CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
EXPERIMENTAL.
The days had gone by, and now Campian was installed in the forestbungalow. Colonel Jermyn's invitation had gone forth, but the missivewhich would have counteracted it had not, so here he was.
Not without some deliberation had he decided on accepting it. He hadthought himself safe; had reckoned he had safely parted with allillusions, as conducive only to disturbance and anxiety, and thegreatest of all illusions was Vivien Wymer. But the sudden and unlookedfor reappearance of the latter had reopened a wound. Yet why? She wasthe same as before. She had failed him once. She had sacrificed him toothers once, and would of course do so again unhesitatingly. Why not?There was no such thing as love as they two had once looked at it--hadonce imagined it. A mere illusion; pleasant while it lasted, painfulwhen its illusoriness became evident. But then the wrench, thoughpainful, even agonising, was over--and in its effect salutary. Fiveyears make a difference in a man's life. He had not been young then; hewas older now. Sensibility was blunted. The capacity for self-tormentwas no longer his.
Love, the ever endurable! He had believed in that once. He was nomisogynist, even now. His experience of the other sex had beenconsiderable. He was ready to accord the members thereof the possessionof many delightful qualities. As friends they were staunch, ascompanions unrivalled. Life unbrightened by feminine presence andfeminine influences would be a dull affair. But as exponents of Love,the ever endurable, they were a failure; and exactly as he came toappreciate this did he come to appreciate the other sex the more becausehe had ceased to expect too much.
His experiences had been many and varied, and took in all types of thesofter sex, and he had found them wonderfully similar. The fire andpassion of to-day became chill and indifference a year hence. ThenVivien Wymer had come into his life, and lo, all was changed. Here wasa glorious exception to the rather soulless rule. She met his everywant; she appealed to him as he could never have believed any womancould, and by some strange, magnetic instinct, his own personalityappealed to hers. They seemed made for each other--and yet--he had beensacrificed. Not even there was he to be all in all--to be first andeverything.
They had seen each other again once since that chance meeting in themarkhor cave. The colonel and his niece had ridden over to Upward'scamp to tiffin, and it was on that occasion that the hearty old soldierhad pressed him to come and pay them a visit. He had not even glancedat Vivien, striving to read to what extent she would second theinvitation, but had accepted on the spot, yet not without a mentalreservation.
For there was one point which he desired to debate within himself, andthat was the very one which had occurred to Vivien. How could they twobe together under the same roof, in close, daily intercourse as mereacquaintances, they two who had been so much to each other? How couldthey bear the strain, how keep up the _role_?
Then when his meditations had reached this point, a strange exultantthrill seemed to disturb the balance of his clearer judgment. Whyshould the _role_ be kept up? After being parted for five years, theyhad met again--nay, more--had been thrown together again in thisstrange, wild country, that in former times had been to either of themno more than a mere geographical name. Both were unchanged. There wasa softening in Vivien's voice, when off her guard, as on the lastoccasion of their meeting, which seemed to point to the fact that shewas. For himself--well, he had grown older, wiser--and, he imagined,harder. Still, the wound did seem to be reopening. Why, the whole wasalmost as though Fate had gone out of her way to bring they two togetheragain.
Yes, he had grown harder. Love, the ever endurable! Ridiculous! Shehad sacrificed him before, and would do so again if occasion arose. Ifshe did not do so it would be because occasion had not arisen, and thisconsideration constituted a state of potential unreliability, which wasnot reassuring. The idea even served to re-awaken much of the oldbitterness and rankling resentment, and he decided that it would be aninteresting, if coldblooded, study in character to observe how Vivienherself would come out under such an ordeal as the close, intimateintercourse which life beneath the same roof could not but involve.
Once there, he had no cause to regret his decision. The colonel was afine old soldier of the very best type. Most of his life had been spentin India, and he was full of anecdote and reminiscence. He had servedthrough the Mutiny, and in several frontier disturbances, and hisknowledge of the country and its natives was intelligent and exhaustive.He had been a sportsman, too, in his time--and, in short, was a manwhom it was a pleasure to talk with. He and Campian took to each otherimmensely, and the two would sit together under the verandah of anevening, smoking their cheroots and exchanging ideas, while Viviendiscoursed music through the open doors, upon a cottage piano which hadbeen lugged up, at some risk to its tuning and general anatomy, on boardthe hideous necessary camel.
Decidedly it was very close quarters, indeed, this party of three,isolated there in that remote forest bungalow, away among the chaotic,piled up mountain deserts of wild Baluchistan; but there was no elementof monotony about it; indeed, how could there be when to two out of thethree life thus represented an ordeal that meant so much, that mightmean indeed so much more. Yet it spoke volumes for the self control ofboth that no suspicion should have entered the mind of the third thatthey had ever beheld each other elsewhere, and under very nearcircumstances. Their intercourse was free and unrestrained, but it wasthe easy intercourse of two people who had ideas in common and likedeach other's society, and totally devoid of any symptom of covering awarmer feeling. They would frequently take rides or walks togetherthrough the juniper forest, or to some point overlooking a new or widerview of the great chaotic mountain waste, and it spoke volumes for theirself control that no allusion was ever made to the past. They would nothave been human if occasionally some undercurrent of feeling had not nowand then come unguardedly near the surface, but only to be instantlyrepressed. It was as though both were engaged in a diplomatic gamerequiring a high degree of skill, and in which each was watching thenext move of the other with a jealous eye.
Once, in course of their rides together, the two were threading a_tangi_, and the sense of being shut within those high rock walls movedVivien to broach the subject of the adventure which had so nearly endedin tragedy for her companion and his.
"It must have been a dreadful experience," she said, looking up at thecliffs overhead.
"Yes. It was awkward. I've no use for a repetition of it."
His tone was discouraging, as though he would fain have changed thesubject. But she seemed to cling to it.
"I think that was a splendid feat," she went on, looking straight athim. "I wish I knew what it was like never to be afraid."
"So do I--most heartily. But I simply don't believe in the existence ofthat enviable state; if you can talk of the existence of a negative,that is."
"But you do know what it is. Were you ever afraid of anything in yourlife?"
The very words Nesta had used. Then he had not taken them in acomplimentary sense. He had thought the remark a foolish one. Nowcoming from this woman, who had idealised him--who did still--with herwide luminous eyes turned full upon his face, and that unguardedsoftening which had again crept into her tone, there was a subtleflattery in it which was delicious, but enervating. As a matter of facthe really thought nothing of the feat, beyond what a lucky thing it wasthey should have been able to save both their lives. He answered soshortly as to seem ungracious.
"Very much and very often. I would rather run away than fight any day.Fact."
"I don't believe you."
"No? People don't, I find. Some day I may do that very thing--thenwhen everybody is howling me down I can always turn round and say--`Itold you so, and you wouldn't believe me.'"
"But do you want them to believe you?"
"Why, of course. You don't know me at all, Vivien, even now." Then, asif to hurry away from a dangerous slip. "By the by, I never canunderstand the insane
way in which even civilised and thinking peopleelect to deify what they call courage or pluck. There is no such thingreally. It is purely a matter of opportunity or temperament--in short,sheer accident. To get out of a tight place a man has got to dosomething. While doing it he has no time to think. If he had, in ninecases out of ten he'd run away."
"Yes? And what about when he has to go into a tight place?"
"Why, then he's got to go. And as a matter of fact it is funk thatdrives him in. The opprobrium and possibly material penalty, he wouldincur by backing out constitute the more formidable alternative of thetwo. So of the two evils man, being essentially a self preservinganimal, instinctively chooses the least."
"Plausible, but not convincing," returned Vivien, with a laugh. "And isthere not something of what they call a `crank' underlying thatphilosophy?"
"`They' are apt to say that of any application of the principles ofcommon sense,"--"as I have so often told you before," he was nearlyadding.
"Was Miss Cheriton very much scared that day? She says she'll never getover it as long as she lives."
"Poor little girl. It must have been a ghastly experience. She behavedvery well; was no more scared than any other woman would have been, anda good deal less so than some."
"What a pretty girl she is."
"Very--of her type."
Vivien was conscious of two emotions--swift, simultaneous as a lightningflash; first a pang over the readiness with which he endorsed herremark, then a heartbeat of relief, for those three words constituted awhole saving clause.
"You must have seen a great deal of her?"
No sooner uttered than Vivien would have given anything to recall theremark. What construction would he put upon it other than jealousy ofthis blue-eyed, golden-haired girl, who had several years of youth theadvantage over herself?
"That depended upon circumstances. Nesta Cheriton has a great_penchant_ for the British Army, and the British Army thoroughlyreciprocates the predilection. While the British Army was representedat Chirria Bach I saw not much of her, over and above the occasions whenone had to meet in ordinary life. While it was unrepresented she seemedto make herself equally happy in going chikor shooting with me. On thewhole, I rather like the little girl. She is bright and amusing, andacts, I suppose, as a passing tonic to one's jaded and middle-agedspirits."
His tone had been that of absolute and unaffected ease, and now itoccurred to him suddenly, and for the first time, that Vivien wasputting him through something of a catechism. The moral dissectionwhich he had promised himself in risking a sojourn beneath the same roofwith her had already begun, and this was only a phase of it. At suchtimes the old feeling of rankling bitterness would come upon him, andwith it a wave of desolation and heart-emptiness. Why had she failedhim--she his destined counterpart? Why had she proved so weak under anot very strong ordeal? He had indeed become hard, when he could gothrough day after day in closest companionship with her, and yet keep onthe mask, never once be betrayed into letting down his guard.
One consideration had acted as a salutary cold douche in the event ofthe smouldering fires of his nature rising too near their restrainingrock crust. One day Vivien was telling him all about her uncle and howshe came to be keeping house for him. She had done so since her aunt'sdeath, and supposed she would go on doing so. He was such a dear oldman, she said--so thoughtful and kind and unselfish, and he had no oneto look after him but her. All of which her listener, even from hisshort opportunity of observation, was inclined to endorse; but the stinglay in the concluding consideration, for it recalled that other time.In it had lain the pretext for sacrificing him to an imaginary duty. Hewas not going to risk a repetition of what he had then undergone. Theiron entered deeper and deeper.
Once an incident occurred which nearly availed to shatter and melt it.Vivien had gone into his room during his absence, as she frequently did,to see if there was not some little touch she could add to its comfortor attractiveness. An object on his table caught her attention. Shepicked it up and examined it, and her eyes filled. Yet it was only anold tobacco pouch, and a very worn and weather-beaten one at that--soworn and frayed that hardly more than a few threads of the originalembroidery still hung to the cover. Then she did an extraordinarything. Instead of replacing it she took it away with her. That nightshe sat up late, and lo, in the course of the day, going into his roomCampian found that the old battered pouch for which he had hunted highand low was replaced by a beautiful new one, the embroidery of which wasa perfect work of art.
"Why did you take so much trouble?" he said when next they met. "Youcould not have known I had lost the other."
"Is that why we were so glum last night?" she returned, a glad light,struggling with a mischievous one, in her eyes. "Never mind. This is amuch better one."
"I loved that one. I would give a great deal to recover it, as youought to know."
"Wait a moment." She left him and returned almost immediately.
"Here it is--or what is left of it. Now--? What will you give?"
She held it out to him--then drew it back. Her eyes were raised to his.Her voice was soft and caressing as ever he had heard it in the olddays. Just one of those trivial accidents bringing about the mostcrucial moment in two lives--when, as usual, the most trivial of causesavailed utterly to mar its effect. That most trivial of causes was thevoice of Colonel Jermyn, followed by the entrance of its jollypossessor.
"Here's the _dak_ just come from Upward. They're all going back toShalalai the day after to-morrow Campian, and want to know if you've hadenough of us yet. If you have they say they are leaving early and you'dbetter be down at the camp to-morrow night. If you haven't--why--allthe better for us."
"The point is whether you haven't had enough of me, Colonel." But whilehe made the laughing remark his glance travelled round to Vivien's face.It was one of those moments when her guard was down. The interruptionhad come so inopportunely. Decidedly the study he had promised himselfwas bearing rich results.
"Pooh! Of course we haven't. Why, you've only just come. Besides, youcan get to Shalalai at any time. That's settled then. But I have anidea. We might go down to Mehriab station and see them off. There aresome things I am getting up, and that idiot of a Babu in charge can'tsend an intelligent answer to any question I write him. It's not a badsort of ride down there, and we'll kill two birds with one stone. Whatdo you say, Viv?"
"I beg to second it, Uncle Edward. The idea is an extremely good one."
To him who watched it, while not seeming to, there was an entirerevelation in Vivien's face during that momentary lifting of the veil.She was as anxious to prolong the time as--he was. Yes, that is what itamounted to. The experiment, from its coldblooded side, seemed to havefailed.
"We shall be up here some weeks longer, Campian"--went on theColonel--"but of course if you have to go, it is easy enough to get toShalalai. Meanwhile my boy, as long as you can make yourself happy herewe are only too glad."
"Oh, I can do that all right, Colonel. And I'm not tied to time in anyway either."
Again that relieved look on Vivien's face. Some weeks! What might notbe the result of those weeks was the thought that was in the minds ofboth of them? What might not transpire within those weeks? Ah, if theyhad only known.
"By the way there's another item of _kubbar_ in Upward's letter," wenton the Colonel, fumbling for that missive. "A _budmash_ named Umar Khanhas started out on a Ghazi expedition down Sukkaf way. He and severalothers rode out along the road and cut down a couple of poor devils ofgharri-wallahs. Killed 'em dead as a door nail. There was a _mullah_in one of the gharris, and they plundered him. He got out a Koran andput it on his head--singing out that he was a _mullah. `Mullah_ ornot,' says Umar Khan--`hand out those seven hundred rupees you've got onboard.' And he had to hand them out. Sacrilegious scamps--ha, ha! Butif he hadn't been a _mullah_ they'd have cut him up too. Well these_budmashes_ will have to swing for it. They'll soon be r
un to earth.Nice country this, eh, Campian?"
"Rather. It seems to me only half conquered, and not that."
"Yes. It's run at a loss entirely. A mere buffer State. We hold it onthe principle of grabbing as much as we can and sticking to it, all theworld over--and in this particular instance putting as much as we canbetween the Russians and India."
"And what if Umar Khan is not speedily run to earth?"
"Oh, then he'll knock around a bit and make things generally unpleasant.Do a little dacoity from time to time. But we are bound to bone him inthe long run."
"There's an uncommonly queer closeness in the air this evening," saidthe Colonel as they were sitting out under the verandah a little later."As if there was a storm of sorts working up. Yet there's no sign ofthundercloud anywhere. Don't you notice it, Vivien?"
"I think so. It has a dispiriting effect on one, as if something wasgoing to happen."
The sun had gone down in a lurid haze, which was not cloud, and thejagged peaks of the opposite range were suffused in a hot, vaporousafterglow, while the dark depth of juniper forest in the deep, narrowvalley seemed very far down indeed. What little air there was came inwarm puffs.
"We all seem rather _chup_ this evening," said the Colonel. "Viv, howwould it be to play us something lively to wake us up?"
She rose and went inside. Campian could still see her as she sat at thepiano, rattling off Gilbert and Sullivan at their liveliest. He couldcontinue the very favourite occupation in which he had been indulging--that of simply watching her--noting every movement, the turn of thehead, the droop of the eyelids, the sweet and perfect grace whichcharacterised her most trivial act. This woman was simply perfect inhis sight--his ideal. Yet to all outward intent they were on the easy,friendly terms of two people who merely liked each other and no more.
"Come and have a `peg,' Campian," said the Colonel presently.
"No thanks--not just now."
"Well, I'm going to," and away he went to the dining room.
Then Campian, sitting there, was conscious of a very strange andstartling phenomenon. There was a feeling as though the world werefalling away from beneath his feet, together with a dull rumble. Therewas a clatter of glass and table ornaments in the drawing room, and hecould see Vivien sway and nearly fall from the music-stool. He sprangto his feet to rush to her aid, and seemed hardly able to preserve hisown balance. Both staggering they met in the doorway.
"Oh, Howard, what is it?" she cried, seizing in both of hers the handwhich he had stretched out to help her.
"Quick. Come outside," was all he said. They were able to walk now,and he drew her outside the verandah, right into the open. Then againcame that cavernous rumble, and the earth fairly reeled beneath theirfeet.
"That's what all this heaviness in the air has been about," he said, asthe ground felt firm again. "A shock of earthquake."
"Is it over? Will there be any more?" she gasped, her white face anddilated eyes turned up to his. She still held his hands, in her suddenterror, casting all considerations of conventionality to the winds.
"I don't think so," he answered, a very tremble of tenderness in hisvoice as he strove to reassure her. "These shocks generally go in twosor threes, like waves. And even if there are any more we are all rightoutside."
Here the humorous element asserted itself, in the shape of ColonelJermyn choking and coughing in the verandah. In his hand he held a talltumbler, nearly empty.
"Look at this, Campian," he cried. "A man can't even have a `peg' inhis own house without the whole world rising up against it. Flinging itin his face, and half choking him, by George."
"Some awful big teetotaler must have gone below, Colonel, to raiseracket enough to knock your `peg' out of your hand. I hope you'll takewarning and forswear `pegs.'"
"Ha, ha! Well, Viv? Badly scared, child?"
She laughed, but the colour had not yet come back to her cheeks.
"I predicted something was going to happen, didn't I?" she said.
"And it has happened--and now there's another thing going to happen, andthat is dinner, so we'd better go inside and begin to think about it.What? Is it safe? Of course, though, my dear, I don't wonder at it ifyou were a little scared. It's an experience that is apt to be alarmingat first."
The while the speaker was chuckling to himself. He had been a witnessboth by ear and eye to the foregoing scene, having overheard Vivien'salarmed apostrophe.
"So? It has come to that, has it?" he was saying to himself."`Howard,' indeed? But how dark they've kept it. Well, well. They'reboth of them old enough to look after themselves. `Howard,' indeed!"and the jolly Colonel chuckled to himself, as with kindly eyes hewatched the pair that evening, reading their easy unrestrainedintercourse in an entirely new light.
The Ruby Sword: A Romance of Baluchistan Page 13