CHAPTER XIX.

IT'S NOT MAJOR WYNDHAM.

"I will endure; I will not strive to peep Behind the barrier of the days to come."

--OWEN MEREDITH.

For a few hours Honor slept soundly. But so soon as her bodily exhaustion was repaired, grief and stress of mind dragged her back to consciousness. She woke long before dawn; woke reluctantly, for the first time in her life, with a dead weight upon heart and brain; a longing to turn her face to the wall and shut out the unconcerned serenity of the new day.

But though hearts be at breaking-point, there is no shutting out the impertinent details of life. And on this particular morning Honor found herself plunged neck-deep in prose. Domestic trifles thrust themselves aggressively to the fore. Parb.u.t.ti a.s.sailed her after breakfast with a voluble diatribe against the dhobi's wife, whose eldest son was going to and fro in the compound unashamed, wearing a shirt made from the Memsahib's newest jharrons. She did not feel called upon to add that her own under-jacket had begun life upon Evelyn Desmond's G.o.down shelves. It was not a question of morals. It was the lack of a decent reserve in appropriating her due share of the Sahib's possessions which incensed the good lady against the dhobi's wife. Such unreserve in respect of matters which should be hid might rouse suspicion in other quarters; therefore it behoved Parb.u.t.ti to be zealous in casting the first stone.

Honor listened with weary inattention, promised investigation of the matter, and pa.s.sed on to the G.o.down--a closet of broad shelves stocked with an incongruous a.s.sortment of household goods, and smelling strongly of kerosine oil and bar soap.

Here it was discovered that the oil had been disappearing with miraculous celerity, and Amar Singh cast aspersions on the _kitmutgar_ and his wife. A jealous feud subsisted between him and them; and as ruler-in-chief of the Sahib's establishment, the bearer made it a point of honour to let no one cheat Desmond save himself. He had a grievous complaint to lodge against a _sais_, who had been flagrantly tampering with the Desmonds' grain, adding a request that the Miss Sahib would of her merciful condescension impart the matter to the Sahib. "For he sitteth much occupied, and his countenance is not favourable this morning."

Honor complied, with a half-smile at the irony of her own position, which, until to-day, she had accepted without after-thought, and which of a sudden seemed unendurable.

Desmond, much engrossed in regimental concerns, and anxious to get off to the Lines, was inclined to irritability and abruptness; and the delinquent, who, with his charger ready saddled, awaited the Sahib's displeasure in the front verandah suffered accordingly. He bowed, trembling, to the ground, and let the storm sweep over his head; making no defence beyond a disarming reiteration of his own worthlessness, and of his everlasting devotion to the Protector of the Poor.

Turning back to the hall for his helmet, Desmond encountered Honor in the doorway, and his wrath gave place to a smile of good fellowship that brought the blood into her cheeks.

"Hope my volcanics didn't horrify you," he said apologetically. "It seems almost as cowardly to fly out at those poor chaps as to strike a child; but they have a genius for tripping one up at critical moments."

He paused, and scanned her face with kindly anxiety. "You're all right again now? Not troubled any more--eh?"

"No. I'm perfectly well. Don't bother your head about me, please. You have so much more important things to think about."

Her colour deepened; and she turned so hastily away that, in spite of his impatience to be gone, Desmond stood looking after her with a troubled crease between his brows. Then he swung round on his heel, vaulted into the saddle, and straightway forgot everything except the engrossing prospect of the campaign.

But for all his preoccupation, he had not failed to note the wistfulness in Evelyn's dutifully smiling eyes. He was more than usually tender with her on his return, and successfully banished the wistfulness by giving up his polo to take her for a ride. Honor stood watching them go, through tears which rose unbidden from the depth of her lonely grief, her haunting sense of disloyalty to the two she loved. She dashed them impatiently aside the instant they moistened her lashes; and betook herself for an hour's rest and refreshment to Mrs Jim Conolly,--"Mrs Jim" was her station name,--whose open-hearted love and admiration would give her a much-needed sense of support.

She entered her friend's drawing-room without formal announcement, to find her seated on a low sofa, barricaded with piles of cotton frocks and pinafores, which had suffered maltreatment at the hands of that arch-destroyer of clothes and temper--the Indian dhobi.

"Don't get up, please," the girl said quickly, as Mrs Conolly gathered her work together with an exclamation of pleasure. "I've just come for a spell of peace and quietness, to sit at the feet of Gamaliel and learn wisdom!"

She settled herself on the carpet,--a favourite att.i.tude when they were alone together,--and with a sigh of satisfaction leaned against her friend's knee. The older woman put an arm round her shoulders, and pressed her close. Her mother's heart went out in very real devotion to this beautiful girl, who, strong and self-reliant as she was, turned to her so spontaneously for sympathy, counsel, and love.

"Arrogant child!" she rebuked her, smiling. "Remember who it was that sat at the feet of Gamaliel! But what particular kind of wisdom are you wanting from me to-day?"

"No particular kind. I'm only liking to have you near me. One is so sure of your faith in the ultimate best, that there is encouragement in the touch of your hand."

She took it between both her own, and rested her cheek against the other's arm, hiding her face from view.

Mrs Jim smiled, not ill pleased. She was one of those rare optimists who, having frankly confronted the evil and sorrow, the ironies and inconsistencies of life, can still affirm and believe that "G.o.d's in his Heaven; all's right with the world." But an unusual note in the girl's voice perplexed her.

"Are you in special need of encouragement just now, dear?" she asked.

"Is that big baby of yours making you anxious on account of this expedition?"

"No--oh no! She is going to behave beautifully. The shock upset her at first, and she wanted Theo to stay behind. It was hard for him; but he held out; and I think I have helped her to see that he was right. He has taken her for a ride this afternoon and she is very happy."

"She has a great deal to thank you for, Honor," the elder woman said gravely. "I felt from the first that you were in rather a difficult position between those two, and you have filled it admirably. I have said very little to you about it, so far; but I have watched you and thought of you unceasingly; and I believe Major Meredith would be prouder of you than ever if he could realise that you have turned your time of waiting to such good account."

Honor's cheek still rested against Mrs Conolly's arm, and the warmth that fired it penetrated the thin muslin of her blouse. She wondered a little, but said nothing; and after a short pause Honor spoke in a low voice and with an attempt at lightness which was not a conspicuous success.

"You think too well of me, so does John. I have done little enough.

Only, I care very much for--them both, and I want them to be happy--that's all."

"There are always two ways of stating a fact," the other answered, smiling. "And--do you know, Honor, _I_ care very much for you--if you were my own child, I could hardly care more--and, frankly, I want to see _you_ happy in the same way." She laid her free hand over the two that held her own. "It would be a sin for a woman like you not to marry. I take it for granted you have had chances enough, and I have sometimes wondered----"

The girl lifted her head and sat upright. She had come here to escape her trouble, and it confronted her at every turn.

"Please--please don't begin wondering about that," she said decisively, "or I shall have to get up and go away; and I don't want to do that."

"No, no! my child, of course not. We will talk of other things."

But the shrewd woman said within herself: "There _is_ some one after all," adding a heartfelt hope that it might be Major Wyndham. Thus her next remark was more relevant to the forbidden subject than Honor was likely to guess.

"I hear Major Wyndham's squadron remains behind. You are glad, I suppose? You seem to be good friends."

"Yes; it will be a great comfort to have him when one will be missing--all the rest. There are very few men in the world like Major Wyndham; don't you think so? He has the rare secret of being in it, yet not of it. I sometimes wonder whether anything could really upset that self-contained tranquillity of his, which makes him such a restful companion."

Here was high praise, and Mrs Jim echoed it heartily; yet in spite of it, perhaps because of it, she was far from content. "It is not Major Wyndham," she decided, regretfully. "But then,--who else is it likely to be?"

At this moment children's voices sounded in the garden and Honor sprang impulsively to her feet. "Oh, there are Jimmy and Violet!" she cried. "Let me go and be foolish with them for a little and give them their tea. We can play at wisdom again afterwards--you and I."

With that she hurried out into the garden; and in surrendering herself to the superbly unconscious egotism of childhood, found pa.s.sing respite from the torment of her own thoughts. But it was some time before Mrs Conolly returned to her interrupted work.

Paul Wyndham dined again at the blue bungalow that night; and it soon became evident to Honor that something had succeeded in upsetting the schooled serenity which was the keynote of the man's character.

Desmond kept the conversation going with unflagging spirit, obviously for his friend's benefit; but he never once mentioned the campaign; and Honor began to understand that Paul rebelled, with quite unusual vehemence, against an order which sent his friend on active service without him. Then it occurred to her that he must have been unlike himself the night before, and that she, in her blind self-absorption, had noticed nothing. Remorse p.r.i.c.ked her heart and gave additional warmth to her manner,--a fact which he was quick to perceive, and to misinterpret.

The men sat a long while over their cigars, and thereafter went into the study at Paul's request.

Honor had been right in her guess. The fiat of separation, coming at a time of active service, had roused him as he was rarely roused; had proved to him, if proof were needed, that in spite of the strong love, which had opened new vistas of thought and emotion for him during the past year, his feeling for Desmond was, and always would be, the master-force of his life. That he should be condemned to play the woman's part and sit with idle hands while his friend risked life and limb in the wild mountain country across the Border, seemed for the moment more than he could accept in silence.

He was obliged to own grudgingly that the Colonel was justified in his decision,--that as Second in Command he was the right man to remain in charge of the station. But the acknowledgment did not make the necessity one whit less detestable in his eyes; and to-night the two men's positions were reversed. It was Paul who moved to and fro with long restless strides; while Theo, enveloped in a cloud of blue smoke, sat watching him in profound sympathy and understanding, making occasional attempts at consolation, with small result.

During the next ten days Honor Meredith discovered how much may be achieved and endured with the help of use and wont; discovered also that habit is the rock on which man's soul shall be wrecked or anch.o.r.ed in his evil day.

She forced herself to speak of Theo more often than she had done hitherto; for she now understood the reason of her instinctive reserve where he was concerned; and the mere effort of breaking through it was a help. She succeeded in talking to him also, if with less frankness, still with something of her old simplicity and ease; and in playing his favourite preludes and sonatas, even though they stirred unsounded depths of emotion, and made the burden laid upon her shoulders seem too heavy to be borne.

One habit alone seriously hindered her. Her spirit of candour--which was less a habit than an elemental essence--chafed against the barrier between her and those she loved. For she now found herself constrained to avoid the too discerning eyes of Paul and Mrs Conolly, and, above all, of Theo himself. Men and women whose spirit hibernates more or less permanently in its temple of flesh have small knowledge of the joy of such wordless intercourse; such flashes of direct speech between soul and soul; but Honor felt the lack of it keenly. She experienced, for the first time in her life, that loneliness of heart which is an integral part of all great sorrow.

But when things are at their worst we must needs eat and sleep, and find some degree of satisfaction in both. Honor was young, practical, healthy, and her days were too well filled to allow of time for brooding; nor had she the smallest leaning toward that unprofitable occupation. She sought and found refuge from her clamorous Ego,--never more clamorous than at the first awakening of love,--in concentrating thought and purpose upon Evelyn; in bracing her to meet this first real demand upon her courage in a manner befitting Theo Desmond's wife.