Nurse in India

by Juliet Armstrong

  “That’s good to hear!” Miss Jelly declared, a look of relief spreading over her broad, homely features. “A pretty girl like you doesn’t always find it easy to—”

  But before she could go on, Stella, deep in her own thoughts, added steadily, “As a matter of fact, I’ve nothing in my past that I need feel ashamed of at all. But there’s definitely an obstacle, and I’m horribly afraid that if I try to ignore it I shall not only make other people unhappy—but that everything will be spoiled for Roger and me, as well.” She paused. “Someday I’ll tell you all about it, Jelly, but I feel so sore and raw now—and so scared of your trying to persuade me to act against my better judgment—”

  Jelly patted her hand. “You’re an obstinate little fool,” she said, “but I never could stand interference myself, and I certainly shan’t start butting in on your affairs. You can tell me the rest of the story as and when you please!”

  “You’re a darling, Jelly.” Stella got up and, putting her: arms around the older woman, gave her an affectionate hug.

  “Nonsense, child! If there’s anything I can do for you—”

  “Just one thing,” Stella exclaimed, and there was an imploring note in her voice. “You can arrange for us to move on to Rajdor at the earliest possible moment.”

  She realized afterward that she had said nothing to Jelly about Roger’s intention to call for her during the afternoon, but decided that there was no particular reason why the old lady should be troubled with this piece of information; it might indeed spoil her afternoon’s rest. Intent herself on avoiding Roger, she ordered one of Chawand Rao’s horses to be brought around for her at two o’clock, and set off on a solitary ride, leaving a brief note with Muhammad Ali to be handed to Roger when he made his appearance.

  Dear Roger, please forgive me if I seem rude and ungracious, but truly, there is no use in our meeting and having a talk. It can only mean unhappiness for both of us.

  Stella

  She felt as she took the southern road out of Ghasirabad that the note was badly phrased. Still, it’s very curtness would probably ensure its fulfilling its purpose. There was little likelihood that Roger, reading it, would make any further move in her direction. Annoyed already at finding that she had left the rest house an hour before, the brief, unfriendly note would prove the last straw. He would tell himself that a girl who persisted in snubbing him could look elsewhere for a lover.

  I ought to be pleased, she said to herself. But the prospect of the empty years ahead seemed dreary in the extreme. She could fill them, of course, with useful work, and maybe, after a time, she would become one of those praiseworthy women who looked upon nursing as a vocation and wished for no happiness outside their chosen calling. But the time when she could feel so wholehearted was, she knew, far distant; it would be many a long day before sorrow was stilled, and she would cease from grieving.

  It’s all so ironical, so meaningless, was the burden of her thought. Why must Roger and I meet and fall in love, if nothing was to come of it? And as her horse’s hooves beat up a sharp tattoo on the hard surface of the road, it seemed lo her that nature was in tune with her own mood of blank depression. Although the sun was blazing down from a sky of brilliant cobalt, there was a curious, almost sinister, stillness in the air that the ring of the iron horseshoes served only to accentuate.

  There’s a sort of brooding expectancy about, as though something dreadful was going to happen, she thought, and then was annoyed with herself for being morbid and over-imaginative. But all the same, she could not shake off that oddly nervous feeling, and but for her anxiety to avoid Roger she would certainly have yielded to the temptation to cut short her ride, and set her horse’s head for home.

  She compromised by keeping to a steady jogging trot—a pace the fiery little Arab by no means appreciated—and by the end of an hour was still not many miles from Ghasirabad.

  Three o’clock, she reflected wretchedly. I suppose Roger’s just arriving at the rest house and reading my note. But before her mind could travel further, something happened that for the time being completely diverted the current of her thoughts. She had noticed vaguely that in the cultivated fields that alternated with the vast patches of scrub, very few peasants were at work on this particular afternoon. And now she suddenly observed the one or two laborers within sight glance up to the sky, and then throw down their hoes and run off in opposite directions as though the devil himself was after them.

  Startled, she, too;’ looked up, half expecting to see an unusual type of airplane overhead. But nothing was to be observed but a small dark cloud; and at the same moment she became conscious that a wind was getting up.

  Although she could not imagine what these things portended, the sight of those flying figures, almost invisible now, decided her to do as her instinct had been prompting her for sometime and start back immediately for Ghasirabad. The horse, too, was nervous now and could only with difficulty be restrained from breaking into a gallop, as she turned his head for home. Within a few seconds she was letting him have his way, for the cloud seemed to be expanding in the most curious manner, and every moment the speed of the wind seemed to be increasing.

  He’s a sensible beast to want to hurry, she thought, and at this rate we shall soon be back in Ghasirabad. And then she paled as she saw, coming toward her at a furious gallop, a horseman whom she recognized instantly as Roger.

  It’s only just after three, she thought stupidly. What on earth is he doing all this way out of town? And what am I going to say to him?

  She was very soon made to realize, however, that there was no occasion for speech on her part. For coming up to her, Roger seized the bridle of her horse and shouted hoarsely, “We must make for that ruined shrine over there. It’s the only shelter within miles.”

  And the next instant the horses were careering, hell-bent for leather toward a small domed building a little farther down the road toward Ghasirabad.

  Every moment now the sky was growing darker—taking on a queer yellowish hue—and every moment the wind was whipping itself up to a fiercer frenzy. And they had barely reached the shelter they sought when they were caught in a veritable whirlpool of swirling dust. Choking and almost blinded, they threw themselves off their horses.

  “Get inside, quick! I’ll bring the horses.” She could barely hear Roger’s shout above the wind, but without hesitation she did as he ordered and struggled through the doorway, buffeted unmercifully at every step. It was pitch-dark inside, and as she went stumbling forward on the uneven floor, she heard a sound that almost made her heart stop beating—a slither and a hiss. Snakes! For all she knew there might be a cobra coiled up within a few inches of her, rearing its loathsome flat head to strike at her.

  “Roger,” she shrieked, “where are you? There are snakes here. I can’t stay here—I can’t.”

  “Coming, darling. Stand perfectly still and you’ll be all right.” His voice was comfortingly near. “I’m tying up the horses in the porch here; I won’t be a second.”

  An instant later she saw the gleam of his flashlight through the darkness and ran toward him, forgetful of everything but her terror and her overmastering need of him.

  “Oh, Roger, it’s horrible. I’d almost rather be out in the storm.”

  “It’s all right, sweet.” His arm was about her shaking shoulders. “I daresay there’s a snake or two in here, but they’ll be just as scared of you as you are of them. You can bet they’ve slipped back into their holes by now.” He sent the ray of his flashlight traveling around the murky cell. “See! There’s not a sign of the blighters!”

  She let out a little sob. “I’m a fool to be so scared, but—”

  “Most of us have a wholesome respect for cobras, my dear, and for dust storms, too.” And then his arm tightened around her. “What would have happened to you if I hadn’t turned up at the rest house half an hour early and come chasing after you, I can’t imagine!”

  “Did you—did you have a hunch that there was going
to be one of these awful dust storms?”

  “Not when I first started out after you.”

  “How did you know which way I’d come?” But for the darkness she would not have had the courage to put that question.

  “I asked your servant, and he was only too pleased to tell me. Apparently he shares my conviction that young memsahibs ought not to go for long rides unaccompanied.” And then he added with an odd little laugh, “But I’m breaking my resolution not to find fault with you.”

  She made no answer to this, and he went on softly, “Isn’t it queer, Stella, to be alone together like this in the darkness? My heart’s performing all sorts of antics, but, do you know, I can feel yours thumping like mad, too.”

  Feverishly she sought for a flippant answer. “Anyone’s heart would play tricks under these conditions. It isn’t an everyday experience—standing in a dark tomb, surrounded by snakes and with a dust storm raging outside.”

  “And with the person one loves held close to one!” His voice sank lower still. “Stella, you know that I absolutely worship you. Why do you always put me off? Isn’t there the slightest hope that you may grow to love me just a little in return?”

  Instinctively she tried to move away from him, and he went on quickly, “Oh, I know you don’t care two straws for me now. Yet, Stella, I could have sworn there was a time, right at the very beginning of our acquaintanceship, when you wouldn’t have repulsed me. I suppose it’s my bad temper and rudeness that have choked you off, but don’t you see, darling, how adoring you as I do, I’ve felt so desperately anxious about you sometimes? I’m not really a bully by nature, sweet, and if we were married—”

  “Roger, I can never marry you!” At last she found her tongue. “But please don’t think it’s because of any faults you may imagine you possess.”

  “You mean that you feel certain you can never learn to love me? That when I thought, at the beginning, that you were just a little attracted to me, I was just a fatuous fool?”

  Again she was silent, trying vainly to find an answer that would put an end to these questions of his—an answer that would stop short of being a direct lie.

  “I know that if I were to behave with proper pride, I’d take my dismissal without a word of protest,” he continued impetuously, “but I’m so sure, that you and I are meant for each other, I just can’t let you go without making an effort to keep you.”

  “It’s no good, Roger.” She spoke with desperate earnestness. “I can’t argue about it; all I can say is that I can’t marry you.”

  “In other words, that you definitely don’t want me as a husband?” he persisted.

  She hesitated for the fraction of a second, then forced herself to say quietly, “If you prefer to put it that way.”

  He took his arm away from her then. “Stay where you are a minute,” he said abruptly. “I’m just going to the doorway to see what’s happening. Here’s the flashlight in case you feel scared.”

  She trembled as he left her and groped his way toward the entrance. It was horrible being left in the darkness, even for a few seconds, without the comfort of his arm around her; but what was that to the agony of being left forever in loneliness?

  A few moments later he came stumbling back to her.

  “It’s clearing up,” he said brusquely. “In a few minutes we shall be able to go.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured—hardly knowing, in the turmoil of her heart, what she was saying.

  And then once again his arm was around her. “I’m accepting your refusal, Stella,” he said roughly. “I’m not the sort to force myself on a woman who has no use for me. But if you really think you owe me any gratitude, you’ll let me kiss you once.” He gave a hard little laugh. “I expect you think I’m a fool not to kiss first and ask permission afterward. That’s the kind of man a woman finds attractive, I’m told.”

  “Roger, I don’t think—”

  “I don’t want you to think. I want you to feel!” And sweeping her close to him, he pressed his mouth to hers in a long, passionate kiss.

  At first she struggled to break away; then conquered more by her own weakness than by his strength, she ceased to resist and gave herself up to ecstasy. Just for this one little moment nothing mattered but that she was in his arms, feeling his lips close to hers.

  And then as abruptly as he had taken her into his embrace he released her.

  “No one can rob me of that one moment,” he said tensely. “I shall remember it as long as I live. And now—let’s go.”

  He took her hand and led her out of the darkness into a light but sand-swept world, and a few minutes later they were riding in silence back to Ghasirabad.

  What his thoughts were Stella could only guess. But his kiss had awakened emotions in her that would not be denied. And as she rode along a resolution slowly formed in her mind—a resolution that she decided must be put into action at the first possible opportunity.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  She must see Allegra again and try to appeal to her better feelings. No human being was bad all through, and surely if she exercised kindness and patience, she might be able to convince the girl that in snatching her happiness at the cost of other people’s undeserved misery she would be laying up nothing but shame and remorse for herself.

  How she was going to arrange a meeting with her she did not know. The simplest-course would have been to ask Roger if she might call at his bungalow for a moment to have a word with Allegra about—oh, any excuse would have served! But in the circumstances this was out of the question. To speak to him at all at the moment was more than she could face; she was still burning with the memory of that kiss and dared not send even a glance in his direction.

  She thought of sending a note over to Allegra, asking her to call in at the rest house, but here, too, there were difficulties. In the first place Allegra was quite capable of refusing to come—or, indeed, of ignoring her note altogether. In the second, it would be difficult to talk privately, unless Jelly happened to be staying in her bedroom; for, from the sitting room every word uttered in Stella’s own room could be plainly heard.

  She decided finally to watch and wait for a moment when both Roger and Jim were out; and the following afternoon, having seen the brothers driving past the rest house on their way to the golf course, she seized her hat and went hurrying out, thanking her stars for such a heaven-sent opportunity.

  The bungalow wore a deserted appearance, and the door stood invitingly open; but she had no intention of copying the other girl’s tactics and bursting in on her unawares. Ringing the electric bell, she waited for one of the servants to appear.

  For some minutes there was no response to its shrill summons; indeed, it was not until she had rung three times and was on the point of turning back that she heard approaching footsteps.

  It was not the patter of bare feet, but the flip-flop of mules; and a moment later Allegra, looking very ornamental in a wrapper of jade green satin, appeared in the doorway.

  “Oh, it’s you, is it!” she observed brusquely. “Why on earth Roger doesn’t train these lazy servants of his to do a spot of work, instead of spending all their time eating and sleeping—”

  “The memsahib needed me?” Appearing, it seemed, from nowhere, the bearded figure of Hussein was at her elbow.

  Both girls were startled at the sudden apparition, but while Stella gave him a quiet, “Salaam, Hussein,” Allegra exclaimed petulantly, “What the hell do you mean by these jack-in-the-box tricks, you old fool?”

  “Memsahib, I do not understand English.” The man’s tone was expressionless, but the anger that smoldered in his deep-set brown eyes showed that he had a very good idea of the meaning of her words. And then he looked across at Stella and went on in rapid Hindustani, “I pray your pardon for not answering the bell more quickly. But I have a fever, and the sahib had given me quinine and sent me off to the servant’s quarters to sleep.”

  “What on earth is he jabbering about now?” Allegra demanded impa
tiently.

  “Merely explaining that he’s got a touch of malaria, and that Roger has ordered him to rest,” Stella returned curtly.

  “Oh, he’d be sure to have some excuse. Anyway, for goodness’ sake tell him to get out. He gives me the creeps—standing there and scowling at me like that.”

  “Well, you should be more careful what you say in front of him,” Stella retorted sharply. “These Indian servants understand far more than you suppose.” And turning to Hussein she told him courteously that the memsahib wished him to return to his quarters and rest.

  Salaaming to both girls, but giving Allegra a look of undisguised fury, Hussein disappeared as silently as he had tome. And Allegra, eyeing Stella in no cordial manner, asked her who it was she wished to see.

  “You, if you please, Allegra. I saw Roger and Jim going off to golf and slipped over to have a little talk with you.”

  “Well, I’m afraid you’ll have to do most of the talking.” Ungraciously Allegra led her into the drawing room. “I’ve nothing to say to you—beyond asking you when you propose to leave Ghasirabad.”

  “We’ll come to that presently.” Refusing to be ruffled by the other girl’s rudeness, Stella sat down in one of the big armchairs. “The first thing I want to say, Allegra, is I that I haven’t come here to quarrel with you. I’ve come to make an appeal to you.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Allegra’s voice was hard.

  “Something that will need all your moral courage!” Stella looked at her steadily. “I want you to clear up this intolerable situation by telling Jim and Roger the truth.”

  “Your version of the truth, you mean,” Allegra began.

  But Stella stopped her with a quick, “You can drop all that nonsense with me, Allegra. You know just as well as I do that five years ago you committed a deliberate theft—and as deliberately tried to fasten the guilt onto me; that you’ve blackened me, in my stage name, to Roger and Jim, so that as soon as they hear that I’m Star Lefreyne, they’ll regard me as a thief and a particularly despicable one at that.”