CHAPTER V
THE DREAM
It was a fortnight after the wedding, on an evening of intense heat,that Everard Monck, now established with Tommy at The Green Bungalow,came in from polo to find the mail awaiting him. He sauntered in throughthe verandah in search of a drink which he expected to find in the roomwhich Stella during her brief sojourn had made more dainty and artisticthan the rest, albeit it had never been dignified by the name ofdrawing-room. There was light green matting on the floor and there werealso light green cushions in each of the long wicker chairs. Curtains ofgreen gauze hung before the windows, and the fierce sunlight filteringthrough gave the room a strangely translucent effect. It was like achamber under the sea.
It had been Monck's intention to have his drink and pass straight on tohis own quarters for a bath, but the letters on the table caught his eyeand he stopped. Standing in the green dimness with a tumbler in onehand, he sorted them out. There were two for himself and two for Tommy,the latter obviously bills, and under these one more, also for Tommy ina woman's clear round writing. It came from Srinagar, and Monck stoodfor a second or two holding it in his hand and staring straight outbefore him with eyes that saw not. Just for those seconds a mockingvision danced gnomelike through his brain. Just at this moment probablymost of the other men were opening letters from their wives in theHills. And he saw the chance he had not taken like a flash of far,elusive sunlight on the sky-line of a troubled sea.
The vision passed. He laid down the letter and took up his owncorrespondence. One of the letters was from England. He poured out hisdrink and flung himself down to read it.
It came from the only relation he possessed in the world--his brother.Bernard Monck was the elder by fifteen years--a man of brilliantcapabilities, who had long since relinquished all idea of worldlyadvancement in the all-absorbing interest of a prison chaplaincy. Theyhad not met for over five years, but they maintained a regularcorrespondence, and every month brought to Everard Monck the thinenvelope directed in the square, purposeful handwriting of the man whohad been during the whole of his life his nearest and best friend. Lyingback in the wicker-chair, relaxed and weary, he opened the letter andbegan to read.
Ten minutes later, Tommy Denvers, racing in, also in polo-kit, stoppedshort upon the threshold and stared in shocked amazement as if somesudden horror had caught him by the throat.
"Great heavens above, Monck! What's the matter?" he ejaculated.
Perhaps it was in part due to the green twilight of the room, but itseemed to him in that first startled moment that Monck's face had thelook of a man who had received a deadly wound. The impression passedalmost immediately, but the memory of it was registered in his brain forall time.
Monck raised the tumbler to his lips and drank before replying, and ashe did so his customary grave composure became apparent, making Tommywonder if his senses had tricked him. He looked at the lad with sombreeyes as he set down the glass. His brother's letter was still gripped inhis hand.
"Hullo, Tommy!" he said, a shadowy smile about his mouth. "What are youin such a deuce of a hurry about?"
Tommy glanced down at the letters on the table and pounced upon the onethat lay uppermost. "A letter from Stella! And about time, too! Sheisn't much of a correspondent now-a-days. Where are they now? Oh,Srinagar. Lucky beggar--Dacre! Wish he'd taken me along as well asStella! What am I in such a hurry about? Well, my dear chap, look at thetime! You'll be late for mess yourself if you don't buck up."
Tommy's treatment of his captain was ever of the airiest when they werealone. He had never stood in awe of Monck since the days of hisillness; but even in his most familiar moments his manner was notwithout a certain deference. His respect for him was unbounded, and hispride in their intimacy was boyishly whole-hearted. There was nosacrifice great or small that he would not willingly have offered atMonck's behest.
And Monck knew it, realized the lad's devotion as pure gold, and valuedit accordingly. But, that fact notwithstanding, his faith in Tommy'sdiscretion did not move him to bestow his unreserved confidence uponhim. Probably to no man in the world could he have opened his secretsoul. He was not of an expansive nature. But Tommy occupied an innerplace in his regard, and there were some things that he veiled from allbeside which he no longer attempted to hide from this faithful followerof his. Thus far was Tommy privileged.
He got to his feet in response to the boy's last remark. "Yes, you'reright. We ought to be going. I shall be interested to hear what yoursister thinks of Kashmir. I went up there on a shooting expedition twoyears after I came out. It's a fine country."
"Is there anywhere that you haven't been?" said Tommy. "I believe you'llwrite a book one of these days."
Monck looked ironical. "Not till I'm on the shelf, Tommy," he said,"where there's nothing better to do."
"You'll never be on the shelf," said Tommy quickly. "You'll be much toovaluable."
Monck shrugged his shoulders slightly and turned to go. "I doubt if thatconsideration would occur to any one but you, my boy," he said.
They walked to the mess-house together a little later through theairless dark, and there was nothing in Monck's manner either then orduring the evening to confirm the doubt in Tommy's mind. Spirits werenot very high at the mess just then. Nearly all the women had left forthe Hills, and the increasing heat was beginning to make life a burden.The younger officers did their best to be cheerful, and one of them,Bertie Oakes, a merry, brainless youngster, even proposed an impromptudance to enliven the proceedings. But he did not find many supporters.Men were tired after the polo. Colonel Mansfield and Major Burton weredeeply engrossed with some news that had been brought by Barnes of thePolice, and no one mustered energy for more than talk.
Tommy soon decided to leave early and return to his letters. Beforedeparting, he looked round for Monck as was his custom, but finding thathe and Captain Ermsted had also been drawn into the discussion with theColonel, he left the mess alone.
Back in The Green Bungalow he flung off his coat and threw himself downin his shirt-sleeves on the verandah to read his sister's letter. Thelight from the red-shaded lamp streamed across the pages. Stella hadwritten very fully of their wanderings, but her companion she scarcelymentioned.
It was like a gorgeous dream, she said. Each day seemed to bringgreater beauties. They had spent the first two at Agra to see thewonderful Taj which of course was wholly beyond description. Thence theyhad made their way to Rawal Pindi where Ralph had several militaryfriends to be introduced to his bride. It was evident that he wasanxious to display his new possession, and Tommy frowned a little overthat episode, realizing fully why Stella touched so lightly upon it. Forsome reason his dislike of Dacre was increasing rapidly, and he read theletter very critically. It was the first with any detail that she hadwritten. From Rawal Pindi they had journeyed on to exquisite Murree setin the midst of the pines where only to breathe was the keenestpleasure. Stella spoke almost wistfully of this place; she would haveloved to linger there.
"I could be happy there in perfect solitude," she wrote, "with justPeter the Great to take care of me." She mentioned the Sikh bearer morethan once and each time with growing affection. "He is like an immenseand kindly watch-dog," she said in one place. "Every material comfortthat I could possibly wish for he manages somehow to procure, and he isalways on guard, always there when wanted, yet never in the way."
Their time being limited and Ralph anxious to use it to the utmost, theyhad left Murree after a very brief stay and pressed on into Kashmir,travelling in a _tonga_ through the most glorious scenery that Stellahad ever beheld.
"I only wished you could have been there to enjoy it with me," shewrote, and passed on to a glowing description of the Hills amidst whichthey had travelled, all grandly beautiful and many capped with theeternal snows. She told of the River Jhelum, swift and splendid, thatflowed beside the way, of the flowers that bloomed in dazzling profusionon every side--wild roses such as she had never dreamed of, purpleacacias, jessamine yellow and white, m
aiden-hair ferns that hung insprays of living green over the rushing waterfalls, and the vivid,scarlet pomegranate blossom that grew like a spreading fire.
And the air that blew through the mountains was as the very breath oflife. Physically, she declared, she had never felt so well; but she didnot speak of happiness, and again Tommy's brow contracted as he read.
For all its enthusiasm, there was to him something wanting in thatletter--a lack that hurt him subtly. Why did she say so little of hercompanion in the wilderness? No casual reader would have dreamed thatthe narrative had been written by a bride upon her honeymoon.
He read on, read of their journey up the river to Srinagar, punted bynative boatmen, and again, as she spoke of their sad, droning chant, shecompared it all to a dream. "I wonder if I am really asleep, Tommy," shewrote, "if I shall wake up in the middle of a dark night and find that Ihave never left England after all. That is what I feel likesometimes--almost as if life had been suspended for awhile. This strangeexistence cannot be real. I am sure that at the heart of me I must beasleep."
At Srinagar, a native _fete_ had been in progress, and the howling ofmen and din of _tom-toms_ had somewhat marred the harmony of theirarrival. But it was all interesting, like an absorbing fairy-tale, shesaid, but quite unreal. She felt sure it couldn't be true. Ralph hadbeen disgusted with the hubbub and confusion. He compared the place toan asylum of filthy lunatics, and they had left it without delay. And soat last they had come to their present abiding-place in the heart of thewilderness with coolies, pack-horses, and tents, and were camped besidea rushing stream that filled the air with its crystal music day andnight. "And this is Heaven," wrote Stella; "but it is the Heaven of theOrient, and I am not sure that I have any part or lot in it. I believe Ishall feel myself an interloper for all time. I dread to turn eachcorner lest I should meet the Angel with the Flaming Sword and be drivenforth into the desert. If only you were here, Tommy, it would be morereal to me. But Ralph is just a part of the dream. He is almost like anEastern potentate himself with his endless cigarettes and his wonderfulcapacity for doing nothing all day long without being bored. Of course,I am not bored, but then no one ever feels bored in a dream. The lazywell-being of it all has the effect of a narcotic so far as I amconcerned. I cannot imagine ever feeling active in this lullingatmosphere. Perhaps there is too much champagne in the air and I amnever wholly sober. Perhaps it is only in the desert that any one everlives to the utmost. The endless singing of the stream is hushing meinto a sweet drowsiness even as I write. By the way, I wonder if I havewritten sense. If not, forgive me! But I am much too lazy to read itthrough. I think I must have eaten of the lotus. Good-bye, Tommy dear!Write when you can and tell me that all is well with you, as I think itmust be--though I cannot tell--with your always loving, though for themoment strangely bewitched, sister, Stella."
Tommy put down the letter and lay still, peering forth under frowningbrows. He could hear Monck's footsteps coming through the gate of thecompound, but he was not paying any attention to Monck for once. Histroubled mind scarcely even registered the coming of his friend.
Only when the latter mounted the steps on to the verandah and began tomove along it, did he turn his head and realize his presence. Monck cameto a stand beside him.
"Well, Tommy," he said, "isn't it time to turn in?"
Tommy sat up. "Oh, I suppose so. Infernally hot, isn't it? I've beenreading Stella's letter."
Monck lodged his shoulder against the window-frame. "I hope she is allright," he said formally.
His voice sounded pre-occupied. It did not convey to Tommy the idea thathe was greatly interested in his reply.
He answered with something of an effort. "I believe she is. She doesn'treally say. I wish they had been content to stay at Bhulwana. I couldhave got leave to go over and see her there."
"Where exactly are they now?" asked Monck.
Tommy explained to the best of his ability. "Srinagar seems theirnearest point of civilization. They are camping in the wilderness, butthey will have to move before long. Dacre's leave will be up, and theymust allow time to get back. Stella talks as if they are fixed there forever and ever."
"She is enjoying it then?" Monck's voice still sounded as if he werethinking of something else.
Tommy made grudging reply. "I suppose she is, after a fashion. I'mpretty sure of one thing." He spoke with abrupt force. "She'd enjoy it adeal more if I were with her instead of Dacre."
Monck laughed, a curt, dry laugh. "Jealous, eh?"
"No, I'm not such a fool." The boy spoke recklessly. "But I know--Ican't help knowing--that she doesn't care twopence about the man. Whatwoman with any brains could?"
"There's no accounting for women's tastes or actions at any time," saidMonck. "She liked him well enough to marry him."
Tommy made an indignant sound. "She was in a mood to marry any one.She'd probably have married you if you'd asked her."
Monck made an abrupt movement as if he had lost his balance, but hereturned to his former position immediately. "Think so?" he said in avoice that sounded very ironical. "Then possibly she has had a luckyescape. I might have been moved to ask her if she had remained free muchlonger."
"I wish to Heaven you had!" said Tommy bluntly.
And again Monck uttered his short, sardonic laugh. "Thank you, Tommy,"he said.
There fell a silence between them, and a hot draught eddied up throughthe parched compound and rattled the scorched twigs of the creeping roseon the verandah with a desolate sound, as if skeleton hands were feelingalong the trellis-work. Tommy suppressed a shudder and got to his feet.
In the same moment Monck spoke again, deliberately, emotionlessly, witha hint of grimness. "By the way, Tommy, I've a piece of news for you.That letter I had from my brother this, evening contained news of anurgent business matter which only I can deal with. It has come at arather unfortunate moment as Barnes, the policeman, brought somedisturbing information this evening from Khanmulla and the Chief wantedto make use of me in that quarter. They are sending a Mission to makeinvestigations and they wanted me to go in charge of it."
"Oh, man!" Tommy's eyes suddenly shone with enthusiasm. "What achance!"
"A chance I'm not going to take," rejoined Monck dryly. "I applied forleave instead. In any case it is due to me, but Dacre had his turnfirst. The Chief didn't want to grant it, but he gave way in the end.You boys will have to work a little harder than usual, that's all."
Tommy was staring at him in amazement. "But, I say, Monck!" heprotested. "That Mission business! It's the very thing you'd most enjoy.Surely you can't be going to let such an opportunity slip!"
"My own business is more pressing," Monck returned briefly.
Then Tommy remembered the stricken look that he had surprised on hisfriend's face that evening, and swift concern swallowed hisastonishment. "You had bad news from Home! I say, I'm awfully sorry. Isyour brother ill, or what?"
"No. It's not that. I can't discuss it with you, Tommy. But I've got togo. The Chief has granted me eight weeks and I am off at dawn." Monckmade as if he would turn inwards with the words.
"You're going Home?" ejaculated Tommy. "By Jove, old fellow, it'll bequick work." Then, his sympathy coming uppermost again, "I say, I'mconfoundedly sorry. You'll take care of yourself?"
"Oh, every care." Monck paused to lay an unexpected hand upon the lad'sshoulder. "And you must take care of yourself, Tommy," he said. "Don'tget up to any tomfoolery while I am away! And if you get thirsty, stickto lime-juice!"
"I'll be as good as gold," Tommy promised, touched alike by action andadmonition. "But it will be pretty beastly without you. I hate a lonelylife, and Stella will be stuck at Bhulwana for the rest of the hotweather when they get back."
"Well, I shan't stay away for ever," Monck patted his shoulder andturned away. "I'm not going for a pleasure trip, and the sooner it'sover, the better I shall be pleased."
He passed into the room with the words, that room in which Stella hadsat on her wedding-eve, gazing for
th into the night. And there came toTommy, all-unbidden, a curious, wandering memory of his friend's face onthat same night, with eyes alight and ardent, looking upwards as thoughthey saw a vision. Perplexed and vaguely troubled, he thrust her letteraway into his pocket and went to his own room.