CHAPTER II.
I WANT TO BE FIRST.
"A breath of light, a pulse of tender fire, Too dear for doubt, too driftless for desire." --SWINBURNE.
Sixteen months earlier, Evelyn Dacre--having come out to India with aparty of tourist friends--had chanced to spend Christmas week atLahore: a week which brings half the Punjab together for purposes offestivity and sport. Here, by some mysterious process, which noscience will ever be able to fathom or explain, she had cast aninstantaneous and unaccountable spell over a man of rare singleness ofpurpose, whose heart was set to court action, danger, hardship inevery conceivable form: a man for whom a girl-wife fresh out from"Home" seemed as hazardous an investment as could well be imagined.
But with all his fine qualities of head and heart, Theo Desmond waslittle given to cool deliberation in the critical moments of life.This chance-met girl, fragile as a flower and delicately tinted as apiece of porcelain, full of enthusiasm for her new surroundings and ofa delight half shy, half spontaneous in the companionship of a man sounlike the _blase_, self-centred youths of her limited experience,had, for the time being, swept him off his feet. And men are apt to dounaccountable things during those hot-headed moments when the feet areactually off the ground.
A moonlight picnic; an hour of isolated wandering in a garden oftombs; the witchery of the moment; the word too much; the glance thatlingered to a look;--and the irrevocable was upon them. Desmond hadreturned to the Frontier, to a circle of silently amazed brotherofficers; and in less than three months from their time of meeting thetwo had become man and wife.
Honor, having been away in England at the time, had had but asecond-hand hearing of the whole affair; and for all the keenness ofher present disappointment, a natural spark of interest was aroused inher at the prospect of spending a year with this unequally yokedhusband and wife.
She found her friend awaiting her in the verandah: a mere slip ofwomanhood, in a grey habit.
"Oh, _there_ you are at last, Honor!" she cried eagerly. "It's grandto see you again! I'm dreadfully sorry about Major Meredith--I am,truly. But it's just lovely getting you on a long visit like this.Come in and have tea before we start."
And taking possession of the girl with both hands, she led her intothe house, talking ceaselessly as she went.
"It's really very charming of you two to be so pleased to have me,"Honor said quietly, as she settled herself, nothing loth, in thespaciousness of Captain Desmond's favourite chair. Then, because herhead still hummed with the clatter of travel, she fell silent;following with her eyes the movements of this graceful girl-wife,whose engaging air of frankness and simplicity was discounted, attimes, by an odd lack of both dimly shadowed in the blue-green eyes.
Evelyn Desmond's eyes were, not without reason, her dearest bit ofvanity. The tint of the clear iris suggested sea shallows on a day oflight cloud--more green than blue; yet with just enough of the sky'sown colour to lend the charm of a constant variability, thatharmonised admirably with her iridescent changes of mood.
Honor Meredith, who understood her curious mingling of charm andunsatisfactoriness better than any one else in the world, noted herafresh, inwardly and outwardly, with the result that she desired morethan ever to know the man who had been hardy enough to place hislife's happiness in the hollow of Evelyn's clinging, incompetenthands.
At this juncture Mrs Desmond sank on to a low stool beside her, sether own cup and plate unceremoniously on the carpet, and laid acaressing hand upon her knee.
"It _does_ feel like old times," she said. "And I so badly want toshow you to Theo."
The young simplicity of the words brought a very soft light intoHonor's eyes.
"I promised John I would go down just in order to be 'shown to Theo,'"she answered smiling. "But you must put off showing me to the resttill another day. I'm a little tired: and I can't keep my mind offJohn for very long just now."
"You still love him better than any one in the world, then?"
"Isn't the fact of my coming here to stay two years sufficient proofof that?"
"The very greatest proof imaginable!" Mrs Desmond flung out her handswith a pretty, characteristic gesture. "I'm only wondering if you knowwhat you've let yourself in for? I thought India was a lovely placed_till_ I came here. Theo warned me it wouldn't be a bit like Pindi orLahore. But that didn't seem to matter, so long as I had him. Only Iam so seldom _able_ to have him! The regiment swamps _every_thing. Themen are always in uniform, and always at it; and the aggravating partis that they actually like that better than anything."
Honor laid her hand over the one that rested on her knee. She saw bothsides of the picture with equal vividness.
"What a dire calamity!" she said gently. "I am afraid that on theFrontier, if a man is keen, his wife is bound to stand second; and ifonly she will accept the fact, it must surely be happier for both inthe long-run."
Mrs Desmond looked up at her with pathetic eyes.
"But I don't _want_ to accept the fact. I want to be first always: andI ought to be. It's easy enough for _you_ to talk, because you haven'ta notion how nice Theo is! When you've married a man like that, andburied yourself in a howling wilderness because of him, he ought tobelong more to you than to his sacred Frontier Force! But Theo seemsto be the private property of half the regiment! There's his chieffriend Major Wyndham, and the Boy, his subaltern, he thinks the worldof them; and they seem to live in the house. Then there's a tiresomeold Ressaldar always coming over to do Persian with him for his HigherProficiency exam; and I don't find it half amusing to be one of amixed crowd like that!"
Her whimsical air of woe disarmed all save the mildest disapproval. Itwas one of Evelyn Desmond's unfair advantages that she always didmanage to disarm disapproval, even in her least admirable moments; andthe smile deepened in Honor's eyes.
"It seems to me, Evelyn," she said quietly, "that your husband must bea very large-hearted man."
"Why, of course! That's just the trouble, ... don't you see?"
"Yes, I do see; and I am woman enough to sympathise. But it will doyou no harm, dear, to be one of a crowd, and to get out of the glasscase you have been kept under ever since you were born. Show me thiswonderful Theo now. People's faces tell me a great deal, you know; andyou have roused my curiosity."
"Look round and see if you can recognise him," was the laughinganswer.
There were some half-dozen photographs of men, in uniform and out ofit, set about the incongruous room; but the girl's eyes were speedilycaught and riveted by a full-length presentment of a Punjabcavalryman, which stood, solitary and conspicuous, on the uprightpiano. She rose and went quickly towards it.
"I choose here," she said decisively. "Am I right?" And seeing thatEvelyn nodded, she went on: "What a very remarkable picture. Soextraordinarily alive! One can see how he hates standing still insidethat frame!"
Then she fell into a long silence: for she was a practised observer ofmen and things, and the face before her compelled attention. Thekeynote of the whole was vigour: not mere impetuosity, though that waspresent also, but a sustained, indwelling vigour, that keeps endeavourbright.
Evelyn stood watching her in no little wonderment, awaiting furthercomment.
"Don't you like him?" she asked at length.
"Decidedly; if that picture does him justice."
"Well, come on down to the tent-pegging, and find out for yourself."
* * * * *
From the bungalows crowning the mound a bare road sloped northward tothe cavalry lines. Along it the two women rode at a foot's pace; forEvelyn still had much to say, and the girl was a notable listener. Buteven so the parade-ground below them came rapidly into view--a levelexpanse of brown earth, hard as a usurer's heart, varied only by linesof featureless mud huts, and backed by the dragon's teeth of thehills, brown also, save where sharply defined shadows broke theprevailing monotony of hue.
But the foreground of this toneless s
etting vibrated with life,movement, colour.
Groups of native troopers, in blue belted tunics and turbans of blueand gold, occupied the central space. English officers, in undressuniform, rode to and fro among them, criticising, encouraging, andgenerally directing the course of events. In an open _shamianah_,[4]eight or ten men divided their attention between a table at the backof the tent and the four ladies of the station, who perforce convertedmilitary events into those friendly gatherings which are the mainstayof Anglo-Indian life. Native onlookers, of all races and ranks, formeda mosaic border to the central theme; and a jumble of rollicking Irishairs from the Sikh band set Honor's foot tapping the air with briskprecision.
[4] Marquee.
"Wait, Evelyn," she said. "I would like to see those four Pathans takethe pegs from here. One gets the effect better from rising ground."
And Evelyn, whose knowledge of effects was limited to hats andhairdressing, drew rein obediently, her eyes probing the crowd for theone figure, to whom the rest were mere accessories, and rathertroublesome accessories at that.
But Honor's eyes and mind were set upon the four Pathans drawn up inline at the starting-point, the sunlight flashing from theirlance-heads, and from every link of eight steel shoulder-chains; theirfaces inscrutable; their eyes points of living fire. A pathway ofstraw softened the ground for galloping, and in the midst of it fourpegs awaited the furious onset.
The horses, all eagerness to be off, tossed impatient heads, strainingimpotently at the tightened rein. On a given word they sprang forwardwith a thundering rush of hoofs, swooping down upon the pegs atlightning speed, the men's faces level with the flying manes, theirlance-heads skimming the ground. Followed the stirring moment ofimpact, the long-drawn shout, steadily rising to a yell of triumph, asfour lances whirled aloft, each bearing the coveted morsel of woodspiked through the centre.
The girl drew a deep breath, and her face glowed with that paganexultation in bodily strength and prowess, which all the refiningfires of civilisation will never burn out of the human heart. But asshe turned with praise on her lips, Evelyn leaned eagerly towards her.
"Theo has seen us. He is coming up here. Look!"
And Honor looked accordingly.
A man on a superb bay "waler" had detached himself from the crowd, andwas coming towards them at a swinging trot, sitting the horse asthough he were part of the animal. Honor realised at a glance thathere was that stimulating thing, a positive personality alive to thefinger-tips, realised also with what success the photographer hadcaught and rendered the living essence of the man. Desmond was dark ashis wife was fair, though a hint of chestnut in his moustache, and apeculiar light in the hazel-grey eyes, suggested fire not far belowthe surface. The whole face was stamped with that sovereign quality ofsympathy which, even in a world of failure, never fails of its reward.
His wife effected an introduction in her own ingenuous fashion."There, Theo, ... this is Honor, that you have heard so much about."
Desmond saluted.
"I'm uncommonly glad to meet you, Miss Meredith," he said; but beforeHonor could reply Evelyn made haste to interpose.
"Theo, ... I can't have you calling her Miss Meredith! She's justlike my sister, and you must simply be Honor and Theo, ... d'you see?"
Desmond's eyes showed a flicker of amusement.
"Perhaps you'll allow us to shake hands first," he suggested, and thefriendliness of his grasp dispelled the sense of isolation thatweighed upon the girl at thought of her brother's departure.
"How did that last performance strike you? Pretty good, wasn't it?"
"Splendid. They went by like a wall. Such magnificent riding."
"They were your brother's men. Wish he could have seen them. He's sotremendously keen. They've tied with my Sikhs, so there'll be anexciting finish. Won't you come down and see it out?"
"I think not, thanks, if it doesn't seem unfriendly. I really onlycame because John and Evelyn wished it, just to make your acquaintanceand see how things were going, and I would honestly like to gostraight back to him now, ... if I may. He said you would understand."
"He was right. I'll see you to the gate myself. Go on down to the_shamianah_, Ladybird, the Boy is looking out for you. I'll not begone long."
And with a rebellious crumpling of her forehead Evelyn obeyed.
"I am afraid the Major's news must have been rather a shock to you,Miss Meredith," Desmond went on, as their horses mounted the slope."But we've all been expecting it this long while. He takes too littleleave and steadily overworks himself, ... that's the truth. But then,... you should see what he's done for the regiment in the last tenyears!"
The spark of enthusiasm in the man's tone struck an answering sparkfrom his companion.
"That's the true way to look at it," she declared warmly. "So manypeople simply call him a fool. It's the fashion to sneer at enthusiasmin these days."
"We don't sneer at it in this part of the world," Desmond replied withquiet emphasis. "I see now why the Major said I should find you theright sort for the Frontier and a help to ... my Evelyn. I havetransplanted her to a very rough soil, I only hope she's fit to standit."
"_I_ think so. She has been too carefully sheltered till now; and it'sjust a matter of adapting herself to fresh conditions. You may counton me to do all I can for her while I am here."
"Your name is sufficient guarantee for that!" he answered simply; andthe implied compliment to her brother quickened every pulse in herbody.
They parted at Major Meredith's gate, Desmond promising to report theresult of the final contest on his way home; and the girl sat watchinghim thoughtfully till a dip in the road hid him from view.