"That isn"t it, anyhow, is it, Miss Shepherd?" he said. "I saw that drum-banger as I came past just now--the funniest old dried stick of a Brahmin you ever set eyes on. And you know those "_round the mulberry bush_," fairy-ring, endless circles of men and women hand in hand we used to cut out of newspaper when we were kids? Well, he was using gilt paper, and trying to make a miracle out of the "_biz_"! One G.o.d, he said, in many; the outline being the same, and the eye of faith sufficient to fill in the details of divinity! The people were buying them by dozens for the half of nothing. I asked "em why, and they said as toys for their children. So I expect it will be the endless circle of boys and girls again--don"t you? For, you know," he went on in the confidential voice which, dimly, she recognized was for her alone, "I"ve never been able to find out the least difference in kids. I talk to the little beggars when I"m out shooting, you know, and--well! the boys are just as much boys as I used to be--"
Used to be! Yet once again, for the hundredth time at least since they had first met, barely a month ago, his youth, his boyish, whole-hearted, healthy zest in life made her eyes soft; made her feel, with all the true womanhood in her that, if she ever had a son, she prayed he might be like this. And something else she recognized--not for the first time, either; namely, that boyish, almost thoughtless as he was, puzzling himself not at all with the problems of life, you could never dip below the surface without finding him, as it were, there before you; finding him clear-eyed, ready to treat the shady side of things as he treated the light side; that is, with an absolutely limpid honesty.
So, as she stood silent, checked in her desire to check, Father Ninian, who had just entered with Laila, came up to greet her, and having done so, turned to Lance with kind eyes and voice.
"Captain Dering has just told me that we have to call you Sir Lancelot Carlyon. I am sorry for the cause, since your uncle was a man who made the world better by being in it;--as--as you will. It is a fine old name, Sir Lancelot! It carries with it a fine inheritance of honour; therefore I can wish no better wish for the world, as well as for yourself, than that you may hand it on to your son. So, peace be with you!" His clasped hands unfolded themselves for a s.p.a.ce as he pa.s.sed on, leaving those two once more standing together with that sense of being singled out for friendship which had come to them in the beginning.
And this was to be the end of it? Even to her it seemed impossible. To him it made the impossibility certain.
"Miss Shepherd," he said suddenly, "I have something I must say to you this afternoon. Come into the verandah, after you have done pouring out the tea, and let me say it."
There was so much of command in his voice that she might have resented it, had not Father Ninian"s voice risen at that moment; firmly, yet with its usual faint hesitancy, in words which made everyone in the room pause to listen.
"I, and I only, am responsible, Dr. Campbell. I gave the Commissioner the information on which he has acted," here he raised his hand against interruption. "I have been fifty years at Eshwara; fifty times have I seen the pilgrims pa.s.s to the "Cradle of the G.o.ds" listening peacefully to your preaching. But this year there is something new." He paused to put on his spectacles, yet the keenness they brought to his face was dimmed by wistfulness. "I cannot quite tell what it is. There is something beyond the things I know, though these are many--small, it is true, but c.u.mulative. Still, this is certain; the pulse of the people beats irregularly to-day, and that means danger to the body corporate.
It may pa.s.s; yet the faintest stimulus may upset the whole balance of the organism. So, my friends, as our cause is eternal, as we have time--"
"Time!" interrupted David Campbell, pa.s.sionately, "but now _is_ the appointed time. Think, sir, how many of these poor deluded souls, striving after salvation, may die upon the road to their false G.o.ds--none can know how many better than you, who--"
The old priest looked at the young one with a whole lifetime of sad wisdom in his face. "Yes!" he said, softly, "for I am very old. I have seen half a world die upon its road to the "Cradle of the G.o.ds."
Die--though we have not the courage to say so,--with their faces set to the eternal goal of humanity; to the finding of something we have lost.
And something keeps us all back. What is it? Have we the secret more than they, who say, as we do, that it is sin?"
His voice had fallen into a strangely musical rhythm, so that Dr.
Campbell"s, following it, seemed harsh indeed.
"_We_ know we have. We have the certainty--we are missionaries of that certainty--"
"And I--to my shame be it said," interrupted Father Ninian, with a curious return to worldly courtesy as he removed his spectacles, "have never tried to make a convert; therefore I can scarcely hope to persuade you; but if, gentlemen, I might be allowed to talk the matter over with you--"
"A most sensible suggestion," a.s.sented Dr. Campbell, looking round on his younger, less experienced colleagues; "I should be loth to act hastily, and give occasion to the scoffer. Mamma, will you send our tea into the dining room?"
The pure practicality of the last words seemed to relieve the general tension, and Vincent Dering--who had been looking horribly bored--seeing the piano open, sat down to it, as the dissentients moved off into their cave of Adullam, and began to play, "_La Donna e mobile_;" saying, with a laugh:--
"_Cherchez la femme!_ Depend upon it, Mrs. Campbell, there is a woman at the bottom of it. I know from personal experience that she is always fatal to my peace and pulse on any road."
Erda Shepherd, holding her head very high, crossed over to pour out the tea; whereupon Vincent, being mischievously inclined, suddenly changed the tune to "Where"er you walk," which he played daintily, purely, altogether charmingly, so causing Muriel Smith, who had lately joined the party, to relax her faint frown at his remark.
"Miss Shepherd objects," he went on provokingly. "She doesn"t believe in men fighting for women. She scorned the offer of my sword in favour--excuse me for having overheard--of some drum or another. What was it, Miss Shepherd? I really only heard Lance say you would like to bang it."
Erda flushed all over her face. "I was only alluding to Jean Ziska"s drum, which was sounded to call the Hosts of the Lord to arms."
Mrs. Campbell gave a fine, hearty shudder. "My dear," she said, "why can ye not leave that gruesome tale alone? For it"s just an awful tale, Mrs. Smith. As if he could not be content with doing his duty in this life, but must leave his skin behind for the next generation."
"We have biblical warranty for that sort of thing, Mrs. Campbell," said the sharp-voiced lady who owned the small black coat. "Elijah left his mantle."
"Hoots!" interrupted Mrs. Campbell, scornfully. "We all have to leave our body-wear, but a skin"s different altogether. It sou"d just have gone to the grave with him, honest man, dust to dust, ashes to ashes.
I"ve often heard Dr. James say there was nothing in the world for tying the hands o" the leevin" like dead men"s dispositions. They"re just a mortification indeed to a" concerned."
There was always something about the good lady"s comfortable common-sense which made further discussion difficult, and the talk wandered into less rugged paths until, the time for leisure from Erda"s duties as tea-maker being close at hand, Lance went out deliberately into the verandah which overhung the river, or rather the spit of sand-bank which jutted out from this, the turning-point of the city"s triangle. On the right, the wall, set with its temple spires, trended away to meet the bridge, on the left to join the line of the palace, the bathing-steps, the Fort. In front of him, as he stood leaning over the bal.u.s.trade at the western end of the verandah, lay dull streaks of sand, bright gleams of water, and beyond them--dim, mysterious--was the great level plain of India, on whose scarce distinguishable edge the sun was setting behind a bank of deep purple cloud. It was a long, low, almost level bank, outlined sharply against the sea of golden-green light above it. There was scarcely a hint of sunset fire save in a trailing chain of little fleecy golden flocks, which stretched away from the purple of the clouds into the deepening purple of clear sky overhead.
Lance, waiting, watched that clear, almost level, outline, until, as clouds do when gazed at fixedly, it took shape for him as the body of a dead warrior half-covered by a pall. The straight sweep yonder was the shield, still held upon the arm, the peak of shadow below it was the mailed feet. There was the curve of the throat; the head thrown back; the feathery plumes of the helmet. The whole world seemed his bier; the stars, just trembling into sight, the watch-lights round it.
"Do you see?" he asked, as Erda joined him. "_From the great deep to the great deep he goes_."
She recognized the quotation; and though she had come out full of determination to deny the glamour of their mutual comprehension, it claimed her in a second.
"Yes!" she answered quickly, and pointing to the trailing drift of cloudlets, added, "_bound by gold chains about the feet of G.o.d_."
He turned to look at her then, forgetting fancy in a sudden certainty.
"I thought I had something to tell you," he said, "but I think you know it already, don"t you?"
"Yes!" she answered, held captive still by that inevitable understanding. "I think I do."
He paused a moment; then going back to the now fading likeness of that dead "King of the Dead," continued: "Then that ends it so--so far as I am concerned. But it remains as an excuse for my asking a question.
Miss Shepherd, why are you going to marry your cousin?"
She had known this was coming. "For a great many reasons," she began boldly; then paused, wishing for the first time that these reasons had been fewer, feeling that the possession of but _one_ would have made speech easier. "To begin with, it has been the dream of my life."
He turned on her with an amaze which was almost ludicrous. "What! to marry him?"
She frowned angrily. "No! To work--to help--to give my sympathy--to stand hand in hand with someone who, as he does, gives himself, as I do, to the great work. To someone whose life will be mine--whom I can respect and admire and--and love--in the best sense of the word--" Her voice, gaining confidence from its own statements, rose almost pa.s.sionately.
Lance looked at her with his clear eyes, and nodded. "Yes! I quite understand. But what has that to do with marrying him? How will the--the great Work be furthered by your having to look after the house and all that? And it isn"t as if you couldn"t give the help and sympathy without marrying a fellow. Even the love--at least I think so.
Now, I want to marry you, because--"
"Yes,--" she said severely, as he paused--she felt glad to change places with him in the witness box--
"Because, to begin with, it doesn"t seem possible for me to live my life--I mean my everyday life, trying to rub along, you know, without doing any harm; keeping things going as--as my people have always kept them, unless you help me. And then--" he paused again--"from the first moment I saw you, you reminded me--" he paused so long this time that a faint wonder as to what he was going to say next made her heart beat, as she watched him leaning over the balcony, looking dreamily at that fading likeness of a dead "King of the Dead."
"I don"t suppose anyone had a happier, jollier childhood than I had,"
he said suddenly, "though I was an orphan. I lived at Tregarthen, you know." He turned to her as he spoke, and smiled. "You should have seen my grandfather and grandmother, Miss Shepherd. They were like the double Christmas number of an ill.u.s.trated paper! She used to boast that she never saw a naughty child; and she never did, for the dear old lady always walked out of the room promptly when we tried it on. I remember it used to take the starch out awfully, having no audience. But it was the same in everything. It beat even a boy to be really bad in that house, somehow. Yes! we had jolly times! You would have liked it--you would like it now"--he turned swiftly and held out both hands--"Come to it!--Come, and be Lady Carlyon as she was! People may say all that means nothing, but it means everything to a woman to be able to count on an inheritance like that for her--" he broke off as some of the others came out into the balcony, and bending closer to her, went on in a low voice, "I"ve said nothing of my love--you know all that--and I think--Yes--" his voice took a note of certainty--"I think you--you like me well enough--don"t you?"
There was something so truth-compelling in his face, his voice, that she felt thankful for the tepid word _like_--
"I like you very much, Sir Lancelot," she said, trying not to let her voice betray the absolute tenderness she felt, "but, as you told me just now, that is no reason why I should marry you."
"It is at least as good as yours for marrying _him_," he broke in quickly. "At least it has to do with you--with me--with our happiness--with mine at any rate! Do you remember when you first told me your name--The World"s Desire I called it--the woman with the red-gold hair, the red-gold hem to her garment, the red-gold apple in her hand--you are that to me--Erda! give me my heart"s desire--"
His voice--low, quick, pa.s.sionate--thrilled through her. She saw herself as she had seen herself then.
"Yes! it has to do with you, with me!" she echoed desperately, "but only we two."
"No!--" he interrupted--"with more than that, surely!"
In the pause which followed, one vision faded in another, and her own wish, that if she ever had a son he might be as this man, came to make her remember Father Ninian"s words, "I can wish no better wish for the world!"
But Father Ninian could not have said so to her. _She_ could do better for the world in the other life, the other work. The very self-sacrifice of it attracted her, vague though the sense of that was, as yet.