The Path to Honour Part 35

There were steps in the courtyard, a foot on the verandah. Gerrard lay still and pretended to be asleep. He could not face Bob at this moment, when the realisation of all he had lost had returned upon him with such overwhelming force. But Charteris strode across to him and shook him savagely.

"You everlasting fool, it's you!"

He pulled him off the cot, and Gerrard sat on the edge and stared at him stupidly. Charteris was standing with his back to him, very busy about a buckle.

"Well?" he barked out. "You ain't going to do anything--eh? Think it was a pleasant thing for a girl to have to tell the wrong man? Going to leave her to think about it?"

"Of course not. I am going to her," said Gerrard wonderingly.

Something astonis.h.i.+ng had happened, but he could not for the moment realise what it was. He had got as far as the verandah step when he felt Charteris's hands on his shoulders, and was forcibly dragged back.

"Of all the fools!" said an exasperated voice. "Off you go, with no cap, and a head like a haystack. Do you remember that they have a _burra khana_[1] on? Do you want to be turned back for a lunatic?

Dress first and get there early, and then speak to her. Call your boy, can't you? Why I should have to dry-nurse you----!"

Gerrard obeyed meekly, grateful to Charteris for giving the bearer his orders and presiding over his execution of them. The bearer, on the contrary, was much insulted. His master was like a lay-figure in his hands, but Chatar Sahib must needs take it upon himself to direct and correct operations in an unpleasant parade voice, causing many unnecessary starts and much perturbation of mind to a highly efficient servant who had most definite ideas on the subject of what his Sahib should wear to a burra khana. Gerrard's horse and groom came round, and Charteris's self-imposed task was not over until he had seen him safely mounted. Before starting, Gerrard turned and held out his hand.

"Bob, old boy?"

"Hang it, Hal! go in and win."

Some sense of reality began to return to Gerrard's mind as he rode forth under the archway, but it made little impression upon his brain when Mrs James Antony ran out upon the verandah he was pa.s.sing.

"James, how late you are, love! Oh, Mr Gerrard, if you meet my husband, pray beg him to make haste. We are dining at the General's, and he has not returned from his ride."

Gerrard promised mechanically, and forgot all about the promise as soon as it was uttered. He arrived at Government House somehow, and immediately became the cause of much disturbance of mind to the servants, who were scandalized at his early arrival, and still more so at his demand to see the Miss Sahib. Honour's own ayah was fetched to a.s.sure him that "Missy Sahib done dress," which meant exactly the opposite of what it sounded like, and the highly responsible head-bearer ventured to advise the Sahib to take a little ride, and return in half an hour or so. But Gerrard was not to be so easily dismissed.

"Tell the Miss Sahib that I will wait as long as she chooses, but that I must speak to her before dinner," he said.

"_Shabash_,[2] Gerrard! Nothing like putting your foot down in good time," cried James Antony, charging out of the house and mounting his waiting pony. "If only the General and I had done it, we should not both be in fear of our lives at this moment. You owe me a good turn for making him late."

If Sir Arthur was late in dressing, his daughter must have been very early, for Gerrard had not been sitting long in the smaller drawing-room, sadly incommoding the servants who were lighting the candles in their gla.s.s shades, when Honour came into the room, fastening her short gloves, with a defiant swish of white silk flounces.

"You sent me a very peremptory message just now, Mr Gerrard."

Any one less preoccupied than Gerrard would have detected a suspicion of trembling in the clear tones, but he was too much taken aback by the accusation hurled at him.

"I am very sorry. Nothing could have been further----"

"So I just came to tell you that I am not accustomed to messages of that kind, and to beg you not to do it again." Holding her head very high, she turned to sweep out of the room, but Gerrard was at the door before her.

"No, not without letting me speak!" he entreated incoherently. "If you knew what it means to me, how long I have looked forward----! That n.o.ble fellow Charteris gave me your message----"

"I think you must be dreaming, Mr Gerrard!" The chilly indignation of her tone brought him to himself. "I send you a message by Major Charteris? Never!"

"Forgive me; I hardly know what I am saying. He told me you had refused him, and I thought that it might be because--that there might be some one else."

"But even then?" She still faced him bravely, though the affectation of polite interest in her tones was very difficult to keep up.

"You can't pretend not to understand--after everything----"

"But it might not be----"

"Oh no, no!" the pain in his voice brought the tears to her eyes.

"Don't say it's some one else! I could have given you up to him, but not---- You know something of what he is; there is no braver or better fellow in India, and now that his name is known, there's no saying how far he will go. You could not have refused him--unless----"

Honour was opening and closing recklessly the cameo clasp that fastened her black velvet bracelet. "Did you come here to plead Major Charteris's cause?" she asked in a very small voice. "What if I--if I told you your--your pleading had convinced me?"

"I should say you had chosen the better man," said Gerrard steadily.

A hand touched his for a moment, and was s.n.a.t.c.hed away immediately. "I have chosen the better man," murmured Honour. "But it is not Major Charteris," and the hand allowed itself to be captured.

"I was certain of it!" cried Gerrard triumphantly. Honour withdrew her hand hastily. "Certain? certain of what?" she demanded. Gerrard was horrified.

"Miss Cinnamond--Honour--my dearest one--what have I done? I am an unlucky fellow! Have I offended you?"

"You said you were certain," explained Honour, with impatient deliberateness. "What were you certain of?"

"Why, that you could not have refused Charteris--splendid fellow that he is, and with all his honours and successes--unless there was a little sneaking kindness in your heart for some one else, and I hoped it might be for a poor wretched failure who has nothing to lay at your feet beyond his love and fidelity."

Honour surrendered her hand again. "You are so absurd!" she said, with a catch in her voice. "Of course, if pity is all you want----"

"Pity is not to be despised. It made a good beginning----"

"It did not!" cried Honour sharply. "How blind you are! And I thought you understood! When you came to the Residency in the rains, were you to be pitied then?"

"I thought so. You would hardly look at me."

"Oh, stupid! how could I?"

"You had begun to care then? But, dearest, how could I guess? You talked about nothing but Charteris."

"It was the only way I could get you to talk about yourself. You had to tell me little bits about your own doings when you were describing all he had done."

"If I had only known, it would have saved a lot of misery, both to poor old Bob and me," mused Gerrard ruefully. "But how could I possibly tell! When you asked so much about Charteris, of course I thought you cared for him."

"As if I could ever have talked about him to you if I had cared for him!" said Honour in disdain. Gerrard mused upon this revelation for a moment.

"Well, I don't see how I could have known," he said at last.

"Why, I told you!" cried Honour--"when you went away."

"I thought you must have meant that--just for a moment. But then you ran away, and would not even say good-bye to me."

"How could I, when I had just told you--shouted it out before everybody? But I hid behind Mrs Antony and watched you go. I--I kissed my hand to you," shamefacedly.

"And I was bustled off, and never knew! Dear one, you have only yourself and my stupidity to thank if you marry a failure. What might I not have done if I had known you cared!"

"Perhaps you might not have known it then as well as you do now,"

whispered Honour shyly. "It--it must be you, you know, not your success, or----"