CHAPTER VI
THE GARDEN
The Heaven of the Orient! It was a week since Stella had penned thosewords, and still the charm held her, the wonder grew. Never in her lifehad she dreamed of a land so perfect, so subtly alluring, sooverwhelmingly full of enchantment. Day after day slipped by in whatseemed an endless succession. Night followed magic night, and the spellwound closer and ever closer about her. She sometimes felt as if hervery individuality were being absorbed into the marvellous beauty abouther, as if she had been crystallized by it and must soon cease to be inany sense a being apart from it.
The siren-music of the torrent that dashed below their camping-groundfilled her brain day and night. It seemed to make active thoughtimpossible, to dull all her senses save the one luxurious sense ofenjoyment. That was always present, slumbrous, almost cloying in itsunfailing sweetness, the fruit of the lotus which assuredly she waseating day by day. All her nerves seemed dormant, all her energieslulled. Sometimes she wondered if the sound of running water had thisstultifying effect upon her, for wherever they went it followed them.The snow-fed streams ran everywhere, and since leaving Srinagar shecould not remember a single occasion on which they had been out ofearshot of their perpetual music. It haunted her like a ceaselessrefrain, but yet she never wearied of it. There was no thought ofweariness in this mazed, dream-world of hers.
At the beginning of her married life, so far behind her now that shescarcely remembered it, she had gone through pangs of suffering andfierce regret. Her whole nature had revolted, and it had taken all herstrength to quell it. But that was long, long past. She had ceased tofeel anything now, but a dumb and even placid acquiescence in thislethargic existence, and Ralph Dacre was amply satisfied therewith. Hehad always been abundantly confident of his power to secure herhappiness, and he was blissfully unconscious of the wild impulse torebellion which she had barely stifled. He had no desire to sound thedeeps of her. He was quite content with life as he found it, content toshare with her the dreamy pleasures that lay in this fruitfulwilderness, and to look not beyond.
He troubled himself but little about the future, though when he thoughtof it that was with pleasure too. He liked, now and then, to lookforward to the days that were coming when Stella would shine as aqueen--his queen--among an envious crowd. Her position assured as hiswife, even Lady Harriet herself would have to lower her flag. And howlittle Netta Ermsted would grit her teeth! He laughed to himselfwhenever he thought of that. Netta had become too uppish of late. Itwould be amusing to see how she took her lesson.
And as for his brother-officers, even the taciturn Monck had alreadyshown that he was not proof against Stella's charms. He wondered whatStella thought of the man, well knowing that few women liked him, andone evening, as they sat together in the scented darkness with the roarof their mountain-stream filling the silences, he turned their fitfulconversation in Monck's direction to satisfy his lazy curiosity in thisrespect.
"I suppose I ought to write to the fellow," he said, "but if you'vewritten to Tommy it's almost the same thing. Besides, I don't suppose hewould be in the smallest degree interested. He would only be bored."
There was a pause before Stella answered; but she was often slow ofspeech in those days. "I thought you were friends," she said.
"What? Oh, so we are." Ralph Dacre laughed, his easy, complacent laugh."But he's a dark horse, you know. I never know quite how to take him.Your brother Tommy is a deal more intimate with him than I am, though Ihave stabled with him for over four years. He's a very clever fellow,there's no doubt of that--altogether too brainy for my taste. Cleverfellows always bore me. Now I wonder how he strikes you."
Again there was that slight pause before Stella spoke, but there wasnothing very vital about it. She seemed to be slow in bringing her mindto bear upon the subject. "I agree with you," she said then. "He isclever. And he is kind too. He has been very good to Tommy."
"Tommy would lie down and let him walk over him," remarked Dacre."Perhaps that is what he likes. But he's a cold-blooded sort of cuss. Idon't believe he has a spark of real affection for anybody. He is tooambitious."
"Is he ambitious?" Stella's voice sounded rather weary, wholly void ofinterest.
Dacre inhaled a deep breath of cigar-smoke and puffed it slowly forth.His curiosity was warming. "Oh yes, ambitious as they're made. Thosestrong, silent chaps always are. And there's no doubt he will make hismark some day. He is a positive marvel at languages. And he dabbles inSecret Service matters too, disguises himself and goes among the nativesin the bazaars as one of themselves. A fellow like that, you know, issimply priceless to the Government. And he is as tough as leather. Theclimate never touches him. He could sit on a grille and be happy. Nodoubt he will be a very big pot some day." He tipped the ash from hiscigar. "You and I will be comfortably growing old in a villa atCheltenham by that time," he ended.
A little shiver went through Stella. She said nothing and silence fellbetween them again. The moon was rising behind a rugged line ofsnow-hills across the valley, touching them here and there with asilvery radiance, casting mysterious shadows all about them, sending amagic twilight over the whole world so that they saw it dimly, asthrough a luminous veil. The scent of Dacre's cigar hung in the air,fragrant, aromatic, Eastern. He was sleepily watching his wife's pureprofile as she gazed into her world of dreams. It was evident that shetook small interest in Monck and his probable career. It was notsurprising. Monck was not the sort of man to attract women; he cared solittle about them--this silent watcher whose eyes were ever searchingbelow the surface of Eastern life, who studied and read and knew so muchmore than any one else and yet who guarded knowledge and methods soclosely that only those in contact with his daily life suspected what hehid.
"He will surprise us all some day," Dacre placidly reflected. "Thosequiet, ambitious chaps always soar high. But I wouldn't change places.with him even if he wins to the top of the tree. People who make aspecialty of hard work never get any fun out of anything. By the timethe fun comes along, they are too old to enjoy it."
And so he lay at ease in his chair, feasting his eyes upon his youngwife's grave face, savouring life with the zest of the epicurean,placidly at peace with all the world on that night of dreams.
It was growing late, and the moon had topped the distant peaks sending aflood of light across the sleeping valley before he finally threw awaythe stump of his cigar and stretched forth a lazy arm to draw her tohim.
"Why so silent, Star of my heart? Where are those wandering thoughts ofyours?"
She submitted as usual to his touch, passively, without enthusiasm. "Mythoughts are not worth expressing, Ralph," she said.
"Let us hear them all the same!" he said, laying his head against hershoulder.
She sat very still in his hold. "I was only watching the moonlight," shesaid. "Somehow it made me think--of a flaming sword."
"Turning all ways?" he suggested, indolently humorous. "Not driving usforth out of the garden of Eden, I hope? That would be a little hard ontwo such inoffensive mortals as we are, eh, sweetheart?"
"I don't know," she said seriously. "I doubt if the plea ofinoffensiveness would open the gates of Heaven to any one."
He laughed. "I can't talk ethics at this time of night, Star of myheart. It's time we went to our lair. I believe you would sit here tillsunrise if I would let you, you most ethereal of women. Do you everthink of your body at all, I wonder?"
He kissed her neck with the careless words, and a quick shiver wentthrough her. She made a slight, scarcely perceptible movement to freeherself.
But the next moment sharply, almost convulsively, she grasped his arm."Ralph! What is that?"
She was gazing towards the shadow cast by a patch of flowering azalea inthe moonlight about ten yards from where they sat. Dacre raised himselfwith leisurely self-assurance and peered in the same direction. It wasnot his nature to be easily disturbed.
But Stella's hand still clung to his arm, and there was agitation in herhold. "What is it?
" she whispered. "What can it be? I have seen itmove--twice. Ah, look! Is it--is it--a panther?"
"Good gracious, child, no!" Carelessly he made response, and with thewords disengaged himself from her hand and stood up. "It's more probablysome filthy old beggar who fondly thinks he is going to get _backsheesh_for disturbing us. You stay here while I go and investigate!"
But some nervous impulse goaded Stella. She also started up, holding himback. "Oh, don't go, Ralph! Don't go! Call one of the men! Call Peter!"
He laughed at her agitation. "My dear girl, don't be absurd! I don'twant Peter to help me kick a beastly native. In fact he probablywouldn't lower himself to do such a thing."
But still she clung to him. "Ralph, don't go! Please don't go! I have afeeling--I am afraid--I--" She broke off panting, her fingers tightlyclutching his sleeve. "Don't go!" she reiterated.
He put his arm round her. "My dear, what do you think a tatterdemaliongipsy is going to do to me? He may be a snake-charmer, and if so thesooner he is got rid of the better. There! What did I tell you? He iscoming out of his corner. Now, don't be frightened! It doesn't do toshow funk to these people."
He held her closely to him and waited. Beside the flowering azaleasomething was undoubtedly moving, and as they stood and watched, astrange figure slowly detached itself from the shadows and crept towardsthem. It was clad in native garments and shuffled along in a bentattitude as if deformed. Stella stiffened as she stood. There wassomething unspeakably repellent to her in its toadlike advance.
"Make one of the men send him away!" she whispered urgently. "Please do!It may be a snake-charmer as you say. He moves like a reptile himself.And I--abhor snakes."
But Dacre stood his ground. He felt none of her shrinking horror of thebowed, misshapen creature approaching them. In fact he was only curiousto see how far a Kashmiri beggar's audacity would carry him.
Within half a dozen paces of them, in the full moonlight, the shamblingfigure halted and salaamed with clawlike hands extended. His deformitybent him almost double, but he was so muffled in rags that it wasdifficult to discern any tangible human shape at all. A tangled blackbeard hung wisplike from the dirty _chuddah_ that draped his head, andabove it two eyes, fevered and furtive, peered strangely forth.
The salaam completed, the intruder straightened himself as far as hisinfirmity would permit, and in a moment spoke in the weak accents of anold, old man. "Will his most gracious excellency be pleased to permitone who is as the dust beneath his feet to speak in his presence wordswhich only he may hear?"
It was the whine of the Hindu beggar, halting, supplicatory, almostrevoltingly servile. Stella shuddered with disgust. The whole episodewas so utterly out of place in that moonlit paradise. But Dacre'scuriosity was evidently aroused. To her urgent whisper to send the manaway he paid no heed. Some spirit of perversity--or was it the hand ofFate upon him?--made him bestow his supercilious attention upon thecringing visitor.
"Speak away, you son of a centipede!" he made kindly rejoinder. "I amall ears--the _mem-sahib_ also."
The man waved a skinny, protesting arm. "Only his most graciousexcellency!" he insisted, seeming to utter the words through parchedlips. "Will not his excellency deign to give his unworthy servant oneprecious moment that he may speak in the august one's ear alone?"
"This is highly mysterious," commented Dacre. "I think I shall have tofind out what he wants, eh, Stella? His information may be valuable."
"Oh, do send him away!" Stella entreated. "I am not used to thesenatives. They frighten me."
"My dear child, what nonsense!" laughed Dacre. "What harm do you imaginea doddering old fool like this could do to any one? If I were Monck, Ishould invite him to join the party. Not being Monck, I propose to hearwhat he has to say and then kick him out. You run along to bed, dear!I'll soon settle him and follow you. Don't be uneasy! There is really noneed."
He kissed her lightly with the words, flattered by her evident anxietyon his behalf though fully determined to ignore it.
Stella turned beside him in silence, aware that he could be immovablyobstinate when once his mind was made up. But the feeling of dreadremained upon her. In some fantastic fashion the beauty of the night hadbecome marred, as though evil spirits were abroad. For the first timeshe wanted to keep her husband at her side.
But it was useless to protest. She was moreover half-ashamed herself ather uneasiness, and his treatment of it stung her into the determinationto dismiss it. She parted with him before their tent with no furthersign of reluctance.
He on his part kissed her in his usual voluptuous fashion. "Good-night,darling!" he said lightly. "Don't lie awake for me! When I have got ridof this old Arabian Nights sinner, I may have another smoke. But don'tget impatient! I shan't be late."
She withdrew herself from him almost with coldness. Had she ever beenimpatient for his coming? She entered the tent proudly, her head high.But the moment she was alone, reaction came. She stood with her handsgripped together, fighting the old intolerable misgiving that even thelulling magic all around her had never succeeded in stilling. What wasshe doing in this garden of delights with a man she did not love? Hadshe not entered as it were by stealth? How long would it be before herpresence was discovered and she thrust forth into the outermost darknessin shame and bitterness of soul?
Another thought was struggling at the back of her mind, but she held itfirmly there. Never once had she suffered it to take full possession ofher. It belonged to that other life which she had found too hard toendure. Vain regrets and futile longings--she would have none of them.She had chosen her lot, she would abide by the choice. Yes, and shewould do her duty also, whatever it might entail. Ralph should neverknow, never dimly suspect. And that other--he would never know either.His had been but a passing fancy. He trod the way of ambition, and therewas no room in his life for anything besides. If she had shown him herheart, it had been but a momentary glimpse; and he had forgottenalready. She was sure he had forgotten. And she had desired that heshould forget. He had penetrated her stronghold indeed, but it was onlyas it were the outer defences that had fallen. He had not reached theinner fort. No man would ever reach that now--certainly, most certainly,not the man to whom she had given herself. And to none other would thechance be offered.
No, she was secure; she was secure. She guarded her heart from all. Andshe could not suffer deeply--so she told herself--so long as she kept itclose. Yet, as the wonder-music of the torrent lulled her to sleep, aface she knew, dark, strong, full of silent purpose, rose before herinner vision and would not be driven forth. What was he doing to-night?Was he wandering about the bazaars in some disguise, learning thesecrets of that strange native India that had drawn him into her toils?She tried to picture that hidden life of his, but could not. The keen,steady eyes, set in that calm, emotionless face, held her persistently,defeating imagination. Of one thing only was she certain. He mightbaffle others, but by no amount of ingenuity could he ever deceive her.She would recognize him in a moment whatever his disguise. She was surethat she would know him. Those grave, unflinching eyes would surely givehim away to any who really knew him. So ran her thoughts on that nightof magic till at last sleep came, and the vision faded. The last thingshe knew was a memory that awoke and mocked her--the sound of a lowvoice that in spite of herself she had to hear.
"I was waiting," said the voice, "till my turn should come."
With a sharp pang she cast the memory from her--and slept.