the wheel, the wheel wouldn't go -round without you." - -It was true, and he knew it. All the same, he felt that Stella meant -more to him now than his duty to India and all his ambition. - -"We belong to each other, and to no one and nothing else," he maintained -doggedly. "You can't go on living with one man when you know you love -another. It's not right." - -"Perhaps not, from one point of view, but I don't take that view. We -can't think of ourselves. I shall ask Robert to let me go to the -Cuthells, even if I have to pretend to be ill. If he won't let me go, -then you must apply for leave, or get away somehow from Rassih." - -"Stella, are you made of stone?" He drew his chair nearer to hers, laid -his hand on her arm, rejoiced as he felt how her pulses responded to his -touch. "Think what the separation would mean. We could go to England," -he urged. "I would work for you, slave for you, darling." - -"And that would mean your giving up India?" - -"Not necessarily. I can take leave on urgent private affairs for six -months. Furlough is due to me, too, but that takes time to arrange. I -could get it tacked on afterwards, and then--then we could be married -and come out together. It would all have blown over." - -But even as he spoke there came visions, strive as he would to ignore -them, of obscure little stations, promotion tardy, other men passing -over his head for the rest of his service. - -"And suppose Robert wouldn't--supposing we couldn't be married?" - -This possibility had not entered his mind. He hesitated, then added -quickly: "He couldn't be such a brute! If he was, I'd retire; we would -live quietly somewhere out of the world, just for each other. Don't you -care for me enough to take the risk?" - -She did not answer, because she feared if she spoke at the moment she -might burst into tears. He misunderstood her silence. - -"I tell you," he went on impetuously, "I tell you again, as I told you -yesterday morning, that nothing matters to me in the world but your -love. It means more to me than my work and my aims, my life itself. -Without you, success in the Service would simply be dust and ashes. I'd -sooner live on a desert island with you than be Viceroy of India. Are -you afraid to trust yourself to me?" - -She struggled for self-control. His eyes were pleading, his face looked -drawn. She longed to give in, to tell him she asked nothing better than -to be with him for always, at whatever the price or the punishment. Yet -surrender at best must mean greater sacrifice for Philip than she on her -side could offer, and she meant to hold out even should it all end in a -parting that left Philip with the impression that she valued her worldly -well-being beyond his love. Her thoughts were simple, direct; but she -felt if she tried to explain, urged the fact that she cared too much for -him to become a drag on his life, would find compensation in knowing he -was free to go forward untrammelled, she might only appear to be -setting herself up on a pedestal of self-righteousness at his expense. -She temporised. - -"Let us think it over," she entreated; "let us give ourselves time, by -one of us going away, at any rate for the present." - -"Time would make no difference as far as _I_ am concerned. It would only -be the same thing all over again! But if you think it would help you to -forget, then of course I must agree." - -"Oh, it isn't that," she protested, tortured beyond endurance. She cast -about in her mind for further argument. "Do you remember one day when I -told you how I regretted I wasn't a man to do what little I could for -India, and you said my chance might come?" - -"Oh, you sweet, silly child!" he scoffed. "Do you honestly imagine that -India would crumble to pieces without me?" He laughed as he seized her -in his arms, kissing her madly. She wrenched herself free, stood -swaying, confused, overcome with the force of his passion, the thrill of -his embrace. Then came the sound of Robert's returning footsteps, and -she held up a warning hand, bent over the bowl of flowers on the table -as though to rearrange them. Philip moved his chair back to its original -position and busied himself with his cigarette case, but he could have -wished that Crayfield had surprised them; then there would have been an -end to all subterfuge, of all Stella's doubts and scruples. He felt a -cur because he did not stand up and proclaim the truth there and then, -so setting her free from the onus of decision. - -"That's done!" said Robert. "Now, when Sher Singh comes back, perhaps -we shall get to the bottom of this pearl business. Are you ready, Flint? -We ought to be off again if we're to see to that farther chain of -villages. It looks like more rain, thank goodness. Stella, you'd better -go and lie down; you look like a ghost." - -"I feel like one, too," she answered, and as he turned to leave the room -she followed him quickly. "Robert, wait a moment." She caught his elbow. -"Come into my room, I want to speak to you." - -He acquiesced, though with impatience. "Well, what is it?" - -"I must have a change," she began volubly; "I can't stand the heat any -longer. I believe I shall die if I don't get away from it. You can't -think how awful I feel." - -He looked at her in astonishment, with which concern, vexation, and a -shade of indefinite suspicion were mingled. - -"You want to go away? You know perfectly well I can't ask for leave with -all this distress in the district, even if the rains break freely in the -next few days." - -"But I could go alone," she pleaded. "Mrs. Cuthell would have me, I know -she would. I'd come down again directly I felt better. It isn't gaiety I -want, only to feel better." - -"Antonio must come and have a look at you. Perhaps----" - -"No, no," cried Stella. "It's not that!" She almost wished it were, that -she might have stronger excuse for flight. The idea even crossed her -mind to feign doubt in order to gain her purpose, and though she -dismissed it with horror she clung ignominiously to the straw that -floated detached from definite deception. - -"If I could only get strong," she hinted shamefacedly, "it might make a -difference. I feel such a wreck, Robert. I'm so sorry, but I can't help -it." - -It was all true, she told herself wildly. She did feel a wreck; she was -sure she would be seriously ill if she stayed on at Rassih, -unless--unless Philip would go instead. - -"Well, wait till this evening," said Robert, "and we'll see. I must be -off now; Flint is waiting, and we've a long afternoon's work to get -through." He advised her to rest, and kissed her in kindly, if -perfunctory, farewell. - -When he had gone, Philip with him, a hot muggy silence descended upon -the premises. The servants went off to their quarters in the compound -for the customary midday meal and sleep, save for a couple of peons on -duty who snoozed in the front veranda, and the ever present shift of -punkah pullers. Since the downpour of rain the west wind had ceased to -roar and rage over the land; Nature seemed motionless, as though waiting -in patient expectance for the swollen clouds to discharge their burden -of water. - -Stella, torn with emotion, wandered from room to room, unable to rest, -Jacob pattering at her heels. She found herself longing for the peace -and security of The Chestnuts, for the home of her childhood that in her -young arrogance she had despised, rebelling against its restrictions. -Now she visualised the old house and garden bathed in serene summer -sunlight, the village, the common, the cornfields; remembered with -regret the small vexations, her ignorant, stupid little grievances that -were as grains of sand compared with the mountain of trouble before her. -She wept with self-pity, with terror of the future. The word "disgrace" -rang in her ears, disgrace for herself and for Philip unless she had -strength to resist him; and yet if she remained steadfast, what of the -long empty years that lay ahead like a limitless desert? Even to face -them with courage--for Philip, that Philip might go forward unshackled -by fetters riveted in shame--seemed more than she had power to -undertake. Could she tell Robert the truth, entreat him to help her, to -let her leave Rassih for a time? No; such a scheme was unworkable. She -knew him well enough to feel sure she might as well throw in her lot -with Philip at once. Robert would never forgive, understand; and could -she think that he might, she herself had rendered such a course -impossible by her way of deception--allowing him to believe that she -loved him, leading him to assume that she but tolerated Philip's -companionship. Even from Philip there was no hope for such help as would -support her in her struggle. - -The room grew dark. At first she fancied that the gloom must be of her -own mental making; then came a dull roll of thunder, followed by a -close, threatening pause, full of portent. A little breeze rose and -whispered through the house, stirring the curtains, like a scout feeling -its way in advance of the attack to come. She went out on the balcony, -to see huge purple clouds, rent with forked lightning, rolling up -rapidly from the horizon. The air was full of dust; birds were wheeling -and crying against the sinister background. Jacob cowered, trembling, at -her feet. A drop of rain fell like a bullet on the balustrade, another, -and another.... In a few seconds a rush of wind drove her indoors, and -with a mighty tumult of sound the rain fell in one solid, relentless -sheet as if giant buckets were being emptied from above. - -Stella threw herself on a sofa in the drawing-room, Jacob cuddled at her -side. She ceased to think, was conscious only of the noise and the -darkness that seemed to continue for hours, until, exhausted body and -soul, she fell asleep. - - -Robert and Philip returned late in the evening, drenched. Robert, -despite his wetting, was cheerful over the fact that, to all -appearances, the rains had arrived to stay, though he grumbled because -there was no further news of the necklace, and because Sher Singh had -not yet arrived. Philip looked white and ill as they sat down to a -belated dinner; once or twice he shivered, and he ate little or nothing. -Stella watched him in anxious concern; a return of malaria was only to -be expected after his long ride in wet clothes. By this time the -downpour had slackened, and from without came the clamour of -frogs--"Croak, croak, co-ax, co-ax"--in regular rhythmical chorus. The -temperature had fallen, punkahs were almost unwelcome; the reaction was -depressing. A damp mist crept into the great room; little black insects -gathered in multitudes around the lamps on the walls; lizards darted -among them, enjoying the feast they provided. Stella could have cried -with dejection, and, to add to it all, as they passed from the -dining-room they encountered Sher Singh, salaaming, full of important -concern. He had heard of the robbery, understood why he had been -recalled, though he explained humbly that in any case it had been his -intention to return next morning. The Sahib's telegram had, of course, -hastened his departure. The matter of the necklace, he added miserably, -was to him terrible, a disgrace to the household; he, the slave of the -Sahib and Memsahib, would neither sleep nor eat till the thief was -discovered, the pearls restored; until then his face, as chief servant, -was blackened.... He showed signs of prostrating himself at his master's -feet, and Robert, to escape a scene, bade him go and do his best to -clear up the mystery, thus tactfully dismissing him. - - -Philip, with Stella's warning in his mind, had regarded the man closely -during this interview. Stella was right; he felt certain Sher Singh was -up to no good, that his leave had been part of some treacherous scheme, -and he made up his mind to remain in the house till he knew what it was. -If Sher Singh meant to make mischief, to arouse his master's suspicions -in regard to his mistress, he, Philip, must be at hand to see Stella -through; it might even bring matters to a crisis, help to decide for -them both. He had a presentiment that, whatever Sher Singh's intention, -something would happen that night, and, ill as he felt, he assumed -liveliness, made conversation with Crayfield, discussing results should -the rain prove to be merely local, the effect that severe distress would -have on the various areas under their control. Robert, lured from the -subject of the pearls, talked freely, held forth on his experiences in a -famine that had occurred early in his own service, and how abominably he -had been treated, his efforts ignored by the Government. - -"It's always been the same," he complained; "the fellows who do the real -work may die in harness, literally driven to death, and get no credit; -while those who have done nothing but talk and write, are smothered in -decorations and shoved up to the top of the tree. Thank goodness I could -retire to-morrow, if I felt so inclined, and snap my fingers at the lot -of them." - -He cited instances of his contemporaries in the Service, who, without a -quarter of his own claim to distinction, had been given the C.I.E. and -the K.C.I.E., the C.S.I. and the K.C.S.I., until Stella felt that the -alphabet, as well as the Government, must be to blame for failing to -recognise Robert's meritorious achievements; and her memory turned to -the evening at The Chestnuts when she had wondered if he were sore -because no Order had yet been bestowed upon him. Since then she had not -thought of it, but now she suspected that the omission rankled in his -mind, and her sympathy with his possible disappointment went out to him. -She knew how he worked, and even if he worked without enthusiasm, surely -that was even more to his credit than if he were spurred by romantic -inspiration? She wished he had confided in her, allowed her to share his -feelings; but she knew that to him she was of small account -intellectually; the disparity of years stood between them. And even had -he admitted her to his confidence, what could she have done save -endeavour to console him with understanding? It was not as if he were -young, like Philip, with the world of India before him. - -But the very fact of this disadvantage helped her determination to fight -against her love for Philip. For Robert's sake in the present she could -only refrain from adding to his sense of failure in life; for Philip's -sake in the future she must stick to her post; and for her own -sake--well, at least she could feel she was doing right, whatever -Philip, in his desperation, might argue. Peace of mind would come, -though at best a dull, empty peace, with the knowledge that she had -nothing to fear, that she had brought trouble to no one. Then again -round and round swung the question on which hung her chief difficulty: -if Robert refused to let her go to the Cuthells--if Philip could not, or -would not, get leave or a transfer from Rassih, what was she to do? In -such a situation she saw little chance of true peace of mind. It would -mean one continual effort to avoid Philip by every manoeuvre in her -power, to pretend, pretend, pretend, both to him and to Robert. - -She sank into a sort of lethargy; her brain felt numbed, and the voices -of the two men sounded hardly nearer than the ceaseless song of the -frogs outside. A figure came into the room, stood for a moment by -Robert. It was Sher Singh--always Sher Singh! How she loathed the -creature. Robert rose, and went away; Sher Singh too. She roused herself -with an effort; Philip was asking her something: - -"Did you hear what he said? Were you asleep?" - -"No, I don't think so; I don't know." She sat upright, passed her hand -over her eyes. "What did he say?" - -"He said the pearls had been found." - -So the tiresome pearls had been found! It seemed to Stella that the news -had barely reached her understanding before Robert was back. He crossed -the room reflectively, with measured tread, the pearls gleaming white in -his big hand; the contrast struck Philip as painfully symbolical: just -as pure and as perfect was his dear love in the man's coarse keeping. - -Crayfield paused, dandling the pearls. When he spoke he addressed -himself to Flint in a voice that was devoid of all expression. He said: -"My wife's necklace was found in your room." - -For a moment Philip gazed at him dumbfounded. Then, as with the shock of -a flashlight, he understood. Sher Singh! Sher Singh had either put the -necklace in his room, or pretended to find it there, not with the object -of fastening false suspicion of theft upon anyone, but in order to -compromise the mistress he so hated. What a fool as well as a devil the -fellow must be! How could he imagine that such an obvious piece of spite -was likely to succeed? Yet, what was the meaning of Colonel Crayfield's -curious attitude? Was it possible that he believed---- Swiftly Flint's -mind pounced on the opportunity: he might refrain from defence, allow -the "find" to speak for itself. But what about Stella? Would she realise -the situation? Already she had risen, trembling and white with -indignation. - -"Robert! What do you mean? Surely you don't--you _can't_ suggest that -_Mr. Flint_ took the pearls?" - -Philip glanced at her hopelessly. Her simplicity was almost -unbelievable; her innocence, all too obvious, had lost them their chance -of freedom. - -"Philip!" she cried involuntarily, and made a quick movement towards -him. Crayfield moved also, just a couple of interceptory steps. He -laughed, and put the pearls in his pocket. - -"That's all I wanted to know," he said coolly, an ugly glint in his -eyes. "Out you go, my boy! You didn't steal the pearls, of course; but -you've been doing your damnedest to steal something else, and you -haven't succeeded." - -"You may think what you like!" interposed Philip hotly; but he felt he -was blustering, that Colonel Crayfield, his senior in years and -authority, had the whip hand of him, perceiving the truth. The trap had -been cleverly laid. - -"Thank you! Then I like to think this: you have been making love to my -wife under my roof, taking advantage of her youth and inexperience; but -mercifully you've been caught in time. Now go and pack your belongings -and clear out. Consider yourself on leave. I want no scandal. Slink -off--quick! You young hound!" - -Stella had sunk into a chair. Her husband stood before her; Philip -could not see her face. He was racked with humiliation, with helpless -rage; his pride, his self-respect lay in the dust, since he could not -but recognise the fundamental justice of his chief's accusation.... Must -he leave Stella without comfort, without reassurance of his fealty and -love? Driven to desperation, he tried to push Crayfield aside; he might -as well have endeavoured to move a mountain. - -"Stella!" he called hoarsely; but for answer to his cry came only the -sound of stifled, terrified sobbing. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - - -Colonel Crayfield stood silent, motionless, until all sound of Philip -Flint's exit had ceased. When, with a dazed effort, Stella looked up at -her husband, his face reminded her dimly of some monster depicted on a -Chinese screen. She held her breath, half expecting him to kill her -there and then. Instead, to her amazement, he merely spoke to her as he -might have spoken to an unruly child caught in some act of mischief, -ordered her to her room, watched her grimly as she rose in dumb -obedience. - -Passing through the hall, she encountered Philip's old servant; he -looked harassed, bewildered, as he salaamed. "It is the Sahib's order," -he said in querulous resentment, "that his belongings be taken back to -the Rest House at once! Even but now hath he departed there himself, and -on foot! Yacoub-dog also." Clearly the old man expected some -explanation. What could she say? Only that she supposed the Sahib's -orders must be obeyed. She left him standing puzzled, indignant, in the -doorway of the bedroom his master had occupied. - -For days afterwards Stella felt, as it were, "put into the corner" by -Robert. This attitude on his part, humiliating to her though it was, -came as a partial relief; it gave her time to revive in a sense from the -shock she had suffered. The interval of disgrace, despite its ignominy, -rested her nerves, and helped her to face Robert's forgiveness, which, -when it pleased him to extend it, was far more unbearable than his -displeasure. She dared make no further appeal for permission to join -Mrs. Cuthell; she knew well enough, if she did so, what Robert would -say: that she was not to be trusted! Her very pride gave her strength to -conceal, often to overcome, her physical distress during the unhealthy, -wearisome months that followed before the cold season set in. - -The monsoon weakened, failed; the heat was diabolical, mosquitoes were a -torment, the days and nights seemed endless, and there was always Sher -Singh, watchful, malignant. Champa had begged leave to resign from the -Memsahib's service once the disturbance caused by the episode of the -pearls had subsided in the compound; she did so with crocodile tears and -feeble excuses. The truth was, that having been frightened out of her -senses, she felt unable to recover her pretentious position in the -Rassih establishment. So Champa departed without great loss of dignity, -and her place was taken by a humble person whose name her new mistress -did not even trouble to inquire, since the word "Ayah" seemed to be the -beginning and the end of her obtuse personality. - -Stella's spirit supported her, but nothing could deaden the heartache; -there was nothing to relieve the burden of her time, nothing to ease the -struggle to control her ever-growing abhorrence of Robert and his -demands on her outward docility. - -All that winter they toured in tents. The scarcity, though not so -severe in the Rassih division as in other adjacent areas, meant much -extra work for the Commissioner, and occasionally Stella would be left -in the camp for two or three days while Robert and his satellites went -off on side inspections by rail. At such times Robert would commandeer -some lady, whose husband happened to be on duty with him, to keep Mrs. -Crayfield company. Stella would have preferred to be alone; it seemed to -her that she had lost the capacity for making friends; but at least -Robert was absent, at least she was freed from the strain of his -presence, and for that she gave thanks while enduring the companionship -of an unwelcome visitor who she knew was an unconscious watchdog. - -Only these little periods of peace, the tonic of the cold-weather -climate, the frequent change of locality kept her going; but when they -returned to Rassih her vitality sank, the effort to keep up appearances -became harder, and she felt that the fight could not continue much -longer. Constant attacks of low fever laid hold of her, and Robert was -annoyed because she could not eat, could not sleep, because, he -declared, she would make no attempt to exert herself, because the -medicines prescribed by Dr. Antonio did her no good. - -Gradually his impatience changed to indifference. He ceased to scold and -advise, or to insist on her company; paid little attention to her. She -knew he was bored with her sickliness, her altered appearance. She only -prayed that he might send her home. - -Relief came from quite an unexpected quarter. The English mail arrived -one evening while Robert was out riding: the usual consignment of papers -for him--he seldom received anything else beyond business -communications--a letter for Stella from Aunt Augusta, and one with an -Indian postmark; the handwriting on this envelope stirred her memory, -but she laid it aside till she had read Aunt Augusta's letter. The -little chronicles from The Chestnuts were precious to her now. She read -greedily of small happenings, how old Betty had been so troubled with -rheumatism that further help was needed from the village; how grandmamma -had dropped her handkerchief in church last Sunday, and little Isaac -Orchard, the blacksmith's son, had picked it up and run after them, and -grandmamma had given him a penny. (Stella could see her bestowing the -reward with the air of a potentate; doubtless they had talked of the -incident all through luncheon.) The potatoes were disappointing: so many -of them were diseased this year. Canon and Mrs. Grass had been to tea; -poor Mrs. Grass's health did not improve, but she had been none the -worse for the outing. Aunt Ellen had embroidered such a _very_ pretty -cushion cover as a birthday present for grandmamma, and so on. The -letter concluded with the usual messages from all at The Chestnuts to -dear Stella and Robert, and the hope that they were both keeping fairly -well. - -Stella then opened the other envelope. Maud Matthews! What a surprise! -Only once had Maud written since her arrival in India as a bride, and -Stella had long since assumed that she had dropped out of Maud's -thoughts. The letter was like a refreshing little breeze to its dejected -recipient: - - - "MY DEAR STELLA,-- - - "I know I'm a pigandadevil (that's Dick's word) not to have written - all this time, but unless I make myself answer a letter the moment - it comes I somehow get so that I simply can't answer it at all. - Anyway, _you'll_ have to answer _this_, because I want to know if I - can break my journey up country at Rassih with you and your good - man. Don't you hate that expression? In most cases I'm sure 'bad - man' would be nearer the mark. I've got a baby--such a grand excuse - for going to the hills! And I've taken a small house at Surima, a - long journey from here, but it's such a jolly place, and no one - bothers what you do. My old Dick will be as right as rain by - himself, and he'll come up on leave later on. Rassih isn't much out - of my way, and I must stop somewhere to take breath. It would be - such fun to meet again and have a talk and a laugh. Are you going - away for the hot weather, or are you one of those saintly wives who - never desert their husbands? Have you got a baby? If not, don't; - they are a scourge, though I admit mine might be worse now he's - here, and I refrain from infanticide because he does me such - credit. He's not a bit like Dick. Now may we come? Send me a wire, - because we must start in a few days, and, anyway, wiring is easier - than writing a letter! - - "Ever yours, - - "MAUD MATTHEWS." - - -Stella dropped the letter in her lap, and sighed with mingled hope and -foreboding. Would Robert consent to her friend's visit? What a blessed -break it would make in the monotony of her days. Her courage rose. She -decided to send the telegram now, before Robert's return. He could -hardly insist that she should cancel it, once it had gone; whereas, if -she waited to ask his permission he might raise objections, though what -reason could he advance for refusing to receive Mrs. Matthews and her -baby for a few days on their way to the hills? - -Hastily she wrote out a telegram, called a peon, and dispatched him with -it to the post office. Mercifully, Sher Singh was not lurking about, -else the message would certainly have been withheld until his master's -return; such was her bondage to the servant who ruled! - -Nervously she told her husband, when he came back, what she had done, -handed him Maud's letter, her heart beating fast. - -"What a flibbertigibbet!" he exclaimed contemptuously. "I suppose we -must put up with the infliction, as you say you have wired already." - -"I thought you wouldn't mind," said Stella apologetically. "She's an old -friend of mine, and I should like to see her again." - -"Very well then, let her come. Perhaps it will be an incentive to you to -pull yourself together and behave a little less like a wet rag!" - -Maud arrived with mountains of luggage, the baby, and a retinue of -servants, and from that moment the house seemed transformed. Robert -succumbed reluctantly to the gay company of his guest, who took it for -granted that he was overjoyed to receive her; she chattered and chaffed -and looked charming--such a contrast to her frail hostess! - -It was not until the morning after her arrival, when Robert was safely -at work, that Maud started a confidential conversation with Stella, who -hitherto had avoided a tête-à-tête. She shrank from any admission of her -unhappiness and ill-health; but Maud, with all her fortunate lot in -life, had spotted at once that something was wrong, and by degrees she -succeeded in worming the truth from the unwilling Stella, who proved as -wax in her ruthless hands. Very soon she knew all concerning the -unsuitable marriage, the trouble with Sher Singh, the affair with Philip -Flint and the incident of the pearls, Stella's pitiful condition of body -and mind. The two sat talking in low voices throughout the morning, -while it pleased "young Richard," as his mother called him, to sleep -soundly. - -"Something must be done," pronounced Maud; "you'll snuff out if you go -on like this!" - -"I shouldn't care," said Stella hopelessly. - -"Nonsense! What you want is a good rousing change away from this beastly -house and every one in it. That bearer alone would give me the creeps if -I stayed here much longer. Once you were away from it all you'd get over -this business with Philip Flint. I should have forgotten Dick if I -hadn't married him. Now I'll tell you what: I mean to make up to your -old Robert-the-devil and canoodle him into letting you come to Surima -with me." - -Stella gave an incredulous laugh. "You don't know him. He will never -let me go!" - -"I know _men_ pretty well, my dear, and after all he is a man, as well -as a brute--very often the same thing, but not always. You can pretend -to be jealous, if you like; it might help matters on!" - -"I can't pretend any more about anything!" Stella had small hope that -Maud would succeed in her project; if she did it would be little short -of a miracle. - -"Very well, then; lie low and leave it all to me. Here he comes, my lord -the elephant. How the time has flown without him." - -She turned to greet Robert as he came into the room. "Well, here you are -at last, just in time to save us from dying of dullness. Have you been -working very hard? If so, how do you manage to look as if you had just -come out of a band-box? You ought to be made to give up the secret!" - -Robert regarded her with amused indulgence. "How do you manage to talk -such nonsense and look so fetching?" he retorted. - -"Do I look fetching?" She rose and shook her skirts. "Oh! I've lost my -shoe!" She hopped, and held forth a slim little foot in an open-work -stocking. "There it is, under that chair." - -With a grunt, Robert stooped and retrieved the shoe. "What an -absurdity!" he exclaimed, balancing it on the palm of his hand. - -She clutched his arm to steady herself. "Don't make my shoe look silly! -I daren't put my foot down; I might tread on a pin or something and get -'mortification-set-in' or whatever it is." - -He pushed her into a chair. "Now then, 'hold up' and be shod." He -pressed her ankle with his finger and thumb. "Quite clean: no splint, -not a wind-gall!" He took his time fitting on the truant shoe. - -Stella observed the scene with excited wonder. Robert was flirting! She -could hardly credit her senses. His small eyes twinkled wickedly. Maud -looked like a mischievous sprite. Was it possible that by this means -Maud might really succeed in her object? As long as she did succeed -Stella did not care what means she employed. - -They went in to breakfast. Maud sparkled and bantered, and talked -tactfully of food, praised the curry and the cutlets, exchanged -reminiscences with her host concerning the cooking at various -restaurants in London, besought Colonel Crayfield to take her for a ride -that evening, and, to Stella's secret entertainment, Robert agreed at -once, though she knew he had arranged to play tennis. For her part she -had planned a drive alone with Maud; instead, she found herself placed -in charge of "young Richard." Later on she and the baby, with his ayah, -watched the pair ride away, Maud mounted on the grey stud-bred that by -now had become a sober and tractable member of the stable. - -"Gee-gee!" quoth the ayah importantly to the bundle in her arms; and -young Richard, aged eight or nine months, leapt and squealed with -delight. He was a handsome, good-tempered child; to Stella he appeared -singularly intelligent, and she felt almost happy that afternoon -wandering about the garden with him and his attendants, the ayah -garrulous and consequential, swinging her voluminous skirts, a staid -bearer carrying a white umbrella and a rattle.... Yet Stella did not -envy Maud her motherhood, no thrill of maternal longing possessed her as -she took the child in her arms to show him the birds and the squirrels; -she was only thankful there was no "young Robert" to bind her more -closely to the man she had come to loathe.... She wondered how Maud was -progressing with her subtle scheme, wondered with a gleam of hope if, -after all, Robert might not be glad rather than otherwise to get rid of -her, glad to take advantage of Maud's persuasions while pretending to -grant his engaging guest the favour she asked of him. Had Maud already -broached the subject during their ride...? - -Could she have known it, Maud was making headway, craftily, with Robert -while Stella was amusing young Richard. - -"Isn't it funny?" said Mrs. Matthews as she and Colonel Crayfield walked -their horses along the canal bank after a brisk canter. "I feel as if I -had known you for years! I think Stella is very much to be envied." - -"Do you?" He grinned complacently. "Tell me why you think so." - -Maud sighed. "It must be so nice to have a husband one can lean on, who -doesn't expect his wife to do all the planning and thinking. Now with me -and Dick _I_ have to take all the responsibility about everything. I -daresay I seem very frivolous and feather-headed, but I flatter myself I -have my share of common sense. It was dreadful having to decide about -leaving Dick for the hot weather. Of course, I was torn in two--duty, -you know, and all that--but there was the child to be considered as well -as my own health. I am sure if you thought Stella ought to go to the -hills, instead of saying, like Dick, 'do as you think best,' you would -settle it off-hand, not leave the decision to her. Wouldn't you?" - -"Stella has no common sense," he said evasively, frowning. - -Mrs. Matthews gazed thoughtfully ahead. "I know what you mean. Some -people take a long time to grow up. Of course Stella is awfully good and -sweet, but as a companion for a man of the world----" - -He glanced at her in quick suspicion, and she divined that he was -questioning how much, if anything, Stella had confided to her. - -"I can't quite make her out," Maud continued confidentially. "She seems -to me so listless, not interested in anything. I tried my utmost to get -her to talk this morning, but it was no use. What is the matter with -her, Colonel Crayfield?" - -"She's not well, and she will make no sort of effort to rouse herself." -He paused, then added violently: "She's just a little fool!" - -"Well, when you think of her upbringing what can you expect? But it -seems rather hard on you! I wonder if I could help in any way----" - -"What could you do? If a man of my age is weak enough to marry a child, -he must put up with the consequences." - -"Perhaps if she could have a change; is there no one you could send her -to?" - -"Only a woman who wouldn't know how to look after her. She'd very soon -get into mischief." - -"Oh! surely Stella would never do that!" - -His silence was significant. For the moment Mrs. Matthews accepted it. -She appeared plunged in reflection. Presently she said: "Couldn't you -get leave yourself and take her away?" - -"Just now it's quite impossible." - -"I understand. Later on do you think you could manage it?" - -"Perhaps. But I've no use for hill stations." - -"Rotten places," said Maud. "I know I shall be bored to death at -Surima." - -"Not likely," scoffed Robert. "_You!_" - -Mrs. Matthews felt she had perhaps made a false step. "Oh! I've no doubt -I shall have a good time after a fashion. I always make the most of -circumstances, and luckily I have a head if I haven't much heart! I can -take care of myself anywhere. Look here," she went on boldly, "would you -think of entrusting Stella to me? I should like a companion, and there's -plenty of room in the house I have taken. Directly you can get leave you -could join us for a bit, and that would be ripping!" - -He hesitated, gnawed his lip, said grumpily: "It's rather a tall order!" - -"Why? It would do Stella all the good in the world. I'm certain she'd -come back a different creature. You'd never repent it. What could be -worse for you than the silly state she has got into?" - -"That's true," he admitted; and she played on his vanity and his -self-commiseration until he had promised to think over her proposal. - -Maud returned from the ride in the sure and certain hope that she had -triumphed. - - - - -PART II - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -A weak monsoon, following on scarcity already serious; consequent -failure of autumn and spring crops; and famine, dread word, echoed over -the half of India. - -Now the hot weather had set in unusually, as it were, malevolently -early. Areas none too fertile at the best of times reverted to parched -deserts, wells and river-beds dried, canals shrank, strained to the -limit of inadequate supply. People and beasts were dying of disease and -starvation, and officials, both European and Indian, fought one of -Nature's remedies for over-population with every ounce of human energy. - -Philip Flint sat in his office-tent weary, over-taxed, writing with a -sort of dogged persistence. His papers were powdered with dust, the ink -evaporated, thickened in the pot; his eyes smarted and his bones ached. -For months he had been touring through stricken districts, his camp a -kind of flying column, inspecting and organising relief works, famine -camps, poor-houses, hospitals. Out at dawn, often not home till dusk, he -would have to sit up half the night to wrestle with reports and returns, -accounts and statistics; so sparing neither body nor brain on behalf of -the miserable multitude that crawled and craved, hunger-smitten, -homeless, his heart sore with the sight of skeleton children, exhausted -mothers, piteous old people.... - -Early yesterday he had arrived at a remote point far from town or -railway, where earthworks had lately been started for the relief of an -area comprising numerous scattered villages, never prosperous, now on -the verge of absolute ruin. Transport was the chief difficulty; it must -be some time before the light railway that was being laid from the -nearest junction could be completed. Cartage and bullocks were scarce, -and though a certain stock of food and necessaries were already to hand, -there were many to be fed, clothed, accommodated, and the numbers -increased day and night. The hospital sheds, in charge of a native -doctor, were filling rapidly; further medical help would be needed. -Flint had been thankful to hear from his senior subordinate that -recently a Zenana Mission lady had arrived with a fair supply of -comforts. He was familiar with the invaluable work of such women; it was -beyond all praise. As yet he had not had the time to visit the little -encampment pointed out to him on the far side of the works; all day he -had been too busy superintending transport, checking stores of grain, -considering applications for financial assistance, while it was his -duty, as well, to detect and guard against imposition, to sift demands, -even to appear callous, that the ready cunning of those who sought to -benefit by help intended for their suffering brethren might be -frustrated. Only this afternoon he had been nearly outdone by an old -fellow who presented himself among a gang of emaciated villagers -clamouring that he had no plough-bullocks, no seed, nothing--that he and -his descendants were ruined.... At first Flint had listened with -sympathy until something in the demeanour of the bystanders aroused his -suspicions; a few of the less distressed members of the crowd were -covertly smiling as though in amused admiration of the patriarch's -powers of persuasion, and a little adroit inquiry disclosed the fact -that the supplicant was none other than the moneylender of the village -whence they had all come. - -In contrast with this example of rascality a man of low caste in obvious -need had stoutly refused assistance other than in the form of a loan -from the Government to be repaid with reasonable interest when times -should improve. So it had gone on from the first--patience and pride, -heroic endurance, a fine sense of fair play, in company with avarice, -fraud, evil intention. Ignorance, stupidity, superstition had to be -reckoned with as well, allowed for; the problems were endless, for, -while the people must be tended and fed, money could not be wasted or -misapplied. - -At last Flint laid down his pen and leaned back in his chair to relax -muscles and mind. Had he been called upon to define his condition, he -would have summed it up simply in the one word "cooked." He lit a -cigarette and allowed his thoughts liberty, it was seldom he permitted -them to dwell upon the past, but to-night he was too tired for -self-discipline. On leaving Rassih he had volunteered for famine work as -a desperate antidote to his sickness of heart and spirit; this in face -of the knowledge that the decision had probably cost him a chance of -important advancement, but the future for him had been shorn of -attraction, and the sight of wretchedness and want, his passionate pity -for the helpless, the strain and the stress of the work had, he knew, -preserved him from despair as no official promotion could have preserved -him at the time. - -All the same Stella had never been far from his memory, and to-night she -seemed to him painfully near. Again he went over that last scene in the -Commissioner's house, saw Crayfield standing grim and contemptuous in -the big drawing-room, Stella weeping and helpless, himself worsted, -ashamed, without honest claim to defence. "_Slink, you young hound!_" -The sentence forced itself backwards and forwards through his brain, -hitting his pride each time like a shameful blow.... In his weak -selfishness what misery he had brought upon himself and the woman he -loved, would never cease to love. Where was she now? What was she doing? -He pictured her at the piano accompanying the self-satisfied vocal -performance of her husband! He visioned the light on her hair, the -delicate outline of her neck, and he writhed as the memory tortured his -heart. What devilish fate had taken him to Rassih! Yet he had a feeling -that in any case he and Stella must ultimately have met, and that some -day, somehow, they must meet again. The refrain of a cheaply sentimental -little ballad he had heard her sing came back to him: "Some day, some -day, some day, I shall meet you"--he could almost hear the clear, -chorister-like voice.... Of a certainty the day would come, and then? He -smiled with a sweet bitterness as he recalled her faith in his work, in -his usefulness to India; she had said: "Without men like you the wheel -would not go round." Well, he was doing his best in his own way to act -up to her trust; and for her sake he would stick to the wheel, humbly, -unswervingly, though the zest and the savour of ambition had gone, wiped -out by unlawful love.... - -A cold muzzle crept into his hand that hung listless at his side--Jacob, -diffident, sensitive, asking attention; Jacob had loved her too, with -all his tender dog-heart. On that terrible evening Jacob had sat -shivering on the edge of her skirt, conscious of trouble, until he -followed his miserable master from the room. - -Suddenly he became aware that someone was speaking; he looked up to see -an apologetic peon standing at his elbow. - -"Sahib, there is a memsahib without." - -For one wild second he fancied it might be Stella, his mind was so full -of her. Had she fled to him, sure of his love and protection, willing to -give herself into his care? He felt as though aroused from a distressing -dream, perhaps to find that all the pain and the longing had passed---- - -"A memsahib is without," repeated the peon resentfully. "She will not -depart, though this slave hath told her that the sahib is busy." - -Flint rose mechanically, his reason flouting the fancy that Stella could -be "the memsahib without." A tall figure was framed in the doorway of -the tent. - -"Yes?" he said with tentative politeness. - -"I won't keep you long." The voice was brisk and high. "I've come from -the Zenana Mission camp, where I'm helping Miss Abigail on behalf of the -Charitable Relief Fund Committee." - -"Indeed!" murmured Philip, inwardly apprehensive. The Charitable Relief -Fund Committee sometimes added heavily to his work and responsibilities, -admirable though its purpose, welcome though its help. - -"Yes, I've been hoping all day to get hold of you, but you were always -somewhere else." - -"Please come in." He glanced around dubiously, for the interior of the -tent seemed hardly fit for the reception of a lady; files and papers -heaped on the table, on the chairs, even on the floor; dust, cigarette -ends, everywhere; camp equipage, boxes, books and boots, in a hopeless -jumble. - -"I'm afraid it's all very untidy," he added as he cleared a seat. - -The brisk, high voice responded: "What _does_ it matter! Who can hope to -be tidy in these horrible circumstances. I feel very untidy myself." - -She did not look it, whatever she felt. Here was no typical Zenana -Mission female, but a long-limbed, well-built girl, garbed in a neat -holland frock, brown shoes, wash-leather gloves, and an obviously -English felt hat, bound with a blue puggaree, that proclaimed itself -"Indispensable for travel in the East." All very plain and serviceable, -but to an experienced eye undoubtedly expensive. - -To Flint's astonishment she took off her hat, carelessly, as any man -might have done, and dropped it beside her chair. He saw that her hair -was cropped short, a thick mop of curling, fox-coloured hair; that her -eyes, clear and shining, were grey (and truculent), that her freckled -irregular nose and rather large mouth had a certain charm. He felt -faintly scandalised when she proceeded to help herself calmly to a -cigarette from his box, lighting it with an accustomed air. Smoking -among ladies was not general in India at that period. Seated, she -crossed her legs, showing slim ankles and neatly-turned calves in brown -stockings. - -"Well," she began, "I thought someone ought to come and tell you that a -lot of people have bolted from the relief works." - -"Yes, I know----" - -"And you don't care, I suppose," she interrupted. - -He stared at her, puzzled; why this unprovoked attack? "We shall get -them back. Perhaps you don't realise the reason----" - -Again she broke in: "It's because you officials inspire no trust!" - -What on earth was the matter with the girl--was she a lunatic? - -"I'm afraid superstition is more to blame," he told her patiently. "Some -mischief-maker among them has probably started the report that they are -all to be murdered in order to extract oil from their bodies for -medicinal purposes." - -"What nonsense!" - -He wondered if she meant the report, or his explanation. - -"Of course it's nonsense. But that kind of thing will happen, even -nowadays. Superstition dies hard in India. Coolies often bolt wholesale -when some important work has to be started, because in old times, before -our occupation of the country, a human victim was nearly always buried -beneath the foundations of any big building as a sop to the gods!" - -He could see she did not believe him. His anger rose. "How long have you -been out here?" he inquired. - -"Quite long enough to discover how little the people are considered. I -think the Government ought to be hanged. Not a penny will you spend--on -this famine, for example--without exacting the uttermost farthing in -return. You make these wretched creatures work for a mere pittance, you -force them into poor-houses when you know it lowers their self-respect, -and many of them die because they would rather die than accept relief in -the way you administer it!" She paused, breathless. - -"And how do you propose it should be administered--indiscriminately, and -no questions asked? That would be rather hard on the taxpayers, and bad -for the people themselves. I think even the Charitable Relief Fund -Committee would hardly work on those lines." - -She ignored his argument. "It's appalling," she went on heatedly, "to -find how badly private charity is needed. I came out a few weeks ago to -see what I could do to help, and I'm horrified. Where would all these -unfortunate people be without the Charitable Relief Fund!" - -"If it comes to that," he retorted, "where would they be without all the -Government machinery that is kept ready to be set going directly -scarcity becomes serious--the means of transport, the linking up with -unaffected Provinces, the loans for seed and cattle. Good Heavens, you -can have no conception of the work." - -She opened her mouth to speak, but he stopped her with a peremptory -gesture, and continued quickly: "Private charity is of the utmost value -in a calamity of this kind, and we are only too thankful for it, -especially in remote regions, but personal sacrifice and hard work isn't -entirely confined to the non-official. The help would be simply a drop -in the ocean if the way hadn't been prepared. Try to be just, Miss----" - -He waited interrogatively. - -"Baker--Dorothy Baker"--she waved her cigarette. "You may have heard of -my father, Lord Redgate?" - -So here was the solution of the girl's extraordinary antagonism. She was -the daughter of a new-made nobleman whose apparent object in life, to -judge by his speeches, was to disparage British administration in India, -to discount the long years of effort and experience, to undermine -confidence in honest rule. No doubt such an undertaking engendered a -nice sense of superiority and importance that blinded its owner to the -truth, if his eyes were not shut deliberately. This obtrusive young -woman was clearly imbued with her parent's particular form of conceit. -He would not trouble to wrangle with her further. - -"Oh! yes," he said indifferently; "we have all heard of your father. Did -he object to your coming out here alone?" - -"Object? Of course not. He believes in the freedom of the individual. -And if he had objected I should be here all the same. I always do as I -please." - -"And it pleased you to come out and do famine work. How kind of you!" - -She shot him a glance of contemptuous suspicion. He understood all that -the glance implied; as a British official in India he was an enemy of -the people, a bureaucrat, battening on the revenue wrung from a -poverty-stricken land, one of the guilty gang that kept Indians from the -possession of their country. Yet she seemed in no hurry to quit the -presence of such a tyrant and oppressor; evidently she found his chair -comfortable, was enjoying his cigarettes, and perhaps she was not -altogether averse to a little change of companionship? It was -conceivable that the privilege of constant intercourse with her Zenana -colleague might have become a bit of a strain. For himself her young -presence, despite her antagonism, was in a measure welcome after his fit -of depression. Physically she was an attractive creature, and her naïve -self-importance, her impulsive opinions, suited her vigorous -personality. Jacob, the little traitor, was already making advances to -the visitor. She snapped her finger and thumb in response. - -"I like dogs," she said, as though it were a form of weakness that -redounded to her credit. "And they always love me!" - -"And horses?" - -"Oh! yes, rather! I wanted to buy a pony, but Miss Abigail seemed to -think it would not be quite in keeping with the work we are doing, and -that the money had better be spent in some other direction. We get -about in a bullock shigram, not a very comfortable or rapid mode of -progression, but comfort and convenience don't count, of course. -Personally, I'm not sure that we oughtn't to walk everywhere." - -"It would perhaps be a waste of energy and time," suggested Philip. - -"But think of the example! You, I suppose, ride or drive everywhere?" - -"I couldn't get through my work if I didn't; it would entail endless -delay in the administration of relief. I'm practically single-handed in -this circle. For example, to-morrow morning I have to cover, roughly -speaking, about fifteen miles before breakfast. How would you like to -come with me? Have you a saddle--I could mount you." - -Obviously the offer tempted her. "Yes, I brought out my saddle. Perhaps -it wouldn't be a bad thing----" - -"It would give you a further opportunity of condemning our iniquitous -methods," said Philip meekly. - -She let the thrust pass. "All right; what time do you start?" - -"About six. Is that too early for you?" - -"Don't talk rot! Send the gee to our camp, and I'll be ready." - -"Good! Now can I offer you any refreshment--will you have a cup of tea -or coffee, or," he ventured, in view of the cigarettes, "a peg?" - -"Nothing, thank you." She rose a little reluctantly. "Now I must get -back----" - -"Have you a lantern?" he inquired, for the sudden Indian dusk had -descended. - -She looked out of the tent. "No, I never thought of it, but I can find -my way all right." - -"I'll come with you----" - -She protested. He paid no attention; and presently they were stumbling -along side by side in the wake of a peon who marched ahead swinging a -hurricane lantern, and banging a staff on the ground to scare possible -snakes that at this season, waking from their winter sleep, were apt to -lie curled in the warm dust, a danger to pedestrians. - -"Are you married?" she asked him suddenly. - -"No, I am a lone being, and I think it is just as well." - -"Why?" - -"If I had a wife and children it would only mean separation sooner or -later. Children must be sent home after a certain age, not only on -account of health and education but because the moral atmosphere is bad -for them, and to my mind the children should be considered before the -husband." - -"How do you mean--the moral atmosphere?" she asked argumentatively. "I -have always understood that natives were excellent with children, kind -and patient and faithful." - -"They are all that, bless them!" he said, "but their ideas of discipline -are not quite the same as our own. To tell lies is merely a matter of -self-protection, and, all wrong as it may seem, they knuckle under to -English children, let them have their own way, and encourage them -indirectly to be arrogant and self-indulgent, taking a sort of pride in -their faults! At least that is what my married friends tell me." - -"Then the parents are to blame!" declared Miss Baker severely, "for -leaving their children to the care of servants while they amuse -themselves flirting and dancing and playing games! You don't accuse this -Mr. Kipling everybody talks about of writing what is not true, I -conclude?" - -"Have you never read a preface to one of his books in which he -particularly warns his readers not to judge of the dirt of a room by the -sweepings in a corner? Parents in India are much the same as parents in -England, and parents in England haven't to contend with exile and -climate and long separations"--he paused, feeling he was wasting his -breath, and was ashamed of a spiteful little sense of satisfaction when -at that moment she tripped and clung to him to save herself a fall. - -"Now, if I hadn't been with you"--he could not help reminding her. - -"I should have come a cropper, and probably been none the worse," she -replied ungratefully. "What were we saying? Oh! about parents in India. -Why do you go into the Indian services at all then? You know what to -expect!" - -"Why do we go into the army and the navy--the worst paid professions on -earth? It's an instinct, thank goodness, and with it goes the love of -justice and fair play towards the weak and unprotected. It's the keynote -of our power all the world over." - -"Oh! you are hopeless!" cried Miss Baker. "I call it love of conquest, -and position, and power!" - -"Call it what you like, don't you shut your eyes to the results--anyway, -out here." - -"The results! Poverty and famine, and a refusal to allow the people to -govern themselves, refusal to mix with them socially----" - -"Wait a moment," he interrupted, angry with himself because he could not -keep silence. "Which in your opinion should govern--the Hindus or the -Mohammedans?" - -"Of course the Hindus. India is _their_ country." - -"The Mohammedans would have something to say to that; or, rather, it -would be deeds not words. And how about other nations who would all like -to exploit India? We could hardly be expected to keep up an army and a -navy to prevent them from doing so if we had no stake in the country." - -"Go on," she urged sarcastically. "I am listening." - -"When India is in a position to protect herself from internal quarrels -and foreign invasion it will be time enough for us to clear out; and as -far as social questions go I can assure you they are not at all anxious -to mix with us. Their customs and traditions are all opposed to ours.... -But it would take weeks to give you even the most superficial idea of -the difficulties, and at the end I suppose you wouldn't believe me." - -"Oh! I've heard it all over and over again from hide-bound old generals -and retired civilians at home, the same time-worn arguments that really -mean nothing. However, I am quite ready to believe that you, personally, -are well disposed towards the people, and that you do your best for them -in spite of the trammels of red tape!" - -He refrained from an amused expression of gratitude. After all, the -girl was actuated by benevolent intention, however befogged, and she was -enduring discomforts, almost hardship, in her self-imposed philanthropy, -as he realised when they arrived at the Zenana Mission encampment. What -wretched little tents, badly pitched, ill-lighted, with a clamouring -throng of distressful humanity pressing up to the very flaps. From the -tent in the centre came the sound of singing; a familiar hymn tune. - -"There now!" exclaimed Miss Baker in vexation. "I'm late for evening -prayers. I'm an atheist myself, but I try to fit in with my chief's -customs." - -"I hope for her sake that you spare her argument on the subject of -religion at least!" said Flint with a magnanimous laugh, as he held her -hand in farewell. "We shall meet again to-morrow morning." - -He watched her disappear into the principal tent, and turned his steps -back to his camp, his feelings ajar. Why would these good folk from home -interfere in what they knew nothing about. What mischief they made, all -unwittingly for the most part, adding to the difficulties already so -great for those who were working under conditions but dimly understood -even by the faction who trusted their own countrymen, and did not regard -the English official as a thief and a bully and a time server.... - -In spite of Miss Baker's tiresome attitude, he looked forward to seeing -her the following morning. She was a stimulating companion and engaging -in her way with her boyish figure, her eager grey eyes, her expressive, -irregular features.... In time, if they met often enough, they might -become friends--an armed friendship, perhaps, but none the less -interesting for that.... What would Stella have thought of her, Stella -with her passionate perception of the work that England had done in the -past, was doing in the present, would continue to do as long as she was -permitted, with honest endeavour, for India. He was conscious of a -revival of his old ambitions as he plodded over the uneven track, and -far into the night he sat writing, reading, spurred, refreshed as well, -by the unexpected diversion of Miss Baker's visit and her violent -opinions. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -Miss Baker could ride; not a doubt about that, thought Philip. She sat -squarely in her saddle, hands down, right shoulder well back; her habit -skirt was very short, she wore a stiff white shirt and collar, and a -linen coat. The whole effect was neat and smart and pleasing. How she -chattered as they rode over the bare, dusty plain! Some of her theories -rather startled her cavalier; for example, she considered it immoral of -people to have large families unless they could afford to educate the -children highly--this with reference to some friends of Miss Abigail's -who had spent the previous day in the Zenana Mission camp on their way -to the nearest station, a missionary with his spouse and offspring. - -"Did you tell them so?" asked Flint with amused curiosity. - -"Yes, of course I did; and I asked them how they were going to provide -for three boys and two girls in the future." - -"What did they say?" - -"They said the Lord would provide, and that the mission granted an extra -allowance for each child!" - -"Then you can hardly blame them, I suppose." - -"I think that clergymen, and doctors, and schoolmasters ought all to be -celibates. They should be able to give their whole attention to their -work unhampered by domestic affairs." - -"That is expecting a good deal, surely?" - -"I don't see it. Marriage isn't everything. Now if I were a man I should -never marry." - -"And not being a man?" - -"Oh, I dare say I shall marry some day, but my husband would have to -share my views on all the important questions of the day, and believe -absolutely in the equality of the sexes. At present I hate men." - -"Oh, dear!" - -"Yes, that is partly why I came out to India, to escape"--she checked -herself as though she had been on the brink of a confidence, then -added--"to escape worrying attentions." - -"Then it was not entirely devotion to the downtrodden masses of this -miserable country?" he asked slyly. - -She flushed and said with lofty evasion: "I felt India needed me, I -wanted to _help_ India. I don't mean to stay out here permanently, of -course; only till I have collected enough information and proof to open -the eyes of the electors at home. I shall write a book. I think I shall -call it 'What I saw in India.'" - -"Why not 'The Evil English in the East,'" he suggested amiably. "An -alliterative title is always arresting. The one you have thought of -might be regarded as almost too uncommon?" - -She laughed as though unable to help herself. At least, it seemed she -had some saving sense of humour. - -"How silly you are! You don't take life seriously at all!" - -"Perhaps not;" he spoke carelessly, but he felt he could have shaken -Miss Baker--conceited, self-satisfied monkey!--puffed up with her -superficial views, untouched as she was by trouble or experience, so -ready to blame and condemn where she did not understand. Of what avail -to argue with her, why should he bother about what she thought, if she -ever really thought at all! Help India, indeed! Who was she to help or -even hinder the great machinery of Eastern administration, and as to her -independence of sex--some day she would learn that she was but flying in -the face of nature, and he hoped she would suffer for it. - -"We must get on," he said; and as they put their horses into a gallop he -found himself admiring the way in which she handled the mount he had -lent her, a high-spirited young chestnut, unaccustomed to a side-saddle, -yet aware that liberties could not be taken with his present rider; -Flint noted the strong turn of her wrist, the firmness of her long, slim -foot in the stirrup, the poise of her straight young figure. It crossed -his mind, but for her wild ideas what a wife she would make for a man -whose life was all action; ready for emergencies and discomforts, -willing to rough it, daring, unafraid. She ought to marry a colonial, go -with him to Canada, Australia, his equal in physical endurance, and -disregard of convention, yet mastered by his manhood, the mother of a -string of strong children whether they could be educated highly or not! -An unworthy temptation assailed him; as they arrived at an outstanding -relief camp he helped her from her saddle with a bold tenderness that -held an element of revenge, held her hand a little longer than was -strictly necessary, looked into her fine grey eyes, of purpose intently. -He could not tell if she recognised the unspoken signal; if she did she -ignored it, and presently they were deep in the object of their -expedition, tramping over hot, hard ground, watching the slow movements -of the ragged crowd--women and children breaking up dry clumps of soil, -carrying it on their heads in baskets; men and boys digging, scraping. -It was like an ants' nest without the energy and diligence of those -insects, for the workers were weak and apathetic, only looking forward, -as was natural, to the distribution of food and money that was to -follow. - -Flint was on the look out for bullying among the overseers, for petty -pilfering on the part of the distributors of supplies; he listened -patiently to complaints, investigated grievances, and entirely forgot -Miss Baker except when she asked questions or got in his way. She -followed him for the most part silently, unobtrusively, and the morning -was well advanced before it suddenly struck him that his companion must -be feeling the need of refreshment. They were a long way from -headquarters, far from any place of accommodation; the sun was -overpowering; he noted that she looked tired and hot, he himself felt -fagged. His inspection was not yet completed. Never mind, he could -return this evening and finish it at the price of a little extra -pressure and exertion. - -He took out his watch. "Look here," he said penitently, "you must be -pretty well done. Let us get back as quick as we can and have a good -breakfast in my camp." - -She hesitated; if he could have seen into her mind she was thinking of -the kind of meal she might expect on her return to Miss Abigail's tents -(boiled rice and pulse, and perhaps a stew that had seen service -already). She was despising herself because the temptation was strong to -accept the invitation, and not altogether on account of the better fare. - -"Wouldn't it be proper for you to breakfast with me alone?" he asked -provocatively. - -"I wasn't thinking of that!" she exclaimed with scorn, and added, not -quite honestly: "I was only wondering if Miss Abigail would be keeping -breakfast waiting for me----" She knew perfectly well that Miss Abigail -would not. - -"She knows you are with me, I suppose?" - -"Oh, yes----" - -"Then why worry? Come along." - -On their way back she asked him: "You do this kind of thing every day?" - -"Certainly. It's my job." - -"But you are paid for it," she remarked vindictively. - -"One must live, though perhaps in my case you don't see the necessity. -Anyway I get no extra pay, so it's not for pure love of gain!" - -"How do you mean? Weren't you ordered to do the work?" - -"As it happens, no. I volunteered." - -"Then where would you have been if you hadn't?" - -"At Simla perhaps, or somewhere away from the famine area in my own -province." - -"Then you don't belong to this part?" - -"No, I've been lent." - -"At your own request?" - -"Haven't I just said so?" - -For a space she was silent. Then she said grudgingly: "After all, it's -nothing so very wonderful!" - -"I quite agree. I lay no claim to doing anything wonderful. Now _you_, -on the other hand, have left a comfortable home and quite a different -kind of life at, I am sure, an enormous sacrifice, to come out and _help -India_!" - -She winced obviously, and he enjoyed her discomfiture; yet his -conscience smote him, for he queried inwardly if he would have been here -at all but for the fateful happenings at Rassih! At the same time he did -not intend to enlighten Miss Baker on that point. For the sake of other -Englishmen who had given their services in this terrible affliction -without reserve, better let her believe that he had been actuated solely -by a stern sense of duty. The result of his work was the same, he had -foregone advancement, was out of the running, over-working himself -without hope of reward in the future. If he were not on the spot someone -else would be; the whole thing was general, not individual. England was -doing her duty by India comprehensively, he was but a fly on the wheel, -and he neither desired nor expected special recognition. But he felt -entitled to exact just approbation, on these grounds, from this -arrogant girl who, in her way, represented a certain section of public -opinion at home. - -Save for a few desultory remarks on the scenery she said little more as -they urged their horses onward, but he noted a new diffidence in her -attitude; she was less aggressive, a little softer, and despite his -contempt for her outlook on Indian affairs he could not forbear to take -advantage of her weakening. He talked seriously, earnestly, of the -problems and peoples of the country, set forth their helpless dependence -on disinterested rule, defended British enterprise; and to his -satisfaction she listened. Through it all he watched her clever, -expressive face; how she showed her feelings!--an undisciplined nature. -One moment he saw hesitation, doubt of her own judgment; the next -incredulity, impatience of his arguments; again a little light of -enthusiasm in her eyes, albeit reluctant, as he spoke of the long line -of heroes who had made India what she was--prosperous, peaceful, secure, -in so far as such a vast and complex country could be secure, unless -danger was fostered from within.... She had a good heart if her brain -was ill-trained, falsely developed; he wondered what her childhood had -been like, how she had been brought up, and later, as they were seated -at breakfast in his tent, he asked her if she had ever been at school. - -"Oh, yes, the ordinary thing, a rotten place at Brighton--all music and -French and dancing. You see, we are very rich people! My father is a big -manufacturer, he began life with the proverbial half-crown in his -pocket. We are not blue-blooded at all, I can assure you! My mother was -the daughter of a small artisan. To the day of her death, a few years -ago, she hated late dinner, and was afraid of the servants. I firmly -believe she died, poor dear, because she had to live in an atmosphere -that was too much for her. She couldn't stand the strain when my father -bought a place in the country and a house in London, and she was obliged -to entertain and meet people she had never been accustomed to. She was a -victim to the intermediate stage. In time, of course, all the big places -will be in the hands of go-ahead men like the pater who have made their -own fortunes, and the idle rich will disappear." - -"What about the descendants of the go-ahead men?" put in Philip. "Have -you any brothers?" - -"Yes, two----" - -"And are they working for their livings?" - -"Well," she moved uneasily, "one is in the Guards and the other is still -at Oxford----" - -"And you were sent to an expensive school for young ladies at Brighton? -In a few generations, I suppose, you will be ousted from your big place -in your turn!" - -"But we know how to take care of our money. It won't be squandered in -racing and cards and dissolute living." - -"How do you know? Doesn't it depend on the individual? There are plenty -of pedigree landlords who are models of stewardship and right thinking, -doing their duty by the country and their responsibilities, just as -there are self-made men who are selfish and hard and tyrannical. It -isn't entirely a question of birth and heredity. I am of opinion that if -a man with an inherited position and property is false to his trust he -should be deprived of it by law, but when he does his best he should be -protected from attacks that are prompted more often by jealousy than by -concern for the poor. What do the majority of self-made men go for, once -they are 'made'? Titles and 'places.' Isn't it true?" - -The girl crumbled the toast on her plate with restless fingers. -"Everything is all wrong," she burst out presently. "My father won't see -that we ought to keep only just enough for ourselves and share the rest -with the people who have helped him to make his money. Why should we -have an estate in the country and a sort of palace in London, while our -workmen are living in slums! It's abominable. I admit we are as bad in -our way as the families that can trace their descent for hundreds of -years and look upon their lands and their tenants as just mediums of -supply for their luxuries and amusements. It will always be the same, I -suppose!" - -"It has been the same since the beginning of the world," said Flint, -"each man for himself. It's human nature. Have some more coffee?" - -"Yes, please. It's delicious. Miss Abigail seems to think it's wrong to -have decent food. Why she and her kind aren't all dead from poisoning I -can't imagine." - -"The survival of the fittest, perhaps." - -"Their hearts and their souls are bound up in the work, and their -stomachs don't seem to matter. I feel I am horribly material and -greedy. Perhaps I haven't a soul or a heart, only a stomach!" - -"In that case you wouldn't be out here," he suggested for her comfort, -"giving your time and your money in a good cause." - -"I don't want to take credit for that. I am beginning to see that I may -have come out with a mistaken motive, not so much to do my little bit -over the famine as to find fault with what seemed to me an autocratic -mode of government. If all Indian officials were like you----" - -"Like me!" Philip gave a bitter little laugh. "I may also have had my -motive in doing famine work apart from the welfare of the people. We are -all actuated by motives, principally selfish and private." - -She finished her coffee. "Anyway," she said, rising, "I am glad we have -met, though you have upset my ideas and made me feel horrid when I -thought I was such an angel of mercy and reform! I am afraid I am very -conceited, but it is so nice to feel superior and generous!" - -He saw tears in her eyes, and he took her outstretched hand in true -comradeship, ashamed of his attempt that morning to play upon her -natural instincts. "Don't bother about motives," he said in friendly -understanding, "go on with your blessed work. We are all doing what we -can for the people of this great old country, and believe me they aren't -insensible to our efforts. They know in their hearts. Some day they will -stand by us and give all they can in recognition of what we have done in -the past for them. The test is bound to come, and whoever gets the -credit doesn't matter. The result will be our reward. The only fear is -that all the drudgery and the sacrifice may be undone, go for nothing, -wrecked by a clique composed of self-seekers, encouraged by those who -have quite other ends to gain." - -They left the tent together. He helped her into her saddle, and watched -her ride off attended by the syce who would bring back the chestnut; the -Honourable Dorothy Baker--born of the people, reared as an aristocrat, -who had set out to patronise those among whom such an anomaly was -impossible, unthinkable! How invaluable might be the zeal of her kind -rightly inspired and directed in the cause of India, could they only -divest themselves of the very arrogance they were so anxious to impute -to the men who were guarding the safety of the brightest jewel in the -crown of England.... - -For the next few hours Flint buried himself in papers. The heat and the -dust and the flies were distracting; he found it hard to fix his mind on -his work, and his thoughts wandered perversely. He remembered he had not -yet written his weekly letter to his mother; it had been so difficult to -write naturally after the upheaval at Rassih, he had felt such a -hypocrite--allowing his parents to infer that in volunteering for famine -work he had been prompted solely by a sense of duty; yet to tell them -the truth was beyond him. He pictured the old people in their -comfortable South Kensington home; his father always busy over local -charities and municipal boards and councils. Major-General Sir Philip -Flint had not shed his energy and public spirit with his retirement from -Indian service. Dear old chap!--white haired, courtly, ever ready to -listen when people came to him with grievances, real or imaginary; and -the mater, with her large circle of old Indian friends, her bazaars, and -her tea parties, and the never ending stream of visitors she was always -so ready to "put up," people just arrived from India, old friends -settled in the country who were intent on a week's shopping; hospitality -was in her bones. She would have loved to harbour grandchildren. Philip -knew how she regretted that his sister was not the wife of an Indian -civilian, or an Indian Army man, though her marriage to a prominent -specialist in Harley Street had been highly satisfactory, as Lady Flint -admitted; of course, she would say, it was a comfort to feel that Grace -was so well provided for, but Grace lived in such a different world from -their own--a world composed of public people, people connected with the -stage, and literature, and art, politics, the law; no dull old Generals, -or members of the Indian Council, and so on for Grace! and there were no -babies to come and spend the day with Granny, to be taken to the -seaside, to be fussed over and spoiled.... Her great hope now, as she -told him in her letters, was that Philip would marry some dear girl -whose family, like his own, had served the Indian Government for -generations, so that they would all understand each other and carry on -the old traditions comfortably, friends in every sense. Grace's friends -and in-laws were a sort of nervous terror to poor Lady Flint. What -would be her feelings, questioned her son as he sat dreaming of his -mother in his tent, so far away from her, could she know the truth, -could she realise that her hopes of such a daughter-in-law would never -be fulfilled so long as Stella Crayfield claimed his heart; and that -would be for always--till he died.... - -The pen dropped from his fingers, he leaned back in his chair, drowsy, -inert. Jacob was snoring in a corner; from without came the ceaseless -murmur of the concourse awaiting his decisions, and on his table lay -such piles of papers still to be examined. From sheer weariness he fell -asleep and dreamed of Stella, of their hopeless love, and mingled with -it all was the memory of Dorothy Baker, vigorous, purposeful, arresting. -He seemed to be standing between the two girls at the base of a long -flight of steps; they were urging him upward, but he felt tired, -slack-limbed, heavy-hearted; he wanted to rest. The steps were so steep, -high as a pyramid of Egypt; he could not see the top, it was lost in a -haze of luminous light. "Go on, go on," they were saying; they were -holding each other's hands, as it seemed to him conspiring to urge him -forward. "Go on; they have all gone up in their turn--look! some are -already at the top, some have died on the way, some have lost -everything, but never mind--go on, go on...." - -And he struggled, lifting his feet to the steps that were rough and -burning, to find himself in the midst of a ghostly pageant. Near him was -a little old man with dim tragic eyes, dressed in a blue coat and knee -breeches. Where had he seen him before? There was a world of sorrow, of -bitter disappointment in the small, bowed figure, so pathetic, yet -breathing a spirit of wisdom and untiring tenacity. "Who are you, little -old man, tell me who you are?" Philip heard himself asking. And faintly, -as though borne on the hot west wind, came the whisper of a name--was it -Warren Hastings? A wrinkled yellow hand was raised, pointing upward.... -A few more steps; now he was pushing through a motley host all strangely -garbed. Some of them held up a Cross and a Book, some displayed tokens -of trade; there were women with empty arms, weeping for the husbands and -the children they had lost, yet glorying in the sacrifice; and a band of -people, half English half Indian, who had given their lives in the cause -of their great two parents. They were lining the ladder, the stiff, -steep ladder.... Someone stepped out from the crowd and laid an -encouraging hand on his arm: "Go on, my boy, fight! There is nothing -like fighting!" and to his horror Philip saw that the speaker's throat -was cut, that he held in his hand a little penknife and a pen, just a -quill pen.... Who was it? Who was it had ended his life in a moment of -mad impulse, the fine brain snapping with the strain and the fervour of -work and responsibility? Ah, now he remembered; it was Clive, great -Clive! so noble, so strong in his influence and judgment, in his making -of Indian history. Always a fighter, even from his schoolboy days.... -What a pitiful end to a brave career! and yet what matter when the task -had been accomplished, victories won; at least he had but sought peace -and repose in his own way and at his own time. The hand that held the -fatal little knife was also waving him upward, pointing to the top.... -With him were others, ghosts from the past, whispering names, magical -names, that lived not only in the memories of those of their own race -and colour but in the hearts of the people they had served and fought -for, and saved; also great fighters with dusky faces and flashing eyes, -faithful supporters, fearless and fierce, without whose allegiance all -the strife and the sacrifice might have been useless; one in spirit with -their leaders, East and West bound together by one high aim--that of -justice and right.... "Don't fail us," they chorused. "Keep going, give -of your best as we did before you!" And they waved their swords and -their scimitars, and the Cross, driving him upward, till at the summit -he saw a speck of light that, as he climbed, grew in brilliance, took -shape, and formed itself into letters of fire: "_Star of India_." - -He cried: "What can I do? I am only one of a crowd, a fly on the wheel!" -The sound of his own voice wakened him; he stood up, still dazed, -haunted by the fantastic dream. Jacob was snoring in the corner; hoarse -voices murmured outside; a swirl of hot dust and wind shook the tent. -Mechanically Flint sorted his papers, put on his hat, and went forth -into the hot stillness of the evening. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -As was only to be expected, Miss Baker had brought a photographic outfit -with her to the Zenana Mission camp. Flint came across her next evening -endeavouring to snap a little bevy of "famine wallahs," new arrivals, -squatting with their cooking vessels till their turn for attention -should come. There seemed to be no extreme cases among them, and though -all were obviously weary, in need of food, none were too exhausted to -exhibit lively alarm at sight of the Feringhee woman who waved her hands -and pointed her black box at them. They hid their faces, turned their -backs, jabbered expostulations, finally rose and scattered like so many -frightened fowls, leaving their utensils behind them. - -Philip halted, just for a moment. He was in a hurry, on his way to take -over a large consignment of incoming supplies. - -"Illustrations for a book, I suppose?" he said, smiling at her annoyance -with the fleeing little crowd; of course she was ignorant of the belief -among the rustic population that when a picture is taken a portion of -the spirit goes with it, causing calamity. "Take photographs when -they're not looking," he advised. - -She turned the camera on to him. "Let me take you. At any rate you can -stand still, I imagine. I must take something. I don't know how many -plates I haven't wasted over these people. What on earth is the matter -with them?" - -"I can't stop to explain or to stand still at present. A lot of stuff is -arriving and I must go and receive it." - -"Come and have tea with us to-morrow, and I'll take you then. Miss -Abigail told me to ask you, if you came along. She's over there." - -Miss Baker indicated a temporary enclosure in the near distance, where -he could see a short, substantial figure trundling about amidst a -gathering of women and children. - -"Thanks, I'd like to come. I ought to have paid my respects before now." -He cantered off, leaving Miss Baker preparing to photograph the -abandoned pots and pans. - -When the time came for him to fulfil the engagement for the following -afternoon he was surprised to realise how eagerly he had looked forward -to it. Work and anxiety had slackened a little with the arrival of fresh -supplies, and he felt almost light-hearted as he bathed and got into -clean flannels; for the first time since he had left Rassih he caught -himself singing in his bath. He walked the good half-mile that lay -between his own encampment and that of the Zenana Mission lady, Jacob at -his heels, well groomed like his master; they were a good-looking -English pair. - -Miss Baker was outside the living tent photographing Laban, the native -Bible teacher, who posed in mingled pride and uneasiness--proud to be -taken in his black alpaca coat and pork-pie cap, a shiny-bound Testament -in one hand, a bulging umbrella in the other; uneasy because deep down -in his mind, for all his enlightenment, there lurked the same fear that -had brought about the flight of the famine wallahs. - -"One minute," Miss Baker called out to the approaching visitor; a click, -and she raised her head triumphantly. "Thank you, Mr. Laban. That ought -to be very good. You shall have some copies to send to your home, and -I'll put your picture in my book." - -"Mr. Laban" salaamed, and withdrew hurriedly. Then it was Flint's turn. -He submitted while Miss Baker took him seated, standing, with Jacob, -without Jacob; she fetched a larger camera from her own tent, and talked -of head-and-shoulders, profile, full, and three-quarter face portraits. -She commanded him to take off his hat. - -"But I shall get sunstroke, and you would have to nurse me," he -quibbled, rather bored with the performance, though Miss Baker's -engrossment amused him, and she was a pleasant vision in her blue linen -frock, a bright flush on her cheeks, her ruddy hair curling about her -neck and ears and forehead beneath what might have been a boy's straw -hat. - -"Oh! Miss Abigail would do that!" she assured him. "I hate nursing. I -know nothing about it. Come into the shade of the trees behind the -tents." - -The little camp was pitched close to a couple of mango trees, probably -the sole survivors of a once flourishing grove, but as the space -surrounding their trunks had been appropriated by the servants as an -open-air kitchen, shared by the shigram bullocks, a goat and her kids, a -collection of fowls, and a few sprawling children, Flint hesitated, -compromised. - -"Why not the big peepul tree further back?" he suggested. - -The tree in question stood solitary and majestic between the camp and -the adjacent village, a landmark in the wide flatness, mightier, far -more ancient than the mango trees. No doubt it had once shaded a temple -long since ruined and decayed. - -"But it's such a way off," objected Miss Baker. "We'd better have tea -first. The light will be better afterwards, too." - -Miss Abigail settled the question for the moment. She emerged from the -living tent, a stout, ungainly body, grey-haired, middle-aged, browned -by exposure and innumerable hot weathers. But there was character in the -blunt, homely features, courage in the small light eyes; a woman to be -trusted and esteemed in spite of her unfortunate appearance. Philip -liked her instinctively. She reminded him of a cottage loaf, rather -overbaked, all knobs and crusty protuberances, spreading and wholesome. - -Miss Baker introduced them with a proprietary air that included them -both, and they entered the tent where tea was laid carelessly on an -unsteady camp table. The spout of the teapot was broken, the plates were -all chips and cracks, there was a pat of Danish butter, goat's milk, -some slabs of thick toast, and a tin of jam roughly opened with some -blunt implement. - -He glanced at Miss Baker, saw her nose wrinkle ever so slightly, as -though in suppressed distaste. Was she contrasting the spectacle with -afternoon tea in "the sort of palace" in London, and "the place in the -country"? - -Nevertheless, it was a cheerful little meal. They laughed and talked. -Flint described to Miss Abigail the scene he had witnessed the previous -evening when the "famine wallahs" had refused to be photographed. He -explained the reason to Miss Baker, who said it was, of course, the -fault of the Government that such silly ideas should still be general. -The people should have been educated out of them by this time. - -"What about the freedom of the individual?" he inquired. "Why should -they be photographed if they dislike it, for whatever reason?" - -"That's a smack at me, I suppose," said Miss Baker huffily. - -"Not a very hard smack, any way." He looked at her with a friendly -smile, and, mollified, she smiled back at him. It turned out that Miss -Abigail knew the Beards at Rassih, though she had seen nothing of them -for years. She asked many questions about them and their work, few of -which Flint was able to answer, indeed he could hardly remember what the -Beards were like. They talked "shop," discussed the works, and the -shelters, and the hospital, agreed how lucky it was that the well in the -village was holding out satisfactorily so far; Miss Abigail was certain -she had seen a small cloud in the distance that morning, and was -confident that if they all prayed hard enough rain would fall within a -reasonable time. Flint said politely that he hoped so indeed; Miss Baker -tried not to look scornful. - -Between them they emptied the teapot and finished the toast; and Miss -Baker observed that if Mr. Flint insisted on being photographed under -the peepul tree they had better be up and doing. Miss Abigail was -persuaded to accompany them, though she openly grudged the time, and -they plodded through the dust of the rough road that led past the camp, -and the great tree, on to the village beyond. - -"I hate peepul trees," said Miss Abigail, with an odd little shudder; -"the leaves never seem to be still, even when there is hardly a breath -of wind to stir them. Look at them, hark at them now!" - -The flat spade-shaped leaves trembled in the sultry evening heat; the -faint, continuous rustle sounded like whispering voices. No wonder -Philip reflected that spirits were believed by the people to dwell in -the branches. Miss Abigail glanced disgustedly at the rough, time-worn -stones scattered about its roots; some bore traces of carving, -unmistakable figures of idols, others showed sacred symbols, defaced, -indistinct, all remnants of a former shrine or temple. Bits of rag had -been hung by some passing worshipper to the lower twigs of the tree; it -looked, as Miss Baker remarked, as though someone had flown through the -branches, leaving scraps of their clothing behind them. - -"The rags are hung there as a protection against evil spirits," said -Flint; "all the superstitions connected with the peepul tree would fill -a good-sized volume. Look at that bit of thread wound round the trunk; -somebody has lately been propitiating the tree by walking round it and -winding the thread as they went. The peepul is the home of the Hindu -Trinity, as well as of mischievous devils!" - -"There's a nasty atmosphere of idolatry that doesn't suit me at all," -proclaimed Miss Abigail. "It's high time a Christian was buried here to -counteract all the wickedness this horrid old tree must have witnessed -in its time!" She smiled at her own little pleasantry. - -Philip laughed. "And then the grave would become a sort of shrine in its -turn, and the people would make offerings to it, and hang more rags than -ever in the branches above it!" - -Miss Baker turned to Miss Abigail. "But you wouldn't like to be buried -here, would you?" she inquired, aghast. - -"I don't care where I am buried when my time comes, but here for choice -if I thought it would do any good." Miss Abigail dived into a capacious -pocket, pulled out a pair of folding scissors, and calmly proceeded to -cut the thread that encircled the tree trunk. "There! That's my protest -against the devil and all his bad works." - -To the embarrassment of her companions she then knelt down on the roots -and in a loud voice said a vigorous prayer. What a curious contrast she -presented to her surroundings--an almost grotesque figure in an attitude -of supplication with her dust-coloured gown flowing about her, and an -unlovely sun hat on the back of her head. Jacob sniffed at the soles of -her boots that protruded from beneath her skirts. The prayer finished, -she rose without a trace of self-consciousness, brushed the dust from -her knees, and requested Miss Baker to make haste over the photography -as her help would soon be needed in the camp with the evening work. -Then she stumped off towards the tents. - -"Did you ever!" exclaimed Miss Baker, looking after the retreating -figure. "Now I suppose something awful will happen to us all. I feel -quite nervous. Hark at the leaves. There really might be something -moving about in the branches!" - -"Shall we hang up a piece of rag?" suggested Philip chaffingly. - -Half in earnest, she took out her handkerchief, a white wisp with a -pretty coloured border. - -"It's a pity to tear that," said Philip. - -"A sacrifice!" she replied; and before he could stop her she had torn it -in two. "Now, you hang up one bit and I'll hang up the other. What would -Miss Abigail say! For goodness' sake don't tell her." - -Laughing, they hitched the bits of cambric to the twigs above their -heads, and Miss Baker picked up her camera. - -"Now, then, take off your hat, and let's hope the spirits won't spoil my -pictures." - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -Three days later cholera broke out on the relief works. - -During the afternoon a woman had arrived with a dead, monkey-like infant -in her arms and a dilapidated little family clinging to her skirts, only -herself to curl up and die in the heartbreaking fashion common to the -stricken native, haplessly, silently, without struggle or protest. -Before dawn the demon let loose among a weakened multitude had begun to -pick off victims, here in a triangle, there in a semicircle, again in a -neat zigzag, as if with mathematical malice and caprice.... - -Flint, roused at daybreak by the fatal news, worked for hours in -conjunction with the medical officer, dosing, segregating, attending to -the removal of the dead, striving to stem the panic that might drive the -people to scatter over the countryside, spreading the disease. Then, -after a hasty breakfast, he rode off to Miss Abigail's camp with the -intention of urging Miss Baker to seek some other field of activity in -view of the present danger. He encountered Laban, the Bible teacher, -nervous and voluble, outside the principal tent, and was informed by him -that the two ladies had gone forth the previous morning to visit a small -outpost in connection with the Mission some few miles distant, having -arranged to remain there for the night. They had not yet returned. - -"This is a very bad sickness!" added Laban. "How shall we all escape -with our lives--and my grandmother dying in Cawnpur, calling, and -calling for my presence!" - -"Meantime," suggested Philip, left cold in regard to the grandmother, -"hadn't you better go and help with the children whose parents are dying -or dead? There's a good supply of tinned milk, and it's got to be served -out quickly." - -The teacher's flabby brown face paled to a sickly hue. He swallowed -hard, and his lips moved. Philip fancied he caught the word -"photograph." Probably the wretched Laban, unable to divest himself of -the fear that a portion of his spirit had already gone from him with the -taking of his picture, felt he was doomed unless he could flee to his -home. - -"Look here, old chap," went on Flint, prompted by sympathetic -understanding, "aren't you a soldier of Christ, ready to fight for your -own people?" - -He asked the question with a certain grim amusement at his own recourse -to missionary diction; but presently the amusement turned to respectful -admiration as Laban shivered, hesitated, then, without further ado or -explanation, marched off in the direction of the camp. - -Inwardly Flint salaamed to the shambling figure of this "soldier of -Christ." He said to himself: "By Jove, that's a feather in the -missionary cap!" - -He had turned his horse's head, when the sight of a little cloud of dust -in the distance caused him to halt, and out of the dust-cloud appeared a -hooded bullock cart, crawling, bumping over the rough ground at a -snail's pace. He waited, wondering how the energetic Miss Baker could -bear with such leisurely travel, since patience was hardly one of her -gifts. The bullocks must have taken hours covering the distance. When at -last the vehicle pulled up at the camp a flushed and fuming young person -scrambled from beneath the hood. - -"Thank goodness!" exclaimed Miss Baker, shaking the dust from her -clothes and stretching her cramped limbs. "Hullo, Mr. Flint!" Her face -brightened at sight of him. "What do you want?" - -"Good morning, had a nice drive?" He smiled at the grimace that was her -answer, and dismounted. - -"I want to speak to Miss Abigail." It had occurred to him that Miss -Abigail's powers of persuasion might prove more effective than his own -in the matter of counselling change of air for Miss Baker, the girl -being more or less under her authority. Truth to tell, he rather shrank, -with masculine cowardice, from a task that he anticipated would involve -something of a scene. - -"Here she is, then--what's left of her after that awful journey!" There -was plenty of Miss Abigail left; the stout, square figure clambered -backwards from the cart, and he took comfort from the fat, kindly face -and brave little eyes. He drew her aside. - -"Bad news," he said; "we've got cholera in the works!" - -"Ah! so it has come! I don't know which I have been dreading most, that -or smallpox. Well, we must all turn to and do our best." - -"But what about Miss Baker? She oughtn't to be allowed to stay----" - -"Why not? She has put her hand to the plough, and surely you don't -expect her to turn back?" - -He felt annoyed, disconcerted. "It's all right for us," he deprecated, -"but Miss Baker should go." - -"Well then, you had better tell her to do so. Frankly I shan't be sorry -if she takes your advice. Amateurs are more bother than they are worth -in my line of work. But _I_ can't urge her to bolt!" - -"Don't you feel responsible for her safety? A girl out here alone----" - -"She came of her own free will, as far as I know, and was handed over to -me by the Charitable Relief Fund Committee. I didn't ask for her. But -now she's here I consider she should take the rough with the smooth like -the rest of us. I will leave you to settle the question." - -With a nod and an exasperating smile of unsympathetic comprehension Miss -Abigail stumped off to her tent. - -Miss Baker approached. "What has happened?" she asked. "You look -peevish. Don't cry!" - -"I've been telling Miss Abigail she ought to send you away at once." - -"And are you so miserable because she has refused or consented? Why -should I be sent away? What have I done?" - -"Cholera has started among the people," he told her bluntly, "and you -must pack up and be off, unless you want to add to our anxieties!" - -Could he believe his eyes? Instead of the torrent of lofty expostulation -he had expected, and hoped successfully to combat, the girl simply -showed him the tip of her tongue. "There!" she added defiantly after -this vulgar exhibition. - -"Do, for Heaven's sake, listen to reason----" he began, irately. - -"Don't waste time," she interrupted. "I know what you want me to hear, -but I can't wait for your words of wisdom. I must make haste to pack and -run away as fast as I can!" - -She darted towards Miss Abigail's tent, throwing him a glance of -derisive revolt over her shoulder. He was helpless. Anyway he had but -done what seemed to him his duty, and he had been given no chance of -emphasising the fact that in leaving the camp she would be sparing him -and Miss Abigail additional responsibility.... Yet he doubted if any -argument under the sun would prevail with her now. To remain and risk -death would, of course, enhance the feeling of superiority and -benevolence that on her own admission she found so pleasant! - -He rode back to the works determined to put her out of his mind. He had -more to think of, he told himself, than a tiresome, pig-headed girl; but -later in the day, when he caught sight of her with Miss Abigail and the -Bible-teacher herding a flock of women and children into a new-made -enclosure, his conscience murmured reproaches. At least Dorothy Baker's -pluck was undeniable, even though it might be the pluck of ignorance and -self-will.... - -That was a dreadful night. At times the hot, still air rang with the -weeping and wailing of mourners, piteous cries that rose and fell; the -silences that intervened seemed even worse--while the fight with death -went on. Now and then it appeared as if the fatal scourge had been -checked in its merciless progress; then again, as though leaping the -barriers, it would break out in some quarter hitherto free. Luckily -remedies held out, and more were expected in answer to urgent telegrams. -By dawn further medical help had arrived, and as the sun rose, fierce -and cruel, Flint felt justified in snatching a rest. He was roused from -heavy sleep by a message, a message scribbled in obvious haste and -agitation by Miss Baker from the Mission camp. - -"Please come quickly; it's Miss Abigail." - -An ominous summons! Fearing its import, he obeyed it without delay, -ordered a horse to be saddled, threw on his clothes, and rode rapidly. -Arrived, he found, within a sagging little sleeping tent, Miss Baker -seated beside a narrow camp-bed on which, as he perceived at first -glance, lay a dying woman. The once round, tanned face of the lady -missionary was wet and grey, so strangely altered; the sturdy form was -twisted and shrunken. A horrible odour pervaded the atmosphere, mingled -with the smell of drugs and straw and canvas. At the foot of the bed a -dishevelled ayah crouched terrified, weeping. On the rough, uneven -drugget was scattered a confusion of clothes, a couple of tin basins, a -shabby Bible, a notebook. The solitary camp table was covered with -bottles and coarse crockery. - -Dorothy Baker turned to Philip Flint; she was pale, trembling a little, -yet wonderfully self-controlled. - -"It was so sudden!" she faltered, biting her white lips. "This morning -she was quite well, full of energy and plans. We had come back for some -breakfast, and she was taken ill. Laban fetched the doctor. He stayed as -long as he could, and she got better. He said he thought she would pull -through. I did everything he told me. But now, see! I have sent for him -again----" - -Flint laid his finger on a cold wrist. Clearly it was a case of sudden -collapse, beyond hope; even as he felt the faint, racing pulse it grew -feebler, fluttered spasmodically.... He heard the girl's voice in his -ear, a choking whisper: "Is she going? Is it the end?" - -He nodded, and the whisper went on: "Just before you came she spoke. She -said she _knew_, and she wanted to be buried under the tree, under the -peepul tree...." - -He nodded again. She poured something into a glass and held it out to -him. "Try," she urged, "perhaps she could take it." - -To please her he tried, though he knew it was useless. What a pitiful -death scene--the cramped, untidy little tent, the coarse bedclothes, the -scanty furniture; the only ornament, if so it could be called, a text -printed in large black letters on a piece of cardboard, hung to a nail -on the yellow tent-pole: "Thy Rod and Thy Staff They Comfort Me." - -Yet Philip felt it was all ennobled by the sound faith, the unswerving -purpose of the strong, simple soul whose work on earth was over. For a -few moments there was silence; even the stifled, convulsive sobbing of -the ayah crouched at the foot of the bed had ceased; the woman hid her -face in her wrapper. Then, presently, with a long-drawn sigh, a gallant -spirit passed to rest. For Ann Abigail, ardent Christian, brave worker -in the cause of alien souls and bodies, no more weary hot weathers, no -more disappointment, discomfort, sacrifice. And as Philip gazed down on -the blunt features that already were almost beautiful in their repose he -found himself picturing Miss Abigail heading a band of helpless, -bewildered ghosts, leading them from the camp and the works to regions -where suffering, fear and want were unknown.... - -He remembered Dorothy Baker, and looked round. She was still standing -close beside him, silent, her eyes fixed on the dead face; now she -swayed, put her hand to her throat: "I have never--I have never seen -anyone die----" Then, aware of his concern for her, she added -reassuringly, "I'm all right, I'm not going to faint." - -"Come into the other tent; where's your hat?" - -She did not seem to know. He looked about, found his own, and held it -umbrella-wise over her head as he guided her quickly through the -burning, midday glare to the living tent that was hardly bigger than the -one they had left. She made no resistance, sat down at his bidding, and -drank the brandy he gave her from his flask. Then he stood watching her -anxiously as the colour came slowly back to her lips and cheeks. His -mind was working swiftly. Somehow he must get the girl away; she had had -a severe shock, her vitality was lowered, he dreaded the -consequences.... - -Footsteps and voices outside drew him to the door of the tent, and for -the next few hours he and the doctor were busy over such arrangements as -were possible for the funeral. The work finished, Flint sent off a -messenger mounted on a camel to the railway junction with a couple of -telegrams. One was to the headquarters of the Mission in the nearest -station, the other was to the wife of the Magistrate, whom he happened -to know slightly. He had evolved a plan for the benefit of Miss Baker, -and he only trusted she would fall in with it. All the time she had -remained in her tent, effaced herself, for which he was grateful to her; -perhaps she would be equally sensible when he told her what he had -done.... - -By sundown a rough coffin was ready, composed of packing-cases, a grave -had been dug beneath the big peepul tree, and a melancholy little -procession started, headed by the bullock shigram that bore Miss Abigail -on her final journey. Flint had fetched Miss Baker at the last moment, -he had promised her he would do so, and they walked together behind the -shigram. Laban, crying bitterly, the native doctor, one or two -subordinates followed, and the dead woman's servants; behind them again -came a straggling crowd of people from the works and the camp. - -Flint read the burial service. Dorothy Baker stood by his side; now and -then she shivered despite the heavy heat of the evening; he saw her -glance furtively at the scraps of her handkerchief that hung conspicuous -from the branches above their heads. He knew she must be picturing, as -he was, the scene of but a few evenings back, when Miss Abigail had -knelt praying among the roots of the tree.... The air was thick and -sultry, perhaps Miss Abigail was right, perhaps rain was not so far -off.... The setting sun threw a red glow over the land, already the -fireflies danced in the branches, the leaves whispered and rustled; two -or three bats flew from the foliage, skimming over the open grave and -the heap of sulphur-coloured soil at the side.... Now the last words had -been read, now the coffin, wrapped in a blanket, was lowered into the -shallow trench, the dry earth was shovelled over it by the scavenger -coolies of the village, and the gathering, all but Philip Flint and the -English girl and Laban, departed. At a sign from Flint the coolies -collected some of the stones that lay about and piled them upon the -grave. - -"Oh! she would hate that!" cried the girl impulsively. "The idols, the -carvings----" - -"There must be some protection," Flint told her reluctantly; "you see, -jackals and other animals----" - -"I understand." She turned away, gazing sadly over the misty, red plain. -"And we have to leave her here by herself! Oh! I can't bear it--India is -horrible, horrible!" - -For the first time she broke down, leaned, weeping, against the trunk -of the tree that, maybe, had seen other human sacrifices offered at its -foot. Flint waited for a moment; then he went to her, took her hand -gently, protectively. - -"Don't grieve too much," he said. "She is all right. She would have -asked nothing better than to give her life for her work. We are not -leaving _her_ here, remember!" - -"I wish I could think"--she paused, flung out her hands passionately. "I -can't believe anything; I always wondered how she could. And here am I -alive and useless, and she has gone. It seems so unfair!" - -"I expect she was very tired," said Flint simply, "and is glad to rest. -Come back to the camp; Laban will see that it is all finished properly, -and I want to talk to you." - -They started. It was now almost dark, and he set himself as they went to -tell her what he had arranged--that she should take Miss Abigail's -personal belongings back to the Mission headquarters. - -"The things are all ready," he confessed. "I told the ayah to pack them. -There were very few, just a writing-case and a little locked box and -some papers and notebooks; one or two photographs, her Bible and Prayer -Book. The camp things can all follow later. Of course the clothes she -was wearing, and the bed and so on, have had to be burnt, that was -necessary; the Mission people will understand." - -At first she said nothing. He went on hurriedly: "I can drive you to -the junction; there's a train----" - -"You want me to go?" she asked below her breath, "to go now, to-night?" - -His heart sank. Did she mean to refuse? "It's only right. She would have -wished you to go, you know she would." - -"But do you wish it?" She bent towards him, trying to see his face in -the gathering dusk. - -"Only because I know I ought to send you away." - -Silence again for a space. "I telegraphed to the Magistrate's wife as -well. She is a kind woman, she will take you in if you would prefer it -to the Mission House, I am sure." - -There was a pathetic little catch in her voice as she answered drearily: -"Yes, I suppose I must go. Oh, how everything has altered, just in a few -hours!" - -"That's India." - -"I feel so horribly alone." - -"It will be different when you get into the station. I wish I could go -with you all the way, but I must stick here till this epidemic is over -and things are working properly. Then I go on to another district, where -I hear matters are pretty bad. Goodness knows when all the trouble will -end." - -"I wonder if we shall ever meet again?" - -"I hope so. You'll write, won't you, and let me know your plans?" - -"Yes, of course. And--shall I go on writing?" - -"Would you? I should like it. Sometimes I feel 'horribly alone' too." - -"You aren't happy." - -"No; I am more alone than you are." They had reached the camp. His trap, -which he had ordered beforehand to meet them, was waiting. - -"Just pack what you will want for the next day or two," he advised. "I -will see that everything else is sent after you at once. You must come -and have some dinner with me, and then we'll start for the junction. -It's a long drive. The train goes about midnight." - -She obeyed him with a touching docility. For the rest of that curious -evening she might have been a child, leaning on his judgment, listening -to his directions, trusting him utterly. He knew she ate the food that -was set before her because he urged her to do so, accepted his brandy -flask and the escort of his old bearer for the journey, got into the -trap without a word when the moment came for their departure. Jacob -leapt at the wheels in an agony of apprehension that he was to be left -behind. - -"Can't he come too?" she asked; and the panting, whimpering Jacob was -hoisted on to her lap. The moon was rising as they set off, a swollen -red moon whose light irradiated the veil of dust that hung over the -spreading, irregular earthworks, the lines of sheds, the outlying groups -of tents. Here and there a few spidery thorn trees showed black and -scanty--it was as if a fire had swept the locality and was still -smouldering. A hum of voices, the thin wailing of women and children, -rose and hung in the hot mist.... - -The trap rocked over the uneven ground, now sinking into soft powdery -soil, now jerking against clods of earth, hard as iron. They left the -works and the camps behind them, and headed for the grand trunk road -marked by an avenue of great trees in the distance; passed through a -village that was silent, deserted; most of the inhabitants had sought -refuge on the relief works. On the outskirts they encountered an -ash-smeared figure, practically naked, with long, matted hair and -upraised arms, who called after them--cursings or blessings, what matter -which! - -The comparatively smooth surface of the grand trunk road came as a -blessed relief, and they spun along swiftly, between the rows of giant -trees, avoiding sleepy carts that crawled in the middle of the highway, -passing silent, plodding little bands of foot travellers. Neither of -them felt inclined for conversation; the hot, still air through which -they clove, the rhythmical beat of the pony's hoofs, lulled their -senses; even Jacob had long since ceased to fidget and demand -attention.... As in a dream they arrived at the junction that with its -satellites of ugly square buildings appeared to have been dropped -without purpose on to a barren plain, and found themselves in the midst -of a clamouring throng of humanity; every caste seemed to be -represented, from the shaven, high-featured Brahmin priest to the -humblest, uncleanest outsider. A proof, so often quoted by the -inexperienced observer, of the power of progress! Yet, while the -"twice-born" would journey cheek by jowl with the pariah, making use of -the railway for his own convenience, in reality it brought them no -nearer to bridging the gulf. A few oblations, ceremonial ablutions, a -liberal religious offering, and the high-caste traveller would feel -cleansed, soul and body, from the evil effect of such contamination.... - -The interior of the station was suffocating. Philip shouldered a way for -his companion through the crowd to a waiting-room reserved for -"Europeans only," where they found a family of Eurasians already -installed, bundles innumerable, a pack of fretful children, a litter of -domestic belongings spread over the floor. - -Philip backed hastily from the entrance. "This won't do," he said. "We -must try the refreshment-room." - -It was scarcely more inviting, but at least they had the place to -themselves, save for a couple of slovenly-looking servants who were -flicking crumbs and dead flies from the table laid with dirty -appointments. A dingy punkah began to wave jerkily, moving the -ill-smelling air. Nauseated, weary, miserable because she was about to -part from the only man who had ever appealed to her heart as well as to -her mind, Dorothy Baker sat staring at the pretentious electroplated -epergne set in the middle of the table, coloured tissue paper ruffled -about its base. - -How sordid it all was! She dared not look at Philip Flint for fear she -should lose her self-control; the lump in her throat was almost -strangling.... - -To Philip her silence, her depression, merely indicated that she was -pitifully tired, worn out with the trying events of the day, and no -wonder, poor girl! He felt helpless, at his wits' end to know what more -he could do for her. - -"It won't be long now," he said in hopeful desperation, looking at his -watch. "The train ought to be here in a few moments." - -"In a few moments," she echoed mechanically. - -Then, from outside, came the clangour of metal striking a suspended -length of rail, the Indian equivalent of the station bell, announcing -the train's arrival. - -"Here she is!" Philip rose, half relieved, half reluctant. They plunged -into the yelling throng on the platform. Flint's old bearer spread the -Miss-sahib's bedding on an empty seat in the ladies' compartment that -had only one other occupant, a mummy-like form, fast asleep. - -"Now you're all right." Philip looked into the carriage. "You'd better -get in and settle yourself for the night." - -She held out her hand. "Please don't wait," she said formally, avoiding -his gaze. "Good-byes are so horrid, and they say it's unlucky to see the -last of a traveller!" - -"Unlucky for me to see the last of you. I shall miss you." - -"Oh, no, you won't," she said sharply. "Good-bye, and very many thanks -for all your kindness." - -She got into the train. Through the window he saw her busying herself -with her bag. She did not even look up as the train passed out of the -station. Chilled and puzzled he turned away. What an odd girl! Her -curious behaviour, her grey eyes and freckled eager face filled his -thoughts as he drove back to his camp in the hot moonlight. - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -Slowly, monotonously for Philip the months dragged on, unmarked by any -special events of a personal character. At intervals he heard from Miss -Baker. First she reported her safe arrival at the Mission headquarters, -having considered it "only right" to go there rather than take advantage -of the more comfortable hospitality offered by the Magistrate and his -wife. But apparently this meritorious attitude was not fully understood -or appreciated by her hardworking hosts, for Miss Baker complained that -though the Mission people were always desperately busy themselves they -made no real use of the services she was so ready to render; one of them -had actually advocated her joining the Station Club that she might -obtain some distraction! The next letter came from the Magistrate's -bungalow, where Miss Baker was being nursed over an attack, her first -attack, of malarial fever; at the Mission House, it seemed, no one had -time to look after a white patient! The Magistrate's wife had most -opportunely come to the rescue.... As soon as a passage could be secured -Miss Baker intended to go home. On the whole, she confessed, she felt -that her visit to India had not been quite the success she had -anticipated. Wherever she went she seemed only to get in the way--and -she had meant to be so useful! English people in India wasted their -energies over things that did not greatly matter, and in consequence -had no time for more vital questions. Later on, perhaps, she might come -back, and with better results; in any case she had gathered ample -material for her book, which she would begin on the voyage.... She wrote -to Philip from board ship, and again from her father's house in Mayfair. -The letters still contained criticisms aimed at British administration -in India, but through them all there ran a pathetic little undercurrent -of self-distrust that reached Philip's sympathy; and her never-failing -remembrance of their brief companionship touched him--always her love to -Jacob, and how was the chestnut pony, and the old bearer, and did he -recollect this, that, and the other? Also when was he coming home? A few -mails later (great excitement) she had met Lady Lane-Johnson, his -sister, at a big literary gathering, quite by accident; they had begun -to talk about India, and then of course had discovered, etc., etc. - -These letters, though Philip sometimes felt it an effort to answer them, -were welcome during the dreary routine of duty, as inspection followed -inspection, journey upon journey, by road or by rail, from one -famine-smitten area to another. The battle with death and want continued -through the long, hot days and nights, until, as though with belated -compassion, nature at last stepped in, and a strong monsoon swept up -from the coast, allaying epidemics, washing away disease and dirt, -reviving energy and hope; and if the work was still as strenuous in its -way, it was at least work that was spurred by relief and thankfulness in -place of dread and despair. - -With the cessation of the rains Flint felt free to take a -breathing-space. His leave granted for September, he sought a popular -station, that, not being the headquarters of a Provincial Government, -was in a measure exempt from official etiquette and certain irksome -observances that prevailed in the more important health resorts. Surima, -its dwellings perched like a flock of white birds on the slopes of the -high hills, was notorious for its gaiety and its gregarious gatherings. -Here assembled merchants from the great ports, lonely ladies whose -health and spirits suffered from the heat and the dullness of the -plains, subalterns intent on "a good time," holiday-makers of every -service and calling, and an abundance of pretty girls.... - -Philip selected Surima for his leave because he felt it might be -possible to lose his identity for the time being in such a motley crowd. -He need make no calls; Government House with a visitors' book and -commands to social functions was non-existent. His presence would not be -noted. He intended to loaf, to spend long hours in the life-giving air -on the hill-sides, perhaps do a little shooting--jungle fowl, a bear or -two, possibly a leopard. He would have ease and leisure in which to make -up his mind whether to sink back to the level of humdrum district -administration until his first pension was due and he could leave India -altogether, or set himself to regain his position in the front ranks of -competitors for high office. He realised that he was overworked, that -his mental outlook was hardly to be trusted at present, deranged as it -had been by the distressing affair at Rassih. Given time and rest he -might manage, in a measure, to make a fresh start and to put the past -behind him.... - -To his disgust the Club chambers at Surima were full, and he was forced -to find temporary quarters in a fashionable hotel that occupied a -central position. It was close on the dinner hour when he arrived, and -as he changed into evening clothes he found it difficult to realise that -for a full month he would be master of his time, able to follow his own -inclinations. With a sense of personal freedom he strolled into the -dining-room only to be confronted by a scene that, at first glance, made -him query--was he, by any chance, in a lunatic asylum instead of a -hotel? - -The tables were crowded with a chattering throng garbed in a variety of -fantastic costumes, a host of masqueraders. He beheld a devil complete -with horns and tail; a red Indian; an aerial being all wings and -gossamer; figures enveloped in dominoes; others painted, patched, -bewigged--all laughing and talking and eating. He felt like a sparrow -that had strayed into an aviary of tropical birds. Humbly he slipped -into an empty seat beside a stout youth draped in a leopard skin, with a -wreath on his brow! "Bacchus," or whatever mythological character this -individual imagined he represented, made way for the stranger -good-naturedly. - -"Got up just in time for the ball!" he shouted, as though it were a -matter for the heartiest congratulation. - -"Is there a ball?" inquired Philip, dismayed. What a superfluous -question! - -"Rather! _The_ fancy ball of the season. Every soul in the place will -be at it. Know many people up here?" - -"Nobody--that I am aware of." - -"Soon cure that complaint! Keen on dancing?" - -"Not particularly; and dancing hasn't been exactly encouraged where I -come from!" He thought grimly of desolate camps, of relief works, bare -plains and stricken villages, of all the stress and the strain of the -last year. What could be farther from festivity! - -"Some beastly little station, I suppose," assumed his companion -sympathetically. "If it wasn't for places like Surima we should all rot -and die. I come from a hole sixty miles off the railway; only seven of -us all told including the women; just a small hell upon earth. I put in -for 'three months' urgent private affairs,' my only chance," he grinned. -"Luckily they asked no awkward questions. Next week my leave's up, worse -luck!" - -He fell to eating dejectedly, but soon added in a hopeful tone: "Anyway, -I'm going to enjoy my last hours. Now, if you want introductions -remember I'm your man. No dog-in-the-manger about J. D. Horniblow!" He -looked round the room. "Plenty to choose from if you're not over -particular." - -"Thanks, don't bother about me," said Philip indifferently. "Bed is more -in my line than a ball to-night." - -"Oh! but you _must_ see what we can produce in the way of beauty, even -if you don't want to dance. All this lot here are nothing compared -with----" He began to reel off names with impudent comments on each. - -Philip paid small attention, till he became aware that the chatterbox -was describing with enthusiasm the charms of a particular lady, over -whom, he asserted, the whole place was crazy; the name came to his ears -with the effect of a pistol shot.... - -He stammered out: "Who--who did you say--Mrs.--Mrs. Crayfield?" - -"Yes, Mrs. Crayfield. She's the rage, absolutely divine. She and her -friend Mrs. Matthews carry everything before them; not that Mrs. M. can -compare with Mrs. C., though little Mrs. M. is fetching enough in her -own way. I _might_ manage to introduce you. I'll try, if you like, but -they're in the General's set, and that's rather a close preserve. The -old boy fancies himself no end with Mrs. C.; and young Nash, his -aide-de-camp, poodles for Mrs. Matthews, so it's very convenient all -round." - -Flint writhed in silence. Was there another Mrs. Crayfield? Soon he -would know, and he tried to be deaf to the rattle of this jackanapes. - -Joining the tail of the crowd that surged into the ballroom after -dinner, he took up a position against the whitewashed wall that was -decorated with flimsy festoons of pink and blue muslin, and watched the -revellers filling their programmes, chaffing, laughing. What fools they -looked! How could grown-up people be so idiotic.... Yet, in justice, he -reminded himself that the majority of them must have endured the -hardships inseparable from exile, trials of climate, and sickness, and -separation, even actual danger to life and person; that they would go -back to these conditions, grumbling no doubt, but refreshed and -strengthened to endure them again by such frivolities, this pathetic -aping of "smart society" that would be regarded with contemptuous -amusement by its superior prototype at home. How Dorothy Baker would -have censured the scene, simply because it was laid in India, where, of -course, none of her compatriots deserved, or should desire, frivolous -recreation! Not one of these merrymakers but would face death without -hesitation should the necessity arise; and in a community all more or -less of one class there was bound to be scandal, with far less reason -very often than in their own country, where wickedness could be hidden -successfully.... He almost forgave the harmless enough gossip he had -heard at the dinner table, even endeavoured to tolerate his would-be -friend who buzzed round him, so important as "one in the know," still -offering introductions. - -"Little Miss Green, now--that girl over there dressed as a butterfly? -Not much to look at, I grant you. With her figure she ought to have gone -as a blue-bottle, but she can dance, and first go-off in a place like -this you have to take what you can get. She and her sisters rely on the -new-comers, thankful for any kind of partners; sensible girls! Easy -enough to drop them when you get into the swim. Or there's Mrs. Bray; -only her husband's jealous. Of course they're known as the donkeys. He -won't let her dance with anyone more than once. There was a row at the -last Cinderella----" - -Flint bestirred himself. "Please don't trouble. I don't want to dance. -I'll just look on for a bit." He nodded a polite but determined -dismissal, and was turning away when his tormentor exclaimed: - -"Ah! Here we are! Now look. Here she comes, the General in tow, of -course, and half a dozen other adorers. She's a fine hand at driving a -team!" - -Flint held his breath, his heart seemed to rise in his throat as the -crowd parted slightly and a group came through one of the doorways. To -the swing of a waltz he saw Stella--yes, Stella--advancing down the -long, shining floor of the ballroom, radiant, light-hearted, attended by -a little court of men mostly in uniform. He could not have told how she -was dressed, he merely had an impression of floating pink drapery, -gleams of silver; she looked to him taller, less girlish, in a way -changed; her bearing held a gay confidence.... How different from his -last sight of her--a wan, despairing figure, huddled weeping in a chair! -She had forgotten him; their love had been but an episode in her young -life, while for his part how he had suffered!--sacrificed so much. He -ought to have expected it, should have realised that, child as she was, -her heart must heal quickly from a wound that, though painful enough no -doubt at the time, had not gone deep. Youth had asserted its claim; -pleasure, social success, admiration, had consoled her successfully. He -strove for her sake to feel glad, to stem the storm of rage and -self-pity that seized him. Devil take the handsome, elderly satyr who -was speaking in her ear.... She was smiling at him; it was unbearable. -Now she was hidden by the whirling, throng. He waited, morose and -miserable, planning to leave the bright scene before she should -discover his presence, to clear out of Surima at dawn, and go where he -could assert his claim to advancement, pick up the threads of ambition, -push and trample and fight his way fiercely to the top. It was not too -late, the way was still open.... - -Yet, unable to tear himself away, he stood, a stiff, black figure -against the wall, his eyes scanning the dancers, until presently she -passed him in the arms of her distinguished-looking partner, the scarlet -of whose coat clashed harshly with the rose-colour of her gown. As they -danced they were talking and laughing. In his mind Philip called to her: -"Stella! Stella!"; he felt as if the whole room must hear him.... The -pair halted at the opposite side of the room. The man was bending his -iron-grey head towards her; there was force, personality in the well -set-up figure and the bold features that but just escaped coarseness. He -was taking Stella's fan from her hand with a familiar, proprietary air -that to Philip was maddening; he lost hold of his high intentions and -crossed the room deliberately, making his way among the dancers -regardless of their indignant protests, the collisions he caused; as far -as he was concerned they might all have been phantoms--he simply walked -through them. - -Then he stood before Stella, before the woman he loved, bowed like any -casual acquaintance, and heard himself saying: - -"Mrs. Crayfield, have you forgotten me? My name is Flint." - -Startled, she looked up, and he saw the colour drain from her lips and -cheeks. The General stiffened, clearly resenting the intrusion. - -"I've just got up from the plains," continued Philip pleasantly, though -he found it hard to steady his voice. "I had no idea you were at Surima. -It's a long time since we last met, isn't it?" - -"Yes," she said faintly, not looking at him; "a long time----" - -He knew that for the moment, at any rate, he was being a kill-joy, a -ghost at the feast, calling up the past, spoiling her pleasure. Yet the -consciousness was mingled with a sense of revengeful satisfaction that -he could not control. Her passing vexation of spirit was as nothing -compared with the tortures of his own. - -"Come along, Mrs. Crayfield," the General was moving his feet, impatient -to be off again, "we shall miss the last part of the waltz." He made as -if to place his arm about her waist. - -Philip turned aside, not waiting for her to look at or speak to him -further. Blindly he made his way from the ballroom, his thoughts, his -sensations in confusion, only to find himself in the midst of a babbling -concourse of natives outside, bearers of the canoe-shaped conveyances in -which ladies, and even a few men, were borne to the dance; neighing -ponies were clustered by the railings; it was all jostle and noise. He -walked round to the side of the hotel and discovered an empty veranda, a -quiet refuge where he could smoke and attempt to think calmly. As he -leaned on the railing his racked nerves welcomed the cold night air, the -star-lit peace, the scent and the faint stir of the pine trees. Beneath -the ramshackle building sloped the wooded hill-side; far, far below lay -the wide plains, dark and boundless as an ocean. Right and left in -endless majesty stretched the mountains, and back in ever-rising ranges -to the snow peaks, "the home of the gods." His thoughts went loosely -adrift; that little crowd of human beings dancing, philandering in the -ballroom, intent on their enjoyment, their fleeting loves and hates; -whose lives were less than infinitesimal fractions of seconds compared -with the ages! Who could grudge them their "little day" while it lasted? -Nature had no pity, no sympathy for the struggles, the temptations, the -sorrows, the pleasures of the ever-passing multitude of human insects -loving and dancing and fighting through their short moments of darkness -or sunshine.... What was love, what was sin? What difference could it -make whether any of them failed or succeeded, did what seemed to them -right or wrong! Nothing really mattered.... Should the human race be -swept from the face of the earth, the hills and the plains, the seas and -the sun, the moon and the stars, would go on to the end of Time.... - -Footsteps and voices broke in on Flint's wild, if hardly original, -reflections. He recognised that a couple intent on privacy were groping -their way into the dark retreat. He heard the grating of chairs on the -stone floor, caught snatches of talk as he hid himself instinctively in -the shadow of a pillar. - -"All right?" the man's tone was full of tender concern. "You won't feel -cold? Now listen--give me your hand, your dear little hand! I must tell -you. I can't wait any longer. You _know_, don't you, darling?" - -There came a tearful, agitated response. "Yes, but there will be such a -row. Mother and father will never understand----" - -"Oh! they will, when they see we're determined. Don't be frightened. -We've only got to stick to it, hold on. You do love me, sweetheart, -don't you?" - -Philip slunk round the pillar and left the lovers to themselves. How he -envied the two young creatures!--their path clear before them save for -the frail barrier of parental prudence, which, of course, in the end -would break down. It was all so idyllic, so natural. What a contrast to -his own dark outlook where love was concerned.... In bitter envy he -loitered on the pathway outside, beset by a longing to return to the -ballroom that he might catch just one more glimpse of Stella, whatever -the cost, before turning his back on Surima at dawn. - -In a few moments he was standing among a group of spectators in one of -the doorways, his eyes anxiously searching the crowd of dancers. But in -vain; she was not in the ballroom. - -"Hullo! This is luck. Thought you'd gone bye-bye!" His importunate -acquaintance of the dinner-table was pushing a way to his side. "Flint -_is_ your name, isn't it?" - -Philip nodded absently. - -"Well, Mrs. Matthews would like me to introduce you; she says she knows -all about you. Dark horse, _you_ are! You never let on when I mentioned -her at dinner. It was only when she got hold of me just now and said: -'Mr. Horniblow, you know everybody, can you point me out a new arrival -whose name is Mr. Flint,' that I smelt a rat, and of course I made -straight for _you_. There she is. Come on now, quick, or we shall miss -her." - -He grabbed Philip's coat sleeve and dragged him forward. Before he could -resist he was being presented to a lively-looking little lady all -sequins and red and gold tissue, and a tambourine. - -"That was very clever of you, Mr. Horniblow," she said brightly to the -triumphant go-between. "Thank you so much." - -She turned in pretty apology to Philip. "Don't think me too bold," she -seemed to be pitching her voice high of intention, "perhaps you've -forgotten me? But _I_ remember _you_!" She shot him a meaning glance, -and he could not but take the hint. - -He feigned pleasure. "This is a surprise! But when we last met you -weren't a gypsy, or--or a Spanish dancer--which must be my excuse for -not recognising you at once." He offered her his arm. - -With a charming smile she waved away her late partner, a diffident young -soldier easily shelved for the moment; and talking gaily of the dance, -of the dresses, of anything, she guided Philip to the platform, of which -the front seats were filled with chaperones and partnerless girls. Well -at the back, screened by this rampart of female forms, stood a sofa, -safe from listening ears. They took possession of it. - -"Neatly done!" exclaimed Mrs. Matthews, sinking to her seat. - -"Very," returned Philip, "but I don't quite understand----" - -"You _are_ Mr. Flint, Mr. Philip Flint?" - -"Certainly. That is my name." - -"Well, Mrs. Crayfield has gone home." - -"Oh? Wasn't she feeling fit?" he inquired, apparently unmoved. - -She glanced at him in rather resentful surprise. "Now don't be -tiresome," she said quickly. "I know all about it, and we haven't much -time to talk. I can't throw over any more partners. Stella was worried, -upset, at seeing you so unexpectedly. I said I'd find you and explain. -She's staying with me; we were girls together, you know. I dare say -Stella has told you about me, Maud Verrall?" - -"Yes, of course." Of course he knew about Maud Verrall, and The Court -and The Chestnuts, and Grandmamma and the Aunts; had any detail of -Stella's childhood, imparted to him by her, faded from his mind! - -"We only got into touch with each other again at the beginning of this -hot weather; somehow we'd stopped writing. But when I settled to come up -here I wrote and asked if I could break my journey with the Crayfields -for a few days. What an awful hole Rassih is! I found Stella half dead. -That old brute, Colonel Crayfield, ought to be shot, and his horrible -servant too. Between them they had nearly killed the poor girl." - -Philip moved uneasily, and drew in his breath. "Do you----" he began, -but he was not allowed to finish his question; Mrs. Matthews took it up. - -"Do I know everything? Of course Stella told me, and the silly row -about the pearls that gave the show away. She had a perfectly poisonous -time after you left; I don't know how she got through it, and I'm sure -she doesn't know either. When I turned up, old Crayfield was getting -rather sick of her always being seedy; and I diddled him into letting -her come with me. He took a fancy to me, and I let him--any port in a -storm! We've lived in terror that he would come up on leave, but luckily -he hasn't been able to get away. Stella was awfully ill for the first -few weeks after we arrived----" - -"She looks very well now," said Philip coldly, "and happy," he added. - -His companion smote him sharply on the knee with her fan. - -"My good man, you ought to be thankful, both for your own sake and for -hers!" - -"I am; and for that reason don't you think I'd better go without seeing -her again?" - -Mrs. Matthews hesitated; and Philip waited, hoping for some crumb of -comfort, for the smallest encouragement to stay. - -The answer came slowly. "I think you ought to go. You see--you see -Stella has found out the power of her beauty and her charm, and it's a -sort of consolation to her. She'll never get into mischief, not -seriously, I mean, with anyone else, and as you and she can't come -together again without the risk of a lot of bother and trouble, you'd -much better let her alone. You can't blame her if she takes what she can -get out of life under the circumstances----" - -"I don't," he said shortly. "If she can put the past behind her I can -but try to do the same." - -"Wise man! Oh! look at this creature making for me; I shall have to go, -the dance has begun." - -A cowboy had climbed the daïs in pursuit of Mrs. Matthews, and further -hope of confidential conversation was blocked. Philip rose and held out -his hand. - -"Good-bye, then--and thank you for your advice. I will take it. I -recognise that you are right." - -As they parted he saw sympathy in her bright eyes, and was grudgingly, -miserably grateful. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -"Oh! How slack I feel. Dances are the devil!" Maud Matthews yawned and -stretched amid a nest of cushions in a long chair. "I'm sure I must look -about sixty. Do I, Stella?" - -She appealed to her friend who at that moment joined her in the veranda -of the Swiss Chalet-like habitation perched on the hill-side. Clear -midday sunshine blazed over the terraced garden thick with dahlias, -crimson and purple, orange-red, yellow, a wild, luxuriant growth. Pots -of chrysanthemums fringed the veranda steps, an autumn odour pervaded -the atmosphere, a smell of ferns and moss and pungent evaporation. The -sky was like pale blue glass, and far, far away, beyond valleys and -rising ranges, glittered and sparkled the everlasting snows. - -Outside, on the narrow pathway, young Richard was asserting himself in a -perambulator, attended by the long-suffering ayah who every few minutes -retrieved a woolly toy, handing it back to the small tyrant with -indulgent remonstrance. "Hai-yai! What is to be done with such a -malefactor! Must not throw; it is forbidden." - -"Beat him," his mother advised lazily. "Beat him with a big stick." - -"Dost harken?" warned the ayah. "One more throw, and see what will -befall!" - -Instantly the woolly toy was again hurtled down among the dahlias, and -the child shrieked with mischievous glee. - -"Aree! Narty!" the ayah picked up her petticoats and plunged into the -foliage. - -Unperturbed by her son's misdemeanours, Mrs. Matthews turned once more -to her guest and began to patter nonsense. Truth to tell she was -nervously delaying the moment when Stella's questions must be answered. - -"If possible, dear thing, you look even more dreadful than I do, though -you went home so early last night. I got back at some disreputable hour -and peeped into your room, but you were asleep. Really, to look at you, -one would imagine _your_ husband was coming up on leave next week -instead of mine. What on earth shall I do with Dick! He'll hate all my -men friends, and be rude to them, and expect me to break all my -engagements. I suppose we shall go to bed early and have long walks -before breakfast, and devote ourselves to young Richard with intervals -for arguments over domestic affairs----" - -"Oh! to hear you," interrupted Stella with exasperation, "one would -think you didn't care one snap for Dick or that imp in the perambulator. -Why humbug with me of all people?" - -"Yes, I know," in hasty apology. "I know I am lucky. Yet you have your -compensations. You are ever so much better looking than I am, and your -looks are of the sort that will last. Your nose, for example; it's a -nose for a lifetime! _You_ can amuse yourself with a clear conscience, -without feeling a pig, as I do when I flirt till all's blue. How I am to -suppress Bobbie Nash when Dick appears on the scene is a problem, and I -can't give the young owl a hint beforehand; that would be a bit too low! -Now, you and your old play-boy--even Dick couldn't make a fuss if it was -the General instead of Bobbie Nash!" - -"Oh, Maud, do stop!" cried Stella, at the end of her endurance. Maud's -little excitements and intrigues were so trivial; no misery, no -heartache, lay beneath the surface of her frivolity. Stella knew well -enough that Maud loved her husband, and that once he was on the spot she -would be happy in his company, though in his absence the attentions of a -herd of irresponsible young men was as the breath of her nostrils. "How -can you go on gabbling like this when you know what I am longing to -hear?" - -Last night she had fled from the ballroom, distraught by the sudden, -unexpected meeting with Philip. It had been beyond her to remain as if -nothing had happened. She was at a loss to interpret his demeanour, so -distant, so formal; did he intend her to understand that his feelings -had changed? She had relied upon Maud to find out; for hours she had -lain awake listening for Maud's return till, from sheer exhaustion, she -had fallen asleep, and, after all, Maud had not awakened her. Both of -them had slept late into the morning, and now Maud would only drivel -about her own silly affairs. The suspense was intolerable; she could -bear it no longer. - -"Aren't you going to tell me _anything_?" she demanded furiously. - -"Wait a moment." Mrs. Matthews rose from her long chair and went to kiss -her obstreperous offspring in the perambulator, gave some directions to -the ayah and banished the pair to another quarter of the garden out of -sight and hearing. Then she returned to her seat and faced Stella with -reluctance. - -"It's rather difficult to tell you," she began. "That was why I was -putting it off. He has gone." - -Stella flushed and paled. "Gone? Gone away from Surima--from--from me?" - -Maud nodded. "Now, dear thing, be sensible. I assure you he hopes you -may have got over that unfortunate business between you. He wants to get -over it too. I don't say he has, any more than you have, altogether, but -you both will, given the chance. Isn't it best? You can't deny it, -Stella." - -"Oh, Maud, what have you done?" Stella's voice rang sharp with pain and -reproach. Her disappointment was poignant. She had expected some -message, she hardly knew what, but something of solace and reassurance, -at the least that Philip wanted to see her alone. She had never dreamed -that he would not wish to see her. - -"I haven't done anything," declared Maud defensively. "He saw for -himself that you weren't exactly pining away without him, and if you do -still care about him you ought to be thankful that he has gone off like -this without making further trouble for you or for himself. After all, -you wouldn't bolt with him when you had the chance, and quite right too! -And now you shouldn't want him to be a martyr any more than he wants you -to mope for the rest of your life." - -Stella gazed at her blankly. Staunch friend though Maud was, how little -she understood. Oh, why had she not stayed on at the ball? She might -have got at the truth for herself. Instead, she had behaved like a fool, -like a coward; and so Philip had gone! - -She burst out: "Tell me what he said, what you said. Tell me exactly. -Don't dare to keep anything from me." - -"My dear girl, keep calm. You can't expect me to remember every single -word we uttered. I'm not trying to make mischief and muddles, like -people in stories. I simply told him how I had got you away from Rassih -and how ill you were, and he simply said that as you looked very happy -and well he thought the best thing he could do was to clear out, and I -agreed with him. I pointed out that you had learnt to enjoy yourself, -and that he couldn't blame you. He said he didn't. I must say I don't -wonder you fell in love with him, especially at Rassih. He is an awfully -good sort; but you know if he had stayed here now the whole thing would -have begun all over again, and been worse than ever. Buck up, Stella! -You had a lucky escape. I dare say I might have persuaded him to stay, -but I knew it was best not to. When you have thought it all over you'll -say I was right and be grateful, instead of looking as if you would like -to poke my eyes out!" - -Stella sat miserably silent. There was nothing further to be said. It -would hardly be fair to accuse Maud of having done her an ill turn, but -at present she certainly could not bring herself to feel grateful. Sore -and wretched, she rose. - -"I'm going for a walk before tiffin," she said abruptly. - -"Keep out of the sun, then," advised Maud, "or you'll have a headache. -Remember it's the General's garden party this afternoon, and the club -dinner and theatricals to-night. Just put out the 'Not at home box,' -will you? I'm not fit to be seen this morning, and can't be bothered -with callers." - -A little later Stella strolled along the pathway. She hung the -protective card-box on the trunk of the pine tree that guarded the small -domain; then she wandered up the steep incline towards an upper road -little frequented by the English community. It led to the back of the -hill, where as yet no bungalows had been erected, dwindling eventually -to a mere bridle path used by the hill people from far distant villages. -Once away from all sound of the station, she seated herself on a -moss-covered boulder and gazed gloomily over the blue valleys and the -opposite mountains that in the rarefied atmosphere looked so unnaturally -near. Jungle fowl were calling, crickets sang lustily among the ferns -that fringed the tree branches; a family of black monkeys crossed the -path and went crashing and chattering down the wooded precipice below; -round the shoulder of the hill trudged a stalwart hill-woman, a load of -charcoal on her back in a conical-shaped basket. She had a flat -Mongolian countenance, red colour in her brown cheeks, and her eyes were -like green agates; a heavy turquoise necklace hung round her neck. She -grinned a friendly greeting as she passed the forlorn figure seated by -the wayside, and Stella envied her. How contented and independent she -looked, though probably she had two or three husbands and led a hard -life of toil. At any rate, she was neither desolate nor oppressed. The -sound of her stately tramping died away, and at last, influenced -unconsciously by the solitude, the grand beauty of the landscape, the -purity of the air, Stella began to think more coherently, to think of -all she would have told Philip had he been beside her asking for her -confidence, anxious to know all that had befallen her since their -parting at Rassih. Then, though she had thought he was going out of her -life, the distress and the terror had been leavened by the conviction -that he loved her. This time he had gone of his own free will, ready to -forget her, wishing to forget her. It seemed years since he had called -to her that night in the big drawing-room. She seemed to hear his voice -now, charged with love and despair. And the memory of the time -intervening until Maud's arrival was like a long nightmare, followed at -Surima by a blank that, ill as she was, came as a dreamless, refreshing -sleep from which she had awakened to a world of diversion. - -With returning health and the stimulation of Maud's company she had -begun to find solace in her freedom, in the power of her beauty, which -slowly she had learn to value. At first the attention she attracted came -to her as a genuine surprise, and all the dances, the parties, the -light-hearted gatherings proved a welcome refuge from depressing -thought. Finally she had plunged into the gay whirl with a will, -encouraged by Maud, living solely in the agreeable, intoxicating -present, banishing as far as possible the past from her mind, refusing -to look forward. - -And in one second all the false ramparts she had erected around her had -crumbled to dust. One moment she had been laughing, free from care, the -next she had looked up in the midst of some careless banter to see -Philip--but what a different Philip, cold and callous and hard! Stella -did not doubt Maud's version of the conversation that had passed between -the two. It seemed clear enough that Philip shrank from renewal of the -past, and was it any wonder? She tried to be just to him, yet a feeling -of bitter resentment fought with her sense of fair play. Why, when she -had discovered that, given the opportunity, life could be enjoyed, -should he have come to disturb and distress her? Where, all this time, -had he been, what had he been doing? No word concerning him had reached -her. Of course, she understood that he had not known she was at Surima; -yet why, if he did not wish to meet her again, had he come up to her in -the ball-room? Surely it would have been simple enough to leave Surima -without allowing her to know he had been there at all. Was it partly for -her sake that he had, to quote Maud, "cleared out," or was it entirely -because he feared she might expect him to lay his heart at her feet once -more? Whatever the reason the result was the same. He had gone without a -word or a message that would have left her in possession of the truth. - -Passionately she wished she had the power to wipe the whole incident -from her mind. Maud was right; she had her compensations; but of what -value would they be to her once she was back at Rassih? In another month -or less she must return to Robert, to the horrible old house, to Sher -Singh, and the loneliness, the dull round of petty happenings repeated -day after day.... A fierce defiance seized her; at least she had this -month before her; she could but make the best of it. Her heart hardened. -She looked up at the clear blue sky, watched an eagle soaring over the -valley, became conscious of the vast, sunny peace around her, drew in -long breaths of the wonderful air.... After all, she was young, she was -well; and when she returned to Rassih she would endeavour to recover her -influence with Robert. Once reassured of her loyalty he might allow her -to invite friends to stay with her, friends she had made at Surima, -might permit her to pay visits in return. Next year she would manoeuvre -to take a house of her own at Surima for the hot-weather months. With -such a prospect the coming winter could be endured. She realised that -Robert, on his part, had a grievance against her; undoubtedly she had -been a disappointment to him. She owed him some consideration; in his -way he had not been ungenerous; all this time at Surima he had kept her -well supplied with money, and if he had been glad to get rid of her was -it not only natural? - -Well, she would continue to enjoy herself now, and then she would go -back and wheedle and coax and work upon Robert's weaknesses until she -could induce him to grant her liberty when occasion should arise. Let -Philip go hang. If he wished to forget her let him do so; she could play -the same game, and play it she would! Resolutely she turned her mind to -coming dissipations; the General's garden party this afternoon--she was -fully aware that the station regarded her as the special "favourite" of -Sir George Rolt. Subalterns made up to her with the idea that she held -the ear of the Chief; not only subalterns either, but more senior -aspirants to favour and promotion. The sense of prestige and power fed -the worst side of her nature, and, in addition, she liked Sir George -Rolt, whose free admiration raised her to a pinnacle of importance, -rendered her an object of envy among all the other women of a certain -type in the place who possessed any claim to attractions. To-night there -would be the Club dinner, with theatricals to follow; at both gatherings -she knew she would be the best looking, best dressed woman of the -throng, and her sore spirit took comfort in the conviction. - -Stella wandered back to the little bungalow on the side of the hill -feeling as though she had drunk deep of some draught that stilled -trouble and pain for the time, however pernicious its after-effects. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -The Swan Song of the Surima season took the form of a picnic--a truly -ambitious entertainment given by a moneyed merchant from Calcutta, whose -ideas of hospitality had apparently no boundaries. A banquet was -prepared in the vicinity of a famous waterfall some two miles below the -station; champagne vied with the waterfall itself in its volume and -flow; there was a band; Badminton nets had been erected on a convenient -plateau, and covetable prizes had been provided for the winners of an -improvised tournament of two a side; in addition every lady present was -to receive a gift--chocolates, scent, pretty, expensive trifles. High -spirits prevailed, and amid the gay, well-dressed assemblage of women -Mrs. Crayfield was pre-eminent. - -Stella had won the first prize in the tournament, a jewelled bangle; -animated, flushed, she stood the centre of attention receiving -congratulations, protesting that her success was due only to her -handicap, and to the exertions of her partner in the game. "You all know -I can't play a bit!" she said laughing, radiant; the bangle was lovely, -everyone was so nice, nobody seemed to grudge her the little triumph; it -was all delightful. - -"Never mind--you have won, no matter how!" chaffed the General. "Now -aren't you tired?" he added, lowering his voice. "Come for a stroll, to -get an appetite for tea!" - -Adroitly he detached her from the crowd that had already begun to -disperse in groups and pairs. As Stella and Sir George moved off -together Maud and her husband went by; Dick Matthews had arrived at -Surima the previous evening, and Bobbie Nash, as some wag had remarked, -was nursing his nose in the background for the time being; the only -individual, perhaps, who was not altogether enjoying the picnic. - -"Don't attempt to follow us!" called Maud as she passed Stella and the -General, and she looked back at them over her shoulder, pulled down her -mouth, cast up her eyes, then tucked her arm into Dick's and stepped out -beside him with an air of exaggerated virtue. - -"Little cat!" exclaimed the General, highly entertained with her antics, -"as if we should want to follow them!" He glanced about, scanning -various directions in which they might hope to find privacy; and -presently they were climbing the slope of the mountain above the -waterfall to seat themselves on the trunk of a fallen tree screened by a -tangle of ferns, saplings, feathery bamboos, beneath the shade of the -oaks that rose densely behind them. - -Sir George took out his cigarette case. "Well," he said with a resigned -sigh, "it's sad to think we shall all be scattered during the next ten -days. I wonder when and where you and I will meet again!" - -"Goodness knows!" Privately Stella did not particularly care. "Don't let -us look forward." - -Yet his words gave her a sense of depression after all the gaiety and -the glamour of the picnic luncheon and the surface excitement of the -tournament. She was tired, conscious of reaction; her spirits fell. She -would have preferred to sit silent, listening to the music of the -waterfall, the cheerful chirrup of the crickets, to be soothed by the -scenery and the soft evening sunshine, the peace and the remoteness of -the surroundings. - -"Not look forward to our meeting again?" Reproachful astonishment was in -the General's tone as he leaned forward to look into her eyes. "Do you -mean to forget me, little girl?" - -She was aware of a certain magic in his bold, strong face, in his -maturity, and experience of women and of the world. Stella felt -helpless, ensnared, yet the ensnarement was enticing, held a baleful -fascination. So often during these months at Surima she had felt it, -felt at the same time that it meant nothing serious; it was just a game, -but a game that Sir George knew so much better than she did how to play -without fear of disastrous result. More than once had he led her, as it -were, to the edge of the volcano; just a peep over and a timely -withdrawal into safety. - -"Why don't you answer?" he laid his hand on hers; she moved her hand -quickly, yet, as before, not altogether unwilling to dally with the -moment that held a little thrill of excitement. - -"Of course," she said demurely, "I don't want to forget you. Why should -I?" - -"Well then, give me something to remember--that we can both remember to -the end of our days!" - -His arm went round her; his face, his hard, handsome face, was close to -hers! he meant to kiss her, meant business this time--because it was -the last opportunity? And of a sudden Stella thought of Philip, of how -Philip had held her in his arms, had pressed his lips to hers.... - -"Don't!" she cried desperately, "don't! You can't understand--it's -impossible----" - -"Why?" he inquired, intrigued. "Is there someone else?" - -She let herself go, turned to him in her distress, with an instinct that -he would comprehend if he had but an inkling of her plight. "Yes," she -said tremulously, "there is, there was, someone else, and it's all so -hopeless, and miserable!" - -He held out his hand, this time with friendly, almost fatherly -intention. "There! Poor child, how was I to know? Forgive me; I dare say -I've been a beast, but I meant no real harm. Tell me all about it, eh?" - -Sir George felt as much curiosity as interest to hear the little story. -Surely she was too young, too inexperienced, to have had any serious -love affair; he was prepared to be secretly amused, as well as to show -adequate sympathy. Probably it was just some boy and girl romance, and -her parents had married her suitably to put an end to it. - -"I can't talk about it," said Stella. - -"Did it happen before, or after you were married?" he persisted. - -She did not answer. - -"Then it was after!" - -She nodded reluctantly. - -"And shall you see him again?" Clearly it was no one at Surima, since -he himself had been the favoured one of all her adorers. - -"No, never!" said Stella vehemently. - -"Well then, listen to my words of wisdom. Don't imagine at your age that -you won't fall in love again, but when you do remember to keep your head -if you can't keep your heart. The world is never well lost for any man's -sake, whatever the poets may say. If I'm not mistaken you have plenty of -grit; so don't allow circumstances to get the better of you. Take what -you can get out of life without losing your place in the ranks of the -righteous, or you'll be trampled into the dust. Love as much as you -like, but love wisely. Bide your time, Stella, my child; you'll forget -this lover, whoever he is, and there'll be plenty more. Break hearts all -over the place, they'll mend soon enough, and you'll have had your -amusement without paying for it. But don't make false steps and imagine -you can't suffer for them at the hands of the world. It's not good -enough, believe me!" - -From one point of view Stella felt he was right; from another, and a -higher point, that his advocations were false. Had he told her to -remember her marriage vows, to be faithful in thought as well as in deed -to her husband, to shrink with shame from all thought of extracting -consolation by devious methods.... She almost laughed as she imagined -Sir George preaching such practice. Yet in substance his counsel was not -far removed from the course she had mapped out for herself that morning -on the hill side after her meeting with Philip in the ball-room; and -Maud had often said much the same thing, though not quite so plainly -perhaps. Truly she was between the devil and the deep sea; but which was -which? To do her duty by Robert honestly, squarely, meant a sort of -death in life--the deep sea? To play a part while seeking underhand -compensations--the devil? - -"Look here," went on Sir George kindly. "Come and stay with me for the -race meeting at my headquarters this November. You shall have the time -of your life. A big party, all the prettiest women in the Province, and -you'll be the prettiest. You shall do hostess if you like. People might -talk, no doubt they do now, but that doesn't matter as long as they've -nothing to lay hold of. Is it a bargain?" - -It was an alluring invitation. But could she accept it with any hope of -fulfilment? Perhaps--if she carried out her programme of false -conciliation where Robert was concerned. - -"I'm not sure if I could get away," she said doubtfully. - -"The husband?" queried Sir George smiling. "Aren't you clever enough to -get round him?" - -Stella felt reckless. "Anyway, I'll try," she declared; and she -determined, if humanly possible, to succeed. - -"Very well, leave it at that, and let us hope for the best. Count on me -to send you the right kind of letter, and we'll pull it off somehow. -Cheer up, my dear, never say die!" He patted her hand, and lit his -cigarette, persuaded her to take one too, and Stella felt comforted, -almost convinced that he and Maud were right--that in time she might -forget Philip; she had all her life before her in which to do so! - - -Someone was shouting below them; it was the summons to tea. Figures -emerged from all quarters, the valley resounded with voices, privacy was -at an end. Stella rose readily. "We must go," she said, glad of the -interruption; and they scrambled and slipped their way back to the -meeting place. At sunset a procession started toward the station--a -phalanx of dandies and ponies and more Spartan pedestrians who felt -equal to the climb. It was almost dark when Stella and her friends -reached their perch on the hill side, tired yet cheerful, ready for a -rest if hardly for dinner after the superabundance of fare they had -lately enjoyed. Maud rushed to the nursery, Dick hung about, smoking, in -the veranda; Stella was making for her bedroom when one of the servants -accosted her with a salver in his hand on which lay a yellow envelope. - -"Telegram, Memsahib," he said stolidly; she opened it with a qualm of -foreboding. It was signed "Antonio," and she read: - - - "_Come down Colonel Crayfield ill._" - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -"Diagnosis difficult," said Dr. Antonio pompously professional, yet -clearly puzzled and disturbed. - -Stella stood with him in the big drawing-room that looked dusty and -neglected in the dim lamplight, trying to gather what had happened, what -was likely to happen. From across the hall came a monotonous sound, a -loud, delirious voice repeating some sentence over and over again. On -her arrival, soon after midnight, she had scarcely been able to realise -that it was indeed Robert who lay on his bed, so strangely altered, -talking incoherently, paying no heed to her presence. Mrs. Antonio was -there as well as the doctor; apparently the good couple had not left the -house for the past twenty-four hours. - -"Is it typhoid, do you think?" Stella asked helplessly. - -"No, not typhoid, some kind of poison." - -"Something he had eaten?" - -"How can I say? One day quite well, playing tennis, then feeling ill, -sending for me; and all at once very high fever, delirious. As yet not -yielding to treatment. Typhoid, smallpox, cholera, malaria," he ticked -off the diseases on his fingers, "none of them. I have grave suspicion, -Mrs. Crayfield!" - -"You mean you think someone has tried to _poison_ my husband?" - -"Yes, that is what I think." - -"But who could it be? The servants have all been with him for -years----" - -"That is so. But where is that bearer, that Sher Singh?" - -Mystified, Stella stared at the old man. "Isn't Sher Singh here?" In all -the distraction of her arrival she had not noted Sher Singh's absence, -had not thought of him. - -"Not here! He has----" Dr. Antonio paused as though searching for a -word, "he has _bunked_." - -"But surely----" - -He shrugged his shoulders, spread out his hands. "_Afim_-wallah, you -know!" he said significantly. - -"_Afim_-wallah?" - -"Yes, opium-eater." - -"I don't understand. Dr. Antonio, do speak plainly. Is it your opinion -that Sher Singh has been trying to poison my husband? But Sher Singh was -so devoted to him!" - -"That is just it. Jealousy, and you coming as bride, and the woman, his -relation, sent away. Now, brain upset with opium, and you coming back -again soon." - -"Sher Singh's relation? What relation?" She thought impatiently that the -old doctor's imagination had run away with him; then, from the back of -her mind, called up by the mention of opium in conjunction with Sher -Singh, came the recollection of all Mrs. Antonio had said that hot -afternoon long ago in her stuffy, hookah-smelling drawing-room. She -visualised the untidy form clad in a grotesque dressing-gown; the bath -towel tied over the grey hair, the mysterious nods, and: "Knowing too -many secrets!" What was behind it all? The idea that Sher Singh had -tried to poison Robert seemed to her too melodramatic and impossible to -be accepted, whatever his provocation or mental condition; yet, -according to Dr. Antonio, Sher Singh had disappeared, "bunked!" Why? - -"What relation?" she repeated. - -Dr. Antonio puffed, and fidgeted his feet. "Oh, no use going over old -stories. All done with," he said evasively. "Only, putting two and two -together, it is my suspicion that Sher Singh has done harm. But these -things are not easy to bring home; at present we have just to think of -curing." - -He took out a large gold watch, for the clock in the room had stopped. -"Will you rest now, Mrs. Crayfield? Not much change likely just yet. My -wife, she must go home and get sleep, but I will remain." - -"I am not tired," declared Stella, though she ached all over after the -long journey. "It is you who ought to rest," and indeed the old man's -fatigue was patent. "Let me sit with my husband while you lie down; -there is a bed in the dressing-room, and I would call you at once if -necessary." - -Just then Mrs. Antonio joined them. She also looked well nigh worn out. - -"He is dozing now!" she said hopefully; and Stella became aware that the -sound in the bedroom had ceased. - -A little later she was seated by Robert's bedside, and from the -dressing-room came long-drawn, regular snores which told her that Dr. -Antonio was already enjoying his well-deserved rest. - -Robert lay quiet, save for his quick, uneven breathing, and now and then -a moaning sigh. The punkah had been stopped by Dr. Antonio's orders -because, as he had explained to her, it had seemed to worry the patient; -it was hardly needed now that the nights were growing cooler except to -keep off mosquitoes, and Stella could do that with the palm-leaf fan -Mrs. Antonio had handed over to her before her departure. - -For an hour she sat fanning the mottled, swollen face on the pillow; the -lights were turned low, and the long door-windows stood open. It was a -bright starlit night; except for the cry of some restless bird, and the -intermittent squabbling of animals at the base of the fort walls, there -was little sound.... Stella tried not to think, she did not want to -think; and to keep her mind quiescent she repeated to herself verses, -songs, anything she could recall mechanically, but always with -irritating persistency the words of the hymn that seemed to have been -the starting point of her real life kept recurring, ousting all else: - - - I dare not choose my lot - I would not if I might.... - - -Strive as she would she could not get away from the refrain, the very -movements of the fan beat time to the words and the tune. - - - Not mine, not mine the choice.... - - -But she had chosen, she had dared; and what had been the result? - - - In things or great or small.... - - -Supposing she had made a different choice; for example--on that other -occasion, when Philip would so gladly have taken her away to live, if -need be as he had said, "just for each other." At that time she had -honestly put her own longing aside that his future, his work, his -ambitions might not suffer. Supposing she had yielded, failed to "walk -aright" according to her own conception, how soon would Philip have -discovered his mistake? He owed her much! And she had done her little -bit for India--not that India counted any longer with her now; India was -to blame for everything, she told herself petulantly, illogically. She -did not care what happened to India!... Suddenly Robert began to talk, -and her whole attention became concentrated upon him. Gradually his -voice grew clearer, though it was a curious, unnatural voice as if some -stranger were speaking through his lips. Now and then he laughed, a hard -self-satisfied little laugh. - -"There they all go!" he waved his hand in a mocking welcome. "What a -pretty procession! Not a bad record! No trouble, with a little -precaution. Ah, Susie, you young devil--ran off with that fellow to -spite me, did you? What was his name, now? Couldn't have done anything -to suit me better.... Not a patch on the little Eurasian girl; look at -her! Cost a pretty penny to get her married to that black railway boy. -A fortune for him, anyway. Good child, run along; you're all right.... -How many more? Where are you all going--to Hell?" He sang hoarsely: - - - No rose nor key, nor ring-necked dove, - She gave but her sweet self to me! - - -"Yes, eyes like forget-me-nots. That was a lesson, a near shave. Nearly -gave me away too, as well as herself. Well out of _that_! Something -safer, easier to shunt. Sher Singh knows which side his bread's buttered -... faithful fellow Sher Singh...." The voice dropped again to an -indistinct mutter. - -Stella sat aghast. Was it all true, or just the delusions of a -disordered brain? She felt in her bones that it was all true. Yet what -did it matter? Robert's past life was nothing to her. Only, when he got -well, could she forget these revelations, would it not be harder still -to face life with him, however she might contrive to go her own way by -means of subterfuge--and "precaution"! All shred of consideration and -pity for Robert fell away from her as she sat patiently waving the fan. -She, also, seemed to vision the "pretty procession" of his victims; they -mocked her with their eyes as one of themselves. A nausea seized her of -his cruelty, his pitiless sensuality; she felt she could almost applaud -Sher Singh if indeed the man had actually tried to poison his master. - -Then, without warning, Robert sat upright. Words came tumbling in -confusion from his lips; something about the balcony, about someone who -had thrown himself from the balcony.... He was getting out of bed! She -tried to push him back, called loudly for Dr. Antonio, but the long -snores from the dressing-room went on.... Now clinging to Robert's arm -she was being dragged by the great bulky figure towards the open door -that gave on to the balcony, and all the time she called and screamed, -not daring to let go. They were out on the balcony; the stars had -disappeared, and a faint yellow light was stealing over the sky like the -reflection of some vast conflagration unseen in the distance. From below -rose a sudden clamour, beasts fighting among themselves over carrion. -Robert moved on, unconscious of her frantic efforts to stop him; she was -powerless as she felt herself being drawn to the balustrade, still -calling, clinging. His hands were on the stonework, he was climbing up, -raising her with him. Then all at once he paused, turned his head, -looked down on her; his face was terrible. Next moment he had taken her -by the shoulders and flung her violently from him, and as she reeled -giddily she saw something leap into the dawnlight, something that was -like a gigantic bird with wings outstretched. She fell forward, striking -her head heavily against the balustrade. - - -Stella lay semi-conscious, weakly pondering. What a queer smell; she -knew the smell, yet could put no name to it; the room seemed unfamiliar, -and she found she could see only a portion of it as if the rest were in -darkness. What had happened? Where was she? Not that it signified--she -felt too ill to care. When she tried to raise her hand it was heavy as -lead--how funny! When she tried to speak she could not remember what she -wanted to say. Her hat was too tight, it hurt her head, and she could -not take it off. Why was she lying in bed with her hat on? That was -funny too! She heard a little feeble laugh--who had laughed? She was -very thirsty.... Ah, that was nice and cold. - -"Thank you," she managed to say politely, as some iced liquid trickled -down her throat. Then as her senses slowly awoke she found herself -looking into Mrs. Antonio's homely brown face. Kind Mrs. Antonio, who -was giving her a delicious drink. Mrs. Antonio would take off the hat -that was hurting her forehead. Now she knew the name of the smell that -pervaded the room; it was hookah! The successful recollection brought a -sense of triumph. She smiled sweetly at Mrs. Antonio.... - -It was some days before Stella's memory grew clear, before she could -recall what had happened up to the moment when she had fallen against -the stone balustrade. Now she knew that she was in the Antonios' house, -that she had been there for nearly three weeks hovering at death's door; -she knew that Robert had been buried in the little European cemetery, -and that a new Commissioner had arrived who, according to Mrs. Antonio, -was "a very kind man and attending to all business" until Mrs. Crayfield -should have recovered sufficiently to do her share; everybody in the -station had been "helping and good, there was no hurry about anything, -no need to bother." Stella knew also that there was injury to one side -of her head, but to what extent she had not yet thought to ask. Her mind -had been too exercised with the realisation of Robert's tragic end, with -mingled compassion for him and, she could not pretend to deny it, relief -for herself; any effort to look forward was as yet almost beyond her -strength. - -One morning later, when the bandages had been finally removed and she -found she could see with both eyes, she asked Mrs. Antonio to bring her -a hand mirror; she said lightly: "I want to see what I look like. I -expect I'm an awful fright, but I'm well enough now to bear any shock!" - -"Better go through your letters," suggested Mrs. Antonio, laying a -little heap of accumulated correspondence on the table beside the bed. -"I have to run away just now and see to the fowls and the goats." - -She left the room hastily, and Stella fingered the envelopes with -reluctance, dreading the condolences and the sympathy she might find -within them. First she skimmed the English letters apprehensively; it -was possible that the news had been telegraphed home to the papers. No; -evidently when last they wrote Grandmamma and the aunts had known -nothing. There was a letter, of course, from Maud; one from Sir George -Rolt, others from friends she had made at Surima; Mrs. Cuthell had -written. All contained stereotyped phrases; difficult letters to write! -She hardly read them, because there was one she had put aside as yet -unopened--one from Philip Flint! She knew the clear, small handwriting -from seeing the manuscript of the George Thomas romance. How curious -that she should receive her first letter from him in such circumstances. -What had he written? Just "deep sympathy," no doubt, like all the -others! Her hand went out to the letter; she felt faint as at last she -forced herself to tear it open. For a few moments the words danced -before her eyes. There were very few words; no formal beginning--only -this: - - - "I have seen what has happened, and I write to tell you that I am - the same, always the same. If you want me I will come anywhere and - at any time. But if you do not write I shall understand.--PHILIP." - - -She sank back on her pillows. Philip was the same, always the same! She -must have known it all along in her heart; how could she ever have -doubted him! "Philip," she breathed, "Philip!" - -The stuffy, hookah-smelling room was glorified, full of a celestial -light. How quickly she would get well; she was well already--all the -dark days were over. Happiness lay ahead, such happiness! She would send -him just one little line to tell him she had his letter, that she would -write; she composed it in her mind. Or should she telegraph, do both?... -When and where they would meet did not trouble her; time was nothing; -whatever interval was necessary would pass like a dream. - -Mrs. Antonio, returning from her ministrations to the goats and the -fowls, found the patient sitting up in bed, a pencil in her hand, -writing on half-sheets of paper. - -"Now, now," scolded Mrs. Antonio, shaking her forefinger, "doing too -much!" - -"I am quite well," said Stella. "I feel I could get up and do anything." - -"To-morrow, perhaps, out of bed on the sofa. And Pussy will read to you. -Such a nice book she has got, called 'Wide, Wide World.' Shall she come -just now?" - -"Not to-day, dear Mrs. Antonio. I have had some good news in my letters, -and I can't think of anything else. I should like to do my hair when I -have finished writing, and then have some of your nice tea. And will you -send my letter and a telegram for me to the post office presently?" - -"Doing hair! Writing letters! Sending telegrams!" exclaimed Mrs. -Antonio. "You are wanting to run before walking!" - -"Well, do let me run; I promise not to fall down. There, my letter is -ready, and the telegram. Now do give me a looking-glass, and a brush and -comb, there's a good soul. I feel I want to smarten myself up!" - -"I think the doctor will be coming in just now. Better to wait and ask -what he says. Listen!" she cocked her ears. "That is him coming back -from the bazaar dispensary. I hear the trap. Wait a moment, Mrs. -Crayfield dear----" - -She was gone; and Stella, elated, defiant, rose from her bed and -tottered across the room. She was determined to see herself in the glass -before Mrs. Antonio came back. If she was a scarecrow she would know how -long to postpone her meeting with Philip; she must be looking all right -when she met Philip again.... Clinging to the furniture, she made her -way to the dressing-table. Had she any legs, or hadn't she? If she felt -she was walking on air, was it any wonder after Philip's letter! Now she -had reached her goal. She bent forward; and in the mirror she beheld a -sight that froze her blood. The whole of one side of her face was -disfigured, hideous, grotesque; a great, puckered red scar ran from her -forehead to her chin, shortening the contour, lifting the edge of her -mouth.... She was revolting! That was why Mrs. Antonio had evaded her -request for a hand glass.... Clutching the edge of the table, she stood -gazing at the wreck of her beauty. Everything was gone; she could never -let Philip see her; and she was so young, so young! - -A few minutes later she had groped her way blindly back to the bed. She -tore up the letter and the telegram she had written, tore up Philip's -letter also. "_If you do not write I shall understand._" She could never -write; Robert's legacy of punishment was complete. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -Lady Lane-Johnson looked about her handsome drawing-room with critical -gaze. She moved a bowl of roses to a more effective position, loosened a -sheaf of Madonna lilies in a crystal vase. The atmosphere was fragrant -with the perfume of costly flowers; the whole room betokened prosperity -combined with good taste, from the excellent examples of modern Art on -the brocade-hung walls to the Aubusson carpet and the silk curtains that -subdued the sound of traffic through the open windows. And Philip -Flint's sister harmonised with her surroundings, an elegant, well-bred -looking woman in a Paris gown, diamonds in her hair, round her neck, at -her breast. - -She consulted her list of expected guests; the pairing for this dinner -party had entailed an unusual amount of consideration. In such -undertakings John was of no use whatever; he would rush in at the last -moment, and unless she took care would probably seize absentmindedly on -the first lady he saw and hurry her down to dinner. Even now he had not -returned; if she heard him on the stairs before the arrivals began she -must catch him and remind him that he was to take in old Lady Bawe -(though he always declared her name ought to be spelt Bore). She herself -must put up with Lord Redgate, disagreeable creature, but the laws of -etiquette forbade any other arrangement; anyway she would have Carmine -Lake, the fashionable portrait painter, on her other side, and he was -good company. Her own parents were rather on her mind; her father never -considered the political feelings of his neighbours, and invariably -suspected her literary and artistic friends of being Radicals. -Concerning Lord Redgate's opinions there could be no question of -anything so mild as "suspicion," and she had therefore placed the two -gentlemen as far apart at the dinner table as possible. She knew her -mother felt "out of it" among actors and painters, and authors, and -John's distinguished professional colleagues with their wives who were -always busy over public meetings and charity entertainments patronised -by Royalty. - -As a rule she did not invite her old-fashioned parents to her dinner -parties; they preferred to come quietly, when she had an evening to -spare, but to-night their presence was unavoidable, because Philip had -just arrived from India (she had not even seen him yet), and she -particularly wanted him and "the old people" to meet Lord Redgate and -his daughter Dorothy, who had known Philip in India two years ago; and -if she, Grace, were not greatly mistaken the young lady would like to -meet him again as often as possible! Lord Redgate would not have said -"Thank you" had she bidden him to a quiet family gathering; that would -have to come later if matters shaped as she hoped they might. It would -be such an excellent marriage for Philip; Lord Redgate had so much -influence, his son-in-law would be pushed on regardless of obstacles, -however glaring the "job"; his one weakness was his self-willed, -impulsive daughter, who publicly boasted that she could turn her father -round her little finger! - -Grace knew from Dorothy that she and Philip had kept up a desultory -correspondence since their parting in India. She wondered if she would -have time to pump Philip in the matter of his feelings towards the girl -if he and the old people arrived early, as she had told them to do. She -hoped Philip would not look too "Indian." His clothes were sure to be -all wrong, seeing that he had arrived only three days ago, during her -absence in the country for a week-end visit. The dinner party had been -hastily convened, with apologies and explanations for the short notice, -directly his telegram came from Marseilles. - -Was that John on the stairs? She flew to the door and saw her husband -ascending leisurely. - -"Make haste, darling," she called, "and remember you are to take in Lady -Bawe." - -"Why, is there a dinner party?" He blinked at her dreamily; his scanty -hair was ruffled, he looked tried, over-strained. That afternoon he had -been engaged on a stupendous operation, and the reaction of success was -still upon him. - -"Yes, yes, I told you! Go along quickly and dress." - -"You look wonderful," he said, smiling at her. - -She knew he was proud of her, that he grudged her nothing in the world, -that the money he made gave him pleasure principally for her sake, yet -sometimes he provoked her almost past bearing, his forgetfulness, his -blindness to the value of her social triumphs that were undoubtedly an -indirect asset to him in his calling. His calling came first with him, -she came second; and there were no children, nothing to fill her life -beyond the eternal round of engagements and social successes, which -during the last ten years had become a sort of second nature to her. Now -she looked forward to match-making on her brother's behalf. - -The front door bell rang. "There!" She waved her husband up the stairs. -"Don't be longer than you can help, and whatever you do, remember Lady -Bawe." - -"Lady Bawe," he repeated, and quickened his steps obediently. - -Presently Sir Philip and Lady Flint, and Mr. Flint, were announced. - -"Well, mother--well, father." Grace kissed her parents, then turned to -embrace her brother. "Philip," she cried, "how you have altered! Is it -really you?" - -She could hardly believe that this sun-baked, middle-aged man, growing -rather bald, with the set face and grave eyes, was Philip. Her -remembrance of him last time he was on furlough was so different. Then -he had looked almost boyish, full of spirits, enjoying every moment of -his leave, yet enthusiastic over his prospects when he should return to -his work. Now he looked as if nothing would ever arouse his enthusiasm -or high spirits again. He even showed little pleasure at seeing her, and -they had been such pals in the old days! Grace supposed it was the want -of rest and change that ailed him. He ought to have come home two years -ago, after all his hard work over the famine, instead of being tempted -to stay on in a responsible position that, whatever it might lead to, -could hardly be worth the sacrifice of health. She thought he looked far -from well as she drew him aside and whispered: - -"Who do you think is coming to-night on purpose to meet you again?" - -"Tell me," he said indifferently. - -"Dorothy Baker." - -It was a relief to see his face light up with a certain amount of -interest. "Dorothy Baker! Just fancy! And when I last saw her----" - -His memory turned to an Indian junction and a native-crowded platform, a -dimly lit railway carriage, and Dorothy Baker with all her wild ideas, -her conceit and her flashes of humility, her freckled face and slim, -long figure. "Then she knows I am at home? I'm afraid I didn't write and -tell her I was coming." - -"Yes, she knows, and presently she and her father will be here. This -party is in your honour, dear old boy." - -"Very kind of you." There was no more than politeness in his tone, but -his sister observed that he looked towards the door as though watching -for the arrival of Dorothy Baker. - -Mr. Carmine Lake was announced, and Lady Lane-Johnson welcomed him with -effusion. Sir Philip Flint glared disapproval of the celebrated artist's -abundant locks and soft, tucked shirt, glared more fiercely still on the -couple that followed, whose name was well known in Liberal circles, -though the gentleman present was only a relative of the real culprit. -The room filled quickly. Lord Redgate and his daughter were the last to -arrive. - -Dorothy entered swiftly, eager, animated, dressed as usual, simply but -expensively. Her gown was of a soft shade of green that suited her tawny -colouring. Lady Lane-Johnson thought she had never seen the girl look -better--quite _pretty_, in spite of her strong resemblance to her -father, whose irregular features and ruddy complexion she had inherited -in a refined and more kindly form. Lord Redgate was an ugly man, but no -one could say that his daughter was ugly or even plain. - -As Lady Lane-Johnson greeted the pair Philip came forward. He was glad -to see Miss Baker again, and Miss Baker made no concealment of her own -delight. Her evident pleasure, though it could hardly fail to flatter -his vanity, caused Philip a slight feeling of embarrassment. He had -never realised that the girl liked him to such an extent; in fact, he -remembered that at the time of their parting she had appeared almost -indifferent to him. Her heart must have grown fonder with absence. - -"Pater," she said, turning to her father, "this is Mr. Flint, who was so -kind to me in India, you remember." - -Lord Redgate shook hands without speaking. Philip encountered a -searching gaze from beneath the shaggy red eyebrows. He felt he was -being "sized up." - -"You will take Miss Baker down to dinner," Grace told her brother, "and -you must put up with me, Lord Redgate, though"--with an engaging -smile--"I can't talk about labour troubles, and 'back to the land,' or -anything of that kind, you know." - -He grunted. Certainly Lord Redgate's strong point was not "manners." - -"Now we are all here," went on Lady Lane-Johnson, not at all -disconcerted--she had expected nothing else from her distinguished -guest, peer of the realm with unlimited riches though he was--"except -John, of course." Consulting her list, she went in and out among the -company allotting partners, while Miss Baker chattered with a sort of -nervous excitement to Philip. - -"And how is India? It seems more like twenty years to me instead of only -two since I was out there. I shall never rest till I can get back. How -long are you home for?" - -"Six months, unless I take an extension." - -"Good! You will come and see us? I've such heaps to talk about; and you -must stay with us in the country. Your sister has told me how splendidly -you have got on--Simla and Calcutta, and no end of importance. The next -thing will be 'The Star,' of course." - -Just then Sir John hurried in, and the little disturbance that ensued as -he went round shaking hands, to be successfully anchored by his wife to -Lady Bawe, parted them for the moment. But when, with Dorothy on his -arm, Philip found himself descending the staircase, carefully avoiding -the train of the lady in front of them, it was of Stella Crayfield that -he was thinking. Miss Baker had innocently started the aching, -regretful memory. The one star he really desired was not for him, would -never be his. Where was Stella at this moment? What had become of her? -The letter he had written to her after her husband's death was never -answered, and, true to his promise, he had "understood," had accepted -and respected her silence with bitter resignation, extracting what -solace he could from his work and his rapid advancement, though his -success brought him little solid satisfaction. - -Now they were all seated at the dinner table, with slices of musky melon -before them; and fantastically the notion struck him that Miss Baker was -rather like a slice of melon herself--all curves and rich golden hues, -delectable but just as unsatisfying. - -"What about the book?" he inquired with an interest that was not wholly -simulated. "If it has appeared, why didn't you send me a copy?" - -Her face fell. "Oh, that was a dreadful blow!" She looked up at him with -a pathetic demand for sympathy in her fine eyes. "No one would publish -the book unless all expenses were guaranteed by the author, and though, -of course, there would have been no difficulty about that----" - -"You wanted it to come out on its own merits?" - -"Yes, that was how I felt. Pater said it was very stupid of me." - -"I think it was very honest of you." - -"Do you really? I often wanted to ask you, but it seemed such a -confession of failure, and you know you always made me feel a failure -when I was with you in India!" - -"Did I? I assure you it was quite unintentional." - -She laughed a little self-consciously. "Oh, I'm sure it was very good -for me, and perhaps it helped me to realise that my object in writing a -book at all was not so much to give my experiences and opinions to the -public as to impress my friends with my cleverness and superiority. -Really _you_ are to blame for the non-appearance of the book." - -"What an unkind accusation!" - -"Not quite so unkind perhaps as it might appear," she said softly; then, -as though to edge away from a too intimate topic, she began to ask -questions about his last appointment, about his voyage home. What had he -done with Jacob? Had he sold the chestnut pony? And they talked and -talked as course succeeded course, until the wine and the wonderfully -cooked food, and the girl's unaffected interest in himself and his -doings chased the cloud from Philip's spirit, lifted his depression, and -he felt, as the women streamed from the dining-room at the conclusion of -the meal, that perchance life need not be quite so dreary, so empty, -after all. - -Someone plumped down in the vacant chair beside him. It was Dorothy's -parent, a glass of port in his hand, purpose in his bearing. Philip -prepared himself for an argument as to the claims of India to Home Rule. -He felt ready to go farther than his own convictions in order to confute -the ignorant and arrogant assertions he anticipated from this man, who -seemed to him a traitor to his own class, and equally a traitor to the -class into which he had shoved himself by means of his tongue and his -wealth. - -Instead, equally to his annoyance, he found himself being catechised as -to his pay and prospects in the Indian service. When would his pension -be due? What would it amount to? Did he expect any special recognition -for his work during the famine? Philip scowled and answered shortly, -said in conclusion that he expected no recognition of his famine -services, it was all in the day's work. He endeavoured to change the -subject, but his inquisitor, for some reason of his own (if he had any, -as Philip queried, beyond vulgar curiosity), was not to be snubbed. "Let -me see, what are the Indian decorations? C.I.E.'s one of them?" - -Philip interposed flippantly: "Which means A.S.S. very often!" But the -pleasantry was lost on Lord Redgate, who either ignored or did not -perceive it. - -"Now I recollect," he continued. "And C.S.I., the Star of India; but I'm -blessed if I know which is the more important." - -"The Star, of course," snapped Philip. Why in the world should he be -haunted this evening by the word that was so closely associated with all -that had gone wrong in his life? - -Lord Redgate produced a gold pencil-case and made a note on his shirt -cuff. Philip watched him, wondering moodily what he was writing; then -Lord Redgate looked up, and the eyes of the two men met. - -"You were very good to my girl in India," he said unexpectedly, and the -rugged face softened. - -Philip flushed, repenting his antagonism, but he could not bring -himself to like Lord Redgate any better. "I did nothing," he protested -awkwardly. - -"She told me how you looked after her. My girl and I understand each -other; there are no secrets between us." - -"There was very little to tell. I was glad to be of use." - -A pause followed, and Philip rose. "If you will excuse me, I want to -have a few words with my brother-in-law." And he made his way round the -table to where Sir John was sitting silent, not attempting to make -conversation. His wife was perhaps right when she declared that John was -the worst host in the world; but his wine was excellent if his company -was not, and his guests were contented with the former. - -Meanwhile in the drawing-room Miss Baker had attached herself to the -guileless Lady Flint, who was willingly drawn into confidences -respecting her son's boyhood. Here was a nice, unaffected girl; it was -no effort to talk to her, especially as she was anxious to talk about -Philip, and had seen Philip in India, had seen how he lived and how hard -he worked. - -"It must be so lovely for you to have him at home again," said this -charming young lady. - -"Yes, my dear, it is a great comfort and pleasure, but I don't feel -quite happy about him. He has changed a good deal." - -"Well, it's a long time since you last saw him, isn't it?" - -"I don't think he looks well." - -"Neither do I, but he will soon be all the better for the change to -England." - -"He was a delicate child though he grew up quite strong. You see, he was -born in India, and I couldn't bring him home till he was nearly seven -years old." The old lady prattled on, and Miss Baker listened with such -encouraging interest that Lady Flint plunged deep into the subject of -Philip's childish ailments, the difficulties over his education, the -agonies of parting with him just when she felt he most needed her care. - -"We Indian mothers have always that trial to meet--separation from -either husband or children, and it never seems to be taken into account -by those at home who don't have to face it. Personally we were lucky in -finding a nice place for Philip and Grace till they were old enough to -go to school, but then the holidays were always on my mind; relations -are sometimes so injudicious. Fortunately the children had character, -both of them, and as my husband rose in the service I was able to come -home more frequently to see them. Dear Philip was such a clever boy!" - -"He is a very clever man!" quoth Miss Baker emphatically, "and how well -he has got on!" - -"He was always ambitious; he mapped out his own career from the very -first--got a scholarship for his public school and again at Oxford, and -passed very high for the Civil Service. He could have stayed at home, -but he preferred to take India, and his father and I were very glad. -Life in an office would not have suited him; he was a sportsman at heart -as well as a student." - -"No wonder you are proud of him----" - -Lady Flint dropped her fan; Miss Baker picked it up, deferentially, and -as she restored it Lady Flint thought the girl's hair very pretty, -though it was a pity, in her opinion, that she wore it cut short. A -possibility crept into her mind that was not altogether distasteful: was -there likely to be "anything" between Miss Baker and her beloved son? -Though Miss Baker had no connection with India beyond her brief visit to -the country, she seemed a warm-hearted, sensible child, and certainly -she appreciated Philip! Lady Flint was aware that Lord Redgate was a -very rich man, which might be a barrier; if not of course it would be -nice to feel that Philip and his wife need never be worried over money -matters; in the case of Grace's marriage that had been a satisfactory -element, who could deny it?--though she would not have had either of her -children influenced in the least degree by worldly advantages. - -She felt her way gently. "How would you like to live in India?" she -inquired, and she saw the girl flush as she answered decidedly: "I -should simply love it!" - -"Perhaps your father will take you there again for a visit some day?" - -"I went alone, you know--that time. And if I ever go again it will not -be on a visit; I shall go to stay." - -Lady Flint looked a little puzzled. "But what would your father say to -that?" - -"My father never interferes with anything I want to do." - -"Dear me!" said Lady Flint. - -The door opened and the men came into the room. Philip made straight for -his mother and Miss Baker, who whispered hurriedly: "Lady Flint, may I -come and see you?" - -"Do, my dear, I am always at home on Sundays. I shall be very pleased to -see you. Come next Sunday if you can." And she made a mental note to -keep Philip at home next Sunday afternoon. If the two young people were -mutually attracted she would help on the courtship to the best of her -powers; but she rather wished Miss Baker were not a rich man's daughter, -and not an Honourable--it would mean that Philip, like Grace, might be -absorbed into a world she did not understand. - -"I have been hearing all about you!" exclaimed Dorothy, looking up at -Philip as he stood beside them. "How tiresome and naughty you were, and -how you wouldn't work, and gave such a lot of trouble after you grew -up!" - -They all laughed, and Philip glanced affectionately at his mother, a -glance that endeared him the more to the long-limbed girl in the green -gown.... - -Then a well-known pianist who was of the party consented to play, and -silence was enforced on the audience. Once at the piano the musician -continued to give unlimited samples of his own compositions, and Philip, -though he thought the fellow made an unconscionable noise, welcomed the -respite from conversation. Again he felt depressed, inert, unreasonably -impatient with the well-fed, well-dressed throng that had met together -merely to eat and drink and to impress each other with their own -importance. They were all so self-satisfied in their several ways! He -made up his mind that he would get away from London as soon as he could -do so without hurting his parents' feelings; go somewhere to fish by -himself; he had no use for crowds like this. - -"You will come and see us?" repeated Miss Baker when at last farewells -became general. "Come and dine quite quietly, just ourselves. When will -you come?" - -He could hardly plead a press of engagements, yet he was seized with the -reluctance to tie himself that so often attacks the newly returned -Anglo-Indian; everyone was in such a hurry at home, he wanted to feel -free, but evasion was impossible, and a near date was decided upon. - -Going home with his father and mother in the hired brougham he said: "I -wonder how Grace can stick that kind of life!" - -"So do I," agreed the General. - -"But her friends are all so clever," protested Lady Flint; she had never -before felt so well disposed towards Grace's world; "and most of them do -something." - -"Nothing that really matters, except the doctor lot," growled Sir -Philip, puffing at one of his son-in-law's excellent cigars. "Upon my -word, I felt thankful I was a bit deaf when that music master, or -whatever he calls himself, began hammering on the piano. And as for that -fellow Redgate--all I can say is that if he made himself, as he boasts, -he made a mistake." - -"Well, dear, his daughter seems a very nice girl. You think she is -nice, don't you, Philip?" - -Philip answered casually: "Oh, she's all right, as long as she gets her -own way." - -Lady Flint ventured to announce that Miss Baker was probably coming to -tea on Sunday, and Sir Philip said he hoped her father was not coming -too. "If he is," he added truculently, "I shall go out." - -How tiresome they both were, thought poor Lady Flint; perhaps the dinner -had something to do with it, certainly it had been very rich, and far -too much of it. The General was sure to have eaten all the things that -he knew disagreed with him, and of course Philip was not accustomed to -such elaborate feasts. - - - - -CHAPTER X - - -Philip did not carry out his intention of leaving London as soon as -escape could be accomplished without hurt to his parents' feelings. He -felt as though helpless in the grip of some mysterious conspiracy that -from day to day left him with hardly an hour that he could call his own. - -"London is an awful place," he complained to his mother; "the smallest -errand runs away with the best part of a day, buying socks and shirts -for example, not to speak of boots and the tailor! Trades-people seem to -take a delight in obstructing one at every turn. If you wish to buy a -pair of gloves in comfort you have to be prepared to spend hours over -it, what with going and coming and hunting about for what you really -want!" - -"Dearest boy, how you do exaggerate!" argued Lady Flint, fondly. "But I -know what you mean. I always felt the same for the first month after I -got home from India. Life is so different out there; plenty of space and -no trouble over trifles, though one hardly calls setting oneself up in -necessaries exactly a trifle anywhere. You ought to go to the dentist, -too, and see a doctor, and have your eyes tested. Don't leave all that -to the end of your leave, or the last month will be worse than the -first. And your father thinks you ought to attend a levee." - -"My teeth are all right, I'm not ill, and I can see perfectly well; -also I am not going to attend a levee," he assured her firmly; he could -not have explained his condition of mind to his mother even had he -desired to do so; he could hardly account for it to himself. He felt -restless and listless at the same time; he hated the crowds in the -streets and the shops, the appointments to see relations that his mother -cajoled him into making, the little luncheons and teas with aunts and -cousins who were all so much more delighted to see him than he was to -see them; and Grace was a nuisance; she dragged him hither and thither, -tied him down to engagements without his permission, told him, when he -protested, that he wanted "waking up." Miss Baker, to his surprise, was -ever ready to aid and abet Grace in making up theatre and supper -parties--always something--Sandown, Ranelagh, the Park, endless -"tamashas"; Miss Baker appeared to have forgotten all her unworldly -theories, and to be as keen on gaiety as the rest of them; and wherever -they went he found himself at her side. Philip began to suspect his -sister of match-making; the suspicion became a certainty one evening -when he had accompanied her unwillingly to a great "crush" in Carlton -House Terrace, which, to him, was just a kaleidoscope of colour and -jewels, and a pushing, chattering throng. - -The blaze of light, the crowd, and the scents, and the closeness of the -atmosphere, despite blocks of ice and electric fans, confused and -depressed him; he stood moody and resentful as Grace greeted her -friends, kept introducing him: "My brother from India," and he had to -listen and reply to vapid remarks about heat and snakes, and how -interesting it must be to live in India, and so on; till at length, in -desperation, he interrupted a conversation his sister was holding with a -being whose coat-front was bespattered with orders, to tell her he meant -to go home. - -"This is more than I can stand," he said with suppressed impatience; -"I'm off!" - -"Oh, Philip, do wait; Dorothy is sure to be here presently, and then -you'll be all right." Her eyes roved round the brilliant scene. "She was -to meet us here, you know. You can't disappoint her." - -"She won't be disappointed." - -"Of course she will be. Philip," she added, with serious intention, -"don't be a fool!" - -"What do you mean?" he began hotly, but just then they were swept -asunder by new arrivals, and as he turned to flee he encountered Miss -Baker at the head of the stairs. He felt that a web was being woven -around him; now he understood what they were all driving at--Grace, and -his mother, and yes, Dorothy herself!--for as he met her eyes shining -with welcome he realised that she, with everyone else, awaited but one -outcome of their friendship. How blind he had been; he cursed his own -denseness. - -As a matter of course she attached herself to him. "Where shall we go? -It's too early for supper, and I don't feel inclined to sit and listen -to music. Let's find some comfortable corner where we can talk in -peace." - -"I am making for a comfortable corner farther away," he said -petulantly; "I'm going home!" - -"Oh!" her dismay was patent, "and when I've only just come? I've got -something to tell you, something thrilling! Look here, I know this house -well. Come along, follow me!" - -What else could he do? Morosely he followed her, feeling rather as if he -were walking in his sleep, through a door, along a passage, up a few -steps, and they were alone in a pretty boudoir that was cool and quiet, -fragrant with flowers, away from the crowd and the noise. - -"Now we are safe! Give me a cigarette." Dorothy settled herself in a -deep chair; the gleam of her hair against a pile of purple cushions, her -long white arms and slender outline presented a striking picture, as -Philip could not but note as he stood before her on the hearthrug. Had -it not been for the disturbing idea that had taken definite shape in his -mind this evening he would have felt soothed, contented, very much at -home with her. As it was, he began to distrust his own powers of -resistance. Either he must get out of London at once, or he would be -forced seriously to consider the question of asking Lord Redgate's -daughter to be his wife. If, as he could not help assuming, she expected -him to propose to her sooner or later, opposition from her father was -not to be anticipated. Dorothy would have her own way--given the chance. -The fact that he was now actually contemplating the possibility startled -him. What a mean brute he must be! He could never love the girl as a man -should love the woman he married; if it became necessary he must tell -her the truth, and put an end to all thought of anything but -friendship.... - -"You are very glum to-night," she remarked, gazing at him through a -cloud of smoke. "What is the matter?" - -"Probably the usual curse of the Anglo-Indian--liver!" he replied, with -an effort to speak lightly. "I've been eating and drinking too much ever -since I got home. It's time I went in for the simple life, somewhere out -of all this. It doesn't suit my peculiar constitution!" - -"It doesn't suit me either," she said reflectively. - -"You seem to thrive on it, anyway!" - -"Oh! I am one of those chameleon people who can adapt themselves to any -surroundings. I could be happy anywhere, on a desert island, in the -Indian jungle--more particularly in the Indian jungle, provided----" - -She paused and flicked some cigarette ash on to the carpet. - -He took a little china saucer from the mantelpiece and placed it on a -table beside her. "You must learn to be tidy wherever you are!" he said -with mock severity, and added: "What was it you had to tell me?" - -"A secret! Such a nice one, though soon it will be a secret no longer." - -"Oh! Are you going to be married in spite of your contempt for my sex?" - -She drew in her breath sharply, as though something had hurt her. "Why -do you remind me of my silly ideas? Don't you think I have the sense to -see when I have been wrong?" - -He evaded reply to the question. "Well, out with this wonderful secret. -Don't keep me in suspense." - -"It's this--you are to have the C.S.I.!" she told him triumphantly. "The -Star of India! Doesn't it sound splendid--glittering, glorious, grand!" - -He stared at her stupidly, stammered: "How--how do you know?" - -"Pater told me to-night, just as I was starting to come here," and she -added naïvely: "to come and meet _you_. Good old Pater, he is arranging -it all. Now, what do you say to that for a piece of news?" - -"It is extremely kind of him, but I don't want it, I don't deserve it!" -he cried in desperation. "You must tell him--it must be stopped----" - -"What on earth are you talking about? If you don't deserve it, who does? -Anyway, it's to be yours, whether you feel you deserve it or not, and I -can't tell you how proud I feel that in a kind of way you will have got -it through _me_!" - -Through her! and through her, if he chose to say the word, he could have -all that, to the world, would appear to make life well worth the living. -For the moment the temptation was strong, almost overwhelming. Here, for -the asking, was the devotion of a clever, capable girl who had the -makings of a true comrade, who would revive his ambitions, enter -wholeheartedly into his career; he saw himself honoured, successful, -beyond his dreams; a power in the country that he loved to serve, with -every advantage, officially and socially, in his grasp. Why should he -hesitate? Here was his chance! he stood at the turning-point of his -existence that meant "fortune" without struggle or delay if he went -boldly forward.... - -Then, all at once, sweeping aside the temptation, the brilliant outlook, -came the thought of Stella, the true Star of his life and his heart; and -dimly he felt that to barter the memory of that other star, however far -from his reach, for tangible gain would be infamous, contemptible. The -shadow was more to him than the substance; he could not do this thing -and feel that his purpose was clean! - -"I suppose you will think I am mad," he said slowly, with difficulty, -"but there is something--something that stands in the way----" - -The girl paled, dropped the end of her cigarette into the saucer, and he -saw her hands grip the arms of the chair. "Is it--is it because----" she -lost her self-control. "Oh! don't look at me like that! Can't you -see--what does anything matter! Don't be so proud. Nothing can be too -good for you--Philip!" - -She rose, held her hands out to him, firm, square hands; he took them -gently, reverently, and she swayed as she recognised the lack of passion -in his touch. - -Haltingly, as best he could, he tried to tell her the truth, but it all -sounded so elusive, so unsubstantial, he felt he could hardly expect her -to comprehend. Silence fell between them; he turned from her in painful -regret. - -She laid her hand on his shoulder. "Philip, don't you trust me? Do you -think I can't know how you feel? If I can't help you in one way I can in -another perhaps, by giving you all my sympathy and understanding. I hope -if I had been placed as you are that I should have done exactly the -same. I see--I realise----" she faltered pitifully, "that as things are -you can't take the Star, you can't owe it to _me_ in the least degree. I -will explain somehow to my father; leave it to me, it isn't too late, -and some day you will have it--earn it yourself entirely--and--it may be -the other one too, I hope so, I do indeed! if she is worthy of you. But -oh! how could she, how could she leave your letter unanswered! There may -have been some mistake, it may come all right, don't give up hope. The -most wonderful things happen. And I--I shall always be your friend----" - -She stopped, breathing fast; she had spoken so rapidly, under such -stress of emotion. As he met her strained, wide-open eyes she looked -almost unreal. A mist clouded his vision; he felt choked as he tried to -answer, to thank her; speech seemed so futile; for him the whole thing -was beyond words; he knew he was failing hopelessly to express himself. - -She gave a tremulous laugh that was half a sob. "It's all right, don't -say anything, don't try. We both _know_. Let's get back to the crowd," -and moving to the door she turned out the lights. Quickly she went -before him, down the steps and along the narrow passage. He saw her -mingle with the throng, her head held high, talking and laughing, a -bright, conspicuous figure, a brave, noble-hearted girl! He wished -honestly that he could have loved her; wished it quite apart from the -solid advantages she could have brought him as his wife. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - - -A day or two later when Philip, preparatory to his departure from -London, was choosing a fishing-rod in a well-known shop devoted to the -requirements of anglers, a little lady dressed in the height of fashion -rustled over to him from the farther end of the showroom where she had -been standing in company with an elderly, distinguished-looking man. - -"Is it Mr. Flint?" she inquired gaily; and as he looked at her in -puzzled politeness a vague memory returned to him of someone trigged out -in sequins and tinsel, with a tambourine.... - -"You don't remember me? This time I'm not pretending. We really have met -before! My name is Matthews--Maud Verrall, you know, Stella Crayfield's -friend. How history repeats itself. Fancy my having to introduce myself -again, and all among fishing-rods and tackle and things, instead of in a -ball-room full of dressed-up idiots in India!" - -"Why, of course--of course, how are you?" he said, gathering his wits -together, battling with an impulse to attack her on the spot as to -Stella's whereabouts, to ask her all about her. If anyone knew it would -be this wonderfully garbed little person, who now proceeded to beckon to -her deserted companion. - -"Here's another old friend of Stella's, Sir George Rolt; you saw him at -that horrible ball, if you remember----" - -The shop assistant stood by in patient resentment as the male customers -neglected their object, and the lady chattered of everything but -fishing-rods. - -"I'm taking Sir George down with me to my old home in the country -to-morrow for a visit," she told Mr. Flint; "he and my husband are going -to fish from morning till night. So dull for me! but I shall have Stella -to talk to, and she will be thankful. She's at The Chestnuts, you know. -'Grandmamma and the Aunts'," she added with a mischievous "moue," then -she sighed "Poor Stella!" and she looked at him searchingly. "That was a -terrible business, wasn't it?" - -Philip composed himself with an effort. "Her husband's death, you mean? -Yes, I suppose it was. I have heard nothing of her since it happened. I -hope she is well, have you seen her lately?" - -"Quite lately; I've only been in town for a flying visit, just to get -clothes." - -There was an awkward pause. Philip became aware that Sir George was -regarding him with particular attention. Was the man Stella's future -husband? The possibility filled him with helpless rage. - -Mrs. Matthews coughed artificially and glanced from one man to the -other. "Sir George, dear," she said sweetly, "you'd better go back to -that kind gentleman who was giving you such good advice about -fishing-rods, or someone else will snap him up. I want to talk secrets -with Mr. Flint, if he's not in too great a hurry." - -Sir George smiled and moved away compliantly. Mrs. Matthews apologised -to Philip's assistant. "I'm so sorry to interrupt, but I haven't seen -this friend of mine for such ages. Presently he will buy _heaps_ of -things, don't wait for him now if you are busy. I will see that he -doesn't run away!" - -The young man succumbed to her blandishments, and Mrs. Matthews piloted -Philip to a corner of the shop where she annexed a couple of chairs. - -"This is a funny place for a private conversation!" she remarked, "but -I'm not going to lose such a chance now I've got it. Fancy our meeting -like this; what a piece of luck! Now listen to me and answer my -questions." She scrutinised him closely. "You look struck all of a -heap!" - -"I feel it," said Philip briefly. - -"Why? because you want to hear news of Stella, or because you don't?" - -"Because it's the one thing in the world I wish for," he answered, his -heart beating fast. - -Her face cleared. "That's all right; one step forward! Now tell me--do -you know why Stella never answered your letter?" - -"There could be only one reason. I told her in my letter that if I did -not hear from her I should understand." He fixed his eyes on a stuffed -salmon in a glass case, he could not bring himself to meet Mrs. -Matthews' inquisitive gaze. - -"You silly fool!" said Stella's friend vigorously. "Couldn't you have -guessed that she must have had some desperate reason?" - -"I thought----" - -"You thought everything that was wrong, of course. Men always do. Sir -George Rolt thinks he is devoted to me at present, dear old thing, and -that I am equally 'gone' on him, but he's mistaken, though it's great -fun for us both while it lasts. Can you stand a shock, Mr. Philip -Flint?" - -"I can stand anything," said Philip doggedly, "except----" - -"I know what you were going to say--except to hear that Stella never -wants to see you again?" - -"Exactly." - -"Would it make any difference if you found her altered in another way?" - -"How do you mean?" he asked, mystified. - -Then Mrs. Matthews 'set to' as she would herself have expressed it, and -for the space of five minutes she talked breathlessly, uninterrupted by -Philip, who listened to her in greedy silence. - -"There," she concluded at last. "Now, do you see?" - -"Not altogether, I must confess. I don't see why Stella should have -concluded that her appearance would have made the smallest difference to -me, after my letter. It was very unfair to me!" - -"Don't talk such trash. It was perfectly natural. She was too hideous -for words until she got home; we came home together, and I made her put -herself into the hands of an expert. Massage and treatment did wonders, -but, all the same, poor dear, she will never be beautiful again!" - -"Good heavens, as if that would matter to me. Whatever she looks -like----" he paused, overcome by his feelings. - -"Well, I will believe you, though one never knows! Anyway she's not so -bad, it's only one side of her face." - -"Mrs. Matthews, for goodness' sake don't talk like this; I can't bear -it. Just tell me, once for all--does Stella care for me still?" - -"Yes, darling, she does; and the best thing you can do is to come down -with me and Sir George to-morrow, fishing-rods and all, to The Court, -and make her tell you so herself. Will you?" - -"Will I?" he scoffed ecstatically. "Mrs. Matthews, you are an angel!" - -"Not yet," she assured him. "I don't mean to die young." - - * * * * * * - -Philip Flint walked up the short drive to The Chestnuts. The air was -filled with the peace and the scent of the summer's evening; and as he -viewed the old house with its little paved terrace, the lawn sloping -down to the stream, the cedar tree, the red wall of the kitchen garden, -he felt that it was all familiar to him. - -An old lady was seated on the terrace flags--that would be "Grandmamma"; -and an austere-looking female emerged from one of the French windows to -speak to the old lady--was that Aunt Augusta, or Aunt Ellen? His heart -warmed towards them. And as he hesitated, hardly daring to go forward, -he caught sight of a form stretched on a long chair beneath the cedar -tree. - -Boldly he took a short cut through the shrubs. At the sound of his -footsteps she looked up, gave a little cry, hid her dear, maimed face in -her hands. Stella--his beloved, his star, his Star of India! - - -PRINTED BY CASSELL & COMPANY, LIMITED, LA BELLE SAUVAGE, LONDON, E.C.4 - F.80.1019 - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Star of India, by Alice Perrin - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STAR OF INDIA *** - -***** This file should be named 53372-8.txt or 53372-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/3/7/53372/ - -Produced by MWS, Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the - United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you - are located before using this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - |