CHAPTER IV
THE BRIDE
It was remarked by Tommy's brother-officers on the following day that itwas he rather than the bride who displayed all the shyness that befittedthe occasion.
As he walked up the aisle with his sister's hand on his arm, his facewas crimson and reluctant, and he stared straight before him as ifunwilling to meet all the watching eyes that followed their progress.But the bride walked proudly and firmly, her head held high with eventhe suspicion of an upward, disdainful curve to her beautiful mouth, theghost of a defiant smile. To all who saw her she was a splendidspectacle of bridal content.
"Unparalleled effrontery!" whispered Lady Harriet, surveying the proudyoung face through her lorgnettes.
"Ah, but she is exquisite," murmured Mrs. Ralston with a wistful mist inher faded eyes.
"'Faultily faultless, icily regular, splendidly null,'" scoffed littleMrs. Ermsted upon whose cheeks there bloomed a faint fixed glow.
Yes, she was splendid. Even the most hostile had to admit it. On that,the day of her final victory, she surpassed herself. She shone as aqueen with majestic self-assurance, wholly at her ease, sublimelyindifferent to all criticism.
At the chancel-steps she bestowed a brief smile of greeting upon herwaiting bridegroom, and for a single moment her steady eyes rested,though without any gleam of recognition, upon the dark face of the bestman.
Then the service began, and with the utmost calmness of demeanour shetook her part.
When the service was over, Tommy extended his hesitating invitation toLady Harriet and his commanding officer to follow the newly wedded pairto the vestry. They went. Colonel Mansfield with a species of jocosepomposity specially assumed for the occasion, his wife, upright,thin-lipped, forbidding, instinct with wordless disapproval.
The bride,--the veil thrown back from her beautiful face,--stoodlaughing with her husband. There was no fixity in the soft flush ofthose delicately rounded cheeks. Even Lady Harriet realized that, thoughshe had never seen so much colour in the girl's face before. Sheadvanced stiffly, and Ralph Dacre with smiling grace took his wife's armand drew her forward.
"This is good of you, Lady Harriet," he declared. "I was hoping for yoursupport. Allow me to introduce--my wife!"
His words had a pride of possession that rang clarion-like in everysyllable, and in response Lady Harriet was moved to offer a cold cheekin salutation to the bride. Stella bent instantly and kissed it with aquick graciousness that would have melted any one less austere, but inLady Harriet's opinion the act was marred by its very impulsiveness. Shedid not like impulsive people. So, with chill repression, she acceptedthe only overture from Stella that she was ever to receive.
But if she were proof against the girl's ready charm, with her husbandit was quite otherwise. Stella broke through his pomposity withouteffort, giving him both her hands with a simplicity that went straightto his heart. He held them in a tight, paternal grasp.
"God bless you, my dear!" he said. "I wish you both every happiness fromthe bottom of my soul."
She turned from him a few seconds later with a faintly tremulous laughto give her hand to the best man, but it did not linger in his, and tohis curtly proffered felicitations she made no verbal response whatever.
Ten minutes later, as she left the vestry with her husband, Mrs. Ralstonpressed forward unexpectedly, and openly checked her progress in fullview of the whole assembly.
"My dear," she murmured humbly, "my dear, you'll allow me I know. Iwanted just to tell you how beautiful you look, and how earnestly I prayfor your happiness."
It was a daring move, and it had not been accomplished without courage.Lady Harriet in the background stiffened with displeasure, nearer toactual anger than she had ever before permitted herself to be with anyone so contemptible as the surgeon's wife. Even Major Ralston himself,most phlegmatic of men, looked momentarily disconcerted by his wife'saction.
But Stella--Stella stopped dead with a new light in her eyes, and in amoment dropped her husband's arm to fling both her own about the gentle,faded woman who had dared thus openly to range herself on her side.
"Dear Mrs. Ralston," she said, not very steadily, "how more than kind ofyou to tell me that!"
The tears were actually in her eyes as she kissed the surgeon's wife.That spontaneous act of sympathy had pierced straight through her armourof reserve and found its way to her heart. Her face, as she passed ondown the aisle by her husband's side, was wonderfully softened, and evenMrs. Ermsted found no gibe to fling after her. The smile that quiveredon Stella's lips was full of an unconscious pathos that disarmed allcriticism.
The sunshine outside the church was blinding. It smote through theawning with pitiless intensity. Around the carriage a curious crowd hadgathered to see the bridal procession. To Stella's dazzled eyes itseemed a surging sea of unfamiliar faces. But one face stood out fromthe rest--the calm countenance of Ralph Dacre's magnificent Sikhservant clad in snowy linen, who stood at the carriage door and gravelybowed himself before her, stretching an arm to protect her dress fromthe wheel.
"This is Peter the Great," said Dacre's careless voice, "a highlyhonourable person, Stella, and a most efficient bodyguard."
"How do you do?" said Stella, and held out her hand.
She acted with the utmost simplicity. During her four weeks' sojourn inIndia she had not learned to treat the native servant with contempt, andthe majestic presence of this man made her feel almost as if she weredealing with a prince.
He straightened himself swiftly at her action, and she saw a sudden,gleaming smile flash across his grave face. Then he took the profferedhand, bending low over it till his turbaned forehead for a momenttouched her fingers.
"May the sun always shine on you, my _mem-sahib!_" he said.
Stella realized afterwards that in action and in words there lay a tacitacceptance of her as mistress which was to become the allegiance of alifelong service.
She stepped into the carriage with a feeling of warmth at her heartwhich was very different from the icy constriction that had bound itwhen she had arrived at the church a brief half-hour before with Tommy.
Her husband's arm was about her as they drove away. He pressed her tohis side. "Oh, Star of my heart, how superb you are!" he said. "I feelas if I had married a queen. And you weren't even nervous."
She bent her head, not looking at him. "Poor Tommy was," she said.
He smiled tolerantly. "Tommy's such a youngster."
She smiled also. "Exactly one year younger than I am."
He drew her nearer, his eyes devouring her. "You, Stella!" he said. "Youare as ageless as the stars."
She laughed faintly, not yielding herself to the closer pressure thoughnot actually resisting it. "That is merely a form of telling me that Iam much older than I seem," she said. "And you are quite right. I am."
His arm compelled her. "You are you," he said. "And you are so divinelyyoung and beautiful that there is no measuring you by ordinarystandards. They all know it. That is why you weren't received into thecommunity with open arms. You are utterly above and beyond them all."
She flinched slightly at the allusion. "I hope I am not so extraordinaryas all that," she said.
His arm became insistent. "You are unique," he said. "You are superb."
There was passion barely suppressed in his hold and a sudden swiftshiver went through her. "Oh, Ralph," she said, "don't--- don't worshipme too much!"
Her voice quivered in its appeal, but somehow its pathos passed him by.He saw only her beauty, and it thrilled every pulse in his body.Fiercely almost, he strained her to him. And he did not so much asnotice that her lips trembled too piteously to return his kiss, or thather submission to his embrace was eloquent of mute endurance rather thanglad surrender. He stood as a conqueror on the threshold of a newlyacquired kingdom and exulted over the splendour of its treasures becauseit was all his own.
It did not even occur to him to doubt that her happiness fully equalledhis. Stella was a woman and reser
ved; but she was happy enough, oh, shewas happy enough. With complacence he reflected that if every man in themess envied him, probably every woman in the station would have gladlychanged places with her. Was he not Fortune's favourite? What happierfate could any woman desire than to be his bride?