CHAPTER XI
THE DAWN
"This country is like an infernal machine," said Bernard. "You neverknow when it's going to explode. There's only one reliable thing in it,and that's Peter."
He turned his bandaged head in the latter's direction, and received atender, indulgent smile in answer. Peter loved the big blue-eyed _sahib_with the same love which he had for the children of the _sahib-log_.
"Whatever happens," Bernard continued, "there's always Peter. He keepsthe whole show going, and is never absent when wanted. In fact, I beginto think that India wouldn't be India without him."
"A very handsome compliment," said Sir Reginald.
"It is, isn't it?" smiled Bernard. "I have a vast respect for him--aquite unbounded respect. He is the greatest greaser of wheels I haveever met. Help yourself, sir, won't you? I am sorry I can't join you,but Major Ralston insists that I must walk circumspectly, being on hissick list. I really don't know why my skull was not cracked. Hedeclares it ought to have been and even seems inclined to be ratherdisgusted with me because it wasn't."
"You had a very lucky escape," said Sir Reginald. "Allow me tocongratulate you!"
"And a very enjoyable scrap," said Bernard, with kindling eyes. "Thanks!I wouldn't have missed it for the world,--the damn' dirty blackguards!"
"Was Mrs. Monck much upset?" asked Sir Reginald. "I have never yet hadthe pleasure of meeting her."
"She was more upset on my brother's account than her own," Bernard said,giving his visitor a shrewd look. "She thought he had come to harm."
"Ah!" said Sir Reginald, and held his glass up to the light. "And thatwas not so?"
"No," said Bernard, and closed his lips.
There was a distinct pause before Sir Reginald's eyes left his glass andcame down to him. They held a faint whimsical smile.
"We owe your brother a good deal," he said.
"Do we?" said Bernard.
Sir Reginald's smile became more pronounced. "I have been told that itis entirely owing to him--his forethought, secrecy, and intimateknowledge obtained at considerable personal risk--that this business wasnot of a far more serious nature. I was of course in constantcommunication with Colonel Mansfield. We knew exactly where the dangerlay, and we were prepared for all emergencies."
"Except the one which actually rose," suggested Bernard.
"That?" said Sir Reginald. "That was a mere flash in the pan. But wewere prepared even for that. My men were all in Markestan by daybreak,thanks to the promptitude of young Denvers."
"If all our throats had been slit the previous night, that wouldn't havehelped us much," Bernard pointed out.
Sir Reginald broke into a laugh. "Well, dash it, man! We did our best.And anyway they weren't, so you haven't much cause for complaint."
"You see, I was one of the casualties," explained Bernard. "Thataccounts for my being a bit critical. So you expected something worsethan this?"
"I did." Sir Reginald spoke soberly again. "If we hadn't been prepared,the whole of Markestan would have been ablaze by now from end to end."
"Instead of which, you have only permitted us a fizz, a few bangs, and asplutter-out, as Tommy describes it," remarked Bernard. "And you haven'teven caught the Rajah."
"I wasn't out to catch him," said Sir Reginald. "But I will tell you whoI am out to catch, though I am afraid I am applying in the wrongquarter."
Bernard's eyes gleamed with a hint of malicious amusement. "I thoughtmy health was not primarily responsible for the honour of your visit,sir," he said.
"No," said Sir Reginald, with simplicity. "I really came because I wantto take you into my confidence, and to ask for your confidence inreturn."
"I thought so," said Bernard, and slowly shook his head. "I'm afraidit's no go. I am sealed."
"Ah! And that even though I give you my word it would be to yourbrother's interest to break the seal?" questioned Sir Reginald.
Bernard's eyes suddenly drooped under their red brows. "And betray mytrust?" he said lazily.
"I beg your pardon," said Sir Reginald.
He finished his drink with a speed that suggested embarrassment, but thenext moment he smiled. "You had me there, padre. I withdraw thesuggestion. I should not have made it if I could see the man himself.But he has disappeared, and even Barnes, who knows everything, can'ttell us where to look for him."
"Neither can I," said Bernard. "I am not in his confidence to thatextent."
"Why don't you ask his wife?" a low voice said.
Both men started. Sir Reginald sprang to his feet. "Mrs. Monck!"
"Yes," Stella said. She stood a moment framed in the French window,looking at him. Then she stepped forward with outstretched hand. Themorning sunshine caught her as she moved. She was very pale and her eyeswere deeply shadowed, but she was exceedingly beautiful.
"I heard your voices," she said, looking at Sir Reginald, while her handlay in his. "I didn't mean to listen at first. But I was tempted,because you were talking of--my husband, and--" she smiled at himfaintly, "I fell."
"I think you were justified," Sir Reginald said.
"Thank you," she answered gently. She turned from him to Bernard, andbending kissed him. "Are you better? Peter told me it wasn't serious. Iwould have come to you sooner, but I was asleep for a very long time,and afterwards--Everard wanted me."
"Everard!" he said sharply. "Is he here?"
"Sit down!" murmured Sir Reginald, drawing forward his chair.
But Stella remained standing, her hand upon Bernard's shoulder. "Thankyou. But I haven't come to stay. Only to tell you--just to tell you--allthe things that Bernard couldn't, without betraying his trust."
"My dear, dear child!" Bernard broke in quickly, but Sir Reginaldintervened in the same moment.
"No, no! Pardon me! Let her speak! She wishes to do so, and I--wish tolisten."
Stella's hand pressed a little upon Bernard's shoulder, as though shesupported herself thereby.
"It is right that you should know, Sir Reginald," she said. "It is onlyfor my sake that it has been kept from you. But I--have travelled thedesert too long to mind an extra stone or two by the way. First, withregard to the suspicion which drove him out of the Army. Youthought--everyone thought--that he had killed Ralph Dacre up in themountains. Even I thought so." Her voice trembled a little. "And I hadless excuse than any one else, for he swore to me that he wasinnocent--though he would not--could not--tell me the truth of thematter. The truth was simply this. Ralph Dacre was not dead."
"Ah!" Sir Reginald said softly.
Bernard reached up and strongly grasped the hand that rested upon him.But he spoke no word.
Stella went on with greater steadiness, her eyes resolutely meeting theshrewd old eyes that watched her. "He--Everard--came between us becauseonly a fortnight after our marriage he received the news that Ralph hada wife living in England. Perhaps I ought to tell you--though this in noway influenced him--that my marriage to Ralph was a mistake. I marriedhim because I was unhappy, not because I loved him. I sinned, and I havebeen punished."
"Poor girl!" said Sir Reginald very gently.
Her eyelids quivered, but she would not suffer them to fall. "Everardsent him away from me, made him vanish completely, and then came himselfto me--he was in native disguise--and told me he was dead. I suppose itwas wrong of him. If so, he too has been punished. But he wanted to savemy pride. I had plenty of pride in those days. It is all gone now. Atleast, all I have left is for him--that his honour may be vindicated. Iam afraid I am telling the story very badly. Forgive me for taking solong!"
"There is no hurry," Sir Reginald answered in the same gentle voice."And you are telling it very well."
She smiled again--her faint, sad smile. "You are very kind. It makes itmuch easier. You know how clever he is in native disguise. I neverrecognized him. I came back, as I thought, a widow. And then--it wasnearly a year after--I married Everard, because I loved him. It was justbefore Captain Ermsted's murder. We had to come back here in a hurrybeca
use of it. Then when the summer came we had to separate. I went toBhulwana for the birth of my baby. And while I was there, he heard thatRalph Dacre's wife had died in England only a few days before hismarriage to me. That meant of course that I was not Everard's legalwife, that the baby was illegitimate. But--I was very ill at thetime--he kept it from me."
"Of course he did," said Sir Reginald.
"Of course he did," said Bernard.
"Yes," she assented. "He couldn't help himself then. But he ought tohave told me afterwards--when--when I began to have that horriblesuspicion that everyone else had, that he had murdered Ralph Dacre."
"A difficult point," said Sir Reginald.
"I told him he was making a mistake," said Bernard.
Stella glanced down at him. "It was a mistake," she said. "But he madeit out of love for me, because he thought--he thought--that my pride wasdearer to me than my love. I don't wonder he thought so. I gave himevery reason. For I wouldn't listen to him, wouldn't believe him. I senthim away." Her breath caught suddenly, and she put a quick hand to herthroat. "That is what hurts me most," she said after a moment,--"just toremember that,--to remember what I made him suffer--how I failedhim--when Tommy, even Tommy, believed in him--went after him to tell himso."
"But we all make mistakes," said Sir Reginald gently, "or we shouldn'tbe human."
She controlled herself with an effort. "Yes. He said that, and told meto forget it. I don't know if I can, but I shall try. I shall try tomake up to him for it for as long as I live. And I thank God--for givingme the chance."
Her deep voice quivered, and Bernard's hand tightened upon hers. "Yes,"he said, looking at Sir Reginald. "Ralph Dacre is dead. He was theunknown man who was shot in the jungle two nights ago."
"Indeed!" said Sir Reginald sharply.
"Yes," Stella said. "He too had found out--about the death of his firstwife. And he was on his way to me. But--" she suddenly covered hereyes--"I couldn't have borne it. I would have killed myself first."
Bernard reached up and thrust his arm about her, without speaking.
She leaned against him for a few seconds as if the story had taxed herstrength too far. Then Sir Reginald came to her and with a fatherlygesture drew her hand away from her face.
"My dear," he said very kindly, "thank you a thousand times for tellingme this. I know it's been infernally hard. I admire you for it more thanI can say. It hasn't been too much for you I hope?"
She smiled at him through tears. "No--no! You are both--so kind."
He stooped with a very courtly gesture and carried her hand to his lips."Everard Monck is a very lucky man," he said, "but I think he is almostworthy of his luck. And now--I want you to tell me one thing more. Wherecan I find him?"
Her hand trembled a little in his. "I--am not sure he would wish me totell you that."
Sir Reginald's grey moustache twitched whimsically. "If his desire forprivacy is so great, it shall be respected. Will you take him a messagefrom me?"
"Of course," she said.
Sir Reginald patted her hand and released it. "Then please tell him,"he said, "that the Indian Empire cannot afford to lose the services ofso valuable a servant as he has proved himself to be, and if he willaccept a secretaryship with me I think there is small doubt that it willeventually lead to much greater things."
Stella gave a great start. "Oh, do you mean that?" she said.
Sir Reginald smiled openly. "I really do, Mrs. Monck, and I shall thinkmyself very fortunate to secure him. You will use your influence, Ihope, to induce him to accept?"
"But of course," she said.
"Poor Stella!" said Bernard. "And she hates India!"
She turned upon him almost in anger. "How dare you pity me? I loveanywhere that I can be with him."
"So like a woman!" commented Bernard. "Or is it something in the air?I'll never bring Tessa out here when she's grown up, or she'll marry andbe stuck here for the rest of her life."
"You can do as you like with Tessa," said Stella, and turned again toSir Reginald. "Is that all you want of me now?"
"One thing more," he answered gently. "I hope I may say it withoutgiving offence."
With a gesture all-unconsciously regal she gave him both her hands. "Youmay say--anything," she said impulsively.
He bent again courteously. "Mrs. Monck, will you invite me to witnessthe ratification of the bond already existing between my friend EverardMonck, and the lady who is honouring him by becoming his lawful wife?"
She flushed deeply but not painfully. "I will," she said. "Bernard, youwill see to that, I know."
"Yes; leave it to me, dear!" said Bernard.
"Thank you," she said; and to Sir Reginald: "Good-bye! I am going to myhusband now."
"Good-bye, Mrs. Monck!" he said. "And many thanks for your graciousnessto a stranger."
"Oh no!" she answered quickly. "You are a friend--of us both."
"I am proud to be called so," he said.
As she passed back into the bungalow her heart fluttered within her likethe wings of a bird mounting upwards in the dawning. The sun had risenupon the desert.
CHAPTER XII
THE BLUE JAY
"Tommy says his name is Sprinter; but Uncle St. Bernard calls himWhisky. I wonder which is the prettiest," said Tessa.
"I should call him Whisky out of compliment to Uncle St. Bernard," saidMrs. Ralston.
"He certainly does whisk," said Tessa. "But then--Tommy gave him to me."She spoke with tender eyes upon a young mongoose that gambolled at herfeet. "Isn't he a love?" she said. "But he isn't nearly so pretty asdarling Scooter," she added loyally. "Is he, Aunt Mary?"
"Not yet, dear," said Mrs. Ralston with a smile.
"I wish Uncle St. Bernard and Tommy would come," said Tessa restlessly.
"I hope you are going to be very good," said Mrs. Ralston.
"Oh yes," said Tessa rather wearily. "But I wish I hadn't begun quite sosoon. Do you think Uncle St. Bernard will spoil me, Aunt Mary?"
"I hope not, dear," said Mrs. Ralston.
Tessa sighed a little. "I wonder if I shall be sick on the voyage Home.I don't want to be sick, Aunt Mary."
"I shouldn't think about it if I were you, dear," said Mrs. Ralstonsensibly.
"But I want to think about it," said Tessa earnestly. "I want to thinkabout every minute of it. I shall enjoy it so. Dear Uncle St. Bernardsaid in his letter the other day that we should be like the little pigssetting out to seek their fortunes. He says he is going to send me toschool--only a day school though. Aunt Mary, shall I like going toschool?"
"Of course you will, dear. What sensible little girl doesn't?"
"I'm sorry I'm going away from you," said Tessa suddenly. "But you'llhave Uncle Jerry, won't you? Just the same as Aunt Stella will havedarling Uncle Everard. I think I'm sorriest of all for poor Tommy."
"I daresay he will get over it," said Mrs. Ralston. "We will hope soanyway."
"He has promised to write to me," said Tessa rather wistfully. "Do youthink he will forget to, Aunt Mary?"
"I'll see he doesn't," said Mrs. Ralston.
"Oh, thank you." Tessa embraced her tenderly. "And I'll write to youvery, very often. P'raps I'll write in French some day. Would you likethat?"
"Oh, very much," said Mrs. Ralston.
"Then I will," promised Tessa. "And oh, here they are at last! Take careof Whisky for me while I go and meet them!"
She was gone with the words--a little, flying figure with armsoutspread, rushing to meet her friends.
"That child gets wilder and more harum-scarum every day," observed LadyHarriet, who was passing The Grand Stand in her carriage at the moment."She will certainly go the same way as her mother if that veryeasy-going parson has the managing of her."
The easy-going parson, however, had no such misgivings. He caught thechild up in his arms with a whoop of welcome.
"Well run, my Princess Bluebell! Hullo, Tommy! Who are you saluting sodeferentially?"
"Only that vicious old white
cat, Lady Harriet," said Tommy. "Hullo,Tessa! Your legs get six inches longer every time I look at 'em. Put herdown, St. Bernard! She's going to race me to The Grand Stand."
"But I want to go and see Uncle Everard and Aunt Stella at The Nest,"protested Tessa, hanging back from the contest. "Besides Aunt Mary saysI'm not to get hot."
"You can't go there anyway," said Tommy inexorably. "The Nest is closedto the public for to-night. They are going to have a very sacred andparticular evening all to themselves. That's why they wouldn't come inhere with us."
"Are they love-making?" asked Tessa, with serious eyes. "Do you know, Iheard a blue jay laughing up there this morning. Was that what hemeant?"
"Something of that silly nature," said Tommy. "And he's going to be apublic character is Uncle Everard, so he is wise to make the most of hisprivacy now. Ah, Bhulwana," he stretched his arms to the pine-trees,"how I have yearned for thee!"
"And me too," said Tessa jealously.
He looked at her. "You, you scaramouch? Of course not! Whoever yearnedfor a thing like you? A long-legged, snub-nosed creature without anyfront teeth worth mentioning!"
"I have! You're horrid!" cried Tessa, stamping an indignant foot. "Isn'the horrid, Uncle St. Bernard? If it weren't for that darling mongoose, Ishould hate him!"
"Oh, but it's wrong to hate people, you know." Bernard passed apacifying arm about her quivering form. "You just treat him to thecontempt he deserves, and give all your attention to your doting olduncle who has honestly been longing for you from the moment you lefthim!"
"Oh, darling!" She turned to him swiftly. "I'll never go away from youagain. I can say that now, can't I?"
Her red lips were lifted. He stooped and kissed them. "It's the onething I love to hear you say, my princess," he said.
The sun set in a glory of red and purple that night, spreading theroyal colours far across the calm sky.
It faded very quickly. The night swooped down, swift and soundless, andin the verandah of the bungalow known as The Nest a red lamp glowed witha steady beam across the darkness.
Two figures stood for a space under the acacia by the gate, lingering inthe evening quiet. Now and then there was the flutter of wings abovethem, and the white flowers fell and scattered like bridal blossoms allaround.
"We must go in," said Stella. "Peter will be disappointed if we keep thedinner waiting."
"Ah! We mustn't hurt his august feelings," conceded Everard. "We owe hima mighty lot, my Stella. I wish we could make some return."
"His greatest reward is to let him serve us," she answered. "His love isthe kind that needs to serve."
"Which is the highest kind of love," said Everard holding her to him."Do you know--Hanani discovered that for me."
She pressed close to his side. "Everard darling, why did you keep thatsecret so long?"
"My dear!" he said, and was silent.
"Well, won't you tell me?" she urged. "I think you might."
He hesitated a moment longer; then, "Don't let it hurt you, dear!" hesaid. "But--actually--I wasn't sure that you cared--until I was with youin the temple and saw you--weeping for me."
"Oh, Everard!" she said.
He folded her in his arms. "My darling, I thought I had killed yourlove; and even though I found then that I was wrong, I wasn't sure thatyou would ever forgive me for playing that last trick upon you."
"Ah!" she whispered. "And if I--hadn't--forgiven--you?"
"I should have gone away," he said.
"You would have left me?" She pressed closer.
"I should have come back to you sometimes, sweetheart, in some otherguise. I couldn't have kept away for ever. But I would never haveintruded upon you," he said.
"Everard! Everard!" She hid her face against him. "You make me feel soashamed--so utterly--unworthy."
"Don't darling! Don't," he whispered. "Let us be happy--to-night!"
"And I wanted you so! I missed you so!" she said brokenly.
He turned her face up to his own. "I missed myself a bit, too," he said."I couldn't have played the Hanani game if Peter hadn't put me up to it.Darling, are those actually tears? Because I won't have them. You aregoing to look forward, not back."
She clung to him closely, passionately. "Yes--yes. I will look forward.But, oh, Everard, promise me--promise me--you will never deceive meagain!"
"I don't believe I could, any more," he said.
"But promise!" she urged.
"Very well, my dear one. I promise. There! Is that enough?" He kissedher quivering face, holding her clasped to his heart. "I will nevertrick you again as long as I live. But I had to be near you, and it wasthe only way. Now--am I quite forgiven?"
"Of course you are," she told him tremulously. "It wasn't a matter forforgiveness. Besides--anyhow--you were justified. And,--Everard,--" herbreathing quickened a little; she just caught back a sob--"I love tothink--now--that your arms held our baby--when he died."
"My darling! My own girl!" he said, and stopped abruptly, for his voicewas trembling too.
The next moment very tenderly he kissed her again.
"Please God he won't be the only one!" he said softly.
"Amen!" she whispered back.
In the acacia boughs above them the blue jay suddenly uttered a ripplinglaugh of sheer joy and flew away.
THE END
GREATHEART
By Ethel M. Dell
There were two of them--as unlike as two men could be. Sir Eustace, big,domineering, haughty, used to sweeping all before him with the power ofhis personality.
The other was Stumpy, small, insignificant, quiet, with a little limp.
They clashed over the greatest question that may come to men--the loveof a girl.
She took Sir Eustace just because she could not help herself--and wasswept ahead on the tide of his passion.
And then, when she needed help most--on the day before thewedding--Stumpy saved her--and the quiet flame of his eyes was more thanthe brute power of his brother.
How did it all come out? Did she choose wisely? Is Greatheart more to bedesired than great riches? The answer is the most vivid and charmingstory that Ethel M. Dell has written in a long time.
* * * * *
G. P. Putnam's Sons
New York London
The Hundredth Chance
By
Ethel M. Dell
Author of "The Way of an Eagle," "The Knave of Diamonds," "The Rocks ofValpre," "The Keeper of the Door," "Bars of Iron," etc.
12 deg.. Color Frontispiece by Edna Crompton
The hero is a man of masterful force, of hard and rough exterior, whocan remake a human being with the assurance of success with which hebreaks a horse. Toward the heroine he is all love, patience, solicitude,but she sees in him only the brute and the master. To break down herhostility, and defeat unscrupulous craft which draws her relentlessly tothe verge of disaster, the hero can rely only on the weight of hispersonality and innate tenderness. It is the Hundredth Chance; on it hestakes all.
* * * * *
G.P. Putnam's Sons
New York London
Blue Aloes
By Cynthia Stockley
Author of "Poppy," "The Claw," "Wild Honey," etc.
No writer can so unfailingly summons and materialize the spirit of theweird, mysterious South Africa as can Cynthia Stockley. She is a favoredmedium through whom the great Dark Continent its tales unfolds.
A strange story is this, of a Karoo farm,--a hedge of Blue Aloes, acactus of fantastic beauty, which shelters a myriad of creepingthings,--a whisper and a summons in the dead of the night,--an odor ofdeath and the old.
There are three other stories in the book, stories throbbing with thesudden, intense passion and the mystic atmosphere of the Veldt.
* * * * *
G. P. Putnam's Sons
New York London
The Beloved Sinner
By
Ra
chel Swete Macnamara
Author of the "Fringe of the Desert," "The Torch of Life," and "DriftingWaters"
One of the very prettiest of springtime romances--a tale of exuberantyoung spirits intoxicated with the springtime of living, of love goneadventuring on the rough road--a story, humorous with the gay impudencesof a young Eve who is half-afraid and altogether delighted with herfairy-prince.
G.P. Putnam's Sons
New York London
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