The Pool in the Desert - Sara Jeannette Duncan (7 ebook reader .TXT) 📗

is going to sing;' and as Mrs. Scallepa sang she let her eyes play over him with a light in them so tender, that once catching it the felt a sudden answering throb, and looked again; but after that her eyes were on the floor.

'We are staying here,' he said a quarter of an hour later, as he saw her into her rickshaw; 'and I think I must see you to your quarters. It's very dark, and there is an ugly little slip half-way between this and the Mall.

He ran upstairs to get his coat and stick, and a white face like an apparition suddenly hung itself on the edge of Madeline's rickshaw-hood.

'Don't tell him tonight,' it said, hoarsely.

'Are you ready, Colonel Innes? Then good night, everybody,' cried Madeline.

She was not at all sure that she would not tell Horace Innes 'tonight'.


Chapter 3.V.

'My wife,' said Colonel Innes, 'is looking extremely well.'

'She seems so, indeed,' Madeline replied.

'She is delighted with "Two Gables". Likes it better, she says, than any other house we could have got.'

'What a good thing!'

'It was a record trip for the Caledonia, thirteen days from Brindisi to Bombay. Was she telling you about the voyage?'

'No,' said Madeline impatiently, 'she didn't mention it. How shall I tell the men to put down the hood, please? A rickshaw is detestable with the hood up--stifling! Thanks. I beg your pardon. The Caledonia made a good run?'

'Thirteen days. Wonderful weather, of course, which was luck for Violet. She is an atrocious sailor.'

Madeline fancied she heard repose and reassurance in his voice. Her thought cried, 'It is not so bad as he expected!' We can not be surprised that she failed to see in herself the alleviation of that first evening.

'She has brought quantities of things for the house with her,' Innes went on, 'as well as three dachshund puppies,' and he laughed. 'Wouldn't you like one? What can we do with three--and the terrier, and Brutus?'

'Oh, thank you, no.'

How could he laugh? How could he speak pleasantly of these intimate details of his bondage? How could he conceive that she would accept--

'Already she has arranged four dinner-parties! It will be a relief not to have to think of that sort of thing--to be able to leave it to her.'

'Mrs. Innes must have great energy. To drive all the way up from Kalka by noon and appear at a dinner-party at night--wonderful!'

'Oh, great energy,' Horace said.

'She will take you everywhere--to all the functions. She will insist on your duty to society.'

Madeline felt that she must get him somehow back into his slough of despond. His freedom paralyzed her. And he returned with a pathetic change of tone.

'I suppose there is no alternative. Violet is very good about being willing to go alone, or with somebody else; but I never think it quite fair on one's wife to impose on her the necessity of going about with other men.'

'Mrs. Worsley introduced us after dinner,' said Madeline.

She kept disparagement out of her mind, but he could not help perceiving aloofness.

'Yes?'

The monosyllable told her sensitive ear that while he admitted her consideration in going on with the subject, he was willing to recognize that there was no more to say, and have done with it. She gathered up her scruples and repugnances in a firm grasp. She would not let him throw his own shadow, as an effectual obstacle, between himself and liberty.

'I am going to ask you something,' she said; it might come naturally enough from another man with whom your friendship was as candid as it is with me; but there is an awkwardness in it from a woman. You must believe I have a good reason. Will you tell me about your first meeting with Mrs. Innes, when--when you became engaged?'

She knew she was daring a good deal; but when a man's prison is to be brought down about his ears, one might as well begin, she thought, at the foundation.

For a moment Innes did not speak, and then his words came slowly.

I find it difficult,' he said, 'to answer you. How can it matter--it is impossible. I suppose you have heard some story, and it is like you to want to be in a position to negative it. Ignore it instead. She has very successfully championed herself. Believe nothing to her disadvantage that may be said about that--that time. I was pleased to marry her, and she was pleased to marry me. But for God's sake don't let us talk about it!'

As he spoke Madeline saw the vivid clearness of the situation grow blurred and confused. It was as if her point of view had suddenly changed and her eyes failed her. Her eager impulse had beat less and less strongly from the Worsley's door; now it seemed to shrink away in fetters. Her eyes filled with vaguely resentful tears, which sprang, if she could have traced them, from the fact that the man she loved was loyal to his own mistake, and the formless premonition that he might continue to be. She contorted her lip to keep her emotion back, and deliberately turned away from a matter in which she was not mistress, and which contained ugly possibilities of buffeting. She would wait a little, and though consideration for Violet Prendergast had nothing to do with it, she would not tell him tonight.

'I am sorry,' she said; and, after a moment, 'Did I tell you that I have changed my plans?'

'You are not going so soon?' she took all the comfort there was in his eagerness.

'I am not going at all for the present. I have abandoned my intentions and my dates. I mean to drift for a little while. I have been too--too conscientious.'

'Are you quite serious--do you mean it?'

'Indeed I do.'

'And in less than a fortnight you will not go out of one's life. You will stay on--you summer day! It's hard to believe in luck like that. I sent a poor devil of a sepoy a reprieve last week--one knows now how he must have felt about it.'

'Does it make all that difference?' Madeline asked, softly.

'It makes a difference,' he answered, controlling his words, 'that I am glad you can not conceive, since that would mean that your life has been as barren as mine.' He seemed to refrain from saying more, and then he added, 'You must be careful when you plant your friendship that you mean it to stay, and blossom. It will not come easily up by the roots, and it will leave an ugly hole.'

He was helping her out of her rickshaw, and as they followed the servant who carried her wraps the few yards to the door, she left her hand lightly on his arm. It was the seal, he thought, of her unwritten bond that there should be no uprooting of the single flower he cherished; and he went back almost buoyantly because of it to the woman who had been sitting in the sackcloth and ashes of misfortune, turning over the expedients for which his step might make occasion.

By the time the monkeys began to scramble about the roof in the early creeping of the dawn among the deodars, Madeline had groped her way to a tolerably clear conception of what might happen. The impeding circumstance everywhere, it must be acknowledged, was Frederick Prendergast's coffin. The case, had convict No. 1596 been still alive and working out his debt to society, would have been transcendentally simple, she told herself. Even a convict has a right--a prospective right--to his wife, and no honest man should be compelled to retain a criminal's property. This was an odd reflection, perhaps, to be made by Madeline Anderson, but the situation as a whole might be described as curious. And there was no doubt about the coffin.


Chapter 3.VI.

The veranda of which Miss Anderson's little sitting-room claimed its section hung over the road, and it seemed to her that she heard the sound of Mrs. Innes's arrival about ten minutes after breakfast.

On the contrary, she had spent two whole hours contemplating, with very fixed attention, first the domestic circumstances of Colonel Horace Innes and their possible development, and then, with a pang of profoundest acknowledgment, the moral qualities which he would bring to bear upon them. She was further from knowing what course she personally intended to pursue than ever, when she heard the wheels roll up underneath; and she had worked herself into a state of sufficient detachment from the whole problem to reflect upon the absurdity of a bigamist rattling forth to discuss her probable ruin in the fanciful gaiety of a rickshaw. The circumstances had its value though; it lightened all responsibility for the lady concerned. As Madeline heard her jump out and give pronounced orders for the securing of an accompanying dachshund, it did not seem to matter so particularly what became of Violet Prendergast.

Mrs. Innes's footsteps came briskly along the veranda. Madeline noted that there was no lagging. 'Number seven,' she said aloud; as she passed other doors, 'Number eight--number nine! Ah! there you are.' The door was open. 'I wouldn't let them bring up my card for fear of some mistake. How do you do? Now please don't get up--you look so comfortable with your book. What is it? Oh, yes, of course, THAT. People were talking about it a good deal when I left London, but I haven't read it. Is it good?'

'I like it,' said Madeline. She half rose as Mrs. Innes entered; but as the lady did not seem to miss the ceremony of greeting, she was glad to sink back in her chair.

'And how do you like Simla? Charming in many ways, isn't it? A little too flippant, I always say--rather TOO much champagne and silliness. But awfully bracing.'

'The Snows are magnificent,' Madeline said, 'when you can see them. And there's a lot of good work done here.'

'Aren't they divine? I did nothing, absolutely nothing, my first season but paint them. And the shops--they're not bad, are they, for the size of the place? Though today, upon my soul, there doesn't seem to be a yard of white spotted veiling among them.'

'That is annoying,' said Madeline, 'if you want spotted veiling.'

'Isn't it? Well'--Mrs. Innes take a deep breath--'you DIDN'T tell him last night?'

'N--no,' said Madeline, with deliberation.

'I WAS grateful. I knew I could rely upon you not to. It would have been too cruel when we have only just been reunited--dear Horace would have had to sleep in the--'

'Pray--'

'Well, Horace is the soul of honour. Is your ayah in there?' Mrs. Innes nodded towards the bedroom door. 'You can not imagine what long ears she has.'

'I have no ayah. There is only Brookes;' and as that excellent woman passed through the room with a towel over her arm, Madeline said, 'You can go now, Brookes, and see about that alpaca. Take the rickshaw; it looks very threatening.'

'Maid! You ARE a swell! There are only four genuine maids in Simla that I know of--the rest are really nurse-girls. What a comfort she must be! THE luxury of all others that I long for; but alas! army pay, you know. I did once bring a dear thing out with me from Nice--you should have seen Horace's face.'

'I couldn't very