by Maud Diver
CHAPTER XI.
"O all that in me wanders, and is wild, Gathers into one wave, and breaks on thee." --Phillips.
In the deep heart of Kalatope Forest, where the trees fall apart as if byunanimous consent, the natural glade of Kajiar lies like a giant emeraldunder a turquoise sky. Peace broods over this sanctuary of Nature'smaking, dove-like, with folded wings. No lightest echo of the world'sturmoil and strife disturbs the stillness. Only at dawn and dusk, thethin note of the temple bell, the chanting of priests, and the unearthlyminor wail of conches, announce the downsitting and uprising of thelittle stone image of godhead, housed in a picturesque temple thatnestles among low trees, beside the Holy Lake, at the southern end of theglade.
For Hindus are the most devout Nature-worshippers on the face of theearth. To them, beauty of place translates itself as God's direct cry tothe soul; and in the isolated glade of Kajiar, with its sweep of shelvingturf, its encircling pines and deodars, and its towering snow-peaksstanding sentinel in the north,--deity reigns supreme; deity and thegreat grey ape of the Himalayas.
Only for one week in the year does Kajiar spring full-fledged into aplace of human significance. From Dalhousie, on the one hand, and fromChumba on the other, a light-hearted crowd of revellers profanes thequiet of earth and sky. On the outskirts of the forest tents spring up,like mushrooms, in a night; the devotional voices of the temple aredrowned in the clamour of bugles, the throb of racing hoofs, thechallenging gaiety of the band, and the heart-stirring wail of the RoyalChumba Pipers; wiry hill-men, in kilts and tartans;--the pride of theyoung Rajah's heart.
The 'Kajiar week' is the central event of Dalhousie's season:--anArcadian revel of perfumed shadow, and sun-warmed earth; a carnival ofcamp-life; ushering in the gloom of the Great Rains;--the triple tyrannyof mist, mildew, and mackintoshes. And early on the morning after the_Mela_,--while the breath of night still lingered in gorges and ravines,and in shadowed patches of the ascending path, a mixed procession of menand horses, shuffling mules, and trotting coolies wound, snake-like, outof the Chumba valley towards Kalatope Forest and the emerald glade.
All the Rajah's party was mounted, save Mrs Mayhew and the medicalmissionary's wife, who preferred the leisurely ease of their dandies: andin the van of the procession, a hundred yards and more in advance of it,Quita rode with James Garth.
Her husband's bearing throughout the previous evening had convinced herthat their passage of arms in the _shamianah_ had killed the buddingpossibility of a better understanding between them: and the fact that shewas to blame, did not make the knowledge easier to bear. For she knewnow--knew consciously--that she craved the love and admiration of thisbig silent husband of hers, as she had never yet craved anything in earthor heaven: that his mere presence disturbed every fibre of her in afashion she had hitherto believed impossible; that his aloofness drew andheld her, as no other man's ardour had ever done. These two days ofcloser contact, of hearing his voice, of watching, without seeming towatch, the familiar movements of his face and figure, had waked toconscious life germs that had long lain at her heart, quickening indarkness.
But pride was a stubborn element in her. Where she gave greatly, shedemanded greatly. The fact that he had taken her to task bred asuspicion that she had been sought out for that purpose, not because hecould no longer keep away: and his evident determination to give her nochance of retrieving the damage done in a moment of irritation, broughther near to defiance,--the danger-point of her nature. Hence renewedencouragement of Garth, with intent to italicise her Declaration ofIndependence; and with a half-acknowledged hope that Lenox might begoaded by jealousy to renewed remonstrance.
And Garth,--who was used to the bestowal, rather than the receipt offavours,--accepted this woman's encouragement as gratefully as anenamoured subaltern. Desmond's recent tactics had but served to convincehim that the walls of Jericho must be carried by assault. Whatever theoutcome, the thrill of conquest must at least be his.
The six-foot roadway up to Kajiar gave him ample excuse for ridingneedlessly close to his companion; and he inclined himself closer intalking, thus giving a provocative flavour to ordinary speech.
"I think, in common fairness, it is my turn for an innings again,--don'tyou?"
She laughed, and lifted her shoulders, evading direct reply.
"Does that mean that you care nothing, one way or other?" There wassmothered passion in his tone.
"And if it does? What then?"
"Gad! How coolly you stab a poor devil, whose worst sin is that he isin----" But before the word was out, she checked him sharply.
"Major Garth!--How _dare_ you?"
Her white-hot anger seared both his vanity and his heart. But he hadcourage of a sort: and he stood his ground.
"A man in my case will dare anything. Besides, you have insight enoughto have known it these many weeks; and why should the plain statementanger you, when evidently the plain fact does not?--Tell me that."
The question smote her to silence. For she could not tell him: neithercould she answer hotly and break with him for good. Throughout thecoming week, at least, their intimacy must remain intact; and beyond ither mind refused to look. She saw herself caught in a tangle of her ownmaking: a hot wave of vexation at her helplessness, at her cruelly falseposition, fired her face from chin to brow.
But Garth, noting the phenomenon, interpreted it otherwise.
"You find my riddle unanswerable?" he questioned almost tenderly: and wasmet by a lightning-flash of denial.
"No. By no means! The answer is simple enough. Unhappily you cannotwipe out--the fact. But you can avoid expressing it: and youmust,--unless you are prepared to lose everything."
"By Jove, no!--I keep what I have gained,--at any price. And at leastyour proffer of friendship gives me better right to monopolise you thanthat chap Desmond can lay claim to. But he appears to be privileged."
"He is privileged."
"How so?"
"Simply by being the right sort of man."
Garth scrutinised her keenly.
"And a V.C. into the bargain--eh? I don't mind betting that's half theattraction. Just a showy bit of pluck, dashed off at a hot-headedmoment--and you women turn a man into a god on the strength of it! Thefellow got his chance, and took it--that's all."
It is of the nature of small minds to disparage great ones; and ingeneral Quita would have dismissed the matter with a light retort. Butin her present mood, the man's petty personalities jarred more thanusual. "I think we won't discuss Captain Desmond," she said withoutlooking round. "To pick holes in a man of that quality only seems toaccentuate one's own littleness."
"Yours--or mine?"
"Both."
"By Jove--but you're frank!"
"Have you ever known me otherwise?"
"Can't say I have.--But I'm hanged if I know what's come to you theselast two days! Except that you are always far too alluring for my peaceof mind, you hardly seem like the same woman."
The truth of his assertion wrenched her back to a lighter mood.
"What an alarming accusation! Is any healthily intelligent andprogressive human being ever the same for many weeks together?Change--readjustment--is the keynote of life; the very breath of it.When you can accuse me of _not_ changing I shall know that I have falleninto the sere and withered leaf past redemption. And now that I haveexpiated myself--(probably to your more complete confusion!)--we'll havea short canter to blow away cobwebs. The road is rather less breakneckjust here."
A flick of the whip sent Yorick forward at a bound; and Garth--stiflingunheroic qualms--could not choose but follow her daring lead.
Throughout the remaining eight miles neither her tongue nor her spiritflagged; and for the man at least the journey's end came too soon.
It was a transformed Kajiar that basked in the full glory of noon, asthey emerged from the forest, and drew rein on the high ground behind thelittle wooden rest-house, to enjoy a few moments' survey of the brillia
ntscene.
At the far end, around the Rajah's private chalet, the native camp wasfast springing into life. While, down in the northern hollow, wherewhite tents clustered thickest, lay the big general camp; the core of allthings social and frivolous.
Hurdles, water jumps, and a long tent pavilion had changed the centre ofthe glade into a racecourse, where subalterns, undaunted by a blazingsun, were practising ponies for forthcoming gymkhanas. Goal-posts werealready fixed for the great yearly football match between Chumba andDalhousie; in which contest victory was by no means always to the West,since Jeff Bathurst, a famous performer, trained and captained the Chumbateam: and in another part of the green, three wooden sign-posts ofunequal height gave promise of tilting matches to come.
Couples and groups, in the lightest of muslins and flannels, saunteredidly in the scented shadow of the pines; or lounged, smoking and talking,on the warm green earth.
The appeal of the whole was to a spirit of enjoyment pure and simple, tothe casting aside of care and thought; a passing respite from the shadowof the future: and Quita's native zest for happiness urged her to instantresponse.
"Unborn To-morrow, and dead Yesterday, Why fret about them, if To-day be sweet,"
she quoted softly. "That is clearly the motto of the week; and it looksas if every one intended to live up to it,--conscientiously."
Garth saw his advantage and pressed it home.
"You and I among the number, eh? At least we understand one another,which is more than most of those philandering couples do. Why shouldn'twe make the most of our seven golden days and leave next week to lookafter itself?"
"Why not, indeed?"
She spoke absently; her eyes resting on the snow-peak in the north. Theanswer lay too deep down for utterance. But Garth took her enigmaticalecho for acquiescence, and laid his plans accordingly.
Nor were these two the only pair who arrived at Garth's philosophicalconclusion. Life was fulfilled, for the nonce, with laughter andleisure; with the unchanging, passion-breathing blue and gold of aHimalayan June; and on all sides the charmed circle of pines and deodarsshut them off from the forgotten world and 'them that dwell therein.'
Atmosphere, circumstance, and her own half-awakened heart conspired withMichael Maurice to draw Elsie down, by slow and delicious degrees, fromthe small pedestal whereon she had taken refuge since the night of thePalace dinner; till all unaware, she acceded to his fantastic notion ofshutting the door upon Wisdom. Nor was it long before those whose profitand pleasure it is to make capital out of their neighbours' doings hadassured themselves and each other that the 'week' would be responsiblefor two engagements at least.
Such talk did not readily reach Lenox's ears. But Kenneth Malcolm, whoseaspirations were no secret to the busily idle world around him, wasspeedily enlightened: and there could be neither peace nor rest for himtill he had confirmation or denial from Elsie's lips.
Six months earlier he had pleaded his cause with such halting eloquenceas he could command; and the girl's refusal had been qualified by aconfession that at least she preferred him to any other man of heracquaintance. On the strength of this admission the boy had simply stoodaside and waited: hoping, as only the young can hope, because the fervourof their desire renders the possibility of non-fulfilment unthinkable.Then Maurice had entered the field, carrying all before him, with theinimitable assurance that was his; and by now Kenneth had reached theagony-point in a painful, if educative experience. Standing aside was nolonger endurable. By some means he must secure Elsie, if only for tenminutes, and discover the truth.
"And a man need only look into her eyes for that," he decided, with athrob of troubled anticipation.
His opportunity came on the third day of the 'week.' The great footballmatch between East and West was progressing vigorously to the tune ofshouts and cheers. Maurice, who had small taste for sport, had gonesketching with his sister at her urgent request; and as Elsie settledherself, with a book, on a slope of hot pine-needles, she was surprisedand startled to see Kenneth Malcolm approaching her.
"May I sit here for a little?" he asked. "I have hardly had two wordswith you since you came back from Chumba. I suppose you enjoyed it alltremendously?"
"Oh yes. It was delightful. Do sit down."
The restraint of his manner was infectious, as restraint is apt to be;and she was hampered by a prescience of things to come.
"I was awfully keen to go too," he said, as he obeyed her. "But perhapsit's just as well that I didn't get the chance, judging from . . . fromwhat I hear."
"You shouldn't judge from what you hear," she murmured.
"Shouldn't I? But unluckily it fits in with . . . what I see. MissMayhew . . ." he pressed forward, his eyes searching her face, devoutworship in the sincere blue depths of them. "Will you be angry with me,if I ask you a straight question?"
She shook her head.
"And will you give me a straight answer?"
"If I can."
"Is it true that you are likely to . . . marry Maurice?"
"Not that I know of." He took a great breath, like a condemned man whohears his reprieve.
"Then, may I still believe . . . what you told me at Lahore?"
Her answer seemed an eternity in coming; for a plain 'yes' or 'no' wereequally far from the truth. This boy of four-and-twenty gave her therestful sense of reliance and reserve force that she so missed inMaurice. But there was no art, no thrill in his love-making. It wasdirect and simple as himself. He never struck a chord of emotion andleft it quivering, as Maurice had done many times.
"May I?"--he persisted gently.
"I still think you are . . . the best man I know," she admitted, withoutlooking at him; and he flushed to the roots of his hair.
"But not the one you--care for most? It's that that matters, you know."
"Oh, I can't tell--truly I can't," she pleaded distressfully.
"Then I must just go on waiting."
"I wish you wouldn't even do that."
"I can only prevent it by putting a bullet through my head."
The quiet finality of his tone was more convincing than volumes ofprotestations; and she shuddered.
"Don't say such things, please.--You hurt me."
"I wouldn't do that for a kingdom. But it's the truth.--I go down on thefifteenth, you know."
"Yes.--I'm sorry."
"Are you? Then why--oh, I don't understand you!" he broke off in despair.
"I'm not sure that I understand myself--yet. It takes time, I suppose."
"Not when the right chap turns up, I fancy. But I'll give you as muchtime as you want. I have a year's leave due. Shall I take it, and gohome?"
She looked rueful.
"A year is a long time. But perhaps that would be best. You mightfind--some one else there, who understood herself better."
"That's out of the question," he answered almost harshly.
"But at all events,--I'll go."
A prolonged silence followed this statement: and when he spoke again, itwas of other things. Elsie followed suit: but the result was notbrilliant. She endured the strain as long as she could; then inventingan excuse, she left him; though, to her surprise, it hurt her more thanshe could have believed a week ago.
That afternoon, during the progress of a hybrid gymkhana,--ranging fromsteeplechasing to obstacle races for men and natives,--the first whisperof current gossip reached Lenox's ears.
Standing behind a restless row of hats and parasols, he was watching withsome interest the preliminary canter of a horse he had backed heavily,when Garth and Quita, deep in animated talk, passed across the line ofchairs, and a woman close to Lenox turned to her neighbour.
"That match is a certainty, Mrs Mayhew. Say what you like. I'm sure ofit. I only wonder it hasn't been given out before now."
Mrs Mayhew shifted her parasol and inspected the retreating pair throughher gold-rimmed pince-nez, as though, by examining their shoulder-blades,she could determine the
exact state of their hearts.
"I don't quite know _what_ to think," she remarked with judicialemphasis. "I don't believe anything is a certainty where Major Garth isconcerned. But if they are not engaged they _ought_ to be! I don't likethat girl, though. She is much too independent for my taste; andengagement or no, she probably lets Major Garth make love to her. Hewould never have stuck to her for six months otherwise."
On the last words Lenox started as it a cold finger-tip had touched hisheart. Such a thought had never occurred to him: and he could havemurdered, without compunction, the small self-satisfied woman who hadlodged the poisoned shaft in his mind.
Turning on his heel, he made straight for his tent, where a litteredcamp-table gave proof that the art of taking a holiday could not bereckoned among his accomplishments. Then he sat down by it and bowed hishead upon his hands. To doubt his wife's integrity was rank insult. Yethe knew Garth's evil reputation; knew also that the suggestion wouldcling to his memory like a limpet, and torture him in the endless hoursof wakefulness from which there was now no way of escape.
Enforced abstinence from tobacco and stimulants had told severely uponhis nerves, appetite, and health; and a foretaste of the sleepless nightahead of him tempted him to regret his hasty destruction of the bottle ofchlorodyne, which had not been replaced.
Till dusk he worked without intermission; and, as if by a fiendish nicetyof calculation, the evening mail-bag,--brought out by runner fromDalhousie,--contained the coveted parcel of tobacco, whose arrival he hadalternately craved and dreaded throughout the past ten days.
Zyarulla set it before him with manifest satisfaction.
"Now will my Sahib taste comfort and peace again," he muttered into thedepths of his beard, and having cut the strings of the parcel, discreetlywithdrew.
For a while Lenox merely grasped his recovered treasure, feasting hissoul upon the knowledge that here, within the space of one small cube,lay the promise of sleep, peace of mind, oblivion. Then, with unsteadyhands, he opened the tin: took from his pocket a briar of great age andgreater virtue; filled it; lighted it; and drew in the first mouthful ofaromatic fragrance, with such rapture of refreshment as a man, parchedwith fever, drains a glass held to his lips.
A great peace enfolded him: and no thought of resistance arose to breakthe enchantment. For the 'mighty and subtle' drug kills with kindness.Coming to a tormented man in the guise of an angel of peace, it lureshim, lulls him, and wraps him about with false contentment beforeplunging him into the pit.
While the holiday folk trooped into the long mess-tent, laughing orlamenting over the afternoon's vicissitudes, Lenox sat at his table inshirt and trousers, his pen devouring the loose sheets before him. Hebade Zyarulla bring him meat, bread, and a cup of coffee, and denyadmittance even to 'Desmond Sahib' himself. And throughout the night heworked, and smoked, and finally slept as he had not slept since theBachelors' Ball.
Before dawn he was up, and out: a gun on his shoulder, field-glassesslung across his back. He had given orders for a party of beaters to berequisitioned, in his name, from the Rajah's camp; and Zyarulla could betrusted to see to it that he should not starve. All day he tramped andclimbed, shot and sketched, to his huge satisfaction; and returning atdusk, repeated his programme of the night before.
His departure without a word of explanation had roused Desmond's anxiety.He suspected a fresh supply of tobacco; and this sudden invisibilityconfirmed his worst fears. He spoke of them to his wife after breakfast:and for all her radiant hopefulness of heart, she had small consolationto offer him.
The 'week's' events had disappointed her grievously; for the deadlockbetween man and wife seemed complete.
"Truly, Theo, I don't know what to make of them both," she concludeddesperately. "They are the most perverse couple that were ever invented.Benedick and Beatrice were turtle-doves by comparison! After this week Ishall give them up in despair."
"Poor darling! They ought to mend their ways, if only out ofconsideration for you! Come on now and comfort your soul with tilting.I want you to carry all before you in the tournament."
"Do you indeed!" she answered, laughing. "But I shan't hit a single ringto-day. This distracting muddle is getting on my nerves!"
And if Honor Desmond found the strain of sympathetic anxiety ill toendure, what of Quita, whose life's happiness hung upon the issue?
For her the Kajiar Camp, despite its light-comedy atmosphere, had proveda nightmare of surface hilarity, broken rest, and growing distaste forthe man whose name she had permitted to be coupled with her own:--all tono purpose, it seemed, save to inflate his self-satisfaction, and fortifyhis intention, now too clearly manifest, of hindering to the utmost herreunion with her husband.
Moreover, her self-imposed attitude became increasingly hard to maintain.A flash of defiance is one thing; but sustained defiance, when the hearthas unblushingly gone over to the enemy, puts a severe strain upon thenerves.
And what was to be the outcome?
The question stabbed her in the small hours, when ugly possibilities loomlarge, like figures seen through mist. So strongly had this late lovesmitten her, that she had been capable of strangling pride, and takingthe initiative, had Lenox's bearing given her the smallest hope ofsuccess. But unsought surrender, plus the mortification of failure, wasmore than she felt prepared to risk, even for a chance of winning the oneman in all the world:--the man who could at least belong to no otherwoman, she assured herself with a throb of satisfaction. Thus thereseemed no choice left but to go blindly forward along the line of leastresistance.
Lenox's non-appearance on Wednesday evening had startled her into fullerknowledge of her dependence on his mere presence to maintain even amimicry of good spirits; and she heaped contempt upon her own headaccordingly. Nevertheless she escaped at an early hour; and lay awakehalf the night tormenting herself with unanswerable problems.
When breakfast brought no sign of him, she concluded that he must havereturned to Dalhousie in disgust: and the conclusion brought her near tothe end of her tether. She took refuge in her tent, and, for the firsttime in many years, sobbed shamelessly, till her eyelids smarted, and herhead throbbed and burned. After that she felt better, and herunquenchable courage revived. There is much virtue in yourthunder-shower at the psychological moment! She got upon her feet atlast; hands pressed against pulsing temples, swaying a little, like awillow that the storm had shaken. But cold water, eau-de-cologne, andthe stinging tonic of self-scorn, soon restored her to a semblance of hernormal aspect: and by lunch-time she was out again in the mockingsunshine, swept unresisting back into the light-hearted whirl of things.
At tiffin, to her intense relief, Theo Desmond took the empty chair nexther own. He had missed her during the morning: and a glance at her facesufficed to give him an inkling of the truth. All his heart went out toher; and he hastened to answer the question in her eyes.
"Lenox went off at sunrise, for a day's shooting," he remarkedconversationally, when they had exchanged greetings.
She lifted her eyebrows. "Did he? Sensible man! I suppose he is tiredto death of our frivolous fooling."
"That's rather severe! I can't let you run him down. The other thing'smore in his line, that's all; and it'll do him a power of good. Hesuffers cruelly from want of sleep, poor chap.--By the way, have youheard the latest suggestion for to-morrow?"
"No. I was--lying down this morning. What is it?"
"A burlesque polo match: ladies against men: the men to play onside-saddles by way of a mild handicap! Some of the older folk are a bithorrified at the notion. But I believe it'll come off; and they want meto captain the team."
"You? One of the champions of the Punjaub! What impertinence! Shallyou?"
"Why, certainly. It will be rather a lark."
"Well, then, I'll play too, if they'll have me. Will you ask them,please?"
He regarded her in frank astonishment. "Jove! I never thought of that.Are you in earnest?"
"But yes. In cut-throat earnest!" she answered, laughing.
"Ever tried your hand at it?"
"Never, in all my days. I will this afternoon though, if you'll take mein hand for an hour or so."
"With all the pleasure in life. You can ride Diamond, if you like. Heknows almost as much about the game as I do."
Her eyes sparkled.
"That gem of an Arab? May I, really? I always thought you were a man ina hundred; and now I know it! That's a bargain, then. Things have beendeadly insipid the last two days. But I have something to live for now!"
Garth received her announcement with open dismay. He suspected Desmond'sinfluence: and, in his zeal to dissuade her, ventured on a mild tone ofauthority, with disastrous results.
"Well, I shan't have a comfortable moment till the thing is safely over,"he concluded unwisely: and she tossed an indignant head.
"Am I such a despicable horseman?" she demanded haughtily. "CaptainDesmond doesn't find me so, I assure you."
And indeed, after an hour of assiduous instruction, Desmond had franklyexpressed his approval both of her aptness and daring.
When Lenox heard the news on Friday morning, he heartily wished he haddecided on a second day's shooting.
Anxiety apart, the knowledge that the woman he loved could thus make apublic exhibition of herself for the amusement of a very mixed crowd, setthe fastidious, old-world temper of the man on edge. For all that he wasin his place, well before the appointed time: and from the first crack ofpolo-stick on ball his eyes never left his wife's flushed face andlightly swaying figure.
The polo ground, occupying the centre of the glade, was ringed about by acrowd as varied and gay in colouring as a bed of mixed tulips in spring.Even the open tent, where the English spectators were gathered, showed aprevailing lightness and brightness of tint. On the farther side of thetent, the Depot band gave out a cheerful blare of sound; and a June sunbeamed complacently over all.
For the first twenty minutes the serio-comic game went forward merrily:the women playing in desperate earnest; the men making broad farce out oftheir ludicrous handicap.
Quita, who had elected to play Diamond first and fourth, was restrainedat the outset by the fact that she was handling a priceless pony. But,with the opening of the third _chukkur_, increasing self-confidence,coupled with the pace and keenness of Bathurst's 'Unlimited Loo,' firedher venturesome spirit: and she flung herself heart and soul into theintoxication of the game; half hoping that some sudden crash and fallmight solve the problem of her life by the simple expedient of puttingout the light.
More than once Desmond called out an unheeded warning. He saw that ponyand rider alike were in danger of losing their heads; and Lenox, leaningforward in an anguish of suspense, followed her every movement withconflicting fury and admiration.
At last the _chukkur_ drew to an end.
Away by the farthest goal-posts a fine parody of a scrimmage was inprogress, Desmond and Quita being 'on the ball.' The advantage was hers;and she made haste to secure it. Rising in the saddle, she swung herstick for an ambitious back-handed stroke, missed the ball, and smote'Unlimited Loo,' with the full force of her arm, high up on the offhind-leg.
At this uncalled bolt from the blue, the sensitive animal,--who had neverin all his days been chastised by a polo stick for doing his simpleduty,--lost his head outright. His first bound snapped the curb chain;and taking the bit between his teeth he bolted across the green as if allthe fiends in hell were after him. In vain Quita sat back, and put herwhole light weight into her arms. Sheer terror had caught hold of him:and he headed blindly for the ring of natives, who broke away right andleft, with shrill cries that gave the finishing touch to his terror.
And now no more than a stretch of shelving turf lay between him and theunfathomed lake. Towards it he fled at an undiminished pace: and Quita,sitting square and steady, with a rushing sound in her ears, foresaw thatin less than five minutes her mad hope might be terribly fulfilled. Forat the lake's edge the pony must needs swerve sharply, or come to a deadhalt: and in either case, at their present rate of speed, she would beflung violently out of the saddle.
Desmond dared not follow, lest he make matters worse.
Maurice sprang up from his seat in the pavilion, and stood transfixed,helpless. "_Nom de Dieu . . . que faire? Elle va mourir!_" he mutteredwith shaking lips: and Elsie, child as she was, yearned over him with allthe tenderness and pity of inherent motherhood.
Then the tall figure of Lenox broke away from the stunned crowd racingdiagonally across the clear stretch between the pony and the lake.
The instant Quita missed her stroke he had risen to his feet; and hisintent now was to reach a given spot simultaneously with the pony, and bythe force of his added weight on the reins save the situation.
A shout of approval went up from soldiers and natives; and 'UnlimitedLoo' fled faster. He passed the point Lenox was making for a barehand's-length out of reach: but two strides landed him on a treacherousstrip of thinly-crusted bog that encircles the lake, and he sank up tohis knees in semi-liquid mud.
Quita, breathless and shaken, was jerked out of the saddle, and must havefallen, ignominiously, face downward in her Slough of Despond, but thatLenox,--reaching her in the nick of time--caught and crushed her in hisarms.
"You're not hurt. Thank God, you're not hurt," he whispered unsteadily.
With a gasp of amazement that ended in a sob, she leaned her cheekagainst his coat; and the riotous music of their hearts seemed to fillthe universe.
Then reality rushed in, and shattered the dream. For Garth, Maurice, andBathurst were hurrying towards them.
Quita felt her husband stiffen, and lifted her head.
"Thank you--thank you," she said with a twisted smile. "I think I canstand on my feet now."
In two strides he was clear of the mud, and had set her on firm earth.But she was still clinging to his arm when Garth came up, brimming withconcern.
"I'm quite disappointingly all right," she assured him hastily, stung bya keen sense that her catastrophe had fallen headlong from impendingtragedy to bathos. "Please bestow all your sympathy on Mr Bathurst, andUnlimited Loo!"
For a second Garth looked up at the man who stood beside her; but onlyfor a second. For in the Scotchman's eye hate gleamed like a nakedsword; and Garth had small taste for bared weapons of any kind.
"_Ah, mon pauvre Michel_!" Quita exclaimed, in a quick rush oftenderness, as her brother half ran to her, white and panting, both handsoutstretched: and deserting Lenox, she flew to him, anathematising herown folly in a rapid flow of French. "Take me to my tent now," sheconcluded, linking her arm in his. "I still feel idiotically shaky, andI am certainly no loss to my side!--Mr Bathurst"--she turned in Jeff'sdirection--"please forgive me. I promise I'll never ask you to lend me apolo pony again!"
Bathurst,--who had rescued his treasure, and was feeling him all overwith skilled hands,--shouted a cheery: "Don't mention it, Miss Maurice.Always glad to oblige a lady!"
And with a tired smile she turned back to Michael.
"_Viens, mon cher_," she said gently; and he led her away.
Conscious of Garth's eyes on her face, she could not trust herself tolook again at Lenox, who had neither moved nor spoken since he set her ondry ground. But that one moment in his arms had solved her problem in afashion that she dreamed not of: a fashion that still seemed past belief.She knew now that she had never lost him; and her heart sang a JubilateDeo all the way to her tent. But she knew also that his pride equalledhers; that the first move was 'up to her'; and that now, at last, shemight make it without fear of rebuff. But how--how?
Ten minutes later Maurice left her prostrate, in the twilight of hertent;--eau de cologne on her temples, and a chaos of mixed emotions ather heart.