The Dust of Conflict

by Harold Bindloss

  XVII -- TONY IS PAINFULLY ASTONISHED

  THE cool shadows were creeping across the velvet grass next afternoonwhen Nettie Harding lay languidly content in a canvas chair on the LowWood lawn. Behind her rose a long, low, red-roofed dwelling, whose graywalls showed only here and there through their green mantle of creeper,but in front, beyond the moss-covered terrace wall, wheatfield, coppice,and meadow flooded with golden sunlight melted through gradations ofcolor into the blue distance. It was very hot, and the musical tinkle ofa mower that rose from the valley emphasized the drowsy stillness.Opposite her, on the other side of the little table whereon stood daintychina and brass kettle, sat her hostess's daughter, Hester Earle, andshe smiled a little as she glanced at Nettie.

  "You are evidently not pining for New York!" she said.

  Nettie Harding laughed as she looked about her with appreciative eyes."This is quite good enough for me, and we don't live in New York," shesaid. "Nobody who can help it does, and it's quite a question how totake out of it the men who have to work there. Our place is on theHudson, and it's beautiful, though I admit it is different from this. Wehaven't had the time to smooth down everything and round the corners offin our country, though when we are as old as you are we'll haveconsiderably more to show the world."

  Hester Earle nodded tranquilly. She was typically English, andoccasionally amused at Nettie, with whom she had made friends in London.Her father was chairman of a financial corporation that dealt inAmerican securities, and having had business with Cyrus Harding, thoughtit advisable to show his daughter what attention he could.

  "You were enthusiastic over Northrop church and the Palliser memorialsyesterday," she said.

  "Yes," said Nettie, "I was, but I should like to see the kind of men towhom they put them up. From what you said there are still some of themliving in this part of your country?"

  "There is one at Northrop just now, and it is rather more than likelythat you will see him this afternoon if he suspects that Violet Wayne iscoming here. I think I hear her now."

  There was a beat of hoofs and rattle of wheels behind the trees thatshrouded the lawn, and five minutes later Violet and Tony Pallisercrossed the strip of turf. Miss Earle lighted the spirit lamp, and for aspace they talked of nothing in particular, while the pale blue flameburnt unwaveringly in the hot, still air. Then when the dainty cups werepassed round Violet Wayne said--

  "I think you told me yesterday the effigy reminded you of somebody youhad seen, Miss Harding."

  "Yes," said Nettie, "it did. I don't mean that the face was like his,because that would be too absurd, but it was the expression--the strengthand weariness in it--that impressed me. The man I am thinking of lookedjust like that when he kept watch one long night through."

  "How do you know he did?" asked Hester.

  "Because I was there. I sat by a little lattice and watched him, knowingthat my safety depended upon his vigilance."

  "That was why Miss Harding was anxious to see you, Tony," said HesterEarle. "I almost fancy she is disappointed now."

  Tony, who sat with half-closed eyes, teacup in hand, in his chair,looked up and smiled languidly. "I think it is just a little rough on methat I should be expected to emulate the fortitude an unknown sculptorhewed into a marble face hundreds of years ago," he said. "I wonder ifMiss Harding would tell us about the man she is thinking of."

  Nettie glanced at Violet Wayne, and fancied that she showed signs ofinterest. Besides Miss Harding was not averse to discoursing to anattentive audience.

  "Well," she said, "I'll try. It was in Cuba, and he was an Englishman. Alittle while before the night I am going to speak about he and hisAmerican partner captured a Spanish gun."

  "Then I don't see why you should have expected me to resemble him," saidTony plaintively. "As everybody knows I should never have done such athing! Will you tell us about the engagement?"

  Nettie flashed a keen glance at him, and Violet Wayne, who saw it, felta slight thrill of impatience, but not with the girl. It was, shefancied, evident that Nettie Harding agreed with Tony.

  "It was in a hot barranco among the hills, and the Spaniards had turnedthe gun on the Sin Verguenza, and were sweeping them away, when he andthe American lowered themselves down the rock side by creepers rightinto the middle of the loyalist troops. They hurled the gun over aprecipice into the barranco, and when it had gone the rest of the SinVerguenza drove the troops off with rifle fire. It was their coloneltold me this. I did not see it."

  "Would you mind telling us who the Sin Verguenza were?" said Tony.

  "The men without shame--that's what it means in Spanish--an insurgentlegion. They took the town in which my father and I were staying--ahandful of ragged men, with two companies of drilled troops againstthem--and I lost my father in the crowd of fugitives. Then I hid in achurch, and some drunken brigands were chasing me through the darkstreets when I met the Englishman, who took care of me. The SinVerguenza were breaking into the houses, and I was alone, horriblyfrightened and helpless, in that Cuban town. He was one of theirofficers, and he took me to the house they had made their headquarters."

  "You went with him?" asked Hester Earle.

  "Yes," said Nettie slowly, while a faint flush crept into her face, "Idid. Nobody was safe from the Sin Verguenza then, and I felt I couldtrust him. There are men who make one feel like that, you know."

  For no apparent reason she glanced at Violet Wayne, who sat with acurious expression in her eyes, looking--not at Tony, as Miss Hardingnoticed--but across the valley.

  "Yes," she said, "there are. Go on, please!"

  "I went with him to the rebel headquarters, and then very nearly triedto run away again, because it was like walking into the lion's den. Thepatio was littered with the furniture they had thrown out of thewindows, and I could hear the men roystering over their wine. Still,when I looked at the man with me, I went in."

  She stopped and sat silent a space of seconds, while none of the othersspoke. They felt it might not be advisable to ask questions.

  "Well," she continued, "he hid me in a room, and then sat down on theveranda that ran round the patio outside it where I could see him fromthe lattice. The city was in a turmoil, the insurgent leaders werecarousing in the house and you will remember they were the SinVerguenza. There was only that man and his American comrade between meand those horrors. I think he fancied I rested, but all that awful nightI scarcely took my eyes off him. He was very like the marble knight justthen."

  "Isn't that a little rough on the effigy?" said Tony with a smile. "Theman was, I think you told us, a leader of shameless brigands."

  Violet Wayne saw the gleam in Nettie's eyes, and noticed the faint ringin her voice as she said, "There are not many men who could lead the SinVerguenza, but you would understand what I mean if you had seen him. Hewas ragged and very weary, and had been hurt in the fighting, but he satthere keeping himself awake, with his rifle across his knees, and everytime I looked at his face it reassured me. It was haggard, but it wasgrim and strong--and I knew that man would have to be torn to piecesbefore any harm could come to me. He was keeping vigil with somethingentrusted to him which he would guard with his life--and that, I think,is the fancy that stirs one when one looks at your marble knight."

  Hester smiled as she admitted that this was probably what the sculptorhad wished to express, but it was in Violet Wayne's eyes that Nettie sawthe most complete comprehension.

  "That man almost deserved so stanch a champion," said Tony. "Eventuallyyour father found you?"

  "Yes," said Nettie. "The Sin Verguenza marched out in the earlymorning."

  Then there was silence until Tony rose languidly. "I think I'll go andbring some more cake," he said. "You sit still, Hester. I'll ask Mrs.Grantly for it."

  Hester Earle laughed. "She is out. Perhaps you had better show him whereit is, Violet."

  The two who were left were silent for awhile, and then Hester Earlesmiled at her companion as she said, "You wanted to see Tony Palliser."

&
nbsp; Nettie glanced suggestively towards Tony, who was then coming backacross the lawn, carrying a tray.

  "There is no reason why he should not do that kind of thing--but thetrouble is that it seems quite natural to him, as though it was what hewas meant to do," she said.

  "Don't you think he could do anything else?"

  Nettie appeared reflective. "It strikes me he wouldn't want to."

  "Tony is a very good fellow," said Hester. "He has never done anungraceful thing."

  "Well," said Nettie, "I expect that is just what is wrong with him. Itseems to me that the men who do what is worth doing can't always begraceful. The knight in the chancel had his helmet beaten in, while Ifancy his mail was battered and dusty, and if the great glittering angelwaited for the Palliser who was shot in Africa it wasn't because hecarried tea trays prettily."

  "And yet Violet, who expects a good deal, is content with him."

  "Well," said Nettie gravely, "I'm almost afraid she's giving herselfaway. I have seen the man who would have suited her--and he was a raggedleader of the Sin Verguenza."

  "Had that man no taste?" asked Hester with a little laugh.

  Nettie glanced down at the white hand she moved a little so that therewas a flash from the ring. "That was there already. It was a man of thesame kind who put it on."

  Tony and Violet Wayne came up just then, and when they sat down Hesterturned to the man. "We are getting up a concert in the Darsley assemblyrooms for the sewing guild," she said. "We are, as usual, short ofmoney. You will bring your banjo, and sing a coon song."

  "It's too hot," said Tony. "Besides, folks expect a decorum I haven'tbeen quite accustomed to from me now, and I'm not going to black my facefor anybody. I would a good deal sooner give you the money."

  "That's very like you, Tony, but it's too easy, though we will take themoney too. It's a good cause, or it would not be in difficulties. Youwill come and sing."

  Tony made a gesture of resignation. "Well," he said "it would take toomuch trouble to convince you that you had better get somebody else, and,anyway, I can have a cold."

  Then the conversation turned on other topics until Tony and Violet tooktheir leave, but when she shook hands with him Hester reminded Tony ofhis promise. It was, however, almost a month later when he was calledupon to keep it and finding no excuse available drove into theneighboring town one evening. He was welcomed somewhat effusively whenhe entered an ante-room of the assembly hall, and then taken to a placethat had been kept for him beside Violet and her mother. The concertvery much resembled others of the kind, and neither Tony nor hiscompanions paid much attention to the music until Mrs. Wayne looked upfrom her programme.

  "Therese Clavier. Costume dance!" she said. "No doubt they called itthat to pacify the vicar. Well, she is pretty, if somewhat elaboratelygot up. Doesn't she remind you of somebody, Violet?"

  Tony glanced at the stage, and gasped. A girl with dark hair involuminous flimsy draperies came on with a curtsey and a smile, and alittle chill ran through him before he heard Violet's answer.

  "Lucy Davidson. But of course it can't be she," she said. "This woman isolder and has darker hair, though that, perhaps, does not count for verymuch, while Lucy could never have acquired her confidence."

  Tony said nothing. He was staring across the rows of heads and watchingthe girl. She appeared older, bolder, and harder than Lucy Davidson haddone, but the likeness was still unpleasantly suggestive. She dancedwell, but it was not the graceful posing or the swift folding andflowing of light draperies that held Tony's attention. His eyes werefixed upon the smiling face, and he scarcely heard the thunder ofapplause or Mrs. Wayne's voice in the silence that followed it.

  "Effective, and yet nobody could take exception to it," she said. "Butdon't you come on next, Tony?"

  Tony, who had not remembered it, stood up suddenly, knocking down thehat of a man beside him, and trod upon the girl's dress as he passed.She glanced up at him sharply, for he was seldom awkward in hismovements, but he was looking another way. The audience was also gettingimpatient, and there was a clapping of hands and stamping of feet beforehe appeared upon the stage. Then he sat down fingering his banjo pegs,and twice asked the accompanist for a note on the piano.

  "Any other man would have done that before," said Mrs. Wayne. "Still, Isuppose Tony cannot help it, and he seems contented now."

  There was a tinkle from the banjo followed by a chord on the piano, butTony did not face the audience until the introduction had draggedthrough. Then Violet noticed that his voice, which was a sweet tenor,was not so clear as usual, and the silence of the piano emphasized hisfeebler touch on the strings. Still, Tony sang such songs as usually gowith the banjo well, for the mingling of faint pathos and mild burlesquewas within his grasp, which was, perhaps, not without its significance,and nobody appeared to find any fault with the performance. There was,in fact, enthusiastic applause, though Violet was glad when Tonypersisted in leaving the stage, and her mother glanced at her.

  "I have heard Tony put much more spirit into that song," she said.

  Tony in the meanwhile was endeavoring to make his way quietly throughthe green-room when one of the committee touched his shoulder.

  "Can't you spare us a few minutes?" he said. "Miss Clavier seemed tolike your singing, and I think she would be pleased if you noticed her.When she heard it was a charity she came down for half her usual fee."

  Tony was not grateful to the man who had detained him, and could it havebeen done without exciting comment would have shaken off his grasp. Asit was, however, there was no avoiding the introduction, and he sufferedhimself to be led forward with unpleasant misgivings. Miss Clavier madehim a somewhat dignified bow, but she also made room for him beside her,while something in her dark eyes warned Tony that it would be wise ofhim to accept the unspoken invitation. He sat down, wondering what shewanted, until she smiled at him.

  "There are coffee and ices in the other room, Tony," she said. "Will youtake me there?"

  The man realized that this mode of address had its significance, for ithad been Mr. Palliser in the old days; but he rose gravely and held outhis arm, knowing that what he did would not pass without comment. Thefeeling was also warranted, for one of the men who watched them pass outinto the corridor smiled as he turned to his companion.

  "Tony seems bent on doing rather more than was expected of him," hesaid. "No doubt she knows his standing in the neighborhood, and intendsthis as a delicate compliment to one or two of our lady amateurs whowere not exactly pleasant to her. It's quite certain she can't behungry."

  As it happened, there was nobody but the attendant in the buffet whenthey reached it, and Lucy Davidson flung herself down with a curious,lithe gracefulness in a big chair in a corner.

  "Bring me some coffee for the look of the thing," she said.

  Tony did it, and then stood beside her while she toyed with her cup.Lucy Davidson was distinctly pretty in spite of her get up, but it wasunpleasantly evident to her companion that she was not the girl he hadflirted with. She seemed to have changed into a capable, determinedwoman, and there was something that suggested imperiousness in her darkeyes when she looked up at him.

  "I want to know why you brought me here," he said.

  The girl laughed. "That wasn't civil, Tony. You should have let me thinkyou came because you wanted to."

  "I didn't," said Tony doggedly. "Nor can I stay here long. Don't youknow that some of these people might recognize you?"

  "I don't see why that should worry me, though I don't think they will.They are Darsley folk, and I fancy I have changed. You are going to bemarried I hear!"

  Tony set his lips as he saw the mocking smile in his companion's face.

  "Yes," he said. "We may as well talk plainly. You know of no reason whyI shouldn't."

  Lucy Davidson made a little reproachful gesture. "Tony," she said, "haveI objected?"

  "No. The question is, do you mean to?"

  "That depends. I really don't want to cause you trouble. Y
ou see, I wasfond of you once, Tony--and would you like me to tell you that I amstill?"

  Tony stood rigidly still with the blood in his forehead until the girllaughed.

  "You needn't meet trouble before it comes," she said. "I only wanted tosee you."

  Again there was silence, until Tony, who felt he must say something,broke it.

  "Where have you been since you left Northrop?" he asked.

  "In London. Music-hall stage. I took there, and was in Melbourne, too.Just now I'm resting a little, and only came down here out ofcuriosity."

  "Still," and Tony's voice trembled a little, "you will have heard--"

  "Sit down," said the girl almost sharply. "I want to talk to you. Yes, Iheard in Melbourne. I read it all in a Darsley paper, and thought whatfools the folks were to blame Mr. Appleby."

  Tony gasped. "It is a painful thing to talk about, and I don't want todistress you, but--"

  Lucy Davidson looked at him steadily. "What I felt about it doesn'tconcern anybody but myself. I told you they were fools, Tony. You and Iknow who it was that circumstances really pointed to."

  Tony's cheeks turned a trifle gray, but this time he met her gaze."Listen to me, Lucy. On my word of honor I had no hand in whathappened," he said. "The solemn truth is that your father had analtercation with Appleby, and afterwards fell over the bridge."

  The girl's eyes flashed, and she slowly straightened herself. "It isfortunate for you that I can take your word, because I had formed my ownconclusions," she said. "Don't suppose I should sit here talking to youif I had thought you were guilty. This, however, is quite betweenourselves."

  There was a significance in the last words which was not lost upon theman. "Well," he said slowly, "we come back to the point again. What doyou want from me?"

  "Just a little kindness. I was, I don't mind telling you again, fond ofyou, perhaps because--but we don't always give reasons, Tony. There isnothing I want to ask you for in the meanwhile."

  "I am to be married soon," the man said in desperation.

  Lucy Davidson rose with a curious mocking smile. "Well," she said, "Iwish her joy of you. You are, you know, very poor stuff, Tony, andhaven't nerve enough to make either a good man or a rascal. The last, atleast now and then, gets something for his pains. Now, you may take meback again."